Tribute to Narayan Debnath

Like any other 'Papa's princess', I was never critical of my Dad's doings. My Baba was the best teacher, singer, story-teller, actor and an incredible orator who could speak a dozen languages fluently. And I guess people who knew him would agree to these qualities of him. We did have our differences, and I would be momentarily annoyed with him on everything he did ( or didn't) while throwing a tantrum myself; but we would patch up and go back being each other's favourite equally quickly. 

One thing, however, I took a really really long time to forgive him for, was donating my favourite series of comics.

To give you a little background, my parents, both teachers in Central government run schools, were posted in Little Andaman. Life was easy and tranquil in the islands. Neighbours were only family we had, as the rest of every person's extended family remained in the 'mainland'. We kids grew up as part of one big family where everyone took care of each other. 

My Baba as well as all elders in the colony made sure our generation learnt well about our culture and traditions, songs and cuisines, authors, poets, and freedom fighters alongwith world culture and world leaders. They created a mini India for us in that remotest part of country.

So, on my 8th birthday, I get a surprise gift of the entire set (36 books) of 'Nonte fonte' comics by Narayan Debnath; which must have been quite a feat, because books, specially for leisure reading were to be procured from Kolkata through a painstakingly long process that could take anywhere from a month to a quarter of an year. 

A bookaholic already, I was beside myself... Yes, my Baba was definitely the best. No other child in the entire colony had 36 shiny, colourful, deliciously funny comics books to herself. It took me less than three days to finish reading them all (the usual way; smuggling them under textbooks in school, reading them under bedsheet, sometimes under the bed after declaring loudly that I'm going out to play). I would smell the books, re-read them and also try to enact the characters. The wonder of finding characters in a comics who thought like me and made similar experiments that brought similar troubles to them as to me was unmatched. Over the years, there were many additions to my tiny library, but that particular set remained my favourite. 

Four years later, my parents got transferred to the North Andaman Islands. One day, upon returning from home, I couldn't find the comics books. Baba had donated almost all my books that I had "outgrown"!

I was absolutely heartbroken. I remember being so angry with him that I even refused to accompany him to the only sweet meat shop in the island... declining his peace offerings: hot rasgullas. 

Over the years, like any other Bengali child of my generation, I collected all series of comics by Narayan Debnath, and I still read them to my kids who are yet to be fluent in reading Bangla; but still my heart aches when I think of my first series. The memories associated with being introduced to the wonder-world of a master storyteller and then building my own world around those characters were so marvellous!

Today, Narayan Debnath breathed his last. He leaves behind many readers like me, whose childhood was made colourful through his comics. Rest in peace, smile-maker!