When a nation becomes devoid of culture, it loses moral compass

Jayanta Chattopadhyay is both an actor and a recitation artist. From his childhood, he grew up in a family environment in Satkhira, Khulna, where music and acting were as natural as air and light. His father was skilled in recitation, and their home had its own theatre group. Jayanta has earned the love and admiration of audiences through his performances in numerous films and plays. Recently, this talented actor spoke with Views Bangladesh about his artistic journey and Bengali culture. Kamrul Ahsan conducted the interview.

Views Bangladesh: Let’s begin with your childhood. Your family had a rich cultural environment, complete with your own stage for theatre performances, where you acted from a young age. Could you share more about that?
Jayanta Chattopadhyay: It was not just acting, our family also had a deep connection with music. In fact, the whole area we lived in had a beautiful cultural atmosphere. Music was a big part of it. There were plays as well, but most of the theatrical activities happened in our house. Jatra (folk theatre) was very popular, though it wasn’t like the jatra you see today. Back then, the jatra performances were in five acts, and the themes were mythological, patriotic, and historical.

Views Bangladesh: Could you tell us more about those jatra performances? Which ones do you remember?
Jayanta Chattopadhyay: In my memoir titled Purbaahna, I have mentioned many jatra performances with detailed descriptions. It includes how the performances started, the intervals, and everything in between. One common feature in all jatra plays was the character of Bivek (conscience). Whenever negative characters did something wrong, the Bivek character would come on stage, dressed like a baul (folk singer), and sing songs that stirred the conscience of the audience. Bivek would always urge the triumph of good over evil.

Views Bangladesh: Have you ever acted in a jatra (folk theatre)?
Jayanta Chattopadhyay: As a child, I performed in jatra plays in child roles, and later, I participated in many jatras as an adult. There was a jatra called Bangali, which was performed extensively in villages during the Liberation War. The reason was its focus on Bengali nationalism. In that play, I portrayed the character of Daud Khan. Interestingly, the Pathans (Afghans) supported the Bengalis during that time. Leaders like Isa Khan and his son Musa Khan were Pathans. After losing to Bairam Khan in the second battle of Panipat, they fled to Bengal. Why? Because Bengal was a difficult region for the Mughals to conquer. The Mughals, being highlanders from Asia Minor, were uncomfortable in this lowland region. One major reason for the Mughal Empire's downfall was their lack of a navy; they were afraid of water, which is why they could never fully conquer Bengal. Sometimes they would conquer it, but later Bengal would declare independence again. This back-and-forth struggle continued. The Baro Bhuiyan (twelve landlords) were a group of twelve landlords whose collective strength repeatedly defeated the Mughal forces. That’s why the Pathans sought refuge here. Isa Khan took shelter under Chand Rai of Sonargaon after fleeing, and he married Chand Rai’s daughter. There’s much more history after that, and many jatras were based on these historical events. I, too, performed in some of them.

Views Bangladesh: Jatra has a rich history in Bangladesh. Why did it disappear? And what impact has its disappearance had on us?
Jayanta Chattopadhyay: Jatra was our people’s theatre, much like Kabuki in Japan. They’ve preserved Kabuki, but we couldn’t preserve jatra. There was a deep conspiracy behind this, which began around 1978-79. Jatra used to be performed during various fairs, like Dol Utsav, Baruni Mela, Chaitra Sankranti, and Nobo Borsho fairs. Additionally, village folk theatre groups performed jatra plays. Thousands of professional jatra artists made a living from this, especially in Chattogram and Manikganj.
In Manikganj, a large number of people were involved in jatra as professionals. This is where Amolendu Biswas and Jyotsna Biswas took jatra to another level. After 1971, the defeated forces realized that to cripple a nation, they needed to cut off its cultural roots. They started uprooting our age-old cultural traditions under the guise of religious excuses. These fairs were not religious but were tied to the agrarian lifestyle. Farmers celebrated these fairs, and there was also business involved, like the Chaitra Sankranti and Nobo Borsho festivals, which were linked to commerce. For example, during the Chaitra Sankranti, farmers would clear their debts with merchants. Emperor Akbar initiated this tradition to collect taxes. The British later followed it with Section L, and they opened new account books (Hal Khata) in the new year, clearing old debts and starting afresh. That’s why jatra was performed during these times.

In our Satkhira, both jatra and circuses were destroyed. There used to be puppet shows, Kobigaan, Jaarigaan, and Baul fairs. But in the late 70s, when Wahhabism started entering our region, and with the influx of petro-dollars, these traditions began to be eradicated. When a nation loses its culture, its moral foundation weakens, and it becomes easy to manipulate. People lose their ability to think critically, and their reasoning fades away. They then blindly follow whatever they’re told and become easy to control.
Another issue is the lack of recreational options for rural children. After coming home from school, what do they have for entertainment? There’s nothing for them to do, which leads them to drugs and harmful ideologies. When they're told something is forbidden (haram), they blindly believe it. This is the situation we see today.

Views Bangladesh: Please tell us about the context of your poetry series titled "Apni, Tumi, Tui."
Jayanta Chattopadhyay: About ten years ago, I used to write a daily journal, and I wrote it in poetic language. Now, with Facebook becoming such a popular social media platform, I started posting these writings there. The idea behind it was this: When you meet someone, how do you address them? There's a pronoun for that. In languages like Bengali, Hindi, Urdu, and Sanskrit, we have honorific pronouns: Apni, Tumi, Tui. This doesn’t exist in other languages. In English, for example, it's just "you" for both singular and plural. But in our languages, the way we address someone reflects the nature of the relationship. When you meet someone for the first time, you say Apni (formal), then as you grow closer, it becomes Tumi (informal), and when the relationship reaches its peak intimacy, it becomes Tui (very informal). So, I thought, why not write a poetry series with this as the title?

It could reflect love, light affection, or friendship. Based on these stages of relationships, I used to write one or two poems daily. A publisher friend of mine was excited when he saw them and said he wanted to publish them. Along with this, I added another collection titled "Ami" (I). So, the four poetry books are titled "Ami", "Apni", "Tumi", and "Tui". All four are now part of one collection, with each containing 100 poems.

Views Bangladesh: You became quite renowned as a recitation artist in Kolkata. Could you tell us about that?
Jayanta Chattopadhyay: I’ve been reciting since my school days. At that time, schools had excellent cultural programs, which sadly don’t exist anymore. Our annual exams used to finish by December 15, and we had 15 days off. During those days, various cultural events were held, including one-act plays, recitations, singing, and dancing. Every kind of student participated in these recitations, and I used to do quite well because my family emphasized proper pronunciation. My mother was from Kolkata, so I was accustomed to speaking polished Bengali from an early age.
Later, I went to study in Kolkata while staying at my maternal uncle’s house. Our college also had grand cultural events, and I excelled in recitations there too. I was greatly encouraged by Kalyan Haldar, who was an excellent recitation artist. He told me that I had potential, and from then on, I became naturally involved in recitation. There were many competitions in Kolkata. The first time, I came second due to a memory lapse, but after that, I never came second again—always first. I won first place three consecutive times at Kolkata University.

Views Bangladesh: You were close to Kazi Sabyasachi. Can you share something about him?
Jayanta Chattopadhyay: Once, I wanted to recite Kazi Nazrul Islam’s poem "Bidrohi" in a competition. I was informed that Kazi Sabyasachi was attending the event. At that time, his popularity was so immense that after Hemanta Mukhopadhyay’s songs, Sabyasachi was the final attraction. People would wait just to hear him. He was sitting in the green room, and Buroda (the organizer) told me, “You want to recite Bidrohi, but the audience will inevitably request Sabyasachi to end the program with Bidrohi.” I was well-prepared and rehearsing in my mind, but Buroda said, “Go and seek his permission.” I hesitated, saying, “Should I go? I’m scared.” He insisted, “Go on.” So, I stood in front of Sabyasachi. He looked up and asked for my name. I nervously asked if he would permit me to recite Bidrohi. He looked at me, and I was terrified. Then he said, “Alright, you do it. But assure me that the audience won’t ask me to recite the poem again.”

So, I recited Bidrohi, and the audience didn’t request him. Later, he told me, “Take out a pen and paper, write down my home telephone number, and come over on Sunday.” I quickly bowed and thanked him.