After my press interview in Kolkata earlier this year about my newest book, In B’tween: the Wisp, the novel found some very interesting readers. The crime department of Kolkata grabbed it and after reading it through, thoroughly, they called me to inquire about one of the characters—Uncle Dev, the black magician.
If you have already read the book, you will recall not only Uncle Dev’s use of black magic to jinx the lives of my protagonist’s family, but also the paper plate of sliced fruit around a clay pot left outside a home to curse its owner.
Apparently, the crime department of Kolkata had encountered jinxed items I described in the book, not only in isolated alleyways but also in residential areas, and were interested in tracking the perpetrators.
“Is he real?” they asked. “How well do you know him? Could you please inform us about his whereabouts?”
“Me know a tantric?” I cried. “I have always been terrified of those sadhus.”
For nearly an hour, I tried to convince them that Uncle Dev was nothing more than a construct of my imagination.
“But he seems so real,” they insisted.
“Well,” I explained, “I grew up parallel to the Tantra society, in ignorance of their real aims, and in awe of their quirky clothes and facial makeup. Quite early on in my childhood, I witnessed some gruesome rituals tantrik practitioners use to hook people for their advantage. That sparked an interest in them, their lifestyle and their practices. There was this negative energy about them all the time. Something inexplicable.
“I know it’s all about being ignorant about a clan, but seeing is believing. Before I knew it, I had developed very strong feelings about them. Being a vivid dreamer, always intrigued by human behavior, especially strange and mysterious, I couldn’t help but write about them.”
The crime department asked no more questions.
Nandita Banerjee 