Nari Nesha Nashakata by Jayanta De [Paperback]

Once at the book fair grounds, Sandipan Chattopadhyay had remarked, "Bengali writers are immature; they fear writing about sexuality." That was a long time ago, back when I had just begun my writing journey. At that time, the only reference people had was Buddhadeb Basu's Ratbhore Brishti. Since then, Bengali literature has become much bolder—while maintaining literary merit, of course. Crude, erotic stories and novels have always existed, and they still do in abundance. But Bengali literature had to wait a long time for a work like Swapanmay Chakraborty’s Holde Golap. His fearless writing ushered Bengali fiction into a new era.

Every story in this book revolves around sexuality—the kind that intoxicates, the kind that fuels destruction, that wrecks and devastates, that forces one to look back in anger and resentment.

Yet, I must admit, I am not as bold as I perhaps needed to be. The sexuality in my stories resonates more with the mind than the body. Where the body needed to speak, I have let it speak—but in my own way. In some stories, the fire burned only within the mind, never reaching the flesh. I never felt the need to force my male and female characters into bed just for the sake of it. What intrigues me more is their repressed desires, the silent turmoil within. Love, when scorched by fire, becomes sexuality, and sexuality, when washed clean, turns into love—this is a simple notion. But these stories do not fit within such a confined frame.

For instance, in Purnima’s Medical Shop, Kushal buys a condom. The story was published in Sharadiya Patrika, and a reader once asked me, “Have you ever met someone like Purnima?”

I did not answer. The truth is, all literature contains a blend of imagination and reality. Sometimes reality merges into fantasy, and at other times, fantasy is deeply rooted in reality. Throwing in a few crude expletives does not make an erotic story.

You know about women who sell themselves. But do you know about men who do the same? One such character is Raj.

Morbe Indur Bechara is one of my most recently published stories. You might recognize many people around you who resemble the protagonist of this story—those who spew venom constantly, as if addicted to their own darkness. This venom-spitting is, perhaps, a form of destruction too.

— Jayanta Dey