{"AuthorName":"Hans Harder","Description":"

Sometimes I wonder why I do all this. For the good of the country? For the good of mankind?
\r\nRidiculous … Love for the country and love for mankind is what my mom and dad had. They paid a high price for that. No regret, it was all their fault. They were wrong.
\r\nI have neither love for the country nor for humanity …
\r\nSo why am I doing all this? In order to take vengeance on Biplab? Because they treated my mother’s head with a gun grip?
\r\nA mother who gives her only son up to the mafia in order to save the country and the nation [jati<\/em>] is not a mother at all! … Strangers more important than one’s child?
\r\nThe country more important than one’s child? Rubbish!1<\/a><\/span><\/sup><\/p>\r\n\r\n

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Introduction<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\r\n\r\n

Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 01: ‘Sometimes I wonder why I do all this.’ The doubting hero getting ready for action: Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, Vol. 9, p. 9.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 01<\/a><\/span>The introspective, doubting hero, unsure of his very heroism despite all his muscular appearance, is the most recent arrival on the stage of Bengali strongman comics. Kabir Mansur alias Durjoy, a champion kick-boxer gone underground, is the protagonist of the eponymous series appearing from Dhaka Comics since 2018 (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 01: ‘Sometimes I wonder why I do all this.’ The doubting hero getting ready for action: Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, Vol. 9, p. 9.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 01<\/a>). His above-quoted interior monologue while getting ready for action foreshadows the latest development within the larger story I want to sketch in this essay: the story of hypermasculine heroes in Bengali comics.
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\r\nHypermasculinity has been associated with characteristics that include more pronounced sexual attitudes vis-à-vis women, the perception of violent behaviour as a marker of manliness, and the view of danger as attractive.2<\/a><\/span><\/sup> In psychological terms hypermasculinity has been linked to the absence of a father figure and resulting overcompensation of the initial identification with the mother.3<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Visually it comes with all the attributes of physical strength and masculine markers such as enhanced muscles, broad shoulders, more-than-average body size, and translates into action-oriented plots. Representations of hypermasculinity abound in recent popular literature and media on a global scale, with comic art as a prominent platform. Indeed, hypermasculinity and comic art seem to be an obvious combination when one looks at constructions of manliness in modern popular culture.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 02: The Phantom<\/em>, Australia: Frew Publications, c. 1990, No. 311, cover.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 02<\/a><\/span>One of the main trendsetters in 20th-century comic culture was the US-American group of superheroes that came up between 1910 and the 1930s—Tarzan, the Phantom, Superman, Batman and Co. All of these share hypermasculine attributes, although with a check on sex attitudes likely to decrease the social acceptability of their heroism. Very soon these characters left the hands of their original creators and became corporate property, involving shifting teams of designers and producers in keeping them alive. The result was an enormous production that has dominated the scene not just in the USA but worldwide, either through direct dissemination and translation or through adaptations (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 02: The Phantom<\/em>, Australia: Frew Publications, c. 1990, No. 311, cover.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 02<\/a>).
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\r\nCrucial factors easing the arrival of those heroes in the popular imagination were the need for superhuman actors to bestow order in modern, topsy-turvy circumstances, the attraction of invincibility, supernatural faculties and fancy gadgets, and the offered panorama of a society neatly split between good and evil. The ensuing problematic of vigilantism and the relation between heroism and masculinity added complexity to the theme and were critically reflected upon in the medium itself, most famously in Alan Moore’s graphic novel Watchmen<\/em> of the years 1986–87.4<\/a><\/span><\/sup> These developments can and should be read in a US-American historical and social context. At the same time, however, the superhero model proved highly adaptable to other cultural milieus worldwide.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Or, to be more precise, the male<\/em> superhero proved highly adaptable. Female super­heroes also made quite an early appearance and have held their part of the scene, from Wonder Woman right up to today’s Supergirl, but in their case, the transition from America to other parts of the world was not as smooth and required more cultural modification and re-contextualization. Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 03: ‘Don't Mess with the Lady in Black‘, promotional poster of the comic and animation series Burka Avenger<\/em>. Source: https:\/\/gmanetwork.com\/news\/scitech\/technology\/319327\/meet-burka-avenger-a-pakistani-superheroine-fighting-for-girls-education\/story\/<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 03<\/a><\/span>The Pakistani anime series Burka Avenger<\/em> may be cited as a contemporary case in point (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 03: ‘Don't Mess with the Lady in Black‘, promotional poster of the comic and animation series Burka Avenger<\/em>. Source: https:\/\/gmanetwork.com\/news\/scitech\/technology\/319327\/meet-burka-avenger-a-pakistani-superheroine-fighting-for-girls-education\/story\/<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 03<\/a>).5<\/a><\/span><\/sup> It was, seemingly, only models of masculinity<\/em> that were easy to transplant and translate across very disparaging cultural contexts.
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\r\nIn terms of media format, the proliferation of superhero comics can be compared to the enormous spread of the magazine Punch<\/em> in the 19th- and 20th-century Anglophone world.6<\/a><\/span><\/sup> This epitome of satirical journalism triggered manifold periodicals from Egypt and Istanbul to Shanghai and Tokyo. It had a particularly fruitful reception in South Asia where many satirical journals, sometimes adopting the very name Punch, came out in a number of languages. And in fact, Punch<\/em> is interlaced with the history of Bengali comics as well, since it was arguably in the pages of Basantak<\/em>, Prannath Datta’s short-lived satirical monthly (1873–75), where the first Bengali comic strip was published: a scandal story about the poisoning of the Baroda Resident at the behest of Raja Malhar Rao Gaekwad (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 04: ‘Removal of Doubt’. The first Bengali comic strip? Basantak<\/em>, 1874 (no pagination, excerpt).<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 04<\/a>).7<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 04: ‘Removal of Doubt’. The first Bengali comic strip? Basantak<\/em>, 1874 (no pagination, excerpt).<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 04<\/a><\/span>Of course, text-image combinations had precursors in popular Bengali art and illustrations with captions had entered Bengali periodicals before Basantak<\/em>, but it is here that the particular pattern of the comic strip announces itself.
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\r\nThe excerpt in Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 04: ‘Removal of Doubt’. The first Bengali comic strip? Basantak<\/em>, 1874 (no pagination, excerpt).<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 04<\/a> shows the doctor using a microscope to detect the crystalline poison—the smiling cube—in the Resident’s drink. The relation between text and image in this visual strikingly reminds us of similar Punch<\/em> designs: text enters the picture itself (the sheet in the doctor’s hand), provides the caption below (Sandeha Bhanjan, <\/em>‘Removal of Doubt’), and gives us the narration of the event at right (which in later-day comic style would correspond to the commonly used square text-fields). We can be sure that this Basantak<\/em> picture-story of 1874 hardly served as a trendsetter for the further development of Bengali comic strips. Nor, indeed, did it parade hypermasculine heroes, thus remaining no more than a historical aside in our context. The connection, however, is that Punch<\/em> was instrumental in spreading the cartoon format in the British Empire and thus popularized a medium in which, a few decades later, superheroes were massively exported, translated, and adapted worldwide.8<\/a><\/span><\/sup> The comic strip has from its inception been a highly transcultural matter, arguably more so than many other literary or artistic formats, and it is little wonder that the male superhero became a seamless part of these cultural exports.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Regular productions of comics in Bengali caught on much later and arguably gained momentum only in the years after Independence (1947). Today they are part of a larger scene of vernacular comics in South Asia, reaching out to readerships in regional languages. As Raminder Kaur and Saif Eqbal, the authors of Adventure Comics and Youth Cultures in India<\/em> (2018), rightly stress, vernacular production is usually neglected in research: a situation their very engaging media-ethnography goes quite some way in redressing for the recent and contemporary Hindi comics scene.9<\/a><\/span><\/sup> For Bengali, no such monograph seems to exist, but sources such as the four extensive volumes of the periodical Comics o Graphics<\/em> supply much precious material, analyses, and background information.10<\/a><\/span><\/sup><\/p>\r\n\r\n

In what follows, I will tangentially sketch the developments in Bengali comics after Independence while looking for hypermasculine heroes. What, I will ask, are the models of manliness we find in these comics? How are the muscular heroes contrasted to their entourage and environment? To what extent are the narratives culturally embedded, or localized? With these questions in mind, I will also look at whether and how the comics creatively explore the particular potential of the comics medium. Since much of the material needs introduction, I start with detailed presentations, saving my conclusions for the end.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

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The Bengali Phantom<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\r\n\r\n

By and large, as comic historian John A. Lent states in his expert survey of Asian comics, [‘t]he comic books Indians read before the 1970s were imports from the United States and Britain [...].’11<\/a><\/span><\/sup> As for superhero comics, in India the major adaptation was the US-American Phantom that Lee Falk had started in 1938. The Times of India took up the Phantom and published it through their outlet Indrajal Comics from 1964. According to Jeremy Stoll, it was Anant Pai, founder soon after of the Amar Chitra Katha series, who advised the Times of India that the Phantom would be a better choice than Superman for the Indian public.12<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Translations in regional languages also came out soon; Bengali translations appeared from 1966. The Phantom was renamed Betal in obvious allusion to the Vetala (Bengali betal<\/em>), the classical demon of the Vetala Panchavimshati<\/em> known to roam about on cremation grounds. The Betal enjoyed great popularity in Bengal—<\/span><\/span>more than Bahadur, created by Abid Surti as Indrajal’s first locally based title and launched in 1976.13<\/a><\/span><\/sup> When Indrajal’s fortunes declined and the publication of Betal<\/em> was stopped in 1990, the Ananda Bazar Group bought the rights and continued the series under the name Aranyadeb<\/em>.14<\/a><\/span><\/sup><\/p>\r\n\r\n

Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 05: ‘Watch Out in the Deep Forest’. Fighting evildoers: Betal\/The Shadow, Gabhir Bane Sabdhan<\/em> (Part 2), Indrajal Comics, Times of India Publication, 27 March–2 April 1983, cover.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 05<\/a><\/span>The Phantom aka Betal, a masked white strongman (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 05: ‘Watch Out in the Deep Forest’. Fighting evildoers: Betal\/The Shadow, Gabhir Bane Sabdhan<\/em> (Part 2), Indrajal Comics, Times of India Publication, 27 March–2 April 1983, cover.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 05<\/a>), is the common appellation passed on from father to son of a whole dynasty of superheroes dating back to the days of Columbus. Being shipwrecked after an attack by pirates, the first of altogether 22 Betals was rescued by pygmies on the beach of some African island. Residing in a skull-shaped cave and seated on a throne of skulls, the Betal has committed himself to fighting against piracy, injustice, and evildoers. Devoid of supernatural powers but gifted with extraordinary strength, the various Betals henceforth make the island the base from which they set out on their missions. Their striving through five centuries enables many historical interconnections and encounters; thus the third Betal gets married to Shakespeare’s niece, and Number 20 saves the pygmies’ island from Hitler’s troops at the beginning of the Second World War.15<\/a><\/span><\/sup>
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\r\nSpecial characteristic features of the Betal include his masked appearance, perfect body strength, unshakeable sovereignty of behaviour, effective use of violence, and unfailing  solidarity: a clean hero with widely acceptable, positively connoted attributes of masculinity. His colonial baggage is highly ambivalent: a white hero venerated by a savage tribe of black pygmies, simultaneously their liberator from their former oppressors and an epitome of fairness and justice. The Betal’s patronizing position vis-à-vis the ‘natives’ has not hindered his enthusiastic reception in Bengal (just like Hergé’s Tintin<\/em> which is extreme­ly popular in West Bengal), and passes unnoticed by the most recent chroniclers.16<\/a><\/span><\/sup><\/p>\r\n\r\n

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Bantul the Great<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\r\n\r\n

Two other superheroes arrived in the 1960s on the Indian comics landscape. The first is a proper West Bengali phenomenon in terms of its production and distribution: Bantul the Great, created by famous Bengali cartoonist Narayan Debnath,17<\/a><\/span><\/sup> was published in the children’s magazine Shuktara<\/em> from 1965. Debnath designed various characters for that magazine and was commissioned to make Bantul the strongman hero he became. Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 06: The bulletproof hero: Bantul the Great<\/em>, Kolkata: Deb Sahitya Kutir (no year), cover.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 06<\/a><\/span>As Lent has it, ‘[at the suggestion of his publisher and editor] Debnath made Bantul the first Bengali superhero, giving him invincible and unimaginable powers and thus providing a model of strength for Bengalis during the 1971 Bangladesh Liberation War.’18<\/a><\/span><\/sup>
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\r\nBantul is a simple-minded, fearless superman of unmistakable features. His youthful, naïve-looking face, topped by a bald head, sits on a blown-up torso out of tune with the rest of his body, particularly his delicate thighs and legs (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 06: The bulletproof hero: Bantul the Great<\/em>, Kolkata: Deb Sahitya Kutir (no year), cover.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 06<\/a>). Bantul is bare­footed and wears nothing but black shorts and a syando genji<\/em>—<\/span><\/span>a muscle shirt named after Eugen Sandow, the German showman and bodybuilder who visited India in 1905. The most prominent feature is Bantul’s torso with its gigantic proportions but, in bodybuilder parlance, pretty ill-defined muscles.
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\r\nBantul can endure all kinds of hits and bites. His body is extremely hard and bullet­proof. In the volume Bhautik Alaukik<\/em> (Ghostly and Supernatural), for instance, Bantul and his two companions meet ghosts (bhut<\/em>s) in all the rural locations where they are to be expected—a lonely stretch of a lakeshore, an isolated big tree, a deserted house. The demons who want to eat him or tear open his flesh regularly lose their nails (p. 10) or teeth (pp. 14, 18) while trying to do so, triggering pithy statements from him like ‘Don’t be sad. You’ll have liquid food from now on.’19<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Bantul is portrayed as the one who made the ghosts into ghosts in the first place, suggesting a record of past deeds quite incompatible with the simple, good-natured fellow he is. He beats a neckless ghost to half his size and humiliates even the mamdo<\/em>, the strongest among the bhut<\/em>s.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 07: ‘No chance to take a little nap. The mosquitoes are everywhere.’ Bantul tying up the demon with his own tongue: Bantul the Great, Bhautik Alaukik<\/em>, by Narayan Debnath, Kolkata: Deb Sahitya Kutir, 2010, p. 30 (reprint).<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 07<\/a><\/span>Narayan Debnath deploys the common traditional characteristics of various ghosts and demons in his graphics, showing them stretching their necks, arms, and tongues to incredible lengths. In one episode, a demon sticks his prolonged neck through the door while Bantul is taking a nap, and bites into his skull. Bantul mistakes him for a mosquito and ultimately wards off the demon’s attack by tying him up with his own long tongue (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 07: ‘No chance to take a little nap. The mosquitoes are everywhere.’ Bantul tying up the demon with his own tongue: Bantul the Great, Bhautik Alaukik<\/em>, by Narayan Debnath, Kolkata: Deb Sahitya Kutir, 2010, p. 30 (reprint).<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 07<\/a>).20<\/a><\/span><\/sup>
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\r\nHowever, Bantul can also be a nuisance, e.g. when he wakes up the people in the village, first with a khol<\/em> drum and then with a trumpet. Everybody plugs their ears, but not the horses pulling a cart with vats of jam. They run off, scared by the trumpet’s horrendous noise, and the vats break, spilling the jam on the ground. Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 08: ‘Fabulous, it looks like I’ve now really managed to make everybody lively.’ Bantul the Great, Bhautik Alaukik<\/em>, by Narayan Debnath, Kolkata: Deb Sahitya Kutir, 2010, p. 32 (reprint).<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 08<\/a><\/span>Bantul blows his trumpet into the mess, causing the jam first to rain down on everyone and finally bringing ants to the spot to everybody’s discomfort—except for Bantul who remarks gleefully: ‘Fabulous, it looks like I’ve now really managed to make everybody lively’ (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 08: ‘Fabulous, it looks like I’ve now really managed to make everybody lively.’ Bantul the Great, Bhautik Alaukik<\/em>, by Narayan Debnath, Kolkata: Deb Sahitya Kutir, 2010, p. 32 (reprint).<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 08<\/a>).21<\/a><\/span><\/sup>
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\r\nBantul is basically a children’s hero: a good-natured, innocent, rustic, and asexual strongman. There are only few distinct cultural markers that would suggest a Bengali setting for the stories, apart from the bhut<\/em>s who obey the common ontologies ready for them—a dhoti here and there, or a khol<\/em> drum. Bantul’s masculinity consists mainly in his bodily strength, fearlessness, and invincibility, thus supplying an indirect comment to colonial stigmatization of Bengalis in toto<\/em> as an ‘effeminate race’, and calling for emancipation from such stereotypes.22<\/a><\/span><\/sup> But he conspicuously lacks other aspects of hypermasculinity.
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\r\nChacha Chaudhary<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\r\n\r\n

An all-Indian presence with a Bengali version is Chacha Chaudhary, invented in 1970 by Pran alias Pran Kumar Sharma, and running to this day with pulp publisher Diamond Comics. Unlike Betal and Bantul, Chacha Chaudhary relies on a neat di­vision of labour. Chacha (meaning paternal uncle), a turban-wearing, elderly gentleman, uses his brain to dismantle the evil plots of his adversaries, and is aided in his exploits by Sabu, a gigantic strongman who hails from Jupiter.23<\/a><\/span><\/sup><\/p>\r\n\r\n

Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 09: ‘Bunch of lizards!’ Showdown: Chacha Chaudhary, Operation Capital<\/em>, Delhi: Diamond Comics, 1981, pp. 16–17.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 09<\/a><\/span>In Operation Capital<\/em> (1981), for instance, three terrorists—the remainder of a family of ten that was badly reduced in fights with the Indian security forces—plan a blast of the Rajdhani Express. Their boss warns his Muslim gangmates not to fail this time: ‘The government of another country is supporting our family. They spend lakhs of rupees for weapons and training. What for? For us to fail?’24<\/a><\/span><\/sup> The terrorists fill dynamite into fake rails in a remote spot in order to ignite it when the train comes through. Chacha Chaudhary gets to hear about ‘Operation Capital’ from an informant and concludes that some attack is underway. He checks the rails with Sabu’s help and identifies the fake rails by their rust cover, baffling Sabu and the reader, who is instantly reminded that ‘Chacha Chaudhary’s brain is faster than a computer’—this line being Chacha Chaudhary’s recurring motto.25<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Chacha and Sabu manage to exchange the explosive rails just in time, overthrow the terrorists in the ensuing fight, and hand them over to the police (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 09: ‘Bunch of lizards!’ Showdown: Chacha Chaudhary, Operation Capital<\/em>, Delhi: Diamond Comics, 1981, pp. 16–17.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 09<\/a>).26<\/a><\/span><\/sup><\/p>\r\n\r\n

Overt nationalist orientation and an uncomplicated compliance with state authorities are trademarks of Chacha Chaudhary, as this one example amply shows. In terms of hypermasculinity, the split into a supermind and a superbody subverts the common scheme: while the superman motif fundamentally relies on strong and undivided agency, here bodily strength is not embodied by the main agent but transferred to another carrier.27<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Sabu as an alien remains out of context; he is hard to empathize with and a simple embodiment of bodily strength: a flat character, flatter even than Bantul the Great.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

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Other Heroes<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\r\n\r\n

Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 10: Satyajit Ray’s Gosainpur Sargaram<\/em> (Gosainpur in Heat) as a graphic novel by Abhijit Chattopadhyay, Kolkata: Ananda Publishers, 2010, cover.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 10<\/a><\/span>In recent decades, the comics scene has widened immensely, internationally and also in the Bengali publishing sphere. In West Bengal, two tendencies stick out as significant: one is the remaking of Bengali crime and adventure fiction into graphic novels. Thus, Satyajit Ray’s Feluda and Sharadindu Bandyopadhyay’s Byomkesh Bakshi (both basically private detectives), and Premendra Mitra’s Ghanada (an adventurer) have been taken up by comic designers such as Abhijit Chattopadhyay.28<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Feluda (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 10: Satyajit Ray’s Gosainpur Sargaram<\/em> (Gosainpur in Heat) as a graphic novel by Abhijit Chattopadhyay, Kolkata: Ananda Publishers, 2010, cover.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 10<\/a>) looks very much like the smart, witty and confident master of his detective’s craft that he is, but comes without signs of hypermasculinity.
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\r\nAnother is the development of independent graphic novels. Sarnath Banerjee’s Corridor<\/em> (2004) is usually hailed as a landmark, and while English is the preferred medium, some Bengali productions have started coming out, like Taradas Bandyopadhyay’s Taranath Tantric <\/em>(2018) and the Gandu Collective’s Gandur Mundu<\/em> (2018, proscribed for minors because of explicit sexual content, and the most impressive and experimental in terms of graphic art techniques).29<\/a><\/span><\/sup>
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\r\nHypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 11: Gandu Collective’s graphic novel Gandur Mundu<\/em> (Gandu’s Skull), Kolkata: Gandu Sampraday, 2019, cover.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 11<\/a><\/span>Both of these tendencies are marked by a new, much more refined visual idiom as compared to Bantul and Chacha Chaudhary, and the evolution of new registers and unmistakable personal styles. Protagonist Gandu is shown kneeling in a pose of submission in front of Kali (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 11: Gandu Collective’s graphic novel Gandur Mundu<\/em> (Gandu’s Skull), Kolkata: Gandu Sampraday, 2019, cover.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 11<\/a>), his skull is cut open to reveal his mind-stuff, and a wheel appears that will multiply in size and chase him (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 12: ‘Look here.’ Gandur Mundu<\/em>, Kolkata: Gandu Sampraday, 2019, no page numbers.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 12<\/a>)—all set in a characteristically apocalyptic mood. Page design becomes more complex and experi­mental, and while some graphic artists stick to the traditional line-up of image-boxes of mostly equal size, others thoroughly explore the potentials of the graphic art me­dium. Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 12: ‘Look here.’ Gandur Mundu<\/em>, Kolkata: Gandu Sampraday, 2019, no page numbers.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 12<\/a><\/span>However, by and large, muscular hypermasculine heroes seem absent from this production, too.
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\r\nIn Bangladesh, publisher Mighty Punch Studio has floated a number of English-language comics series, among them Samir Asran Rahman’s Shabash<\/em>, published since 2013 (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 13: Shabash: Keramoti’s Experiment<\/em> (Part 1), October 2014, cover. http:\/\/indianquarterly.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/10\/Shabash.png<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 13<\/a>). The eponymous protagonist is an action hero with superpowers for young readers, in whom Anis Rahman detects shadows of Superman, Spiderman, and Batman.30<\/a><\/span><\/sup> There is also a female counterpart called Ms Shabash, launched on International Women’s Day in 2015 (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 14: Ms Shabash flying off after action, reproduced in Anika Hossain’s contribution to Comics Verse<\/em>. https:\/\/comicsverse.com\/bangladeshi-superhero-ms-shabash\/<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 14<\/a>): Ms Shabash is apparently a hero designed for teenage girls, a burqa-less younger relative of the Pakistani Burka Avenger, advocating a modern, self-conscious role for girls in Bangladeshi society. A marked desi flavour is added to both the Shabash figures by making asteroid-altered mangoes their superfood and the source of their supernatural powers.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 13: Shabash: Keramoti’s Experiment<\/em> (Part 1), October 2014, cover. http:\/\/indianquarterly.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/10\/Shabash.png<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 13<\/a><\/span>   Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 14: Ms Shabash flying off after action, reproduced in Anika Hossain’s contribution to Comics Verse<\/em>. https:\/\/comicsverse.com\/bangladeshi-superhero-ms-shabash\/<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 14<\/a><\/span><\/p>\r\n\r\n

Dhaka Comics, a publishing house founded in 2013, has brought out a number of comics series in Bengali, with a variety of subjects and characters, ranging from horror and ghost stories to anime-like fighting contests between good and evil magicians, crime fiction, and secret agent thrillers. Some of these are heavily influenced by Japanese mangas, for instance Rishad<\/em> (2013, reprinted 2016), a three-volume account of a fight between good and evil forces with various magical weapons in a parallel world,31<\/a><\/span><\/sup> or Jum<\/em>, authored by Sabyasachi Chakma and featuring a Chakma protagonist set in Rangamati, Chittagong Hill Tracts.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

The latter comic is notable for the teenaged hero’s use of Buddhist meditation techniques for acquiring supernatural powers. Jum thus learns to grow trees out of his arms to tackle assaults by an evil magician. On the cover (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 15: Jum<\/em>, by Sabyasachi Chakma, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, cover.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 15<\/a>), his tree-arm has already become part of his iconic representation, and the story pictures the moment when he discovers his special power while rescuing a man from being overrun by a van (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 16: ‘All were looking at me. So I escaped fast from there.’ Jum<\/em>, by Sabyasachi Chakma, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, no page numbers.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 16<\/a>).32<\/a><\/span><\/sup> This production is also remarkable in terms of symbolic empowerment for the Chakmas, Bangladesh’s largest ethnic minority.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 15: Jum<\/em>, by Sabyasachi Chakma, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, cover.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 15<\/a><\/span>   Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 16: ‘All were looking at me. So I escaped fast from there.’ Jum<\/em>, by Sabyasachi Chakma, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, no page numbers.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 16<\/a><\/span><\/p>\r\n\r\n

Further, C.K. Zaki needs to be mentioned. This hero, a Bangladeshi security agent who prefers doing things his own way in undercover operations, and specializes in fighting international and mafia crimes, appears in more than one series. One of them is Mrityu Pathar<\/em> (Ocean of Death, in publication since 2015) about underworld arms deals with Thailand,33<\/a><\/span><\/sup> and the other Denoyed: 32<\/em> (2013; the title taken from the name of a drug) featuring a genetically manipulated monster that is haunting the old city of Dhaka.34<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 17: ‘Yin dee dtônráp. I mean, welcome.’ Mrityu Pathar<\/em>, by Araphat Karim, Asiphur Rahman, and Mehedi Hak, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2015, Vol. 1, no page numbers.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 17<\/a><\/span>Both are graphically well-done and visually rather dark, Denoyed<\/em> a bit more than Mrityu Pathar<\/em>.
\r\n
\r\nZaki, the agent, is portrayed as a smart, robust, hard-boiled hero. His stern and bearded head sits on a broad, muscular chest, which, however, does not get the usual full exposure but remains muffled in the sombre, blurred, somewhat stonewashed quality of the graphics. Interestingly, graphic artist Araphat Karim visually exploits the bilinguality of the scene by using Thai script for the Thai boss of smugglers (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 17: ‘Yin dee dtônráp. I mean, welcome.’ Mrityu Pathar<\/em>, by Araphat Karim, Asiphur Rahman, and Mehedi Hak, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2015, Vol. 1, no page numbers.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 17<\/a>).Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 18: ‘What’s this?? What … Hey, stop! Stop!’ Denoyed: 32<\/em>, by Araphat Karim and Mehedi Hak, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2013, no page numbers.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 18<\/a><\/span> In Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 18: ‘What’s this?? What … Hey, stop! Stop!’ Denoyed: 32<\/em>, by Araphat Karim and Mehedi Hak, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2013, no page numbers.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 18<\/a> from Denoyed<\/em>, Karim invests in page composition by deviating from linear panel arrangements and ultimately abandoning the panel frame altogether (bottom right), thus exploring the potentialities of the comics medium. Protagonist Zaki is presented unpretentiously and in a matter-of-fact way, a tough man of few but straightforward, sometimes aggressive, words. However, while this figure appears on the whole convincing, Zaki is a hero without a social life, reduced to action and thus remaining rather one-dimensional.
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\r\nHypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 19: Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, Vol. 6, cover.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 19<\/a><\/span>Durjoy<\/span><\/strong>
\r\n
\r\nThis is not so in the case of Durjoy, whose self-interrogation opened this essay. The Durjoy<\/em> series started in 2018 and is at present at Volume 13.35<\/a><\/span><\/sup> According to the Dhaka Comics team, Durjoy<\/em> is the most successful of their productions (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 19: Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, Vol. 6, cover.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 19<\/a>). Its hero, ill-behaved son, kick-boxer and mafia fighter Kabir Mansur alias Durjoy, is certainly the most interesting protagonist in the present context of hypermasculinity and hence justifies a longer-than-average summary of his story.
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\r\nDurjoy comes without the traditional markers of masculinity in South Asia, such as a moustache, and would rather die than wear a kurta <\/em>(Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 20: ‘I won’t wear it even if you kill me!’ Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, Vol. 11, p. 23.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 20<\/a>).<\/em> But his refusal to conform to Bangladeshi cultural codes occurs in a context that is recognizably and realistically Bangladeshi.<\/span> No doubt, Durjoy<\/em> has many aspects of pulp fiction in activating some highly common­place and trivial scripts, for instance in the depiction of the gangster cartel who have divided up the various types of criminal activities in Dhaka among themselves (Vol. 4, p. 11), or the predestined meeting with Neha who had years ago fallen in love with his image on a sports magazine cover (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 21: ‘There’s nothing special in a Bengali winning in beating one another up. Apart from that, he’s black.’ Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, Vol. 1, p. 27.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 21<\/a>). Equally pulp is Durjoy’s programmatic character description in Volume 11 (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 22: ‘A body of steel, a soul half human, half beast.’ Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, Vol. 11, p. [2].<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 22<\/a>):<\/p>\r\n\r\n

A body of steel, a soul half human, half beast. Extremely stubborn, headstrong. His glance freezes the blood of a cobra. A demon at times, a saint at others. His perspective on life is completely different. He fights the mafia all by himself. (Vol. 11, p. [2])<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 20: ‘I won’t wear it even if you kill me!’ Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, Vol. 11, p. 23.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 20<\/a><\/span>   Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 21: ‘There’s nothing special in a Bengali winning in beating one another up. Apart from that, he’s black.’ Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, Vol. 1, p. 27.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 21<\/a><\/span>   Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 22: ‘A body of steel, a soul half human, half beast.’ Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, Vol. 11, p. [2].<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 22<\/a><\/span><\/p>\r\n\r\n

It is telling that this description features in Volume 11 and not before, signalling the evolving nature of the Durjoy<\/em> project as well as the exigencies of flashy, hyperbolic diction to do justice to the genre.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

But the Durjoy<\/em> series attracts its readers by simultaneously breaking these clichés, whether consciously or not, and by complicating the scripts it cites and narrates. The authors manage to construe rounded rather than flat characters—characters that develop, particularly in the case of Durjoy, the protagonist. The narrative design is also complex: there are flashbacks, time shifts, various levels of plot, hinting at a good amount of premeditation. At the same time, the reading experience is a bit like what it must have been with serial novels in the 19th century: the hero’s character, profile, and the storyline keep evolving as the authors, and the readers along with them, move from volume to volume. Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 23: ‘Kabir! Stop, I say. Stop! Stop! Kabir!’ Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, Vol. 3, p. 20.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 23<\/a><\/span>As a result, the readers are not confronted with an end product, but rather witness an open-ended process.
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\r\nLet us take a detailed look at the storyline so far. Protagonist Kabir Mansur alias Durjoy, ‘the one who is hard to conquer’, has grown up in Dhaka as the privileged but neglected single child of a navy-officer father and a medical-scientist mother, both singlemindedly devoted to their careers. Durjoy’s aggressions go into kick-boxing, and utterly conceited but exceptionally talented as he is, he is sent to the world championship in the UK as the representative of Bangladesh. He wins in his category against the Nepali title-holder, but immediately after manages to completely alienate the corrupted boxing functionary (justly) and his trainer (unjustly) by his violent outbreaks (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 23: ‘Kabir! Stop, I say. Stop! Stop! Kabir!’ Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, Vol. 3, p. 20.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 23<\/a>). Durjoy is portrayed as a pretty unruly scoundrel, self-aggrandizing and unable to empathize. The conflict with his parents erupts when his father dies as a shahid<\/em> (martyr) in a military operation and receives grand honours. Durjoy, with great éclat, showers insults on his mother during the ceremony (Vol. 2, pp. 18ff).
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\r\nHypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 24: ‘One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six!’ Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, Vol. 1, p. 13.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 24<\/a><\/span>The mafia entanglements, crucial to the story and introduced through a slum don in Dhaka and his henchmen, start because Durjoy’s mother is researching a cure for drug addiction and thus becomes the target of the druglords of the country (Vol. 4). He interferes when they search her apartment and after some heavy fighting gets caught; when his mother is about to forfeit his life rather than telling the gang where her research records are kept, an indignant Durjoy tells them where to find them (Vol. 5). This conflict of general good versus personal preservation is as much a recurrent theme of the whole story as is the denial of parental, particularly motherly, love. The mafia gang’s attack leaves his mother in a critical state in an intensive care unit; Durjoy, feeling guilty about his inability to defend her, raises money for her by boxing in underworld fight clubs (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 24: ‘One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six!’ Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, Vol. 1, p. 13.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 24<\/a>) and by giving tuitions in self-defence (Vol. 6, pp. 9–11).
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\r\nA second link to the mafia circles is Ahana, a girl Durjoy’s mother had introduced to him (Vol. 4, pp. 3ff). Ahana’s brother is a drug addict about to ruin his family in search of money for drugs. Durjoy and Ahana develop some sympathy for each other (Vol. 7), and he intervenes when her brother takes her captive in a bid to blackmail his parents and extort his father’s pension money. Durjoy manages to destroy this plot, but not to save her life (Vol. 9, pp. 19–20). In an earlier episode, the mafia, and particularly drug don Biplab, target Durjoy and eventually have him arrested and locked up by the bribed police (Vol. 1). Police typist Neha, however, fed up with her corrupt police colleagues and about to hand in her resignation, comes into the cell when he calls for water. Recognizing him as Kabir Mansur, the boxing champion she had read about in a magazine as a young girl, Neha helps him escape, and denounces the corrupt police officers in a TV show, thus putting herself into danger (Vol. 1, pp. 45–47). Corruption in the police force, rather than their depiction as heroic fighters for justice often featured in popular cinema in South Asia, is highlighted all through the narrative.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

There is an intermediary showdown in Volume 10: Durjoy has robbed an illegal arms depot and is preparing to smash a deal between druglord Biplab and the Malaysian mafia. But he gets to know that police typist Neha is in an acutely threatening situation and decides to help her instead. Neha has gone to a restaurant in a posh high-rise building with her fiancé, when the mafiosi appear disguised as policemen and raise allegations of professional and personal infidelity against her, thus compromising her in front of her fiancé who then leaves. In the ensuing tumult, Durjoy rescues Neha, and she confesses her love for him (Vol. 10, pp. 5–8 and 21). Volumes 11 and 12 show the two as a married couple. Durjoy promises to stop messing with the mafia (Vol. 11, p. 27) but proves unable to do so. In the drug wars following the Malaysian deal he takes up the role of a vigilant street fighter combating the two gangs.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

 <\/p>\r\n\r\n

Durjoy’s Precarious Masculinity<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\r\n\r\n

Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 25: ‘Why should I take anybody’s responsibility? Do I matter to anybody? Do I count for someone? No-one!’ Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, Vol. 6, pp. 5–6, panels 2 and 3.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 25<\/a><\/span>As with all the heroes discussed in this essay, ‘calloused sex attitudes towards women’36<\/a><\/span><\/sup> are not part of Durjoy’s hypermasculine persona, but a propensity for violence and being excited by danger stand out as defining features. Durjoy’s masculinity is augmented and precarious at the same time. He revels in his superior bodily force, is proud of his power, and enjoys using it. There are strong sadistic aspects to his use of force that come out especially in the way he tortures his adversaries (Vol. 3, pp. 22f; Vol. 6, pp. 1f) and in how he explains his actions to himself. The storyline strongly suggests that his striving for bodily strength and invincibility is his way of compensating for the lack of affection from his parents, particularly in his puberty. But he is constantly ridden by self-doubt and a deep sense of insecurity: he thinks of himself as the best but is unable to protect his mother. In Volume 6 (pp. 5–6), over a number of panels showing him in front of the mirror he virtually shrinks back Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 26: ‘I like it!’ Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2019, Vol. 12, p. 5.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 26<\/a><\/span>into his younger self watching his injured mother through the glass pane of the ICU (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 25: ‘Why should I take anybody’s responsibility? Do I matter to anybody? Do I count for someone? No-one!’ Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, Vol. 6, pp. 5–6, panels 2 and 3.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 25<\/a>).
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\r\nThus the precariousness consists in the contradictions between the bodily and mental routines of a fighter and the moral uncertainties regarding his actions. His marriage and plans to settle down as a martial-arts trainer are countered by his drive towards violence and danger. The protective aspects of traditional male role patterns in Bangladesh and elsewhere—particularly responsibilities to mother, wife, and women in general—are thus deeply in conflict with the compulsive performance of violence.
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\r\nDurjoy himself suspects that his fights against the mafia merely cover up a deeper compulsion to violence. His agony is revealed in a longish reflection on his street fights against the drug gangs in Volume 12: he realizes that he doesn’t act out of a feeling of social duty or a moralist’s sense of justice, nor is it his father’s patriotism that has posthumously taken hold of him (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 26: ‘I like it!’ Durjoy<\/em>, by Tauhidul Ikbal Sampad, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2019, Vol. 12, p. 5.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 26<\/a>):<\/p>\r\n\r\n

There is another reason …
\r\nThat is the most frightening of all …
\r\nI’m afraid myself when I think of it …
\r\nI like it!
\r\nEvery cry of despair …
\r\nEvery sound of breaking bones …
\r\nJust like them I’m a story made up by the gangsters … A demon … They are my food …
\r\nIn the fog of the smoke grenades I will reduce as many as I can into eunuchs.
\r\n…<\/p>\r\n\r\n

I will beat them … I’ll keep on beating them …
\r\nUntil my thirst for blood is quenched … (Vol. 12, pp. 5–6)<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Subtracting the dose of pulp hyperbole, one can state that Durjoy realizes quite clearly that his motivation is his sheer joy of destruction. What is so frightening about it is that it makes him like those he fights. For sure, the Durjoy series doesn’t preclude voyeuristic enjoyment of hypermasculine violence. However, it also doesn’t vindicate it under the common moralist veil of fighting evil, but exposes the drive for violence as something intrinsic to the protagonist’s character and as deeply problematic. If 14 volumes until date have managed to unveil Durjoy’s hypermasculinity as sadism, one can be curious about how many more volumes it will take the authors to resolve the conundrum of issues they have laid open: whether Durjoy’s coming of age will enable him to balance his protective and violent selves, smoothen his relationship with his mother, define his attitude towards his country, Bangladesh, and control the compulsive violence that he has started to see as his greatest weakness.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

 <\/p>\r\n\r\n

Conclusion<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\r\n\r\n

How do we place the characters and stories we have discussed in the overall context of Bengali or South Asian comics culture? As pointed out in the beginning, the comics world of Bengal and, for that matter, of South Asia in general and many other parts of the world, has been dominated by the global market. Ever since comics came into existence, the international production outweighed by far the desi comics’ share. Bantul and Durjoy have to compete not only with adaptations like Betal but much more acutely with international players like Batman, Donald Duck, Tintin, Asterix, and, more recently, with manga heroes like Naruto and Soul Eater. Under such circumstances, it is encouraging to see how comics art in both Bangladesh and West Bengal is nonetheless thriving and exploring new avenues in terms of graphics and storytelling.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

The constructions of hypermasculinity we have seen in this overview of Bengali hero comics are, on the whole, rather unsurprising. Visually the muscular heroes are invariably contrasted with less muscular, smaller, inferior male bodies. Most of them, from Bantul to Zaki, with the notable exception of Durjoy, move about in a largely or even entirely male world and display little interiority. Masculinity is performed on the surface of bodily apparition and action-oriented plots, and, except for Durjoy again, there is little mental processing, reflecting, or critiquing apart from what the outer course of events ordains. Overt sexist behaviour towards women as a defining feature of hypermasculinity is largely absent from the scene of Bengali comics heroes, but danger and violence are dominant ingredients, and the controlled and sovereign use of force is arguably the main factor constituting manliness in this genre. Interestingly, the mask—one distinctive item in American superhero comics—is rather uncommon among these Bengali superheroes, and accordingly the bifurcation between public and private persona is much less pronounced.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

If the patterns governing masculinity in these Bengali comic books are thus not so different than in international productions, the local and national levels do play out in them in various ways. The transcultural form of the hypermasculine hero is locally reproduced and re-contextualized. Some of the heroes, such as Chacha Chaudhary, Bantul, and Zaki, are straightaway yoked to a national or nationalist agenda and thus acquire an additional didactic dimension. With few exceptions—namely Jum—they are exponents of a majoritarian society without ethnic exclusivity. Betal’s somewhat exoticizing reception aside, even for Durjoy, a hero pointedly disinterested in or even averse to the Bangladeshi nation, his being Bangladeshi and acting in a Bangladeshi environment is of utmost importance to the story as something one might call a localized denial of the local.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 27: Rama<\/em>, popular poster of the Hindu god issued by Vishwa Hindu Parishad, c. 1990. Source: Wikimedia Commons.<\/p><\/h2>\">\"\"Fig. 27<\/a><\/span>After such conclusions, the present overview nevertheless has to remain open-ended on a number of counts and leave many questions unanswered. One concerns the impact of non-American models such as Islamic heroes or godmen from Hindu mythology (and their Amar Chitra Katha<\/em> comic versions) on this production. Anuradha Kapur’s study of Rama iconography ‘from deity to crusader’ is telling in this connection (Hypermasculinity in Bengali Comic Books<\/h4>Hans Harder<\/span>

Fig. 27: Rama<\/em>, popular poster of the Hindu god issued by Vishwa Hindu Parishad, c. 1990. Source: Wikimedia Commons.<\/p><\/h2>\">Fig. 27<\/a>).37<\/a><\/span><\/sup> So while the more obvious legacy of musclemen in Bengali comics appears to be the one suggested in this essay, more scrutiny would probably reveal spillovers and continuities on that level as well. Further, the age of the heroes could give rise to an interesting longue-durée observation: is the slide from aged Chacha Chaudhary and middle-aged Betal down to young-adult Durjoy indicative of a global shift in patterns of male authority that favours youth culture over an earlier regime of mature men? More material and in-depth readings would have to be taken into account to settle this matter. Moreover, it is intriguing to ask whether we can draw a connecting line between colonial cultural (self-)ascriptions of effeminacy that were so prominent in Bengal, and the relative importance of hypermasculine heroes in order to compensate. Does this resonate at all with a production like Durjoy, or is effeminacy a trope that has largely become a West Bengali heritage? Seeking an answer to this question would, however, seem entirely premature in the light of the material we have looked at.
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\r\nSuperhero comics and negotiations of hypermasculinity are just a fragment of Bengali comics production and arguably not the most important one. At any rate, it is revealing to encounter a contemporary hero like Durjoy who, despite the needs of simplification in a pulp genre, manages to stir its cultural atmosphere so thoroughly. The treatment of hypermasculinity is well-embedded in the cultural milieu of contemporary Bangladesh and a successful cultural translation of the superhero theme. Whether or not Dhaka has underworld fight clubs is a question to be further investigated. But what is obvious is that the superhero topos finds resonances in the urban anxieties and feelings of insecurity of and in present-day Bangladesh.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

 <\/p>\r\n\r\n

Acknowledgements<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\r\n\r\n

This article has evolved from a paper read at the workshop ‘Manly Matters’ held at Duke University, 3–4 May 2019. I thank Sumathi Ramaswamy for her detailed and very constructive feedback on a draft of this paper. I also profited very much from the comments I received from Christiane Brosius, Yousuf Saeed, Frank Korom, and other participants in the workshop.<\/p>\r\n\r\n

 <\/p>\r\n\r\n

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Notes<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\r\n\r\n

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1<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Sampad, Tauhidul Ikbal, Durjoy 9: Ki\u1e43badanti<\/em>, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018, p. 9.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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2<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Mosher, Donald L. and Sirkin, Mark, ‘Measuring a Macho Personality Constellation’, Journal of Research in Personality<\/em>, Vol. 18, 1984, pp. 150–63, p. 150: ‘calloused sex attitudes towards women’, ‘violence as manly’, and ‘danger as exciting’.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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3<\/a><\/span><\/sup>  Broude, Gwen, ‘Protest Masculinity: A Further Look at the Causes and the Concept’, Ethos<\/em>, Vol. 18, No. 1, 1990, pp. 103–22, see p. 103.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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4<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Moore, Alan, Watchmen<\/em>, illustrated by Dave Gibbons, New York: DC Comics, 1986–87.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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5<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Cf. Time<\/em>, 1 August 2013: http:\/\/world.time.com\/2013\/08\/01\/burka-avenger-conservative-pakistans-new-animated-liberal-superheroine\/<\/a> (last accessed on 14 April 2019): ‘Creator and producer Rashid, who goes by the stage name Haroon, has repeatedly defended the decision, telling the Associated Press that the burka was simply chosen as a culturally appropriate tool to conceal their hero’s identity: “Since she is a woman, we could have dressed her up like Catwoman or Wonder Woman, but that probably wouldn’t have worked in Pakistan.”’<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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6<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Cf., e.g., Khanduri, Ritu Gairola, ‘Punch<\/em> in India: Another History of Colonial Politics?’ in Asian Punches: A Transcultural Affair<\/em>, edited by Hans Harder and Barbara Mittler, Heidelberg\/New York: Springer, 2013, pp. 165–84, as well as the other contributions in this book.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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7<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Harder, Hans, ‘Der erste bengalische Comic? Die bengalische Satirezeitschrift Basantak und eine kuriose Moritat von 1874, Masala Newsletter<\/em>’, Virtuelle Fachbibliothek Südasien<\/em>, Vol. 5, No. 2, April 2010, pp. 18–21. Jeremy Stoll, following Mushirul Hasan, traces the advent of the Indian comic to the Avadh Punch<\/em> (since 1877) or the Delhi Sketch Book<\/em> (since 1850); Basantak<\/em> (1873–75) is not mentioned. Cf. Stoll, Jeremy, ‘Comics in India’, in The Routledge Companion to Comics<\/em>, New York: Routledge (ebook without pagination), 2017.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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8<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Mitter, Partha, ‘Punch<\/em> and Indian Cartoons: The Reception of a Transnational Phenomenon’, in Asian Punches<\/em>, edited by Harder and Mittler, 2013, pp. 47–64, see pp. 48–49.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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9<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Kaur, Raminder, and Eqbal, Saif, Adventure Comics and Youth Cultures in India<\/em>, New Delhi: Routledge, 2018, is a very significant contribution to comics and popular culture studies. It builds on several years of fieldwork and furnishes in-depth textual readings, cultural contextualizations, and interpretations from the lens of media anthropology. It is hard to judge, however, whether or not their contention that vernacular comics represent ‘modernities in the backyard’ (pp. 6f) applies to South Asian comics production in general or only to Nagraj, Super Commando Dhruv etc., i.e. the Hindi comics they concentrate on. The generic category of ‘the vernacular’ seems to need more fine-tuning and pluralization to serve such generalizations.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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10<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Kamiks o Graphiks: Chhabite Galpa, Galper Chhabi<\/em>, edited by Biswadeb Gangopadhyay, Kolkata: Book Firm, Vols. 1–4 (2015–17). These are thick volumes of more than 400 pages each. Apparently, publication stopped after Vol. 4.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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11<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Lent, John A., Asian Comics<\/em>, Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 2015, p. 274.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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12<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Stoll, ‘Comics in India’ (no pagination).<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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13<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Lent, Asian Comics<\/em>, p. 275.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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14<\/a><\/span><\/sup> For a detailed publication history, see Huda, Mo. Shamim, ‘Aranyadeb “Update”’, Comics o Graphics<\/em>, Vol. 1, 2015, pp. 349–54. The Hindi name given to the Phantom was Vanbhairav.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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15<\/a><\/span><\/sup> For a detailed account of the various Betals, places, gadgets, spouses etc. see Bandyopadhyay, Indranath, ‘Chalaman Ashariri’, Comics o Graphics<\/em>, Vol. 1, 2015, pp. 325–48.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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16<\/a><\/span><\/sup> The above-mentioned authors Mo. Shamin Huda and Indranath Bandyopadhyay, for instance, are completely silent about this.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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17<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Ghosh, Devarsi, ‘Meet Narayan Debnath, the Grandfather of Bengali Comics for Six Decades’, Scroll.in<\/em>, 19 September 2019. https:\/\/scroll.in\/article\/934297\/meet-narayan-debnath-the-grandfather-of-bengali-comics-for-six-decades<\/a><\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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18<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Lent, Asian Comics,<\/em> p. 269, following Deblina Chakravorty, ‘Meet the Father of the Bengali Comic Strip’, Times of India<\/em>, 4 February 2012.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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19<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Debnath, Narayan, Bantul di Gret: Bhautik Alaukik<\/em>, Kolkata: Anupama, 2010, p. 18: duhkha karo na. ebar theke likuid khabe<\/em>.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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20<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Ibid., pp. 29–30.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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21<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Ibid., pp. 31–32.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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22<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Cf. Sinha, Mrinalini, Colonial Masculinity: The Manly Englishman and the Effeminate Bengali, <\/em>Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1995.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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23<\/a><\/span><\/sup> There is a detailed account of the Chacha Chaudhary<\/em> series in the yearly journal Comics o Graphics<\/em>: Sarkar, Rajarshi, ‘Chacha Chaudhury Itibritta’, Comics o Graphics<\/em>, Vol. 4, 2017, pp. 135–52. Cf. also the passage in Kaur and Eqbal, Adventure Comics<\/em>, p. 26.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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24<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Pran, Chacha Chaudhury ar Operation Capital<\/em>, Delhi: Diamond Comics, 1981, p. 4. It is unclear, as is often the case with pulp comic publications, whether 1981 is the true year of publication, or whether this issue is a reprint.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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25<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Ibid., p. 10.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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26<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Ibid., p. 16.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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27<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Even though not as radically as, e.g., another famous comic pair, Asterix and Obelix: the latter is strength personified in its extreme, but otherwise as far removed from hypermasculinity as one can be, and also the opposite of a muscleman.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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28<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Cf., for instance, Ray, Satyajit, Goyenda Feludar Rahasya Adventure: Gosainpur Sargaram<\/em>, Kolkata: Ananda Publishers, 2010.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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29<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Bandyopadhyay, Taradas, Taranath Tantrik<\/em>, Kolkata: Book Firm, 2018; Gandu Sampraday, Gandur Mundu<\/em>, Kolkata: collective authors’ publication, 2019.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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30<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Cf. Rahman, Anis, ‘Shabash, the First-ever Bangladeshi Superhero: Transnational, Transcultural and Transcreated’, The Popular Culture Studies Journal<\/em>, Vol. 7, No. 2, available online at https:\/\/mpcaaca.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/10\/Rahman-Superhero-Final.pdf<\/a> (last accessed on 22 January 2020).<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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31<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Hak, Mehedi and Hosein, Nabhid, Rishad: Kreinegen<\/em>, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2013 (reprinted 2016).<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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32<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Chakma, Sabyasachi, Jum<\/em>, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2018.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n

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33<\/a><\/span><\/sup> Karim, Araphat, Rahman Asiphul, and Hak, Mehedi, Mrityu Pathar 1–2<\/em>, C.K. Zaki Series<\/em>, Dhaka: Dhaka Comics, 2015.<\/span><\/p>\r\n<\/div>\r\n\r\n