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The boatman’s presence is woven into the fabric of rural
Bengal. You can’t imagine the Bengal countryside without its
stretch of river and a few boats plying on the surface. Rivers came
before roads were even dreamt of .
On the map of West Bengal
before me, rivers appear like so many veins on a leaf. And, rising
like a mist from the rivers, is the figure of a boatman as the ages
have known him. He is dark and sinewy with muscles like so much rope
running down shoulder and arm. The furrows lie deep on his forehead,
for the sheer effort of rowing causes him to crease his brow. Atop
the heavily tanned face rests a thin turban, more a sunscreen than an
ornament. The oars are held by chapped, work worn hands. The eyes
are screwed against the harsh light of the sun on running water. He
is thin, he is overworked. As likely as not, it’s the plug of
tobacco in his mouth that keeps him going, unless it be the brave,
indomitable spirit of his forefathers.
The boatmen of Bengal come
of different stocks. Many belong to the Bagdi caste which is spread
over a wide area in the districts of Burdwan, Hooghly, Midnapore,
Bankura, Birbhum and the 24 Parganas. Bagdis are mostly agricultural
laborers but their passion for fishing has lured them to the
waterways.
There are members of other
communities too, among the boatmen of Bengal, chiefly Muslims. But
there is little to tell them apart from one another save perhaps the
mode of dress which extends to a lungi and skull cap as well as a
full beard. For the rest they are the same – with similar
lifestyles and the same fears, the same concerns. Both Hindus and
Muslim villagers offer prayers before a river journey. The deities
differ from place to place.
Along the Ganges, worship is
offered to images of the Ganga riding a makara (a mythical
aquatic animal with the body of an elephant). Teesta, the most
turbulent river of north Bengal, is personified as Teestabudhi (old
lady Teesta) and is offered ceremonial worship to the accompaniment
of music and dance. A certain river deity in Bengal is known as
Dariy-Pir. He is said to be a deified Muslim saint who presides over
rivers in general. Members of all communities offer worship in his
name, in the hope of having a safe journey by boat. In the coastal
region, the names of goddess Ganga, Bahruddin Ghazi and the
(unspecified) Five Pirs along with Dariya-Pir, are chanted by Muslim
boatmen before setting out on a journey on any big river.
The method of ceremonial
worship is very simple. A small pit, symbolizing a river, is dug in
the ground. It is filled with milk and two small human images are
taken across the pit a number of times symbolizing a safe journey by
river Uncooked food is also offered to the deities and legend of
Dariya Pir is narrated to focus on his miraculous powers.
And well might the boatmen
worship his gods for his life is fraught with dangers. Even he has
grown to manhood on that same river, handling an oar when others
handled no more than a hoop, even if he understands all the signs and
portents, he is at the mercy of the elements. There’s danger
from storms and cyclones, particularly in coastal areas. In and
around Midnapore district for example, cyclones are fierce and
frequent and for the light country boat out by itself on river or
sea, the lashing, howling winds spell terror. Even the sudden
localized storms known as Norwesters can whip up the waves to a fury.
A savage shark is no friend, neither is the tall wave known as a
‘bore’ that suddenly goes riding upstream from the mouth of
the Hooghly. And every time a ship plies the waters, even on a
peaceful, windless day, it sends the surface of the river and the
country boat into a tizzy.
One sometimes wonders why
boatmen remain boatmen. It must be because they are trained for no
other profession. Or why else would they live out their lives
precariously balanced on the poverty line? Like other
unskilled/Semi-skilled laborers, they are haunted by insecurity, fear
of illness and a sudden, unavoidable financial drain. In recent
years, with the advent of fishing trawlers and power driven ferries
and motor launches, the country boat is less in demand. A fisherman
cannot match the performance of a trawler and a motor ferry will
leave the best country boat far behind. But, plying a row boat or
sail boat, skiff or catamaran, the boatman is here to stay.
Rivers are the lifeline of
rural Bengal and worship of rivers (as distinct from river deities)
is also deeply ingrained in the psyche of the rural population.
During the ‘Sedo’ festival, which falls on the last day of
Paus (December-January), Hindu women prepare small, floatable,
boat-like structures out of banana trunks, placing inside them small
round balls of jaggery and lighted candles. Decorated with marigold
flowers and laced with prayers, these boats are floated down the
river at sundown. To a villager, a boat is highly symbolic. It is a
means of reaching somewhere, be it the opposite bank, the next
village, the open sea or the shrine of the river goddess itself. At
the time of fairs and festivals, country boats are much in demand.
The Ganga Sagar mela (fair) held on an island at the mouth of
the Hooghly, witnesses whole fleets of country boats converging on
the sacred ghats.
To the boatman, his boat is
a home away from home. If he wanders far, a rough canopy of wood and
tin offers a place to cook and sleep and a little niche to keep his
things safe against the ever flying spray. And when loneliness grips
him, he sits in the prow of his boat and sings. Most often his songs
are based on the style known as Bhatiyali. This is regional in
Character, inasmuch as it is sung all over the lower regions of the
eastern districts of Bengal, known as Bhati (the lowlands).
The whole region of Bhati is covered by vast stretches of water,
particularly during the rainy season. The boatmen playing their
boats in this area sing such songs. Bhatiyali is never sung
in groups, but always individually, expressing the deepest feelings
of love and devotion of the human soul. This is essentially a song
of loneliness, sung by boatmen during their leisure, helm in hand,
while the boat floats on by itself down the river, at low tide.
Bhatiyal is
a-rhythmic, as compared to Sari, that other sytle of singing which is
rhythmic and often fast. Sari is the style adopted during manual
work, a perfect example being the pulling of oars in unison during
the boat races sometimes held in lower Bengal.
The boatmen of Bengal have
long been a motif of great inspiration to painters. How many have
depicted the Bengal countryside: paddy fields – an incredible
shade of green, coconut palms rising to meet the sky, and the river
floating by with one lone boat on its bosom. Or a clutch of country
boats, supremely river-worthy craft, with sails unfurled. Tattered
sails made of canvas and patched with other materials, in different
colours. Or else the silhouette of a boatman in the prow of his boat
gliding into the sunset.
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