Vulgar

Baba and I were standing on a platform at the Howrah station, waiting for our train to arrive. Out of nothing, Baba asked me, “What according to you, is ‘vulgar’? Can you find anything vulgar from the scenes at this platform?”

My father and I have this habit of quizzing each other randomly. Locating a particular object or a situation, spotting differences, finding similarities between things that lie right infront of us. It had always been our favourite game.

I gave up. Finding an example of vulgarity from the platform wasn’t easy.

The train had not arrived at the platform yet. And there was this enormous queue at a place where passengers contemplated the General Compartment to be stationed at.

The train arrived. The passengers rushed, shoved, elbowed each other to find a little space in the very crowded General coach, while we waited to board the AC First Class compartment. Additionally, the AC and the General Coach were right next to each other.

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The father and his daughter kept on talking. On cinema, books, the daughter’s savings, LICs, religion, Mamata Banerjee and vulgarity (unrelated topics, including the last two words, God promise).

Baba later gave me a very old book to read (bought from a second-hand book stall in College Street). Written way back in the 1960s. By Nipendrakrishna Chattopadhyay (Trivia: He was also the script-writer for Uttar phalguni, Saat paake bandha, Nayika Sanbad and many more). He had very interesting interpretations of the word “vulgar”.

In his book, he cites Aldous Huxley’s example. When the whole world was going ecstatic over Romain Rolland’s “Jean-Christophe”, the critics, novelists and writers were praising it endlessly, Aldous Huxley branded the book as “vulgar”. According to Huxley, the rampant sentimentality and sappiness in the novel appeared vulgar to him.

In his article "The vulgarity in Little Nell" (1930), Huxley while attacking Charles Dicken's uncontrolled sentimentality in “The Old Curiosity Shop”, wrote “It is vulgar, in literature, to make a display of emotions which you do not naturally have, but think you ought to have, because all the best people do have them. It is also vulgar (and this is the more common case) to have emotions, but to express them so badly, with so too many protestings, that you seem to have no natural feelings, but to be merely fabricating emotions by a process of literary forgery.

... ... ... The case of Dickens is a strange one. The really monstrous emotional vulgarity, of which he is guilty now and then, in all his books and almost continuously in ‘The Old Curiosity Shop’, is not the emotional vulgarity of one who stimulates feelings which he does not have. It is evident, on the contrary, that Dickens felt most poignantly for and with his Little Nell; that he wept over her sufferings, piously revered her goodness and exulted in her joys. He had an overflowing heart; but the trouble was that it overflowed with such curious and even rather repellent secretions.”

This interpretation of ‘vulgar’ is something I relate to. Overdoing certain things (especially certain emotions) often turn out to be vulgar (even if you or I do it!).

Like putting sugar in a chicken curry (not for the brown colour of the onion, but for sweetness) or making an aloo-sabzi sweet. Same applies for emotions.

Nipendrakrishna Chattopadhyay, in his book gives some interesting examples to which I would relate. Very much.

He says, it’s not your fault if you are rich and make a donation of One hundred rupees; however, in a large gathering when everyone makes contributions of Ten Rupees each, taking out the same hundred rupees note turns vulgar. I agree.

Similarly, on a chilly winter day, when the whole world is wrapped in warm woolens, you choose to wear an almost-transparent linen shirt. That will appear vulgar.

Or, imagine a pleasant, peaceful morning. Young and old, men and women taking their morning walks. Serenity and freshness everywhere. Smell of Eucalyptus or Chhatim in the air. Suddenly, a Ferrari drives past with an earsplitting honk or a shrill screech of its tyres. No matter how sexy the car may look otherwise, in this given situation it appears vulgar.

Or this.

For those who can’t read Bengali, here is a skeleton translation.

-   Have been suffering from a pain in the stomach for quite some time.

-   Oh, you are getting baffled from a stomach-pain? Look at me. I have been attending office for the past one month with a broken leg. In addition, I have a chest pain as well.

-   I went to Doctor Mukherjee for that pain. You know, the doctor is related to us from my sister-in-law’s family.

-   Aah, that’s not Mukherjee’s job. I have seen him during my father-in-law’s gallbladder operation. I was so extremely displeased and disappointed with him.

-   Don’t say like that. Have observed him when my son-in-law was operated for Appendicitis. By the way, I hope you know who my son-in-law is. He is Raybahadur Harihar Dutt’s grandson....

-   Arrey what are you saying? Don’t you know my brother got married to Sir K. G. Bose’s family...And, my nephew got a D. Sc degree which no Bengali has ever managed at such a young age...

The conversation continues.

None of them would let the other speak; none would let the other overshadow, while the onlookers watch their shameless display of vulgarity, the display of “I, me, myself”.

This conversation also reminds me of an interesting quote.

“The vulgar man is always the most distinguished, for the very desire to be distinguished is vulgar."

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Our discussions always end up in examples from our own lives....beyond the book, beyond Aldous Huxley, needless to say.

When asked, my mother explains vulgarity in her own simple ways. She says the staff-room in her school is right next to Class III. On special days, when teachers have a feast, the overwhelming smell of biriyani or chilly chicken fills the adjacent class room. When teachers savour biryani for lunch, the students of class III finish their tiffin cakes, ruti-torkari, jam-bread or at the most Bourbon biscuits. At that point of time, even the smell of biriyani appears vulgar to her.  L

I would be stamped as snooty/ arrogant/abnormal, but I find certain types of singing vulgar. For example, too sweet a voice often appears vulgar to me. Like Subhomita’s voice. It’s the same as putting sugar in an ‘aloor torkari’. When I shared my views with my younger sibling, he promptly said, “Oh, of course, I find it vulgar too. Like, Dev Adhikari, Subhomita is tolerable till she opens her mouth” (meanness is a family tradition? I wondered).

There was this scene in Satyajit Ray’s “Jalshaghar”. Zamindar Biswambhar Ray (Chhabi Biswas) is seen sitting on an easy chair, relishing music and his hookah. The sitar-recital is disrupted by the disturbing sound of a generator. He calls for his servant to ask for the source of such sound. The servant explains that their next door neighbour, Mahim Ganguli has brought “Electry Kawl” (machine that generates electricity) from Calcutta. In a village where there’s no electricity, the sound of a generator, the display of electric lights from one single household seems vulgar. Doesn’t it?

Also, imagine the childhood we had. Summers would mean power-cuts. The whole locality would be pitch dark. And suddenly from the terrace, you locate one single house where there is electricity (because they have a generator). The sound of the generator would not seem vulgar. But that light? When everything else around is dark?

I have seen a couple of times in cultural programmes and social gatherings, people flock to take autographs from B-grade, C-grade and F-grade movie stars, when distinguised painters, poets, writers or historians are present there. Not their fault actually. They hardly know who these men are. But the sight....seems so vulgar.

There was one common sight on the way back from office, while we waited for buses from the Great Eastern Hotel/ B.B.D. Bag bus-stop. Stand-still traffic, long queues for buses, passengers struggling to get an inch’s space on the footboard just to reach home on time....and in the midst of all these, the police tried clearing out the busiest road in Kolkata to make way for Mr. Budhhadeb Bhattacharya, the-then CM’s car. The red beacon light and the hooter appeared so vulgar then...perhaps for no fault of their own.

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Similarly, for no fault of their own, Kissan Jam, Maggi or Complan advertisements appear vulgar. At certain times. The mother in the advertisement pesters her son to eat food, spreads jam on rotis and biscuits to make them tasty, so that her son does not waste food.

The 5 year old, my maid’s son watches TV with awe. They live in a house which is one-third the size of my bedroom. On days of heavy downpour, the entire household shifts on their bed, as water floods the floor. The tiny idiot box is the most prized source of entertainment. And there flashes....Kissan Jam, Maggi, Complan....

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P.S: “Vulgar” is a relative term. And a term with wide connotations. It changes from person to person and from time to time. At a given point of time, two persons may have largely different interpretations as well. And these perceptions undergo huge changes from time to time. That’s exactly what I feel. Your views may be entirely different. Share it.