The Fakir - Sunil Gangopadhyay

5/5 stars

What is religion? What is caste, creed, gender, or any other kind of difference? What is truth - the real, unfiltered, raw, blazing truth that keeps the world afloat in this shining cosmos? These are the questions posed by Sunil Gangopadhyay's beautiful little novella. It is a story about a regular man born into a regular impoverished Hindu household, who struck by illness is declared dead and floated away on the Ganges. Rescued by a Muslim woman, who nurses him back to health as only a religion-less mother can, this man is now 'defiled', discarded by Hindu society. Both Hindu and Muslim at one time, and then suddenly neither, he flees to the forest where in the womb of despair, he is born again as a man of wisdom. Wisdom that comes from the abyss of nothingess is true wisdom indeed for it is untouched by Samskaras and ways of the world. It is like pure iron that is unsullied by rust. Thus, comes into being Lalan Fakir, a simple man whose thoughts and emotions, disconnected from his mortal being, flow through him like a river of song.

His simple magnetism attracts others to himself, others who have been outcasted, trampled upon, discriminated against and disposed by society. The entire story resonated with me like the ektara Lalon fakir himself plays, but if I were to pick one excerpt, it would be this "As he finished one song, he began another, a new one again, for the shoals of rui had filled his mind and the words came of their own accord". He had emptied himself to such an extent that there was no more 'I', and that is when the shoals of divine rui swam through his consciousness and manifested as songs which struck the hearts of madmen and Zamindars alike.

This story is about the abundance that flows through one, when he/she empties himself entirely. This story is about oneness, the one truth that is the essence of us all, that one river which surpasses all material boundaries - geographical, sexual, physical and more. A born Bengali myself, I have not learned to read or write the language, but I speak it. I read the translated version of this book and as I leafed through the poem-songs, I could only imagine how lyrical the actual Bengali words might be, but the distilled essence of the words transcend language. Another barrier dissolved. To any true seeker, I would recommend this book. But then again, we are all seekers, some of us are simply aware of it, while others lie dormant till the truth is ready to be awakened, and then the search beings. That being the case, this book is for everyone.