“Derives From The Metropolis” ( Sarsuna Theke Jana)
Curated By –Sayantan Maitra Boka
Initiated By – Chander Haat Artist Collective
It is a story, story of a few women, a few human beings. They are Basonar Maa ( Maa means mother ),Ranar Maa, Bikasher Maa, Poraner Maa and many more. They struggled and are fighting a never ending fight tirelessly to save their family and the fight is still on. The society has not given them any identity. They don’t know themselves. They are someone’s mother, someone’s wife. This is their story. Story of some humans, of all humans, who live in the marginal level of the society. They live in a boundary and in the centre of that boundary is “Manasar Panchali”. Songs of Manasa, Behula, Sanaka. They have unknowingly become all these mythological characters. The struggle of Behula. Manasa, Sanaka is their struggle which has slowly imbibed in their lives. To stay alive and to keep others alive they sing the songs of “Manasa Mangal”. It gives them a relief from their monotonous stressful life. They sit in a circle in some temple and sing “Manasa Mangal”. A story of a woman, whose two identities amazingly co-exists in herself. The social and political situations have caused these identities. All the women are above fifty years old. Half of their lives were spent in Bangladesh where they were born and the other half………….in another country. They have very little, but they have embraced the struggle of life which they achieved from the survival instincts of human beings. Their struggle and “Manasa Mangal”, their life, is my project. While interacting with them my view towards them changed. They became so unknown to me. My preconceived notions changed completely. I started respecting their life struggle. They also felt something new and cooperated with pure happiness and joy. Someone said “I haven’t made clay idols before”, she said, “and really I can also build idols I never knew”. A woman made the idol of Manasa, someone made the holy pot (ghot), and others made a bed for Lakhinder. Another woman made iron room (basar) with clay. They made a hut, idol of Shiva, different types of fruits, and seven ships of Chand Saudagar and many things more with clay. They enjoyed the whole process. It was like a festival to them. They sang while making the idols. The idols were unfinished but they were innocent and beautiful. I saw with astonishment their sense of space. They are habituated in singing in temple courtyards, but that day they sang at &Chander Haat. They miraculously converted the space into their own environment. It seemed the courtyard of Chander Haat had become a temple. They sang from “Manasa Mangal”, but left out many songs and dances. I believe, had it been a temple then they would have sung the whole of “Manasa mangal”. I felt at that particular time that they were not Paraner Ma, Basanar Ma, Bikash er Ma, Boropal er Bou (wife). They came out of the social difference; they turned around and looked at the centre of their circular boundary. They denied the identity imposed on them. This way they denied the social and political structure, or may be, they created a beautiful space within the structure where there was no wired boundary, where there was no “NO PERMISSION ZONE”. They blended their rooted and shooted life together. They drew an invisible vertical line on an invisible horizontal base and it swirled and made a circle. At the centre of the invisible circle were the women. This may be man and woman, no, I am wrong. This is human beings endless journey, human doings, human bearing and carrying and human tolerance.
