Single Malt Marxist

The Somnathda I knew loved to preach, but he also stood by what he preached

- Rabi Banerjee

IN THE RUN-UP to the 2011 assembly elections in West Bengal, I met Somnath Chatterjee in his sprawling house at Santiniketan. The interior reflected the good taste for which the former Lok Sabha speaker was well known. A Jamini Roy painting adorned the wall, while the drawing room had sculptures all around—it was obvious that this was the abode of a quintessentially Bengali connoisseur of art.

The furniture, however, was rather drab. I looked around as I waited for him, and saw a wooden table and two chairs, placed opposite each other, in a corner of the room. It struck me then that the interview might not go to my plan. The ambience of the huge room, especially the arrangement of the chairs, made me feel less like a journalist than a flustered student appearing for an oral exam.

On the table were a few back issues of THE WEEK, which gave me more reasons to worry. In the run-up to the polls, I had written a few stories which were critical of the CPI(M)led Left government, which finally seemed to be on its way out after 34 long years in power. Admittedly, as a member of a generation that had no memory of any other party or coalition ruling West Bengal, it was well-nigh impossible for me not to get swayed by the Mamata Banerjee wave that promised sweeping change.

After we sat across from each other, Chatterjee flicked through the magazine, and held up one of my stories. “With around one crore people starving in West Bengal,” said the story’s strapline, “the Left’s rhetoric about empowering the poor sounds hollow.”

“Why did you do this story just before the polls?” he asked me. “Had it been done earlier, it could have had a greater impact. Issues could have been sorted out, by both the state and Central governments. Yes, you should criticise the government, but not for political purposes.”