The next few points I will address are also quintessentially ‘Indian topics, yet their treatment in nonsense calls for a more specific approach. One revealing way of looking at nonsense is through the lens of Mikhail Bakhtin’s book Rabelais and His World , which defines the ‘camivalesque’, the wild spirit of a Renaissance carnival that mocks and upturns any given society’s sacred cultural conventions, like religion, class and sexuality (Rabelais and His World, 10). At the carnival, lay folk dress in wimples, collars and saffron robes and disport themselves in a distinctly irreligious manner; kings and slaves, depending on which masks they wear, can reverse roles; and sexual mores, like strategic bits of clothing, are thrown to the wind. Likewise, nonsense literature in all cultures tends to make everything it touches stand on its head. Indian nonsense, in particular, takes a camivalesque approach to Indian aesthetics, politics, religion, class/caste issues, respect for elders and the guru-disciple relationship, all topics that are normally treated with the utmost respect.
The carnival begins with medieval Indian poetry. In the sixteenth- century Vijayanagara court of Krishnadeva Raya, the poets would have contests to test their skills of literary analysis of complex poetic forms. The legendary court jester and poet Tenali Ramalinga is said to have created some verses that, on the one hand, were executed in a perfect formal style but, on the other, were sheer absurdity and nonsensical wordplay. The poem ‘Goat’s Tail’, that uses only the words meka’ (goat) and ‘toka (tail), is an example of this. An English equivalent might be to write a villanelle, a devilishly complex form, using only ‘goat’ and ‘tail’ and a few connecting words. The result turns what is usually a serious poetic form on its head, making the form and any inherent spiritual or aesthetic associations ridiculous.
Annada Sankar Ray, as we have already seen, uses nonsense techniques to take advantage of the liberties that the camivalesque allows. In his verse entitled ‘Ballyhoo’, he mocks some of India’s most revered political and literary figures, even the beloved Rabindranath Tagore, a national icon. This kind of mockery by a Bengali is simply unheard of, yet Ray’s use of nonsense gives him such licence. Some
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of his other verses, like ‘Outside In’ and ‘Let’s to Delhi’ comment on political corruption and cry out for a truly democratic process in the new Indian government.
Religion, all-pervasive in Indian culture, gets its turn in the carnival, as well. In one Bengali chhoda we see class, religion and religious music, all taboo topics for mockery, mocked:
What’s up? Frog in a cup.
What sorta frog? A musical frog.
What sorta music? Brahmin music.
What sorta Brahmin? Eulogic Brahmin.
What’s eulogic? A horse’s kick. (1-5)
The Brahmin, the highest Indian caste and that from which priests must come, is ridiculed, along with his religious authority and his music. Such class criticism pervades Indian nonsense and can also be seen in the Hindi verses that make fun of‘Fat Cat’, the typical fat, lazy, upper- class man. Sukumar Ray has the most developed camivalesque nonsense, as seen in the court scenes of HaiV'JaW'BaiV'RaW'Law.