Songs of divinity and delight

The Mangalkavya is a genre peculiar to Bengali literary culture. It emerged in the 13th century CE and thrived till the 18th century. A few 19th-century compositions mark the end of the tradition.

The Bengali Mangalkavya is clearly related to the Sanskrit Puranas. Indeed, some of the Bengali Mangalkavyas are also known as Puranas; thus, we have the Manasapuran and the Padmapuran, Padma being an alternate moniker of the snake goddess Manasa.

Both the Sanskrit Puranas and the Bengali Mangalkavyas are long narrative poems of benediction that are meant to be performed, but whereas the Sanskrit would be recited by a priest, the Bengali Mangalkavya is turned into colourful theatre, akin to the Jatra. Written in Payar, similar to the heroic couplet, with sections in a more tripping metre, the Tripadi, and divided into episodes called Palas, they are traditionally performed over many days, a Pala or two a day. Figures of the Vedic pantheon dominate the Sanskrit Puranas, while the Mangalkavyas feature pre-Aryan, folksy, ‘subaltern’, mainly female, deities who engage in epic struggles to force the snooty votaries of high Brahminism into submission. Even the new Muslim ruling classes cannot resist their ruthless power.

There are three major Mangalkavya corpora, centred on very different types of deities. The largest and most popular is the Manasa corpus, whose earliest poet, Kana Haridatta, is known only from fragments critically referenced by Bijoy Gupta (late 15th century), perhaps the most famous of the 50-plus Manasa poets. The Manasamangal story appeals splendidly on two counts: Manasa’s relentless contest with the monomaniacal Shiva devotee Chand, who in resisting her rises to the stature of a tragic hero; and, after she delivers the coup-de-grace by sending a lethal snake to dispatch Chand’s only surviving son on his wedding night, the bride Behula’s riverine odyssey with the decomposing dead body till she induces Manasa to relent and revive him. Chand bows down to Manasa. The story can be seen as a symbolic enactment of conflict resolution between a pre-Aryan cult and Brahminism.

The same is true of the Chandi corpus, which originated in Bengal in the popular cult of Mangal Chandi, a folk deity who subsequently became identified with the goddess Chandi (Durga) of the Sanskrit Markandeya Purana. The Chandimangal of Mukundaram (16th century) is the finest of the dozen or so works devoted to her. Both the Manasa and the Chandi corpora capture crucial historical transformations: a pastoral economy gives way to an agricultural one as forests are cut down and brought under the plough; the advent of Muslim rulers and a growing Muslim population necessitates social adjustments and infuses Perso-Arabic elements into the vernacular.

The Dharma Thakur corpus is somewhat different. Some say Dharma Thakur is a derivative of the Vedic Varuna; others that he sprang from the Buddhist entity of the same name.

There are numerous minor Mangalkavyas, dedicated to such folk divinities as Sitala, goddess of smallpox, Sasthi, goddess of fertility and childbirth, Rai, the tiger god, or even a great man like Sri Chaitanya. The last great Mangalkavya is the work of a sophisticated court poet, Bharatchandra Ray (1712-1760). It is a composite work dealing with Shiva, the raunchy romance of Vidya and Sundar, and a historical episode. The poet’s command over prosody and witty diction has earned him wide admiration. Annadamangal is now available in Harvard’s Murty Classical Library of India in a bilingual edition titled In Praise of Annada, with an English translation by France Bhattacharya.

Mangalkavyas belong to literary history, but come alive on occasions related to a particular cult. At the end of the monsoon, there is a Manasa festival in the Mymensingh region of Bangladesh. Some friends and I once followed the fully costumed performers as they went by boat, reenacting Behula’s arduous odyssey, to the delight of congregated villagers. Such festivities have always been frowned upon both by orthodox Hindus and Mullahs. When asked about this, the performers, all Muslim, including two Hajis, shrugged off the criticism, saying they sang and danced for the well-being, mangal, of all; benediction and fun. 

The author is the Dean of Arts and Humanities at the University of Liberal Arts, Bangladesh.

The Heritage Shelf is a monthly column from the Murty Classical Library of India, published by Harvard University Press, presenting India’s greatest literary works and the enduring traditions that shaped them.