Feluda @ 50 Read online

  Feluda @ 50

  Curated and Edited by

  BORIA MAJUMDAR

  HarperCollins Publishers India

  For Aisha (Teeny) who I am sure will grow up to be a huge Feluda fan

  Contents

  Part One

  Decoding Feluda: What Makes the Fifty-year-old Tick?

  Boria Majumdar

  Going Backstage with Feluda

  Boria Majumdar

  Part Two

  Felu Mittir: Between Bhadrolok and Chhotolok

  Indrajit Hazra

  Modus Operandi: Two or Three Things I Know About Feluda

  Sovan Tarafder

  I Want to Be Topshe: Feluda and the Female Reader

  Rochona Majumdar

  Life Lessons from Feluda

  Abhijit Bhaduri

  Do I Love Him or Hate Him? Dealing with Prodosh C. Mitter and His Future

  Mir

  Part Three

  ‘Feluda Is an Out-and-out Entertainer, which Byomkesh Is Not’

  Boria Majumdar in Conversation with Soumitra Chatterjee

  ‘In My Mind, I Was Feluda’

  Boria Majumdar in Conversation with Sabyasachi Chakrabarty

  ‘Soumitra Chatterjee Will Forever Be the Original Feluda’

  Boria Majumdar in Conversation with Abir Chatterjee

  Part Four

  Brand Feluda: The Way Forward

  Boria Majumdar

  The Feluda Case Files

  Stories, Novels and Films

  Notes

  Acknowledgements

  About the Book

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Part One

  Decoding Feluda: What Makes the Fifty-year-old Tick?

  Boria Majumdar

  There is no gainsaying the influence of the West on our cultural imagination. We continue to admire their universities, their libraries and sense of history, architecture, beautified parks and most of all their opulence. We have fashioned our shopping malls – synonymous with development in most Indian cities – on the Western model and follow Hollywood religiously. The Oscars and the BAFTA are more credible than our own film awards and, a refurbished Eden Gardens and a powerful Indian cricket board notwithstanding, Lord’s is still the Mecca of cricket with its long-standing legacy and two-hundred-year-old tradition. There are more Indians who now follow Leo Messi and Cristiano Ronaldo than there are who follow Mohun Bagan, East Bengal, Kerala Blasters and Delhi Dynamos. It is more about quality than sentiment. The English Premier League (EPL), the most competitive football league in the world, has a huge viewership in India and many of the leading EPL clubs are looking at the huge Indian market to add to their support base. In an increasingly globalized world, we are citizens of cosmopolitan international cities with seemingly unrestricted choice.

  Yet, the one count where the Bengali looks homeward is in our allegiance to literary sleuths. Not that biggies from around the world are absent from our bookshelves. From the father of all detectives, Sherlock Holmes, to Agatha Christie’s little Belgian superman, Hercule Poirot, to the quintessentially British Inspector Morse, or the Swedish Kurt Wallander – they are all detectives with impeccable credentials. For us, however, these men were never the primary draw. All we ever wanted to be was Feluda. While there are those who hold out for Byomkesh, Sharadindu Bandyopadhyay’s creation is no competition for the quintessentially Bengali brand in the world detective supermarket: Feluda. Every Bengali, young and old, is a Feluda fan. We like his looks, his mannerisms, his wit, his tongue-in-cheek humour and finally his ability to solve one mystery after another despite being pitted against the most dangerous of criminals. We like that he is honest and intelligent, agile and courageous. We like it that Feluda is never outmanoeuvred and even when he is in a tight spot, manages to come up with the most innovative of plans to get himself and his associates, Topshe and Lalmohan-babu, out of trouble. For example, in Badshahi Angti when Bonbihari Sarkar and his assistant Ganesh Guha try to confine Feluda and Topshe in the jungle house and set the python free, Feluda at the very last minute throws a box of pepper at them. It has instant impact and the two reprobates are taught a serious lesson. Again, in Bombaiyer Bombete, Feluda plays a masterstroke by taking Victor Perumal into confidence and it is Victor’s timely intervention in the train sequence that helps him nab the smuggler-turned-producer Gopinath Gorey. Also, Feluda too makes mistakes but has the courage to own up to them and wiggle out of tight situations caused by these mistakes. One such was when he says in Baksha Rahasya that the craving to give an autograph is no less than the craving to take one. It is this lure, Feluda’s keenness to sign an autograph, that allows the criminal to come to his room at the Janpath Hotel in Delhi and steal the blue briefcase.

  To me, Feluda is also a powerful link to my childhood and youth. It was the Feluda Samagra I picked up to give me company on my way back from Oxford on 1 October 2000 when I had to rush back to Kolkata for my father’s last rites. I may not have read a single word then, but I held the book through that entire flight back home. It was the only book that I could think of reading on a fateful journey like that, something that best sums up my personal fondness for the man. Again, it was Feluda who stayed with me when I made it back to Oxford in January 2001, nervous and apprehensive having missed a term. Feluda is an inspiration, and suffice it to say I am not alone in saying so. There are millions of Indians who just love him and his traits.

  There are good reasons for why Feluda speaks to me and the legions of his fans in this way.

  Take Sherlock Holmes for a study in contrast. Brilliant and agile as he may be, his many quirks and mood swings are alienating. His experiments on the beautiful Saint Bernard, Gladstone, integral to the new Guy Ritchie Holmes movies, don’t often go down well with dog lovers like me. And more recently, Holmes has been subjected to multiple experiments, which have not often been well received by the discerning viewer. Elementary, the Holmes adaptation with Johnny Lee Miller starring as Holmes and Lucy Liu as Dr Watson, is well crafted but many have problems in accepting Dr Watson as a woman. Also, while there are takers for Lee Miller as Holmes, questions have been asked if he has actually ended up doing disservice to the character. Tim Martin, writing for the Daily Telegraph, has this to say about Lee Miller as Sherlock: ‘An example of how not to do it (Sherlock Holmes) came with Elementary, the other contemporary Sherlock drama that features Jonny Lee Miller as Holmes fresh out of drug rehab and living with Lucy Liu’s Dr Watson. The writers of Elementary pay lip service to the alien side of Holmes, but Miller offers a performance devoid of human warmth, all gleaming teeth and swivel-eyed self-interest.’

  He goes on to say that ‘Jeremy Brett offered what many consider the defining performance in many TV productions of the Eighties and early Nineties, his majestic stately face and beautifully modulated tones contrasting with a gangling twitchy physicality and white-hot outbursts of fury. Brett, who suffered from bipolar disorder, later reported having recurring nightmares about Holmes, whom he referred to as “the man without a heart” and, later, as “You Know Who”.’

  Hercule Poirot on the other hand is a dandy and is fond of the real luxuries of life. He stays in the best of five-star hotels and loves exotic food, things the middle-class Indian cannot identify with. He is an immaculately dressed snob. While he is chivalrous and respectful of women, he is often dismissive of Captain Hastings, his sidekick. So while he is admired, Poirot will forever remain the exotic Belgian, one we will never aspire to be.

  John J. O’Connor, writing for the New York Times in December 1996, had summed up Poirot nicely: ‘No one is likely to argue that Christie and Poirot are for the ages, but for the moment and, thanks to these adaptations (done for television with David Suchet as Poirot), for at least
the next decade or two, they are great fun. Mr Suchet’s Poirot is one of those deliciously precise depictions … that have brought steady distinction to “Mystery” over the years … With his delicate manners and dandy wardrobe, Poirot could easily seem a merely ridiculous figure, overly smug about the ability of his “little gray cells” to solve any crime tossed their way.’

  Miss Marple is the very opposite of Poirot. She is a sharply intelligent, amiable village lady, but for youthful readers who see themselves in the protagonist’s shoes, she is just too old to be a detective.

  Inspector Morse, of course, is an alcoholic. Now, you might be brilliant, but you can’t be a Bengali idol if you are an alcoholic. Yes, he drives a beautiful red Jaguar and fancies his single malt, but that only means Morse can never be the average Indian that Feluda personified. With his Oxford and his Wagner and the opera, and the occasional rudeness with his underlings, he is more than once removed from us. His mood swings are difficult to deal with, and even Lewis, his associate and friend, thinks he’s a handful. Not that much of an ideal to aspire to then?

  And in Wallander we see a work-obsessed detective who has no family to go back to in the evenings. His daughter Linda might love him, but she does not live with him. Wallander’s alcoholism, which has only grown over the years, has landed him in trouble on a number of occasions and he too suffers from serious mood swings. A bitter man who finds it difficult to concentrate for long periods, his methods of policing are unconventional – and there is a veiled disregard for the law apparent in it. So, no, Wallander is no Feluda.

  One could go on and on for many a famous detective has won over the Bengali reader.

  But let’s move on to Prodosh C. Mitter. He is tall and handsome, well read and well behaved, and is a man of the world – bhadro in every sense. Equally, he is at ease doing a kung fu stunt and trying the exotic Chinese cuisine in Hong Kong. Yes, he is pensive on occasions, but never rude to Lalmohan-babu or Topshe. He still uses public transport. The very thought of Feluda using a swanky smartphone and smoking a cigar is ridiculous. A Charminar man, Feluda, unmarried as he is, has the highest regard for family. That he stays with Topshe’s parents, despite working in a bank for five years, and nearing thirty is an indication of his mindset and his regard for middle-class values.

  Also, in Feluda we find the archetypal Bengali foodie. From chanachur to his other culinary tastes, be it the traditional mangshor jhol or mishti or the more exotic oriental cuisine in Hong Kong, Ray’s immortal Rajani Sen Road resident has a genuine curiosity about food. For example, in Chhinnamastar Abhishap, Feluda does give in to Lalmohan-babu’s request and visits the Great Majestic Circus, but only after he has finished his chicken curry and arhar dal lunch, cooked by the chowkidar’s wife in Hazaribagh. Again, in the film rendition of Joi Baba Felunath, the second of Satyajit Ray’s classic Feluda films, Feluda thoroughly enjoys his fish curry for lunch, something he mentions to Mr Chakraborty, the hotel manager, before going on to add, ‘Kashi te ato bhalo machh pawa jay jantam na toh.’ (I wasn’t aware that you get such good-quality fish in Kashi.) On being informed by Mr Chakraborty that getting good-quality fish isn’t easy, Feluda, while licking his fingers, suggests, ‘Chharben na, antata amra je kata din achhi.’ (Don’t leave it, at least for the few days that we are here.) In the most recent film adaptation, Badshahi Angti, which released in December 2014, Sandip Ray has added a scene where Feluda is seen enjoying the famous kakori and galouti kebabs in Lucknow – a departure from the original that no Feluda fan is unhappy with.

  What has added much to the Feluda cult is how cinema, stories and novellas all combine and meld, making it impossible to talk only about the written word. For example, any talk on Sonar Kella inevitably combines the novel and the film, with the written word and the visual appeal blending into one composite whole. Made by the same person who created the character, Sonar Kella and Joi Baba Felunath have both attained cult status as films and continue to be enjoyed by discerning Bengali audiences across the world.

  Finally, we love Feluda because he is one of us. He is the Bengali Harry Potter and most importantly, we could be him too. Whether or not he is the best detective is immaterial because to most Bengalis he is much more than a sleuth.

  The Magic of Lalmohan-babu

  Interestingly enough then, Prodosh C. Mitter is probably not the most loved character in the Feluda universe. That particular award must go to Lalmohan-babu. Short, stocky, witty and talented, Lalmohan-babu is a writer of crime stories. The alliterative titles of his novels, written under the nom de plume of Jatayu, make their way into every kind of Bengali banter. He is vibrant and entertaining, but also unpredictable and resourceful. His use of the boomerang in Baksha Rahasya or his use of the ‘jap jantra’ in Joto Kando Kathmandute was pure genius. It is this streak of brilliance that sets him apart from the somewhat boring Ajit in the Byomkesh adventures, or the enthusiastic Arthur Hastings, or even the serious Dr Watson. Even Sergeant Lewis in the Inspector Morse stories, one of my favourite sidekicks, is no match for the man from Garpar in north Kolkata. None of those other associates could have said, ‘one of the innumerable dacoits in this dacoit-infested country’, or ‘hnayes’ (combining ‘hna’ and ‘yes’). Only Lalmohan-babu would ask the owner of the Great Majestic Circus, ‘Sher toh bhaga but how?’ His lovability and eccentricity are heightened by an intelligence he does not wear on his sleeve.

  Sandip Ray chose to film Badshahi Angti – a story that predates Lalmohan-babu’s appearance in the Feluda universe – in 2014 because he is yet to find the new Lalmohan-babu. The actor Santosh Dutta was the first to play him, in Sonar Kella, and then again in Joi Baba Felunath. Although he has acted in other, equally iconic Satyajit Ray movies, it is as Jatayu that he is best remembered. Actors who have played the character after Dutta admit to his shadow looming over them. Lalmohan-babu is witty, not foolish; he is a little spaced out, not dumb – distinctions that are difficult to portray on screen. This is what Sandip Ray has to say about Dutta: ‘Not always do you get a character who forces the creator to change the illustration of the character in the next novel. Hardly has such a thing happened in world literature. It happened with Santosh Dutta as Lalmohan-babu. Baba had to change the very illustration of the character after Santosh Dutta played Lalmohan-babu in Sonar Kella. In the original novel, Lalmohan-babu is only three-and-a-half years older than Feluda. But with Santosh Dutta taking over, the age difference becomes a lot more.’

  My own association with Lalmohan-babu too started with Sonar Kella, which I first read and then watched as a child. Here was a mystery novel writer who learnt a lot from Feluda, who never failed to acknowledge how talented and bright Feluda was and yet was entirely his own person. Feluda with all his brilliance was never able to overshadow Lalmohan-babu in the manner of the Poirot–Hastings or Holmes–Watson relationships. And so, without Lalmohan-babu playing the role of the art professor to perfection, there is no Kailashe Kelenkari. Much to my delight, he took to calling Topshe ‘Bhuto’ in that capacity. Again, without Lalmohan-babu, there would be no Royal Bengal Rahasya (his book kick-starts the adventure). By Feluda’s own admission, ‘No one has ever managed to hang on a tree trunk after losing consciousness,’ like Jatayu does in Royal Bengal Rahasya.

  He is equally central to Joi Baba Felunath. In the standout scene from the movie – where Lalmohan-babu is being tormented by Maganlal Meghraj – Santosh Dutta balances the comic and the horrific with exquisite ease. It is the resulting sense of helplessness that literally pushes Feluda to the brink. The scene is crucial in one other way: that Lalmohan-babu, despite his terror, calmly gets up and stands in front of the near-blind knife thrower, Arjun, is a clear demonstration of his commitment to Feluda and Topshe, and of his courage. Despite his elevated pulse rate (ninety-seven, as all fans of the movie will remember) in the aftermath of the knife-throwing ordeal, Lalmohan-babu tells Feluda, ‘Apni tadanta chaliye jan, Felu-babu, ami apnar pashe achhi.’ (You carry on with the investigation, Felu-babu, I a
m with you.) That Maganlal had left a lasting impression on Jatayu is evident in future novels, and all of this adds to the aura of the character. From the very start of the scene, Santosh Dutta is at his finest. By trying to suggest he isn’t hungry, he does his best to ensure Maganlal isn’t able to feed them something spurious. Only when he sees Feluda having the sharbat does Lalmohan-babu feel encouraged to sip it. And when Maganlal calls Arjun to demonstrate his art, Lalmohan-babu is just brilliant. He very slowly says, ‘Ek minute’, and then gradually starts to open his watch and hand it over to Topshe. Each movement of his, slow and laboured, adds to the occasion. He takes out his notepad, pen and purse and very slowly walks up to Topshe to leave these belongings on the table. His expressions are such that the viewer knows what he is thinking: that he may well die in the bargain. With ‘haribol…’ playing in the background, the sequence has an incredible impact on the audience. While feeling the tension, Lalmohan-babu does manage to rile Maganlal by his tactics of trying to delay the inevitable.

  From the very moment he makes Feluda’s acquaintance in Sonar Kella, Lalmohan-babu has been with Felu and Topshe through the good and bad. Speaking of that story, it wouldn’t be wrong to suggest that Santosh Dutta (inseparable in the Bengali mind from the character) is central to the film’s transformation into a classic. His body movements, facial expressions, postures and dialogue delivery are the very embodiment of Lalmohan-babu to every Bengali.

  Satyajit Ray has endowed Jatayu with sterling qualities. He is a man of principle, which is established right in the beginning, when he says to Feluda, ‘Share-e jabo kintu.’ (We’ll share the taxi fare.) At no time in Sonar Kella does he leave Feluda, then a new acquaintance, in a spot of bother and walk away.

  Lalmohan-babu is not a sidekick, but a co-hero. He is central to the Feluda oeuvre and therein lies his uniqueness in the genre of mystery stories globally. The only other assistant to the sleuth that I can readily think of with this level of authority is Captain Haddock in the Tintin comics. Not a bad comparison, come to think of it, given that Haddock is probably the most loved character in that series. The unassailable popularity of Feluda is also in part due to the standout charisma of Lalmohan-babu, the prototypical Bengali. His sweet tooth and love of good tea, and his profession of course, all beautifully define the Bengali middle-class ethos. Ray, needless to add, is a past master at capturing that.