Literary nonsense is not literal nonsense. Ever read ‘Jabberwocky’ by Lewis Carroll, the quintessential nonsense? Here, the lack of meaning is balanced with meaning. Absurdity, incongruity, portmanteau, inversion, gibberish, repetition and others are woven into the text, creating nonsense. For example, Laurence Sterne’s Tristam Shandy employed the nonsensical device of imprecision by inserting a blank page. To understand nonsense even better, have you watched Harry Potter? Most of us must have. There, the magic spells or the names of certain characters created that effect of nonsense. It’s odd to hear such nonsensical words or places because we don’t get it. We laugh at jokes because we get it, unlike plain nonsense. 

Having cleared that, let’s come to Sukumar Ray, the pioneer of literary nonsense in India. The hilarious poems of Sukumar Ray are delicious, and irresistible with a pinch of commentary. The motif of food is recurrent to highlight the aberration of Bengali society and lampoon the British Raj. 

It is interesting to know that Sukumar Ray was the father of Satyajit Ray and the son of author-publisher Upendrakishore Ray Chowdhury. Read on to find the ' plate of luchi' deftly handled by the writer's literary obsession with food.

HERE'S AN EXCERPT:

In Sukumar Ray’s hilarious poems, food was always served with a side of commentary

The pioneer of literary nonsense in India wrote at a time when British officials’ gluttony had became an object of ridicule.

“Boshi bachharer poila tarikhe/
Moner khataye rakhilam likhe/
Sahaj Udore dhoribe jetuku/
Sheyi tuku khabo hobo na petuk.”

“On the first day of the year, I sat/
And noted in my mind’s diary/
Whatever little my stomach can hold/
Will only eat that, won’t be greedy.”

These lines from the poem Nirupaye (Helpless) by the Bengali poet, playwright and illustrator Sukumar Ray reads like something nearly all of us think. At the beginning of the year, we resolve to exercise self-control and tame our appetites. But the determination melts faster than kulfi on a hot summer day.

Like us, Ray’s the narrator too is soon rendered helpless by the irresistible lure of good food. He asks earnestly, should the heart cry out for luchi (deep-fried puffed bread), can it simply be consigned to tears? If, at an opulent feast, rich pulaos, kalia and sweet treats like payesh (milk and rice pudding) run wild on the plate, is it possible to not welcome them?

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ALSO, READ THE JOURNAL ON THE SELECT POEMS OF SUKUMAR RAY HERE