The seeds of an idea for producing a film on Moner Manush were T probably sown in 1989 while I was making a documentary on Bharatratna Ustad Bismillah Khan. Reminiscing on his youth Khan sahib had said, ‘My brother and I used to bathe in the holy Ganga very early in the morning, read our namaz in the mosque and then go down to the Balaji temple where we played the shenhai. Life was very simple and happy. When I heard this, I asked myself – was this simple way of life mentioned by Ustadji the mysterious, solitary path which every human being craved for? Khan sahib had also said, ‘There are seven scales and five flat notes lie hidden in them. And it is in the combination of these seven scales and five notes that every single tune of this world is held. Music, my friend, has no caste or religion.’ To me, Khan sahib had then seemed to stand out as a living symbol of the composite culture of this sub-continent.

The demolition of Babri Masjid occurred soon after that, followed by extensive communal riots. I was shocked and mortified like countless other people of this country. My first reaction was to produce a film on this devastating episode, but the next moment I realised that producing a film on a riot was nothing but displaying violence and blood-shed. Rather, it would be a far more responsible act to produce a film on a non-institutional and non-sectarian worshipper like Kabir or Lalon. I even set out to do some research on Lalon Fakir, but for various reasons it had not been possible to produce a film on Lalon at that time. Many years passed thereafter. With the advent of the new millennium the world seemed to be struck by an even stronger wave of intolerance, as if seized by a surge of prejudice in matters related to religion, politics and culture. I decided that it was the right time for launching my project on Lalon Fakir.

In its autumn issue of 2008 the Bengali magazine Desh brought out a novel on Lalon Fakir – Moner Manush, written by the renowned literateur, Sunil Gangopadhyay. Sunil-da‘s writing filled me with a strong urge to embark on my project. I started reading the articles written on Lalon Fakir by various researchers and studied the songs composed by Lalon with close attention. In the end I realised that Lalon stood out as a truly amazing figure in the backdrop of our nation’s scenario in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. He seemed to have dropped down like a noor – a spark of divine light from the endless sky into the Bengali society, which then lay shrouded in prejudice and superstition.

It is heard that Lalon was an illiterate man. But going through the words of his songs and their implied significance it seems as if he was an erudite scholar, tutored in an age-old system of education. Lalon’s religious thoughts used to find expression in his songs, which carried the radiance of a very deep philosophy. His faith was not guided by any particular religion. Rather, it could be said to comprise the mysticism of Sufi, the love and forgiveness of Vaishnavism and the liberal spirit of the Tantrik sect of Budddhism, which allowed a devotee to act as per his instincts. I am inclined to accept the views expressed in this regard by Annada Shankar Roy who had once said ‘The main stream, I believe, is Buddhist liberalism, with Islamic Sufi and Vaishnavism running alongside. These three streams had united in Lalon’s religious pursuit and in his thoughts and actions. In fact, Buddhist liberalism had created a field for religious pursuit since long, which is evident from the Charjyapada—lyrics composed by the liberal Buddhist sect.’

Lalon’s religious quest was undertaken through the medium of human beings. Lalon’s religious practices were not organised in any established pattern, which is why he had been the victim of contempt, vilification and enmity of both Hindus and Muslims all through his life.

In the words of Abul Ahsan, eminent researcher on Lalon Fakir—‘Time and again his religion of love had been subjected to reproach and humiliation by the religious Gurus who were well-versed in scriptures and by the then heads of society. But Lalon had progressed in a calm and composed manner towards his destination, undeterred by any handicap and unmoved by any constraint. Just as a river runs ceaselessly towards the sea passing over all obstacles, so had Lalon Fakir ignored all animosities and moved steadily towards what he believed to be the truth, looking for the single entity which his heart craved for. Lalon was a seeker of truth, which is why any personal feelings caused by those repeated blows were not reflected anywhere in his songs.’

The Baul community had renounced all recognised institutional religions and revolted against long-established rites, customs and faiths. Breaking down the barriers of the narrow confines of communal faith they had found a large expanse under the sky, which had served as a bountiful meeting place of many religions. Counted as one of the principal folk-groups of Bengal, the Baul community composed its own songs, which symbolised devotional lyrics and were aimed to expound the deep mystery of the Baul religious culture to followers and disciples. No conscious effort to create any artistic effect was found in those songs. This latter feature was also noticeable in the songs sung by Lalon Fakir, who did not compose his songs out of any artistic design but with the sole objective of providing benefit to his followers. And yet, by virtue of their deep sensitivity and emotional appeal those songs had crossed the ambits of objectives and necessity to enter the select circle of artistic creations. Lalon’s songs were thus devotional lyrics on one hand and on the other hand, they carried deep philosophical annotations in addition to being poetic creations embellished with an artist’s passion.

The film-script of Moner Manush is not a biography of Lalon Fakir The successive stages of Lalon’s emergence as Lalon Fakir, the then prevailing social scenario, a disciple’s unwavering faith in his Guru and a man’s endless journey in quest of the single entity that his heart craves for—all this is brought out through the interaction between Lalon and Jyotirindranath Tagore. In a particular scene of the film, Jyotirindranath asks Lalon curiously, ‘Are you people liberalists?’ To which Lalon replies, ‘We are a rudderless raft in a shoreless river. You can call us a hidden current too—those who want to get lost with us, can get lost!’

This ‘hidden current’ was a truly wonderful treasure of our rural Bengal. It was literally a fair of joy for people, who were uplifted, broadminded and non-communal in spirit and were yet treated as outcastes by their society. The human society of today dissolute, intolerant and avaricious as they are—has much to learn from the easy way of life of those baul-fakirs. In his introduction to Muhammad Mansaruddin’s Haramoni, Rabindranath Tagore had written, ‘People, who declare themselves as well-educated in our country, are often driven by their own needs to go round looking for many devices for uniting the Hindus and Muslims. But they are educated in the history-schools of other countries and have not cared to learn the history of their own country—a land, where the spirit of that very union has been borne all along in the deep truth prevailing in the minds of the people. In Baul literature and the lifestyle of the Baul community I can see how Hindus and Muslims had been united through a single pursuit, but neither community had hurt the other. This union had not been brought about by meetings or conferences, nor had it led to such deliberations. But, on the other hand, it had given birth to many beautiful songs—songs bearing words and tunes, which were rich with the charm of raw artlessness. The words and tunes of these songs had drawn the Hindus and Muslims close to each other without raising any dispute between the Koran and the Hindu scriptures. It was a union which stood out as a true symbol of India’s civilisation!’

Lalon used to sing:

‘Why do you ask about Khuda,

pointing towards the sky?

He has no one of his own,

and no one knows why.

The earth is round, I am told.

rotating all the time and behold,

how it makes day, followed by night—,

wise men say so and they must be right.’

This song made me wonder how Lalon could have come to know about the rotation of the earth. He could not have read the works of Copernicus or Galileo. But then, I remembered that the science of astronomy had been handed down by word of mouth from generation to generation in ancient India. Today, driven by the arrogance of our English education we have come to ignore our popular folk-lores and we have looked down upon the Baul fakirs, addressing them as corrupt debauches belonging to the lowest scum of society. But the time has now come to make amends for our mistakes, to revive our heritage and restore our lost culture. The film Moner Manush is a step in that direction-an invitation to adopt the non-communal, liberal and human attitude of Lalon Fakir in our own lives and thoughts. In the words of Lalon—

‘When will the rains arrive?

It is with that single hope that I thrive.’

[Niyogi Books has given Fair Observer permission to publish this excerpt from The Quest: Script of Goutam Ghose’s Film Moner Manush, Goutam Ghose, translated by Shankar Sen, Niyogi Books, 2012.]

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Fair Observer’s editorial policy.