This is not a review. But since the Bengali’s critical response to the Hindi Byomkesh Bakshi is hugely split up and extreme, I decided to voice mine.

Most of those liking it seem to do so for the wrong reasons — decor, period details, slickness, scale…. blah blah. Those up in arms, claiming lack of Bangaliana or the Sharadindu tradition, bear the same unfortunate legacy of those who protested Satyajit Ray’s interpolations in Charulata from Tagore’s Nashtaneer (for example, Kishore Kumar’s version of Ami chini go chini) or that he made his Byomkesh in Chiriakhana carry a cobra in his pocket. 

Therefore, as an ardent lover and practitioner of Sharadindu, I decided to use my lunch break during the outdoor shoot of my fourth Byomkesh to give Dibakar Banerjee’s version the perspective it deserves.

My Byomkesh, his Byomkesh

Firstly, every filmmaker has the right to interpret, interpolate, deconstruct, alter classics. The very 
medium inherits the fundamental right. Purists will denounce change. But change is inevitable. It is hugely essential to dig deep under years and layers of dated conceptions and 
rediscover a master’s work. Thereby one unearths the lost mystery of the material and its contemporary relevance.

Dibakar has done precisely that. He has ripped apart the fuddy, conventional, archaic understanding and brought out the hidden aspects of Sharadindu’s iconic Bengali gumshoe. Kudos to him for having attempted a deconstruction that only the truly adventurous can dare to. Daring is risky and pitfalls are inevitable. But who cares? I don’t. 

I have interpreted my Byomkesh as a period, middle-class, domesticated, uniquely Bengali thriller about moral and social degradation. My Byomkesh is an amoral, dialectical, adult, complex representative of the post-war, post-Independent Calcutta. Dibakar’s Byomkesh is pulp-driven, hallucinatory, crazily cosmopolitan, pre-Independent, mythical and highly diabolical. And the latter is equally valid. 

Thanks to my dear friend, JNU professor Kaushik Bhaumik, who pointed out to me the fundamentally postmodern nature of Byomkesh tales. I have come to believe that Byomkesh tales are a combination of modern detection and mythical ideas of truth. ‘Satyanweshi’ is a complex term. One should not simplify it as just a truth seeker. It has connections with Vedantic ideas and mythical undertones. 

Dibakar’s Byomkesh treads the razor’s edge of a violent world; he does not distance himself rationally from that world, but participates in it. That is why a stoned Byomkesh drawing bloody graffiti works wonders. In the original story Satyanweshi, Byomkesh does consume drugs.

The mythical and the outrageous 

The characterisation of Anukul as the prototype of the super swordsman Bill (Kill Bill) has led to outrage among Byomkesh lovers. But friends, read again. There are numerous such graphic novel-type, larger than life Dashyu Mohan/ Joker-like baddies in the Byomkesh stories. In Pather Kanta, the contract killer uses a gramophone pin and a cycle bell as his weapon to kill his victims at 50 yards, and the pin manages to pierce the hearts. By what standards of rationality can one hide a diamond in one’s throat in Raktamukhi Nila? Bhujangadhar of Chiriakhana is a plastic surgeon from London who can hide a cyanide capsule under his tongue. Why does a very typical middle-class Bengali, Probal, choose a porcupine quill to kill and not the good old knife? There are numerous mythical, outrageous, fantasy elements in the Byomkesh stories. Anukul returns in Upashanghar where he steals the poisonous match box to sell it off to an international buyer as a weapon of chemical warfare. So what’s wrong with Dibakar’s Anukul if he is shown to be an international drug lord in league with Japanese spies? 

There are also those who are finding Byomkesh ordering aloo bhaja and tea very odd. Both Dibakar and I know about Sharadindu’s addiction to aloo bhaja and tea. Prabir Chakraborty, who holds the rights to Sharadindu’s works, will tell you that Sharadindu almost lived on aloo bhaja when writing the Byomkesh tales. 

A postmodern fantasy

Remember, the name ‘Byomkesh’ itself signifies the lord who was always high on marijuana. So the brilliance of Dibakar is that, having bought the entire rights of the Byomkesh series, he is playing with the elements of numerous facts and figures hidden in the compilation and building a postmodern fantasy in a war-torn Calcutta. His bumbling, sharp, wacky, gawky, doped-out Byomkesh is actually an extremely refreshing icon in our current virtual world of Kill Bill. For me, Sushant Singh Rajput works magic.

My limited audience restricts big budget. But had I got much more than what is viable, I would never attempt a postmodern approach, for my sheer love for the noir. I’d perhaps move towards Roman Polanski’s Chinatown. But that Dibakar has a pan-Indian audience and the fund and has chosen Tarantino’s steam- punk approach in a very Bengali context is not only unique but remarkable.

His Anguri Devi, coming straight out of Magna Mainak’s Hena Mullik or Chiriakhana’s Bonolakshmi with a coating of Mata Hari, works wonders in this tale of deception and lust. 

Byomkesh is amoral

Those who find the title ‘Detective’ wrong, kindly note that the concept of Satyanweshi itself is deceptive. Truth is deceptive in all Byomkesh stories. He is finally amoral. He can burn dirty money in Adim Ripu but  cannot punish the killer Probhat. He can catch the criminals but cannot bring them to justice. Bhujangadhar (Chiriakhana), Amaresh Raha (Chitrachor), Bhuvan (Kahen Kobi Kalidas), Satyakam’s murderous father (Rakter Daag)... all either escape violently, commit suicide, or are forgiven by an amoral Byomkesh, who in this respect remains just a peeping Tom, or a private eye. It is only he who sees the truth. 

But I somehow feel that Anand Tiwari’s Ajit has to pull up his socks and get the angst-ridden, headstrong, elder brother-like Ajit right. I agree that Neeraj Kabi’s Anukul should not have hammed in the final, gory climax. Neeraj, you are a brilliant performer. So, this is just from another actor. I am longing for your understated yet malicious, twisted return. Swastika, you are fab as usual. Satyabati is very apt.

Dibakar, both me and my son Neel, who’s also my music director, are bowled over by your choice of the electronic punk soundtrack. We both faced quite some flak for Neel’s Pagla hawa version in The Bong Connection despite the song becoming a chartbuster. 

I had warned you before that a bulk of the Bengali audience have nothing left but to cling to their fading tradition and cynicism. That’s why despite overwhelming success, Kabir Suman and later, yours truly, were accused of defiling modern music when we started off (in the early 1990s). Bob Dylan was recently asked why he did a cover version of a Frank Sinatra tune. He answered that he has uncovered it. So there is no reason for you to justify your stand by claiming that you are a “prabashi”. Go the whole hog next time and let’s all have more fun!

Do you agree with Anjan Dutt’s views on Detective Byomkesh Bakshy!? Tell t2@abp.in