Bengal & Bengalism
The Captive Ladie is one of the most considerable verse productions in English from the pen of a Bengali writer. Still, it is not much celebrated in English literature. Wonder why?
Bangla is Bangladesh’s official, national, and most widely spoken language, developed over more than 1,300 years. Its literature — with its millennium-old history — flourished during the Bengali Renaissance and remains one of Asia’s most prolific literary traditions. A popular saying even claims that UNESCO once ranked Bangla as the sweetest language in the world — though that seems hard to verify, given how massive such a study would be. Religious reforms, modernization movements, and tireless work on timeless creations enriched both the language and the culture.
Figures like Raja Ram Mohan Roy with the Brahmo Samaj, Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar with educational initiatives, Michael Madhusudan Dutt — a pioneering poet and dramatist of the Bengal Renaissance — and Rabindranath Tagore, the Nobel laureate poet, all upheld Bengal’s rich cultural and intellectual legacy. This trend continued post-independence through films, music, and intellectual discourse. The Swadeshi movement fostered love for the mother tongue, while institutions like the University of Dhaka and Santiniketan became crucibles for ideas and ideology — not merely centers of learning.
For 150 years from the 19th century, Calcutta dominated Bangla cultural and creative expression. However, the 1947 Partition created East Pakistan, with a Bangla-speaking majority that shifted the language’s landscape for good. The 1952 Language Movement — with 56% native speakers demanding Bangla as a state language of Pakistan — became defining for the language. The Bengali people’s deep pride in their language speaks for itself. Bangla transcends mere communication — it shapes the lifestyle and mindset of every Bengali, giving birth to a new nationalism.
Unfortunately, this vibrant landscape faces decline. Bangla, once the vanguard of the subcontinental renaissance, is shifting — culturally and politically. The echoes of Tagore and Sarat Chandra still resonate in households, but the language has lost its literary spark. We’re mooning over the past instead of nurturing our mother tongue’s future.
February’s Amar Ekushey Book Fair — the largest gathering of Bangla identity — vividly portrays my claim. During the fair, social media influencers dominate the bestseller lists. I certainly am not passing judgment; however, if the language doesn’t produce sons like Rabindranath and Nazrul, will it prosper — as it did last century?
From a scientific point of view, humans often abandon complex knowledge systems like language through cognitive evolution. Linguists term this “language shift,” “extinction,” and “language death.” Bangla faces such a shift now.
Furthermore, when languages contact each other, one often dominates — ultimately displacing the weaker. English poses Bangla’s greatest threat. The Fourth Industrial Revolution has created a “global village” where English dominates. Bangla’s future falls into a pit as it holds little value for the “wannabe elite,” who believe speaking Bangla makes them “uncool” or “khet.”
After 200 years of British rule in the subcontinent, English had already reshaped us. Now, with lives defined by social media, English continues its dominance. In countries where language is truly promoted, education — even scientific instruction — is delivered in the mother tongue. But this is not the case for Bangla.
In 1932, The New York Times reviewed Rabindranath’s Selected Poems. Reviewer Eda Lou Walton wrote: “What is the appeal to us English-speakers of a poet whose verse comes from Bangla? Tagore’s readers span every race, his rhythmical lines known in translation across many languages.”
The regard Rabindranath earned for Bangla did not last. Outside appreciation for our literary tradition declined. We need renewed recognition and respect to restore our mother tongue’s glory.
Though Bangla ranks as the world’s eighth most spoken language, this isn’t enough to spark global interest. Research shows that beyond wide usage, languages need economic value. China’s economic rise spread Mandarin globally. Cultural impact also carries weight in language dispersal. Japan and South Korea exemplify this.
As a high school student, I’ve watched classmates learn Japanese and Korean purely out of interest in anime and pop culture. Can’t we spread our own cultural elements the same way?
জ্যৈষ্ঠে তারা ফোটেতবে জানবে বর্ষা বটে ,গাছে গাছে আগুন জ্বলেবৃষ্টি হবে -খনায় বলে
When Meghdol released the masterpiece Bonbibi it created a sense of appreciation for our folk culture. Before the release of the song, I didn’t know anything about the myth of Bonbibi, nor was I concerned about our folk culture – same goes for my classmates. Is this our generation’s failure? Because, many of us explore Greek and Egyptian mythology; but why do we show little concern for our own roots?
When do we realize the urge of our mother tongue?
As Noam Chomsky says: “A language is not just words. It’s a culture, a tradition, a unification of a community, a whole history that creates what a community is. It’s all embodied in a language.”
Words poured from the heart – মা – can never be replaced with anything else.
Remember that even ambitious works like The Captive Ladie weren’t appreciated in English — but Michael is remembered for his Bangla contributions. This vividly illustrates the point. Nothing replaces the beauty and simplicity of our mother tongue.
Freedom of thought, ideological expression, and exploration of the unknown lie within Bangla. We must admit and admire this now more than ever.
Long live Bangla — and the spirit of Bangla nationalism.
