The irony of this ‘Bengal vs India’ becomes sharp as you stand under Curzon Gate at the crossing of Bardhaman city’s main Bijoy Chand Road and GT Road. Under this archway built in 1903 on the occasion of Bardhaman’s Raja Bijay Chand Mahatab’s coronation – originally named ‘Bijay Toran’ (Bijay Arch) but later came to be associated with the governor general of Bengal after he visited the city in 1904 – you meet the man himself: Maharajadhiraja Bahadur Sir Bijay Chand Mahatab (1881-1941).
The gold-painted statue of the young raja, one hand on his sheathed sword, looking imperially onto the chaos of the city crossing, is usual fare in statues-obsessed West Bengal. But this statue – along with its companion piece at the other end of the arch of Maharani Radharani Mahatab – was installed in 2022 by TMC in honour of the leading light of Bardhaman’s Raj family, a Punjabi Khatri line that migrated from Lahore.
Founded by Sangam Rai Kapoor in the 1650s, and flourishing through the 19th c. thanks to their commercial enterprise and money lending during British rule, the Mahatab clan were the proverbial outsiders who made Bengal their home and made Bardhaman a thriving centre. The golden man in the raucous chowk, standing like a motionless street performer, seems impressed that in a few hours, a woman in sari and chappals is scheduled to conduct a padyatra starting from where he is. One of her messages being: ‘keep them out of Bengal’.
It Takes a Village to Raise Children
Half-an-hour away from the pell-mell of Bardhaman town lies Gramdihi. The first thing that strikes you about this village in Bhatar community development block, Purba Bardhaman, is how clean and green it is. There’s a quality of an old Bengal school painting about this place. Standing in front of a pond with ducks gliding by next to a temple-cum-post office building, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe full-blown ‘development’ isn’t for everyplace and everyone.
The rice-growing village – linearly separated into Muslim (farm labourers), Hindu (landowners, managers and professionals) and adivasi (farmhands and menials) – sections are almost disturbingly bucolic to city-slicker sensibilities. But Gramdihi KPP High School at Bhatar where voting will be held, brings you back to the world where elections seem to matter.A class is underway, and the teacher is reading out a passage from Tagore’s short story, ‘Samapti’ (which, incidentally, Ray had adapted to film in his triptych, ‘Teen Kanya’). The school is spic and span, and the white 2-storeyed building has an immaculate garden compound, with young boys and girls studying from Class 5 to 10 in their white and blue uniforms popping in and out. They have been replaced by poll officials and voters.
Sitting in his office, overlooking a multi-CCTV screen and framed portraits of Nazrul Islam, Tagore, Ishwarchandra Vidyasagar and Gandhi, headmaster Arun Kumar Chakraborty seems tense. He’s proud of his school (recognised in 1970) that currently has 254 students. But he’s facing a serious fund crunch.
“We are facing serious drinking water problems and a shortage of functional toilets. The central Sarva Shiksha Abhiyan gets us some money, but it’s hard to get. Along with the ₹240 annual school fees, it’s not enough,” he says looking deadpan and wanting to know if there are any private companies that can help out as part of their CSR.
When voting commences in this school today, the future of West Bengal, Purba Bardhaman district, and the villages here will run through the minds of voters. Question is whether there will be any happy ‘poribortan’ in KPP High School. Chakraborty almost whispers defensively something about the need to also upgrade the school library.
