Allen Ginsberg’s letter to Abu Sayeed Ayyub about Hungry Generation Movement

704 East, 5th Street, NYC, Apt 5A, USA, October 6, 1964

Dear Abu Sayyed

Obviously my note to you was stupidly peremptory or short witted and I am sorry I got your goat, possibly or probably I deserve to be put down for the irritant discourtesy of my writing & the presumption in it, telling you what to do, etc. butting in where it is not my affair and possibly ignorant of the quality of the texts. And chiding a senior. For which I do wish to apologize, offering as excuse that I wrote in great haste — many letters on the same subject the same afternoon — and that the situation as I understand it is a little more threatening to the young scribes than you understand it to be. May be it has settled a lot since I wrote. But from what I understand, from the letters from Malay, as well as Sunil Ganguly & Utpal Basu ( & the latter two seem to be mature in judgement ) ( Malay I like as a person & do actually admire the liveliness of his englished manifestos — to my mind a livelier prose wit than any other Indian English Writing. ) ( though I realize he is inexperienced & impetuous and part of the charm is the naivete of the manifestos. or, better, innocence of them ) ( this simply being a matter of of gut taste preference intuition & certainly not the sort of literary matter to be settled by police action ) : the police situation at one time was that not only Malay but his brother Samir ( an excellent philosopher ) as well as Debi Roy as well as two young boys I never met Saleswar and Subhash Ghose were all arrested. Then let out on bail. In addition a general police investigation, according to Utpal, “those arrested are already suspended from their jobs & if they are convicted they may loose it.” Further Ananda Bazar Patrika, Jugantar, Janata and other Bengali papers fanned the fire against “obscene literary conspiracy.” Simultaneously the Supreme Court judgement of Lady Chatterley as obscene also, has, according to a clipping I read, from Times of India, “led many people to complain about the lewdness in the writings of many Bengali poets and novelists. Says Basu, “impossible to get any other job if one is lost.” The arrested five were tied and locked up for one or two days each. Utpal Basu was detained by police and questioned for five hours. I understand also that Sunil was questioned by police. As far as I know it is still not decided whether or not the police will actually prosecute, and that decision will depend on the support given to the younger writers by older established writers and like the cultural groups Indian Congress For Cultural Freedom. Everyone I hear from has said that the Congress for Cultural Freedom has not spoken up in any way. All told the situation, whether or not one approves of the literary quality of the texts, is much more threatening than I would gather from your letter. My own experience of the bureaucratic complications of police investigation in India — it is endless and Kafkian grimness — led me to a much less light-hearted view of the matter that yourself. As you may remember I was followed for months in Benares, visited by the police, threatened by Marxists, given a ten day quit India notice on vague charges of distributing obscene literature & corrupting the young. It took intervention by friends in Home Ministry in Delhi & a letter from Indian Consulate in New York to begin to straighten it out. So I have no confidence that a dismal legal process on literary matters once started, is so easily to be dismissed. Particularly where young apolitical inexperienced enthusiasts is concerned.
.
I do not agree with you at all in your evaluation as obscene & filthy the sentence :”Fuck the bastards of Gangshalik School of Poetry”. Not that I even know which school that is. But it is common literary parlance both in speech and public texts from cafes of Paris or Calcutta to old manifestos by Tristan Tzara. The style, the impetuousness, the slight edge of silly ill-will, the style of “Burn the Libraries”, an old charming XX Century literary cry. I do not really feel very “shocked” to hear that they let a lady show people her breasts in public. Do you seriously find that offensive ? I suppose it is a little bit against the law — of course they had a woman completely naked on the balcony last year of the Edinburgh Festival — brightest moment of the Fete I hear tell — Yes, certainly I do approve. However I did not think of it myself nor “promote” it from half way around the world. And I do not really think that mere publicity is the deepest motive one can find in such typical Dada actions. In that I think you are really doing them an injustice, however low you grade their literary productions. Because, after all there is considerable difference of opinion, as to the literary quality. Ferlinghetti, who does not know these writers, is publishing a self-translated section of writings by Malay, Sunil & basu in his City Lights Journal. The texts were collected by Mrs Bonnie Crown of the Asia Society, who found them as interesting as any translated texts she had been able to collect. The magazine KULCHUR here — which has considerable avantgarde circulation — also reprinted three of the manifestos in question ( on prose, poetry & politics ) earlier this year. This is independent of my correspondence with anyone.
.
In sum, what I do know, in translation of the poetry & manifestos of Malay & the other poets arrested or questioned by the police, was pleasing. So, despite half a world difference, and acknowledging your greater familiarity with the literature, I must claim my prerogative as poet and also as critic ( since I edited and acted as agent here for such unpublished writers as Kerouac & Burroughs & Artaud as well as several different schools of US poetry ) to stand by my intuition and say I do definitely see signs of modern life well expressed in their works. Not claiming they are geniuses or even great — simply that in certain precise areas expressing psychic dissatisfaction with their society, they do reflect well their thoughts, and reflect uniquely –their other contemporaries & seniors being more interested in classical piety or “sociological” mature formulations, Marxism, Humanism etc. I do not think it would be correct to term them Beatnik much less Beatnik imitators, since that is primarily a journalistic stereotype that never even fit the US supposed “Beatniks.”
.
Regarding the Congress for Cultural Freedom, I do stand by my fear that it is 1) possibly supported by Foundation funds connected with US government. 2 ) Less alert to dangers of suppression within the Western world and allies than within the Iron Curtain. In the US we have been all this year undergoing a seige of legal battles over stage works, books, movies, poetry etc. which has nearly crippled the public activity of avantguard. I contacted the US Committee for Cultural Freedom head Mr A. Beichman who said himself, the Congress is only a skeleton group in the US now inactive. And this year I had a contact John Hunt from New York to move the Congress to defend Olympia Press in Paris. This is a lag. My criticism was more just than you will allow, though overstated. OK Best Conscience.
Allen
[PS]
Do you really insist that the Manifestos can NOT be classed as “Literature” & therefore it is not a literary repression problem ??? Really ?????????????????????????????????
.
I will write to the Paris Office as well as Mr Karnick. You must remember that the Russians denounce Brodsky and Yevtuchenko/Voznesensky as 3rd rate writers, worth no official attention. And I have heard that often enough about myself from US Police agencies.
.
( Allen Ginsberg was not aware, when he wrote this letter to Mr Ayyub that among the persons who complained to the Calcutta Police about the Hungry Generation movement was Mr Abu Sayeed Ayyub himself. )

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“The Hungryalists” reviewed by Madhavi S Mahadevan in The New Indian Express.

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The Hungryalists: The Poets Who Sparked a Revolution
By: Maitreyee Bhattacharjee Chowdhury
Publisher: Penguin Viking
Pages: 272; Price: `599

Oh, I’ll die! I’ll die! I’ll die!
My skin is in blazing furore
I do not know what I’ll do, where I’ll go, Oh I’m sick
I’ll kick all Arts in the butt and go away, Shubha.
Thus begins Malay Roy Choudhury’s Bengali poem Prachanda Boidyutik Chhutar (Stark Electric Jesus). Appearing in a pamphlet in 1964, its publication resulted in arrest warrants being issued against the poet and 11 others, members of a Kolkata-based poets’ collective—the Hungry Generation. And the charges? Conspiracy against the state and literary obscenity.

Who were these radicals, where did they come from and what happened to them is the substance of Maitreyee Bhattacharjee Chowdhury’s non-fiction book, The Hungryalists: The Poets Who Sparked a Revolution. Well-researched, it draws on journals, memoirs, photographs, interviews and personal conversations with brothers Malay and Samir, part of movement’s founding quartet (the other two being Shakti Chatterjee and the Dalit poet Haradhan Dhara aka Debi Roy).

Following a loose timeline, the author dispenses with the notion of unity: anecdotes, sketches and generalisations abound, sometimes befuddling the reader by their randomness. However, the mood music of the age—intense, rebellious, raucous—comes through clearly.

Though homegrown, the Hungryalists were part of a global wave of insurrectionist poetry that had earlier seen the rise of Beatdom in the United States. Calling the Beats and the Hungryalists ‘co-travellers’, the author writes, ‘These poets/ writers rejected standards of literature, introduced new societal norms, shunned mercenaries of culture and even spawned a new drug subculture’. Solidarity between the movements was enabled when prominent Beat poets such as Gary Snyder and his wife Joanne Kyger, Allen ‘Howl’ Ginsberg and his lover Peter Orlovsky travelled to India and associated with the Hungryalists.

Though the two movements had similarities as sociocultural forces, the book elucidates the completely different circumstances that fashioned the Hungryalists’ poetics. The post-Partition decade of the 50s saw rapid changes in Bengali society: a flood of refugees, homelessness, food shortages, rising unemployment, the stench and anger of rampant poverty. It was an all-encompassing rootlessness unrepresented in the prosaic literary writing of the period—what Malay Roy Choudhury called ‘the blankety-blank school of modern poetry’.

The Hungryalists wanted more: a new lexis, a new literary space, a wider audience. Above all, a shake-up. Their agenda was to ‘introduce chaos and a disintegration in writing that rendered it conventionally meaningless, and take advantage of the shock it created, thereby introducing the ideas they wanted to talk about’. Raw emotions needed raw language: obscenity became a moral weapon. Viewing poetry as an oral tradition, they held public readings in Howrah railway station, College Street Coffee House, Khalasitola bar and the grave of the long-dead Michael Madhusudan Dutt—whom the Hungryalists idolised.

Co-authorship and collaboration being a feature of their identity, they met regularly at ‘addas’. Another commonality was penury: public loos, empty offices and renting space on terraces with other homeless formed their sleeping arrangements. Despite their travails they persisted with their poetry. The literati were unamused; repercussions followed in the form of police raids, handcuffs, a trial and betrayals. Nevertheless, the subaltern had found a voice that has lasted. While the Beats are well-documented, the Hungryalists are not. This book is a worthy attempt to fill the gap.

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‘A Brief Encounter with the Hungryalist Movement’ by Kapil Arambam

A Brief Encounter with the Hungryalist Movement by Kapil Arambam

I wish I was there during the three decades from the Fifties to the Seventies. Those were the days, as I loved, when the whole world was witnessing a literary tsunami, yet of the good kind. No tsunami, but say, a revolution. With Jack Kerouac touring around North America, the Beat Generation was driving all across the globe; then we have the Malay Roy Choudhury & Co, describing in plain words how literature can pinch hard the arses of the authority while producing great works of art; and closer home, the three poets, Yumlembam Ibomcha, Wahengbam Ranjit and Thangjam Ibopishak published the anthology of Shingnaba (Challenge/Resistance) in volumes.

In music, the Fifties was archaic yet the rise of Led Zep, the Doors, Black Sabbath, Pink Floyd and the other bands in the Sixties was changing the way how we rock and roll literally. Anyways, a few decades down the revolutionary road, now we have a multiverse of art and literature that thrills us, amazes us, and intellectually excites us.

Today, I will be sharing a few essays from a wonderful blog The Hungry Generation (hungryalistgeneration.blogspot.in)  that I had discovered a while ago on the Hungryalists. Some day, I would love to do a comparative analysis of these guys and the Beatniks. So, I will start with a paragraph textually from one of the posts on that blog and then continue graphically:

Since 1961 when the Movement started, till date, there have been many articles written on the subject, in India and abroad. Essays and criticisms in Bengali are easily available at the Little Magazine Library and Research Centre, Kolkata. English material is not easily accessible to readers and researchers. An attempt is therefore being made to locate, collect and bring as many articles as possible, in one place. Those left out by me may please be added to this web by anyone interested on the subject Lot of things written about the participants have become outdated which may be discerned from various websites. Some of them have even been bestowed with National literary awards. For historical reasons, however, entire discourse should be kept on record.

(Read Stark Electric Jesus by Malay Roy Choudhury below)

For clearer references

Malay Roychoudhury and Bengal’s Hungry Generation of Anarchist Writers
By Sara Hussain, Homegrown
homegrown.co.in/article/801658/malay-roychoudhury-and-bengals-hungry-generation-of-anarchist-writers

“No Hungry Generations Tread Thee Down”? — Exploring the Poetics of Alterity
By Sanchari Bhattacharya, Information and Library Network Centre
inflibnet.ac.in/ojs/index.php/Margins/article/download/2261/1861

The Bohemian Hungry Generation Assemble at Kolkata
By Abhijit Pal, Bohemian Hungry Generation Poets, Novelists & Artists of Kolkata
bohemianhungry.blogspot.in/2016/10/the-bohemian-hungry-generation-assemble.html

Art, the Hungryalists, and the Beats
By Juliet Reynolds, Café Dissensus
cafedissensus.com/2016/06/16/art-the-hungryalists-and-the-beats/


Source: Unknown




Stark Electric Jesus
Malay Roy Choudhury

Oh I’ll die I’ll die I’ll die
My skin is in blazing furore
I do not know what I’ll do where I’ll go oh I am sick
I’ll kick all Arts in the butt and go away Shubha
Shubha let me go and live in your cloaked melon
In the unfastened shadow of dark destroyed saffron curtain
The last anchor is leaving me after I got the other anchors lifted
I can’t resist anymore, a million glass panes are breaking in my cortex
I know, Shubha, spread out your matrix, give me peace
Each vein is carrying a stream of tears up to the heart
Brain’s contagious flints are decomposing out of eternal sickness
other why didn’t you give me birth in the form of a skeleton
I’d have gone two billion light years and kissed God’s ass
But nothing pleases me nothing sounds well
I feel nauseated with more than a single kiss
I’ve forgotten women during copulation and returned to the Muse
In to the sun-coloured bladder
I do not know what these happenings are but they are occurring within me
I’ll destroy and shatter everything
draw and elevate Shubha in to my hunger
Shubha will have to be given
Oh Malay
Kolkata seems to be a procession of wet and slippery organs today
But i do not know what I’ll do now with my own self
My power of recollection is withering away
Let me ascend alone toward death
I haven’t had to learn copulation and dying
I haven’t had to learn the responsibility of shedding the last drops
after urination
Haven’t had to learn to go and lie beside Shubha in the darkness
Have not had to learn the usage of French leather
while lying on Nandita’s bosom
Though I wanted the healthy spirit of Aleya’s
fresh China-rose matrix
Yet I submitted to the refuge of my brain’s cataclysm
I am failing to understand why I still want to live
I am thinking of my debauched Sabarna-Choudhury ancestors
I’ll have to do something different and new
Let me sleep for the last time on a bed soft as the skin of
Shubha’s bosom
I remember now the sharp-edged radiance of the moment I was born
I want to see my own death before passing away
The world had nothing to do with Malay Roychoudhury
Shubha let me sleep for a few moments in your
violent silvery uterus
Give me peace, Shubha, let me have peace
Let my sin-driven skeleton be washed anew in your seasonal bloodstream
Let me create myself in your womb with my own sperm
Would I have been like this if I had different parents?
Was Malay alias me possible from an absolutely different sperm?
Would I have been Malay in the womb of other women of my father?
Would I have made a professional gentleman of me
like my dead brother without Shubha?
Oh, answer, let somebody answer these
Shubha, ah Shubha
Let me see the earth through your cellophane hymen
Come back on the green mattress again
As cathode rays are sucked up with the warmth of a magnet’s brilliance
I remember the letter of the final decision of 1956
The surroundings of your clitoris were being embellished
with coon at that time
Fine rib-smashing roots were descending in to your bosom
Stupid relationship inflated in the bypass of senseless neglect
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah
I do not know whether I am going to die
Squandering was roaring within heart’s exhaustive impatience
I’ll disrupt and destroy
I’ll split all in to pieces for the sake of Art
There isn’t any other way out for Poetry except suicide
Shubha
Let me enter in to the immemorial incontinence of your labia majora
In to the absurdity of woeless effort
In the golden chlorophyll of the drunken heart
Why wasn’t I lost in my mother’s urethra?
Why wasn’t I driven away in my father’s urine after his self-coition?
Why wasn’t I mixed in the ovum -flux or in the phlegm?
With her eyes shut supine beneath me
I felt terribly distressed when I saw comfort seize Shubha
Women could be treacherous even after unfolding a helpless appearance
Today it seems there is nothing so treacherous as Woman & Aet
Now my ferocious heart is running towards an impossible death
Vertigoes of water are coming up to my neck from the pierced earth
I will die
Oh what are these happenings within me
I am failing to fetch out my hand and my palm
From the dried sperms on my trousers spreading wings
300000 children gliding toward the district of Shubha’s bosom
Millions of needles are now running from my blood in to Poetry
Now the smuggling of my obstinate legs are trying to plunge
Into the death-killer sex-wig entangled in the hypnotic kingdom of words
Fitting violent mirrors on each wall of the room I am observing
After letting loose a few naked Malay, his unestablished scramblings.

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পারমিতা চক্রবর্তী বিশ্লেষণ করেছেন মলয় রায়চৌধুরীর ছোটোগল্প ‘দাচু ওয়াইফু’

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জাপানের পথে : পারমিতা চক্রবর্ত্তী

মলয় রায়চৌধুরীর লেখা নিয়ে কথা বলা খুব কঠিন । তবুও ওনার লেখার প্রতি যে দায়বদ্ধতা তা ভীষণ ভাবে উল্লেখযোগ্য । “দাচু ওয়াইফু” তেমনই একটি গল্প ৷ নামকরণটিতে  গল্পটি শুরুতে একটা ধাক্কা লাগবে পাঠকের মনে ৷ গল্পের শুরুতে একটা টানটান শিহরণ ৷ কিছু কিছু মানুষের কাছে একাকিত্ব একটা বিলাসিতা আবার কারোর কাছে ক্রাইসিস ৷ একটি মানুষ যখন একাকিত্বের জীবন উপভোগ করে তখন তার কাছে গোটা অস্তিত্বটা একটা রোমান্সের মত I সেই গন্ডীর মধ্যে ঢুকে পড়ে আস্ত নেশার বোতল ৷ গল্পের শুরুতে একটা আগুন ধরানো  পরিবেশ ৷ ১৮ ডিগ্রি সুইঙ মোডে এসি, চালিয়ে কম্বল চাপা দিয়ে ঘুমোচ্ছে গোটা শহর ৷ ডলার খরচে বেঁঁচে থাকার আনন্দ ৷

এমনই একরাতে আগুনের টুকরো ছড়িয়ে পড়ে গোটা ঘরে ৷ নেশার আমেজে ঘুমিয়ে থাকা মানুষটি টের পায় যখন তার চামড়ায় যন্ত্রণা লাগে  । বাকি পর্দা জ্বলছে ৷ সোফা I আগুন দখল করেছে ড্রইংরুম ৷” আমার স্লিপিং স্যুটে আগুন ধরে গেছে ,চামড়ায় বসে যাচ্ছে যন্ত্রণা “এখানেই মনে হয়েছে গল্প’র ক্লাইমেক্সে কোথায় যেন একটু ছেদ পড়েছে ৷মনে হচ্ছে  পরিবেশটা যেন আন্ডার কন্ট্রোল ৷শাওয়ারের জল ধুয়ে দেয় উলঙ্গ শরীর I আগুন স্পর্শ করে অস্তিত্বকে ৷

এভাবেই বয়ে যাওয়া ঘটনাকে এগিয়ে নিয়ে চলল শব্দবন্ধ ৷ আগুন নষ্ট করে দেয় তার মুখ, দেহের ওপরের অংশ, পিঠ আর পা । পোড়া জায়গাগুলো ছিল  গভীর । কান, নাক, কনুই থেকে হাড় বেরিয়ে যায় । বেশ কিছু সার্জারি হলেও বায়োমেট্রিকসে বদল হয়নি । চোখ ঠিক ছিল । আঙুলের ছাপও পোড়েনি ।

ফলসরূপ সার্জারিতে ঘটে যায় আমূল পরিবর্তন তার মুখের । এই ঘটনা নাড়া দেয় গল্পের এসেন্সকে । গল্পটিতে জাপানের বর্ণনা আছে ৷ জাপানের অলিগলি জুড়ে হেঁটে বেড়ায় গল্পরা ৷ গল্প মানে নারী ৷ প্রকৃতি’র আদি রহস্য লুকিয়ে আছে যার কোল জুড়ে ৷ গল্প’র মূল চরিত্র যিনি, তিনি একজন অবিবাহিত  পুরুষ । একাকিত্বের অবসরে তিনি নেহাতই একজন পথপ্রদর্শক ছিলেন ৷ এমন এক সময় তিনি তার জীবনে দ্বিতীয় শক্তির অভাব উপলব্ধি করেন । কেউ একজন যে তাঁর নিস্তব্ধ জীবনের সঙ্গী হবে ৷তাঁকে শুশ্রূষা দেবে ৷ যৌনইচ্ছা’র তাগিদ অনুভব করেন ।

জাপান দ্বীপপুঞ্জে মানুষ প্রথম বসতি স্থাপন করে প্রাগৈতিহাসিক কালে। খ্রিষ্টপূর্ব প্রথম সহস্রাব্দে জাপানের আদি জোমোন সংস্কৃতি (যার নামকরণ হয়েছে স্বতন্ত্র “দড়ির দাগ দেওয়া” মাটির বাসন থেকে) ক্রমশ য়ায়োই সংস্কৃতির দ্বারা প্রতিস্থাপিত হয়ে যায়। য়ায়োই যুগে মূল এশীয় ভূখণ্ড থেকে জাপানে নতুন প্রযুক্তির আগমন ঘটেছিল। খ্রিষ্টীয় প্রথম শতাব্দীতে চীনের “হান গ্রন্থে ” জাপানের প্রথম লিখিত উল্লেখ পাওয়া যায়। স্বপ্নের নগরী বলা যায় জাপানকে ৷এদেশে রাতের রোশনাইয়ে আলোর সাথে হাত ধরে নারী ৷ জাপান শহরে বোবা কালা নারীর সংখ্যা বেশী । তারা বিক্রি হন ডলারের হিসাবখাতে ৷ তেমনই এক নারী হিনাত ৷ যে সুন্দরীর রাজ্যের রাণী ও নৈঃশব্দের অধিপতি সে ৷ । হিনাতকে দেখেই ভালোবেসে ফেললেন নায়ক ৷ কোলে তুলে নিয়ে  গেলেন বিছানায় ৷

“প্রেম করছি যখন, হিনাত বলে উঠল, আঃ, লাগে ।

আমি উঠে বসলুম । বললুম, কী বলছ তুমি ? কথা বলছ ?”

এখানে যেন মূল চরিত্রের আরও কিছু সংলাপ কিংবা অনুভব জরুরী ছিল মনে হয়েছে ৷ কোথাও যেন তঞ্চকতার সাথে শব্দের ব্যাখ্যা চাইছিল ৷কিন্তু তা পূরণ হয় ভালোবাসা দ্বারা I

“ভালোবাসা পেলে প্রাণ জেগে ওঠে, বলল হিনাত, চোখের পাতা কাঁপিয়ে, ভালোবাসার ক্ষমতা তুমি জানো না ।

আমি হিনাতের দিকে তাকিয়ে বসে রইলুম ।

ও মিটিমিটি হাসছে, যেমন দেখেছিলুম জাপানে ।

এসি চালিয়ে হিনাতকে জড়িয়ে শুয়ে পড়লুম । সত্যিই, ভালোবাসার ক্ষমতা অপরিসীম, সিলিকনে তৈরি নকল যৌনপুতুল বা সেক্স ডলের মধ্যেও প্রাণ সঞ্চার করতে পারে ।

সুন্দরীতমা সে, কেমন করেই বা নিখুঁত হবে । খুঁত কেবল এই যে ওর হৃদয় ছিল না ।”

এই স্তবকে পাঠকের মনে কেমন যেন ধোঁয়াশা লাগে । অর্থাৎ হৃদয়ের ঠিকানা তো নিশ্চিন্দিপুর ৷ সেখানে নেই কোন পরিসর I

“দার্শনিকরা তো বলে গেছেন যে চোখ হলো আত্মায় প্রবেশের পথ । ওর চোখে রয়েছে সৌন্দর্যের ক্ষমতা, হাসিতে রয়েছে পুরুষকে জয় করে নেবার ক্ষমতা ।

হিনাতের হাত দুটো তুলে আমাকে জড়িয়ে ধরতে সাহায্য করলুম, ও তাকিয়ে রইলো আমার দিকে ৷আজ থেকে সিলিকনের যৌনপুতুল হিনাত আমার দাচু ওয়াইফু, জাপানি ভাষায় যেমন বলে, ওলন্দাজ স্ত্রী বা রহস্যময়ী পত্নী।”

গল্পের পরিণতি এখানেই শেষ ৷ আরও একটু বেশী পাওনা ছিল যেন আমাদের কাছে ৷ তবুও লেখক কখনও জাপান যাননি,  কিন্তু মনে হয়েছে যেন জাপানের অলিগলি তাঁর ঘোরা ৷ এখানেই একজন লেখকের সার্থকতা ৷গল্পটির পরতে পরতে লুকিয়ে আছে রহস্য যা কিনা আরও একটু বিস্তৃতি লাভ করতেই পারত ; তবুও এইটুকুই বা কম কি ৷ মলয় রায়চৌধুরীর লেখা নিয়ে কিছু বলা বড় ঔদ্ধত্য,  তবুও যেন আরও একটু চেয়েছিলাম ।

( মাসিক কৃত্তিবাস পত্রিকায় এই ছোটোগল্পটি প্রবন্ধ হিসাবে প্রকাশিত হয়েছিল )

 

 

 

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Maitreyee B Chowdhury talks about her book “The Hungryalists”

Bangalore based poet and writer Maitreyee B Chowdhury talks about The Beats & The Hungryalists, India and music

 

“Throughout the world, poetry and music have been forerunners in challenging the mindsets of people. Irrespective of the genre and language both music and poetry have constantly motivated people into thinking differently, into rising in revolt against mediocre or oppressive thought processes.”

 

Maitreyee B Chowdhury is a Bangalore based poet and writer. She has three books to her credit- ‘Uttam Kumar and Suchitra Sen: Bengali Cinema’s First Couple’ and ‘Where Even the Present is Ancient: Benaras’. In the year 2013, ‘Uttam Kumar and Suchitra Sen: Bengali Cinema’s First Couple’ was nominated for the Crossword Book Awards, 2013 (Non Fiction category). Maitreyee is organiser of Bengaluru Poetry Festival, and poetry and fiction editor of The Bangalore Review, a literary journal. Maitreyee’s writings can be found in journals both national and international. She lives in a house with a family of dogs and poetry.

Her third new book titled, The Hungryalists: The Poets Who Sparked a Revolution (Jan 2019). What happens to a highbrow literary culture when its fault lines-along caste, class and gender-are brutally exposed? What happens to the young iconoclasts who dare to speak and write about these issues openly? Is there such a thing as a happy ending for revolutionaries? Or are they doomed to be forever relegated to the footnotes of history?

This is the never-before-told true story of the Hungry Generation (or ‘the Hungryalists’)-a group of barnstorming, anti-establishment poets, writers and artists in Bengal in the 1960s. Braving social boycott, ridicule and arrests, the Hungryalists changed the literary landscape of Bengal (and many South Asian countries) forever. Along the way, they also influenced iconic poets, such as Allen Ginsberg, who struck up a lifelong friendship with the Hungryalists.

Interview by Michael Limnios

How has the literature influenced your views of the world and the journeys you’ve taken?

Being a writer entails that you become part of your work in an indescribable way. At what exact point your life becomes entangled in literature is difficult to explain. The way I look at it, literature influences not only what you end up writing but how you lead your life and the choices you make. Literature teaches you compassion, to be more sensitive and perhaps to develop a patient ear- all of which become a part of your living. You end up feeling grateful for being a part of this tremendousness but also marvel at the fact that there’s scope for understanding about much of life that is lived in the microcosm. Having said that this journey can be a lonely one and often you end up being misunderstood. The trick is to tell yourself that there are others who might feel the same and in the end it’s all worth it.

What were the reasons that you started the Hungryalist Movement research? What’s the legacy of?

My story of researching on the Hungryalists began by a reading of the Beats and their journey to India. The story about how Allen Ginsberg’s journey to India had unfolded, had been written. His interactions with poets and writers from India been documented. Strangely enough, the world knew little about the Indian side of the story. What was the Indian reaction to Ginsberg and to the Beats, what were the consequences of the leaders of two parallel poetry movements coming together, why were the Hungryalists not as talked about- I tried finding answers to these questions, which eventually led to the book The Hungryalists. But the book isn’t only an account of the Hungry Generation; it takes a look at the Sixties as an age for counterculture both in India and abroad. It also talks about Indian spirituality, about the Bauls, about the worship of the feminine in rural Bengal in contrast to the Western fixation of worshipping a single male God. It is the story of Central Asia and the literature that had begun emerging from this part of the world. It is also the story of the consequences of the 1962 war on the literary mindset in Calcutta and the political ramifications in India and China.

How would you characterize the philosophy of your poetry? Where does your creative drive come from?

I grew up in the lap of the blue mountains- the Patkai ranges in the hills of North East India; as a result my philosophy rests in nature and stems from it. I’m grateful for my travels throughout the world though, which gives dimensions to my writing. Detailed story telling fascinates me, writing that can make me smell the flower I’m reading about is where I tend to go. I feel it is the right time to tell the stories from this part of the world, people throughout the world are aware of the intricacies that govern this part of the world; there is renewed interest in its varied complexities. Much work remains to be done in many such dimensions and I’m excited that I can be a part of it.

What has been the relationship: music and poetry in your life and writing? How does affect your inspiration?

Music and poetry play huge roles in my life. I’ve been told poetry creeps into my prose too, and while that might be both good and bad- it’s more of a statement of the fact that you could be anything you choose to but poetry refuses to let go of you, especially if you’re embedded in it. I grew up with Indian classical music, learnt parts of it and continue dabbling in it. But Blues and folk music are an intricate part of me too.

The story of music and its history inevitably convinces you that human emotions and desires are the same throughout the world. I started listening to the Blues much later in life but what struck me immediately was the similarity it had with Indian folk. These are the same musical stories of labour, angst, joy of work well done and the simple pleasures of life. The African-American narrative especially is stunningly similar in so many ways with the music I heard in the tea plantations or the music scene in Nagaland or Meghalay, the experimentation with the strings and the poetry in that music, is infused in the same spirit.

“The Beat generation was to my mind above everything else-a journey into the self, liberation of sorts from the closeted pre-conceived notions that governed literature, its presentation, language and its use and the ability of an individual to use his/her mind to perceive the world at large.”

What do you miss most nowadays from the poetry of past? What are your hopes and fears for the future of?

Poetry is mostly a reflection of one’s state of mind and the fact that we are no longer simple creatures is reflected in our writing and understanding of poetry too I suppose. I admire contemporary poetry as much as I enjoyed what I had read in my school days. We change as people, all of us, and it’s rather simplistic to assume that we would be able to write or perhaps enjoy the same kind of poetry we used to while we were kids. But yes, the simplicity of the narrative is something I miss, though I’m not sure I’m capable of it myself anymore.

There’s such fantastic writing and experimentation happening in all genres, one can only be wide eyed.

What do you think was the relationship of the spirituality and literature of India to the Beat Generation?

The Sixties were tumultuous times throughout the world and the fact that the Beats were affected by it showed in their poetry. That Ginsberg was affected by his Blake vision was only one of the manifestations of his disturbed state of mind, their poetry had begun to reflect it and by the time Allen and Peter arrived in India looking as if for an instant fix- one could tell, there was more to it than a veiled understanding of Indian spirituality. It is of course evident that Allen was on the lookout for a spiritual Guru. Only much later did it dawn on him, that the search for a Guru and finding one, is as layered a process as understanding India and its spirituality. His travels in Benaras, smoking Ganja at the burning ghats, following the Bauls in the Bengal heartland and questioning the Dalai Lama about his hallucinations were all directed at the same quest. Fellow Beat poets Joanne Kyger and Gary Snyder who were in Japan discovering their own spirituality in Zen Buddhism had similar journeys of self exploration. In the end it was not about how much they had gleaned from these journeys, but the fact that they were part of it made all the difference in their understanding of themselves and to a certain extent achieving the peace that they were looking at finding.

How does the underlying philosophy of Beat Generation impact you? What touched (emotionally) you?

The Beat generation was to my mind above everything else-a journey into the self, liberation of sorts from the closeted pre-conceived notions that governed literature, its presentation, language and its use and the ability of an individual to use his/her mind to perceive the world at large. All of this appealed to me. The beauty of the Beats lies in the fact that they speak for free spirits of every generation. There’s much to learn from Allen’s vision of bringing together so many writers and poets, his generosity and the group’s ability to find a new middle every once in a while- be inspired by, and never become restricted to a single notion of right and wrong.

What is the impact of poetry and music to the racial, feminist, political, and socio-cultural implications?

Throughout the world, poetry and music have been forerunners in challenging the mindsets of people. Irrespective of the genre and language both music and poetry have constantly motivated people into thinking differently, into rising in revolt against mediocre or oppressive thought processes. Whether it is the songs, poetry and revolt of Dylan in the West or Kazi Nazrul Islam in the East, what remains common is that when it comes to changing the mindsets of people with regards to important issues, the role of music and poetry is unparalleled.

What does to be a female poet today’s and what was the status of women in “the Hungryalists” era?

I don’t usually distinguish between male and female poets. The gender of a poet is mostly incidental I believe. But having said that, I also think it is an important time especially for women poets to make their opinions heard especially with regard to matters concerning women. There are certain problem areas that are better understood perhaps by women, that’s where the role of women poets could be significantly highlighted.

The role of women (or the lack of it) in the era of the Hungryalists as well as that of the Beats has been questioned time and again by not only feminists, but also by others. My reading and many discussions with the Hungryalists themselves have revealed that they weren’t looking at a gender specific movement and as such the inclusion (or not) of women writers is only incidental. Malay Roy Choudhury tells me that there were very few women poets at that time who held individualistic opinions, moreover the fact that the Hungryalists were ill reputed added to the hesitancy of women who wanted to be seen with them. With the exception of Alo Mitra who was a fire brand herself, most women preferred keeping to themselves. My conversations with Deborah Baker recently reveal that she had almost similar opinion of the Beats. They were so busy writing and communicating between themselves that they couldn’t really be bothered to look into the fact that there were hardly any women Beat writers. In fact Joanne Kyger’s diary reveals her frustrations at being ignored by the so called ‘boys club’ between Allen, Peter and Gary while they were travelling together.

“Music and poetry play huge roles in my life. I’ve been told poetry creeps into my prose too, and while that might be both good and bad- it’s more of a statement of the fact that you could be anything you choose to but poetry refuses to let go of you, especially if you’re embedded in it.” (Photo: Malay Roychoudhury & Maitreyee B. Chowdhury)

Do you consider the Hungryalists a specific literary and artistic movement or do you think it’s a state of mind?

I think they are a bit of both. More than the Beats in fact, the Hungryalists were a product of their circumstances. Their work was a reflection of several questions that needed to be tackled simultaneously. More often than not, it was their state of mind which led to their artistic outpourings, which in turn led to the movement itself.

Where would you really want to go with a time machine? What memorabilia (books, records) would you put in?

Since two of my books are set in the Sixties, I guess it might be a wild idea to re-visit the Sixties!

I’d take with me the music of ‘What a Beautiful World’ by Donald Fagen and lines from a poem by poet Subhash Mukhopadhay-(It is revolt as its incisive best, about how the roots of a tree dips into the concrete and laughs at society)

 

ফুল ফুটুক না ফুটুক

আজ বসন্ত

শান বাধানো ফুটপাথে

পাথরে পা ডুবিয়ে এক কাঠ-খোট্টা গাছ

কচি কচি পাতায় পাঁজর ফাটিয়ে হাসছে

 

(Translation)

Whether the flowers bloom or not its spring today

Standing on the concrete pavement

dipping his toes gently into the rock

a Curmudgeonly tree

decked out in new leaves

laughs his heart out.

 

Photo: The Hungryalists – The book The Hungryalists: The Poets Who Sparked a Revolution (Jan 2019) isn’t only an account of the Hungry Generation; it takes a look at the Sixties as an age for counterculture both in India and abroad. It also talks about Indian spirituality, about the Bauls, about the worship of the feminine in rural Bengal in contrast to the Western fixation of worshipping a single male God. It is the story of Central Asia and the literature that had begun emerging from this part of the world. It is also the story of the consequences of the 1962 war on the literary mindset in Calcutta and the political ramifications in India and China.

 

 

Posted in সমীর রায়চৌধুরী, Samir Roychoudhury, সুবিমল বসাক, Subimal Basak, সুভাষ ঘোষ, Beatnik, Hungryalism, Hungryalist arrests, Hungryalist trial, Maitreyee Bhattacharjee Chowdhury, Malay Roychoudhury, Malay Roychoudhury Quote, Pradip Choudhuri, Saileswar Ghosh, Sambhu Rakshit, Sandipan Chattopadhyay, Shakti Chattopadhyay, Utpalkumar Basu | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Hungryalist Movement in India : Maitreyee B Chowdhury

Ten Things You Didn’t Know About The Hungryalist Movement in India

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Maitreyee Bhattacharjee Chowdhury’s The Hungryalists-The Poets Who Sparked a Revolution is the never-before-told true story of the Hungry Generation (or ‘the Hungryalists’)-a group of barnstorming, anti-establishment poets, writers and artists in Bengal in the 1960s. Braving social boycott, ridicule and arrests, the Hungryalists changed the literary landscape of Bengal (and many South Asian countries) forever. Along the way, they also influenced iconic poets, such as Allen Ginsberg, who struck up a lifelong friendship with the Hungryalists.

Read on for ten things you didn’t know about the Hungryalist movement in India:


The Uprooted Generation that Fired a Literary Revolution

“The feeling of being uprooted was everywhere. Political leaders decided that the second phase of the five-year planning needed to see the growth of heavy industries. The land required for such industries necessitated the evacuation of farmers. Devoid of their ancestral land and in the absence of a proper rehabilitation plan, those evicted wandered aimlessly around the cities—refugees by another name….In a few years, Naxalbari would become a reality, but not yet. Like an infant Kali with bohemian fantasies, Calcutta and its literature sprouted a new tongue—that of the Hungry Generation. Malay, like Samir and many others, found himself at the helm of this madness, and poetry seemed to lick his body and soul in strange colours.”

 Allen Ginsberg’s Meeting with the Hungryalists

“Samir had recalled to Malay: He approached our table, where Sunil, Shakti, Utpal and I sat, with no hesitation whatsoever. There was no awkwardness in talking to people he hadn’t ever met. None of us had seen such sahibs before, with torn clothes, cheap rubber chappals and a jhola. We were quite curious. At that time, we were not aware of how well known a poet he was back in the US. But I remember his eyes—they were kind and curious. He sat there with us, braving the most suspicious of an entire cadre of wary and sceptical Bengalis, shorn of all their niceties—they were the fiercest lot of Bengali poets—but, somehow, he had managed to disarm us all. He made us listen to him and tried to genuinely learn from us whatever it was that he’d wanted to learn, or thought we had to offer.”

 The Hungryalists’ Forays into Anti-Establishment Publishing

“The need to present poetry differently from how it had been presented and perceived so far resulted in a number of experiments. Subimal decided to edit and publish a periodical called Pratidwandi. The name signified revolutionaries. The Hungryalists were enthusiastic about writing for it. It would be the first time a collective like this was being published, showcasing anti-establishment writing. Subimal wanted it to be released at Khalasitola on Poila Boishakh (the Bengali New Year). The cover was a woodcut print, designed by poet Sandipan, who was a firebrand Hungryalist himself. He had done it very cleverly; it looked like a vase but was actually a boy and a girl in an intimate pose.”

 The Clash Between the Bangla Literary Establishment and the Hungryalists

“By this time, it was a bit obvious that the Hungryalists had been attracting some negative vibes, especially from writers and poets who had already established themselves in the Bangla literary scene. The poetry that the Hungryalists advocated was looked down upon since it boldly and openly spoke of sensuality. In this regard, the differences, especially between the Krittibhash poets and the Hungryalists, soon became apparent. It was obvious that the subjects on which the Hungry poets had begun writing shocked a lot of people. Poetry, which was considered a more refined form of expression till now, was being experimented with and being written in street dialects and on tabooed subjects.”

 ∼

The Varying Attitudes of the Beats and the Hungryalists Towards Religion in India

“Many of the Hungryalists, with their sharp knowledge of Hindu scriptures, had been challenging temple elders on the different rituals and modes of worship. This came as a shock to many, in a country where religion was very much a part of everyday life—a matter of pride and culture even. On the other hand, Ginsberg was evidently quite taken with religion in India and sought out sadhus and holy men wherever he went in the country. While this might have been because he was in search of a guru, he seemed to be fascinated, in equal measure, by the sheer variety that religion opened for him in India—from Kali worship to Buddhism. But like the Beats, the Hungryalists came together in denouncing the politics of war, which merged with their larger world view.”

 ∼

The Hungryalists Turned the ‘Starving Artist’ Stereotype into a Harsh Reality

“Some of the poets used the public loos in railway stations because they had no homes. Writing poems during the day and finding empty offices of Marwari businessmen to sleep in at Burrabazar became a fine juggle that they soon mastered. Marwari businessmen usually left mattresses in the verandas of their offices for their outstation customers. The poets cleverly made use of these whenever they found them lying empty. On most days, they would pool in money, put all their resources together and eat in small, shady restaurants in Shyambazar or on College Street. The job of being a poet had become a severe adventure.”

Malay Roy Chaudhury’s Protests Against his Own Poetry-Within his Own Poetry

“As Malay’s poems were devoid of lyricism, when read out, they sounded like staccato sentences. The language was colloquial. But during the process of publishing, he realized that there were certain poems he was no longer comfortable with as they were clearly influenced by the poets of the thirties, forties and fifties. He was seized by the desire to make it apparent that he no longer considered them to be adequate. So he stamped ‘cancelled’ on ten of his poems in the collection. When the book was published, other poets considered this decision to be a sacrilege. They thought the act was defiant and done intentionally to generate shock. The fact that a poet might want to exercise his choice did not convince them.”

 ∼

The Hungryalists and the Beats Revolutionized the Very Language of Poetry

“Like other Hungryalists, and even the Beats, Malay knew for certain that obscenity was a construct. His poem proved, beyond a point, what the Hungryalists had been trying to say for a while— that language and its refinement wasn’t the aim of Hungryalist writings. Their emotions were raw, many a time unrefined, and it was all right for the world to see that. In that the poem itself was as much a cry against the conspirators of language as it was the longing for a woman.”

 ∼

 The Arrests of the Leaders of the Hungryalists for ‘Perversion and Obscenity’

“In a sudden and swift move, the establishment had accused the movement of not only attempting to promote perversion and obscenity in society but also of hurting sentiments that warranted up to two years of rigorous imprisonment. Arrest warrants were issued against Malay, Samir, Debi, Pradip, Subhash, Subimal, Utpal, Saileshwar, Ramananda, Basudeb and Shubho. Samir’s strained voice added, ‘You are the main accused, Malay, because of the obscenity they found in your poem “Prachanda Baidyutik Chhutar”.”

 ∼

The Outpouring of International Support Protesting the Arrests of the Hungryalists

“But before they left for Kathmandu, a letter arrived from New York. It was from a poet friend, Carol Berge, who had written to tell Malay about a poetry reading that had been arranged in honour of the Hungryalists at St Marks Church in New York. Reading the letter was an emotional moment for Malay as he basked in the warmth and support of poets who had never met him but had found a common link through poetry. This was a streak of hope in the midst of all that was going on, and it reinforced the larger connection with poetry despite differences in geography and individuality of the poets.”

 

 

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The Beats meet The Hungryalists – ‘Revolt of the Personal’ : Steven Belletto

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The Beat Generation Meets the Hungry Generation: U.S.—Calcutta Networks and the 1960s “Revolt of the Personal”
Department of English, Lafayette College, Easton, PA 18042, USA
Received: 15 October 2018 / Accepted: 21 December 2018 / Published: 2 January 2019

Abstract

:

This essay explores the relationship between the U.S.-based Beat literary movement and the Hungry Generation literary movement centered in and around Calcutta, India, in the early 1960s. It discusses a trip Allen Ginsberg and Peter Orlovsky took to India in 1962, where they met writers associated with the Hungry Generation. It further explains how Lawrence Ferlinghetti, owner of City Lights Books in San Francisco, was inspired to start a new literary magazine, City Lights Journal, by Ginsberg’s letters from India, which included work by Hungry Generation writers. The essay shows how City Lights Journal packaged the Hungry Generation writers as the Indian wing of the Beat movement, and focuses in particular on the work of Malay Roy Choudhury, the founder of the Hungry Generation who had been prosecuted for obscenity for his poem “Stark Electric Jesus”. The essay emphasizes in particular the close relationship between aesthetics and politics in Hungry Generation writing, and suggests that Ginsberg’s own mid-1960s turn to political activism via the imagination is reminiscent of strategies employed by Hungry Generation writers.
Keywords:

Beat Generation; Hungry Generation; Hungryalists; Allen Ginsberg; Malay Roy Choudhury; Beats in India; transnational Beats; international Beat movement; Beat politics; City Lights Journal; “Stark Electric Jesus”; “Wichita Vortex Sutra”

In March 1962, Allen Ginsberg and Peter Orlovsky arrived in India, where they would live for the next fourteen months. Students of Beat literature have long noted that during this time they met up with fellow poets Gary Snyder and Joanne Kyger, and that together they immersed themselves in the local religious and literary cultures. Partly because all four writers kept journals of the period that have since been published, readers have tended to characterize their own interactions as among the more significant of the trip.1
While there is a wealth of material to be mined in this regard—not the least of which is their meeting with the Dalai Lama, during which Ginsberg brought up the consciousness-expanding potential of LSD—other important connections were forged that tell differing stories about the international reach of the Beat movement. Indeed, as Ginsberg and Orlovsky traveled on without Snyder and Kyger, they met a host of writers, artists, and holy men in Banaras, Calcutta and beyond; as Orlovsky wrote to their old friend Lucien Carr: “Main thing we do in Calcutta is meat [sic] Bengale poets by the dozen”.2
One such Bengali poet who caught Ginsberg’s interest was Malay Roy Choudhury, also a playwright and essayist who had distinguished himself by founding a literary movement he called the Hungry Generation or the Hungryalists, a group of young writers and artists centered in and around Calcutta who were united in their pugnaciously antiestablishment attitudes and in their drive to reinvigorate what they took to be the tired, academic modes of traditional Bengali arts and letters. Late in 1962, in one of his long, detailed letters to Lawrence Ferlinghetti, owner of City Lights Books and publisher of Howl and Other Poems (1956), Ginsberg turned particularly rhapsodic about his latest exploits, and folded in a copy of “The Hungryalist Manifesto on Poetry,” a broadside by Choudhury filled with audacious pronouncements about poetry and culture. Ferlinghetti was impressed enough by Ginsberg’s letter and the suggestive energies of the Hungryalist Manifesto that he was inspired to start a new little magazine intended to showcase the contemporary international avant-garde, including the Hungryalists. As he replied to Ginsberg: “I have just been prodded by your India descriptions to start another Journal and publish your description in it, along with anything else you send, and also publish that beautiful Weekly Manifesto of Hungry Generation of India which you enclosed in letter.”3 This exchange was the germ of what would become City Lights Journal (first run: 1963–1966), the magazine that introduced Choudhury and the Hungry Generation to Western readers, but did so by suggesting their contributions to international letters were broadly comparable to what the Beats had achieved in the States.4
The Hungry Generation’s association with the Beats was a boon insofar as Ginsberg was already an internationally recognized writer, and ever the astute marketer, he was able to package the Hungryalists as something like the Indian wing of a global Beat phenomenon. In those early days, Choudhury also tended to play up his connection to Ginsberg and the Beats, at least when describing the Hungry Generation to non-Indian readers. In 1963, for example, Choudhury wrote a dispatch from India for El Corno Emplumado, Margaret Randall and Sergio Mondragon’s bilingual arts journal published out of Mexico City, and described the situation like this: “We have started a literary rebellion here calling ourselves HUNGRYALISTS, mainly fighting for a change, along with some crazy conceptions. Allen Ginsberg, who came to India and stayed with us for about a year or more (he was in my house for a few days and wrote some beautiful poems in this very room where I am now sitting and writing this letter to you), introduced us to his fellow Beats by reprinting and publishing our Manifestoes and poems etc. in U.S. journals.”5
Choudhury has in mind Ferlinghetti’s City Lights Journal (No. 1 [1963]; No. 2 [1964]; No. 3 [1966]), which, thanks to Ginsberg’s efforts, was the first to print English translations of Hungry Generation manifestos and poetry, a move that at once announced them to the West and cemented Beatdom’s international bona fides. Taking the link between Ginsberg and Choudhury as a starting point, this essay explores the Beat–Hungryalist connections via City Lights Journal, which introduced the Hungry Generation to Anglophone audiences by framing it as an extension of the Beat movement. This framing suggested the internationalist cast of contemporary Beat writing while simultaneously conferring hip or underground legitimacy on the Hungryalists through their supposed association with the Beats. Given this scope, I will not wade very deeply into the intricacies of Bengali poetry or the factional rivalries on the local Calcutta literary scene—which would of course be required to more fully understand the poetic and aesthetic interventions of the Hungryalists—but will instead investigate the version of the Hungry Generation presented in English in City Lights Journal and other venues such as the “Hungry!” issue of Salted Feathers (1967), edited by Dick Bakken (Bakken 1967), and the “Poetry of India” issue of Intrepid (1968), guest edited by Carl Weissner (Weissner 1968a).
There is a paucity of critical work on the Hungryalists available in English, but that which does exist tends to cast their importance in terms of rebellion and iconoclasm.6 In his introduction to the 1968 issue of Intrepid he guest edited, for example, German writer and Beat associate Carl Weissner announced that the Hungryalists “have established themselves as the largest & most remarkable avantgarde element in the country.”7 More recently, Aditya Misra has called the Hungry Generation “the first avant-garde uprising against modern Bengali poetry which believed in giving the decaying Indian civilization a mortal blow,” and Bhaswati Bhattacharya underscores that the movement’s “goal” was “to examine the extent to which it could subvert the existing literary and social norms.”8
Reflecting on her interviews with Samir Roy Choudhury, Malay Roy Choudhury’s elder brother and original Hungryalist, Maitreyee B. Chowdhury argues that the movement
gave a new vocabulary to Bengali literature, taught new reading habits and made the stench of the road, among other such ‘un-poetic’ things, poetic … the movement became an expression for those frustrated with the culture and ethics of those times … the Hungryalists perhaps spoke for an entire city affected by post-Partition poverty politics. New conversations and a new language became the need of the day—a language that would cast aside elitist aspirations and speak of angst, instead.9
This critical language of subversion and newness, of anti-civilization stances and “post-Partition poverty politics,” suggests the degree to which the Hungry Generation was a literary, social, and political movement rolled into one, and as such was characterized by uncertain distinctions between aesthetic interventions and political statements. As Weissner put it in 1968, “the HG poets, most of them anyway, are as much political agitators as they are poetic discoverers.”10
In later years, in fact, Malay Roy Choudhury pinpointed the genesis of the movement not to the writing or publication of a poem, but to the manifesto about poetry Ferlinghetti would eventually print in City Lights Journal: “The Hungry Generation literary movement was launched by me in November 1961 with the publication of a manifesto on poetry in English.”11
According to Choudhury, then, the Hungryalists were “launched” into public visibility via their manifestos, which were printed on broadsides and distributed throughout Calcutta and Patna. Indeed, although Choudhury is widely credited as the founder of the Hungryalists, it was a pointedly social and communal enterprise, and he accordingly insisted that it is recognizable as a “generation” or movement because it sprang not from him alone, but from a coterie of four poets: the Choudhury brothers, Debi Rai, and Shakti Chattopadhyay. There were many other writers and artists who came to be associated with the Hungry Generation, and while I do touch on some in the course of this essay, I’ll concentrate primarily on Choudhury and others who were most visible in the States.
In connection with their poetry and manifestos, the Hungryalists became notorious in Calcutta in the early 1960s for their public acts of protest. As one later observer explains, for example, “the poets started a campaign to personally deliver paper masks of jokers, monsters, gods, cartoon characters and animals to Bengali politicians, bureaucrats, newspaper editors and other powerful people. The slogan was, ‘Please remove your mask.’”12 Such antics became increasingly irritating to municipal authorities, and tensions came to a head on 2 September 1964, when eleven writers who had appeared in a Bengali-language book titled Hungry Generation were arrested and charged with “criminal conspiracy to bring out the aforesaid obscene publication,” which, the complaint read, would “corrupt the minds of the common reader.”13 Malay Roy Choudhury, Samir Roy Choudhury, and Debi Rai were among the eleven arrested; Shakti Chattopadhyay, the fourth original Hungryalist, had also published in Hungry Generation, but had managed to avoid arrest by agreeing to testify against Malay Roy Choudhury at his obscenity trial. Chattopadhyay claimed that despite his appearance in Hungry Generation, “I had no relationship with so called Hungry Generation and this book was not published by me.” He went on to allege that Choudhury’s writing in particular represented “mental pervertion [sic] and [the] language is vulgar,” and then “strongly condemned” Choudhury’s contribution to Hungry Generation, a febrile, sexually-explicit poem called “Prachanda Baidyutik Chhutar” or “Stark Electric Jesus.”14
Eventually, the charges against the ten other writers were dropped, but Choudhury, as reputed founder of the Hungryalists, was forced to stand trial for obscenity.
The ensuing trial is broadly analogous to an earlier moment in Beat history, when in 1957 Ferlinghetti and bookseller Shig Murao were charged with obscenity for distributing Howl and Other Poems.15 Although “Howl” was finally determined to have literary merit, “Stark Electric Jesus” was found obscene and Choudhury was fined roughly two months’ salary, fired from his civil service job, and the poem was banned and extant copies ordered destroyed.16
The immediate, material aftermath of the decision was thus dire for Choudhury, but as the “Howl” trial did for Ginsberg, the public battle over “Stark Electric Jesus” propelled him into a new realm of renown because he came to epitomize the right to free expression in the face of government censorship. In rendering his verdict, A.K. Mitra, Presidency Magistrate of the 9th Court of Calcutta, concluded that “Stark Electric Jesus” was “per se obscene” as “it starts with restless impatience of sensuous man for a woman obsessed with uncontrollable urge for sexual intercourse followed by a description of vagina, uterus, clitoris, seminal fluid, and other parts of the female body and organ, boasting of the man’s innate impulse and conscious skill as how to enjoy a woman, blaspheming God and profaning parents accusing them of homosexuality and masturbation, debasing all that is noble and beautiful in human love and relationship.”17 Choudhury’s trial became a minor cause célèbre in avant-garde circles in India, the States, and beyond, and thus stands as perhaps the landmark moment in the history of the Hungry Generation, even as Chattopadhyay’s testimony against Choudhury symbolized the dissolution of the original coterie.18
After Choudhury’s arrest, he and the Hungryalists became the latest example of writers and publishers around the world who had been subject to legal action by backward-looking authorities, and Choudhury received letters of support from a wide spectrum of fellow writers, from Daisy Aldan (editor of the poetry magazines Folder and New Folder) and poet Carol Bergé in New York to Margaret Randall and Octavio Paz in Mexico City; Paz had in fact met some of the Hungryalists while visiting Calcutta and been suitably impressed.19 However, while Choudhury’s obscenity trial served as a rallying-point for sympathetic writers, even prior to this event the Hungry Generation was being characterized as part of an international avant-garde, thanks in no small part to Ginsberg and Ferlinghetti’s efforts.
In the first issue of City Lights Journal, Ferlinghetti’s headnote described it as “a new international annual,” and he announced in the second that its content “circles the world.”20 However much the journal favored eclecticism under the banner of the avant-garde, it was also not above framing these international writers in terms of Ferlinghetti’s favored literary provocateurs, the Beats. The inaugural issue, for example, began not with Indian writing, but with Ginsberg’s and Snyder’s writing about traveling through India. The cover even featured a photograph of Ginsberg somewhere in the “Central Himalayas,” wrapped in a blanket and staring frankly at the camera, his hair whipped up in the wind. Readers were presented, in other words, with the celebrated Beat poet in his newly adopted environment, the implication being that while he may have been broadening his worldview through travel, his mere presence also served to confer legitimacy on the region and its writers.
As he had promised to Ginsberg, Ferlinghetti printed “fragments of letters from … Allen Ginsberg In India” in the first issue of his new journal. The excerpts he selected emphasize the correspondences among what Ginsberg was witnessing in India and his sense of the American underground: “the common saddhu scene here is, feels like, just about the same as beat scene in US—amazing to see the underlying universality of people’s scenes.”21 Elsewhere Ginsberg describes a moment when “drunken saddhus came up—just like mill valley [California] scene” (p. 8), and claims that “all the hip rituals in US involving pot have been developed and institutionalized here” (p. 8). Thus as he draws attention to what he takes to be the more exotic aspects of his Indian experience, Ginsberg also insists on the “universality” of subterraneans the world over. He even calls saddhus “nothing but a bunch of gentle homeless on-the-road teaheads” (p. 8), drawing a direct line from Hindu holy men to the most famous novel of the Beat movement. (Following Ginsberg’s letters is Gary Snyder’s “A Journey to Rishikesh & Hardwara,” a more conventional piece of travel writing that describes yoga and meditation in various ashrams Snyder visited with Ginsberg, Orlovsky, and Kyger.22)
It is only after these depictions of India through the eyes of sympathetic Westerners does Ferlinghetti present an example of Indian writing, the manifesto that had inspired him to create a new magazine in the first place. Previously published in Calcutta as a broadside signed by some 25 poets and “written and translated from Bengali” by Malay Roy Choudhury, the version in City Lights Journal accentuates the idea of a literary “Generation” by presenting a kind of poetic board of directors:

  • Editor: Debi Rai     Leader: Shakti Chattopadhyay
  •     Creator: Malay Roy Choudhury
  •       Howrah, India23
Framed as it is by the impressions of India from Ginsberg and Snyder, including Ginsberg’s mention of hanging out with Shakti Chattopadhyay “of enclosed manifest” (p. 7), readers of City Lights Journal could be forgiven for interpreting this manifesto as an Indian counterpart to well-known Beat manifestos such as Jack Kerouac’s “Belief & Technique in Modern Prose” or “Essentials of Spontaneous Prose,” both of which originally circulated in the little magazines Black Mountain Review and Evergreen Review, respectively. The Hungry Generation manifesto announces that traditional Bengali poetry is “cryptic, short-hand, … flattered by own sensitivity like a public school prodigy,” and that, by contrast, the Hungryalists have “discarded the blankety-blank school of modern poetry, the darling of the press, where poetry does not resurrect itself in an orgasmic flow, but words come bubbling in an artificial muddle” (p. 24). According to such a view, something called “the Hungry Generation” is best clarified in terms of opposition: there is a “blankety-blank school of modern poetry,” underwritten by the media—and, presumably, the academy—that is stuck merely regurgitating tradition. In the context of City Lights Journal, the details of this tradition are less important than the claim that it is outmoded and “artificial”: what matters is that the Hungryalists stand opposed to whatever is the dominant strand in Bengali letters. Indeed, in other versions of the manifesto, Choudhury insists that Hungry Generation writing seeks to “convey the brutal sound of breaking values and startling tremors of the rebellious soul of the artist himself, with words stripped of their usual meanings and used contrapuntally. It must invent a new language, which would incorporate everything at once, speak to all senses in one.”24 The shattering of values, the embracing of rebellion, the restless search for “new language”; these are the features of the Hungry Generation that would likewise be recognizable to readers of Beat literature, thus providing a familiar template for seeing Calcutta as the latest outpost in a worldwide literary movement.
Like a teaser trailer for coming attractions, the manifesto announces a new generation of Indian poets but is not accompanied by the work itself, and readers of City Lights Journal would have to wait until the next issue (1964) to encounter actual poetry by these writers, in a special section called “A Few Bengali Poets.” As in the first issue, these poets are framed by and filtered through Ginsberg’s perspective insofar as he contributed a prefatory statement explaining why the Journal’s readers should care about these Bengali poets. First, he establishes a familiar binary between staid traditional poetry and the freshness and immediacy of the selected poets. Reminiscent of the ways Donald Allen’s influential anthology The New American Poetry (1960) had positioned the Beats and other writers of the “new poetry” as sharing “a total rejection of all those qualities typical of academic verse,” Ginsberg sets the Hungryalists against their national and local traditions.25 As T.S. Eliot came to embody for many Beats the “closed form” of American academic poetry, Ginsberg figures Rabindranath Tagore, Calcutta’s Nobel Prize-winning poet and literary giant, as the elder icon to be smashed: “As a modern literary kelson he seems to be a big bore; that is to say early XX century academic preoccupations in the poetic field are so dominated by Tagore festivals, speeches, recitations, criticisms that his work has become institutional and apparently of little use … to the young.”26
Against this “academic” Tagore monolith, Ginsberg identifies another strand of Bengali poetry associated with “‘the modern spirit’—bitterness, self-doubt, sex, street diction, personal confession, frankness, Calcutta beggars etc.” (p. 117). Substitute “American hobos” for “Calcutta beggars” and this list would be a fair approximation of much Beat poetry, at least in popular conception, and in Ginsberg’s telling, the first thing one need know about the Hungry Generation is that its writers attack tradition, that they are iconoclasts invested in remaking language just as he and his circle had done in the States. In fact, Ginsberg insists that the Bengali “poems are interesting in that they do reveal a temper that is international, i.e., the revolt of the personal. Warsaw Moscow San Francisco Calcutta, the discovery of feeling” (p. 118). Inasmuch as Ginsberg is gesturing toward the idea of an international avant-garde by facilitating the publication of Bengali poets in City Lights Journal, his particular framing also has a curiously leveling effect, such that the Hungryalists are elevated mainly via their association with the Beats, rendered significant as Indian brothers-in-arms in the “revolt of the personal.”
Ginsberg’s notion of the “personal” does not merely signal intimate, confessional energies, but also underscores the importance of community, and the other thing he wants American readers to know is that the Bengali poets are “excellent drinking companions” (p. 117). Such a statement is not as flip as it may seem at first blush because what Ginsberg is really doing is implying that the Hungryalists can be viewed as part of an ever-expanding network of poets who comprise a global literary underground. In this regard, Jimmy Fazzino’s recent work on the “worlding” of Beat literature can help us understand Ginsberg’s thinking here. Fazzino borrows the concept of “networks” to describe the “expression[s] of felt solidarity and mutual understanding” that the American Beats shared with others outside national bounds, and in fact uses Ginsberg’s attraction to the Hungry Generation as his book’s opening anecdote.27 Although Fazzino does not pursue the relationship among the Beats and the Hungryalists beyond noting that both “would be censored … for their literary licentiousness and antinomian views,” he does claim that the relationship suggests that India was not for Ginsberg “timeless or unchanging or utterly exotic … but vital and dynamic” (p. 1). Fazzino’s work has been a useful corrective to the perception that Ginsberg and other Beats were facilely orientalist in their thinking, and demonstrates how the Beats could and did see international writers as progenitors of a literary avant-garde and fomenters of social and political dissent in the context of their own local and national cultures.
For Ginsberg, emphasizing the social spaces he shared with the Hungryalists served both to advertise his own fluency with the local literary scene and to render this scene legible in terms of a diffuse, international Beat sensibility. He notes, for instance, that the Hungry Generation is a “big gang of friend poets [who meet] in an upstairs coffee-house across the tramcar-bookstall street from Calcutta University” (p. 118). These “friend poets” include the likes of Sunil Ganguly and Shakti Chattopadhyay; Malay Roy Choudhury, Ginsberg explains, “isn’t there with his friends, he lives in Patna way up the Ganges” and “sits upstairs in his room and writes manifestos for the ‘Hungry Generation’” (p. 119). As he did with his own circle of friends, Ginsberg construes a whole Generation from the social bonds of a small group, taking care to write himself and Orlovsky into this group, as when he describes a drinking session with the Hungryalists, during which they apparently begged Orlovsky to read and reread his irreverant poem “Morris.”28
Ginsberg in fact insists on his own role in bringing Hungry Generation poetry to Anglophone audiences: “The poems were translated into funny english by the poets themselves & I spent a day with a pencil reversing inversions of syntax & adding in railroad stations” (p. 118). Ginsberg, lodestar of the Beats, presents a Hungry Generation mediated by his own guiding hand: not only is he a drinking companion, but their editor, agent, and publisher, and so figures himself as the embodied link between otherwise far-flung literary movements.
The poems that Ginsberg rendered into less “funny english” do seem to bear traces of the Beat sensibility; the particular work collected in City Lights Journal 2 is Sunil Gangopadhyay’s “Age Twenty Eight” and “Interruption”; Sarat Kumar Mukherjee’s “Toward Darkness” and “The Lion in a Zoo”; Sankar Chattopadhaya’s “Civilization Through Angry Eyes” and “Hateful Intimacy”; and Malay Roy Choudhury’s “Drunk Poem” and “Short-Story Manifesto” (in his preface, Ginsberg explains that Shakti Chattopadhyay, “perhaps the finest poet” of the Hungryalists, was nevertheless “not represented here because his poems are such elegant Bengali they’re too hard to translate”).29 From its title alone, Gangopadhyay’s “Age Twenty Eight” may remind Beat aficionados of Gregory Corso’s “I am 25”, a poem that announces his “love a madness” for the famously youthful poets Shelley, Chatterton, and Rimbaud, declaring: “I HATE OLD POETMEN!”30
Like Corso, Gangopadhyay asserts his love of language, but is by age 28 haunted by “dead friends” and surrounded by “married women,” suggesting that his coevals have passed into adulthood while he clings to the youthful idealism of the written word, piercing “a hornet’s nest with my pen.”31 Insofar as “Age Twenty Eight” rails against those friends who have chosen convention, retreating to their “new-bought bed sheet” and hiding “their faces in / domestic dryness” (p. 121), the poem amounts to a critique of bourgeois domesticity that would seem familiar to those white, middle-class Americans worried about the creeping conformity of the long 1950s. In fact, in an essay about the Hungry Generation by Debi Rai and others, the authors leveled similar observations that could have been torn from the pages of classic studies of American conformist culture like William Whyte’s The Organization Man (1956) or C. Wright Mills’ The Power Elite (1956): “Cultural patterns are crowded by a system of mass production and mass communication in which we all become like one another, speaking the same slang, wearing the same clothes, reading the same magazines. But instead of creating a sense of community, this only creates a crowd of faceless and anonymous men” (p. 169). Thus the “hidden … faces” of Gangopadhyay’s domesticated men resonate with the “faceless and anonymous men” against which the Hungry Generation statement positioned itself, underscoring that the oppositional structure described above was instrumental to both the poetry and prose manifestoes of the movement—or at least to the work chosen for inclusion in City Lights Journal.32
The work by Gangopadhyay and others notwithstanding, it is clear that City Lights Journal was positioning Choudhury as the preeminent Hungry Generation writer even prior to the obscenity trial that would later solidify his countercultural legitimacy. Choudhury’s “Drunk Poem” may be read as a Hungryalist expression of what Steven Watson sees as a defining feature of Beat literature: “The artist’s consciousness is expanded through nonrational means: derangement of the senses, via drugs, dreams, hallucinatory states, and visions.”33 A note appended to “Drunk Poem” informs readers that it was “scribbled” after “taking a peg of ‘mamushi,’ … an interesting wine made with the help of snake venom” (p. 128), and the poem begins by hailing the reader then immediately deploying unusual word combinations that betoken a confused sensorium, perhaps akin to what happens in a state of drunkenness: “Ahoy!/Gymtwist spangles of shockboom music.”34 Choudhury approximates sense derangement with the kinetic energy of “gymtwist” paired with a visual noun (“spangles”) that is then connected to the auditory (“shockboom music”). These opening lines introduce readers to the poem’s basic method, to juxtapose that which is generally seen as dissimilar; as Choudhury asserted in another manifesto, “The Aims of the Hungry Generation Poets,” he wanted to “break the traditional association of words and to coin unconventional and heretofore unaccepted combinations of words.”35
While “Drunk Poem” begins with the individuated body, it quickly links the body and its senses to larger political concerns:

    • Supersonic bombers of totalitarian peace
    •       hiss inside the adult stew
    •       and the adults
    • Sell their hipholes
    •       to social sadders
    •       for rhymeless chunks of Rupee $ £
(p. 126)
The oxymoronic phrase “bombers of totalitarian peace” figures the West as a neoimperial power residing inside “adults,” rather than vice versa. In other words, rather than depicting adulthood as mere resignation to bourgeois normality, as in “Age Twenty Eight,” Choudhury sees existence in the “adult stew” as being infected by Cold War imperatives that cannot be escaped, signaled in this case by “supersonic bombers” and elsewhere in the poem by “the deathskirts of U235” (p. 127), the uranium isotope used in the atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima. And as attested by the rapid-fire catalogue of “Rupee $ £,” the autonomy of nation states is compromised by the reach of capitalism, so the differentiation of national currencies becomes irrelevant in a world in which even hipness is for sale. In a purposively disorienting poem, such lines suggest that the true object of attack is figurations of “civilization,” which Choudhury had declared treacherous in the opening sentence of “The Hungryalist Manifesto on Poetry”: “Poetry is no more a civilizing manoeuvre, a replanting of the bamboozled gardens; it is a holocaust, a violent and somnambulistic jazzing of the hymning five, a sowing of the tempestual hunger” (p. 24).
“Drunk Poem” does not merely exemplify the speaker’s deranged senses, then, but does so to derange civilization itself by attacking markers of cultural, religious, and political authority, from “naked Shiva” to “bureaucracy” to the “Pax Romana upon the windmill” (pp. 126–27). If the poem represents an anti-civilizing maneuver, then these and other examples are stripped of their context and authority such that the only course of action is to drunkenly and violently tear down anything smelling of establishment and tradition; the poem concludes:

    • Pardon the sinner
    •       but
    • MURDER
    •        the criminal.
(p. 128)
“Drunk Poem” is a good representation of the outré, antiestablishment, anti-civilization pose that the Hungryalists cultivated, a pose that was codified in the States when they were presented with perhaps the greatest gift a countercultural movement could be given: withering coverage in the reliably conservative, middle-of-the-road Time magazine. In November 1964, two months after the obscenity charges were brought, Time claimed the Hungryalists as an upstart movement overly imitative of the Beats: “Born in 1962, with an inspirational assist from visiting U.S. Beatnik Allen Ginsberg, Calcutta’s Hungry Generation is a growing band of young Bengalis with tigers in their tanks. Somewhat unoriginally they insist that only in immediate physical pleasure do they find any meaning in life, and they blame modern society for their emptiness.”36
Unsurprisingly, Time collapses Ginsberg’s instrumentality in introducing the Hungryalists to Western readers with his inspiring their very existence, but the mere act of reporting on the “growing band” as a movement heightened their visibility in the States. The association with the Beats via Ginsberg was one that stuck, not merely because of Time, but also because of statements by Ginsberg, Choudhury, and the Indian press. In 1965, American scholar and poet Howard McCord, then at Washington State University, became interested in the Hungryalists and traveled to India to meet with Choudhury and others. That same year, he published an English edition of “Stark Electric Jesus” with the aim of raising money for Choudhury’s legal expenses, and his Afterword argues that however supportive Ginsberg was to the Hungryalists, it would be inaccurate to say he inspired them: “The Indian press believes to this day that the group’s origins can be traced to the 1962 Indian visit of Allen Ginsberg, Peter Orlovsky, and Gary and Jeanne [sic] Snyder. But however stimulating the visit of these American poets … I believe the movement is autochthonous and stems from the profound dislocation of Indian life.”37 The very fact that McCord felt obliged to claim the Hungryalists as autochthonous suggests how they had already become entangled with the Beats by 1965.
The third issue of City Lights Journal (1966) again enacted such entanglements as its section on Indian poetry contained a single poem, “Stark Electric Jesus,” flanked by an expanded version of McCord’s Afterword titled “Note on the Hungry Generation,” and another seven-page statement by Debi Rai and others simply called “Hungry Generation.” By City Lights Journal 3, then, the “Few Bengali Poets” of issue two had been congealed into a “Generation,” so despite the protestations to the contrary, it was clear that these writers were being advertised in ways broadly comparable to the Beat Generation. Nevertheless, in his prefatory note, McCord again insists that the Hungryalists did not materialize as a group because of Ginsberg’s influence, but he does accede that “[t]here was little notice of the group in the West until 1963, when City Lights Journal No. 1 carried news of them.”38 He goes on to characterize the Hungry Generation’s importance in terms of their on-going refusals to be bullied by the authorities: “In spite of prosecution and harassment, Malay Roy [Choudhury] has published two more long poems, ‘Jakham,’ (The Wound), and ‘Aamar Amimangshita Shubha,’ and other members of the Hungry Generation have continued to irritate the authorities with their work” (p. 160). Thus, while insisting on the Hungry Generation’s distinction from the Beats, McCord relies on the Beats’ most visible feature, their rebuke of authority, to argue for their importance.
McCord’s insistence that the Hungryalists are best seen in light of their antiestablishment posture is echoed in the other essay accompanying Choudhury’s poem. Like McCord, Rai and his co-authors contrast their efforts to what they call “The Establishment” while taking care to distinguish themselves from the Beats. The latter can be somewhat tricky as the authors rely on explicitly hip language to make their case, as when they open by declaring “Modern Bengali writing” is “a lump of academic bullshit” or when they claim a younger generation is “digging” Choudhury.39 Fans of “Howl” might hear shades of the memorable phrase “boatload of sensitive bullshit” or even of Moloch, Ginsberg’s catch-all embodiment of normative culture, in the Hungryalists’ attack on the “manicured robot hand of the Establishment” (p. 164).40
Even so, the authors go out of their way to distance themselves from the Beats:
Hunger describes a state of existence from which all unessentials have been stripped, leaving it receptive to everything around it. Hunger is a state of waiting with pain. To be hungry is to be at the bottom of your personality, looking up to be existential in the Kierkegaard, rather than the Jean-Paul Sartre sense. The Hungries can’t afford the luxury of being Beats, ours isn’t an affluent society. The single similarity that a Beat has with a Hungry is in their revolt of the personal. … The nonconformity of the Hungries is irrevocable.
(p. 166)
While this sounds a lot like Ginsberg’s later characterization of Beatness as “at the bottom of the world, looking up … rejected by society,” the Hungryalists force City Lights Journal readers to stretch their notions of dominant culture versus counterculture beyond the confines of the United States. This move reminds American readers that the Beats were far more privileged than their Hungryalist counterparts, a fact indexed by the Beats’ very mobility.41 Thus although the Hungryalists rely on some of the same terms Ginsberg and others used to describe the Beats, even borrowing his phrase “revolt of the personal” from his preface to the Hungryalist work presented in City Lights Journal 1, Rai and his co-authors figure themselves as more downtrodden or “beat” than the Beats themselves, for “hunger” can never be a mere pose, but is rather an urgent, all-consuming fact that is therefore “irrevocable”.
These prose descriptions are valuable complements to the lone poem included in the issue, Choudhury’s “Stark Electric Jesus.” The poem was of course notorious by the time it was printed in City Lights Journal, but despite the opinion of the 9th Court of Calcutta, it does not read as particularly obscene, especially by contemporary standards. The poem is a dynamic paean to lust that, like “Drunk Poem”, figures the body as something enigmatic that must be investigated. The poem opens with the speaker’s skin in a “blazing furore” of desire as he declares “I can’t resist anymore, million glass-panes are breaking in my cortex.”42 This is the “revolt of the personal” identified by Ginsberg and Rai, et al. Choudhury is giving himself permission to articulate feelings he himself does not understand as a route to actuating his embodied existence. The first stanza concludes: “I do not know what these happenings are but they are occurring within me,” and the poem takes readers through a catalogue of the speaker’s sexual desires that might be achieved were he able to “destroy and shatter” his previous notions about himself and his body (p. 161). Taken as a statement of Choudhury’s poetics, “Stark Electric Jesus” insists that just as the lover must attend even to those bodily impulses he cannot understand, the poet must find a way to let his body speak through language: “I’ll split all into pieces for the sake of art / There isn’t any way out for Poetry except suicide” (p. 163). With this final turn of the poem, Choudhury analogizes the true lover’s experience of bodily defamiliarization with the true poet’s need to manifest bodily experience in writing, the very premise of using the word “hunger” to name his generation. Indeed, in the poem’s final lines, the speaker says that “Millions of needles are now running from my blood into Poetry,” into “the hypnotic kingdom of words” (p. 163), such that his body and his poetry are collapsed into one organic being. It is this sense of poetry as something embodied that “Stark Electric Jesus” really argues for, and what has made it a powerful testament to the poetics of the Hungry Generation. Indeed, although the Hungry Generation may have lasted only a few years, “Stark Electric Jesus” has remained one of Choudhury’s better-known poems (for instance, it inspired a short film in 2014), even as he has gone on to have a very prolific career writing poetry, drama, and non-fiction in English and Bengali.43
With respect to the connections among the Hungryalists and the Beats, I think that Choudhury’s yoking of the body and poetic utterance offers a suggestive way to understand the shifts in Ginsberg’s own poetics after he returned from India. As is well-known, Ginsberg became a prominent political activist in the 1960s while simultaneously developing a pointedly embodied poetics; as Tony Triligio has put it, “Ginsberg’s return to the body is not simply a renewal of sensory experience; instead, it claims the body as both product and producer of political experience.”44 While I will sidestep questions of who precisely influenced whom, I do see Ginsberg’s use of his own body to blur distinctions among poetry and political activism as roughly analogous to what Choudhury and the Hungry Generation were doing in India. Ginsberg himself signals some of these associations even as he does not explicitly name them. For example, in an interview that appeared in City Lights Journal 2 immediately following Choudhury’s “Drunk Poem” and “Short-Story Manifesto,” Ginsberg discussed his turn to political activism by linking it to his experiences in India. Ernie Barry interviewed Ginsberg right after a demonstration against repressive government leadership in Vietnam, and when Barry asked: “What other political demonstrations have you been involved in?” Ginsberg replied: “None. This is the first time I’ve taken a political stand.”45 When Barry pressed him on this “new policy,” Ginsberg directed him to his protest sign, a poem which read, in part:

    • ‘Oh how wounded, how wounded!’ says the guru
    • Thine own heart says the swami
    • […]
    • War is black magic
    • Belly flowers to North and South Vietnam
    •   include everybody
    • End the human war
    • Name hypnosis and fear is the
    • Enemy-Satan go home!
    • I accept America and Red China
    •   To the human race
    • Madame Nhu and Mao Tse-Tung
    • Are in the same boat of meat
(p. 132)
This poem is notable for a few reasons, not the least of which is that it marks Ginsberg’s foray into taking a “political stand.” It also abandons the distinction between poetry and protest via the moral authority of the gurus and swamis he met in India. The quoted phrase, “‘Oh how wounded, how wounded!’,” was in fact important enough to Ginsberg that he would repeat it in later work, including the dedication to Indian Journals, which names its source, a “conversation on bamboo platform in Ganges with Dehorava Baba who spake ‘Oh how wounded, how wounded!’ after I fought with Peter Orlovsky,” and in what is perhaps his greatest antiwar poem, “Wichita Vortex Sutra,” in which he again refers to “Dehorhava Baba who moans Oh how wounded, How wounded.”46 With this poem on a protest sign, then, Ginsberg identifies the origins of his interest in politics as a conversation with celebrated yogi Devraha Baba, and the protest-poem is itself the germ of “Wichita Vortex Sutra”, a long poem in which Ginsberg calls on his own body to declare the end of the Vietnam War.
“Wichita Vortex Sutra,” written in 1966 at the height of Ginsberg’s fame as a poet-protester, is built around the notion that the Vietnam War is “Black Magic Language,” an idea imported from his very first poem-protest sign, which announced “War is black magic,” lines written just five months after he left India. “Wichita Vortex Sutra” develops this idea:

    • The war is language,
    •     language abused
    •      for Advertisement,
    •     language used
    • like magic for power on the planet:
    • Black Magic language,
    •   formulas for reality
(p. 119)
This is a poem that banishes all distinctions between poetry and political protest, that understands the war as underwritten by the “Black Magic language” of politicians, military leaders, and the media, all of whom retreat into euphemism and vagueness in order to defend and justify actions Ginsberg considers indefensible. In a moment that might seem to echo the Hungryalists mailing paper masks to politicians and others, “Wichita Vortex Sutra” asks “Have we seen but paper faces, Life Magazine?” (p. 118), the implication in both cases being that those practitioners of “Black Magic Language” are hiding their real selves behind masks (in his interview with Barry, Ginsberg had observed that “everyone wants to feel, and wants to feel loved and to love, so there’s inevitable Hope beneath every grim mask [p. 137]). In “Wichita Vortex Sutra,” Ginsberg’s answer to the masked mendacity of language abusers is to collapse poetic utterance and political act so completely that his own embodied voice is given the incredible power to declare the war’s end.
As he readies himself for this imaginative act, Ginsberg again calls on those same swamis and gurus from the earlier protest-poem:

    • I call all Powers of imagination
    •   to my side in this auto to make Prophecy,
    •                  all Lords
    •       of human kingdoms to come
    • Shambu Bharti Baba naked covered with ash
    •       Khaki Baba fat-bellied mad with the dogs
    • Dehorhava Baba who moans Oh how wounded, How wounded
(p. 127)
This catalogue continues on for some time, and grows to encompass not only these compassionate souls he encountered in India but also figures like Christ, Allah, and Jaweh, so that he will claim to counter “Black Magic language” by tapping into positive energies of the world’s religions, a universalist gesture that Choudhury, for one, has linked to their time together in India. Choudhury has remarked, for instance, that “I can’t claim that I contributed to [Ginsberg’s] thinking, though, perhaps in changing the notion that there can not be only one God; there has to be innumerable gods for innumerable human spreads out in order to be eclectic, tolerant and resilient.”47
In his 1963 protest poem, as well as in “Wichita Vortex Sutra,” figures like Dehorhava Baba and Shambu Bharti Baba (whose photograph, incidentally, appears in Indian Journals) were routes toward the eclectic tolerance Choudhury describes. It is only after Ginsberg names these figures that he can muster the “right magic” to counter the black magicians’ “formulas for reality”:

    • I lift my voice aloud,
    •   make Mantra of American language now,
    •         I here declare the end of the War!
    • […]
    • Let the States tremble,
    •   let the Nation weep,
    •     let Congress legislate its own delight
    •       let the President execute his own desire—
    • this Act done by my own voice,
    • […]
    • The War is gone,
    •   Language emerging on the motel news stand,
    •         the right magic
    •     Formula, the language that was known
    • in the back mind before, now in the black print
    •         of daily consciousness
(pp. 127–29)48
These lines have been subject to a fair amount of critical commentary, but I would point out that they are premised on a collapse of the realms of poetry and political action that are reminiscent of the ways the Hungryalists saw poetry and manifesto as two sides of the same coin.49 Ginsberg insists that the embodied nature of his language—“my voice … this Act done by my own voice”—can in and of itself effectuate actual political change. This is a “revolt of the personal” that reverses the mandates of “civilization” and its proxies to invest superhuman power in a single individual, Allen Ginsberg the embodied speaker whose utterance is political intervention. Just as the Hungryalists marshaled defiant theatricality as they circulated manifestos and demotic poetry that were political as much as aesthetic statements, Ginsberg’s theatrical declaration of the war’s end is politically effective insofar as it rebukes the very terms of the “Black Magic language” that had led to the Vietnam War in the first place. This moment in “Wichita Vortex Sutra” is in fact one among many examples of Ginsberg’s sixties-era poems and protests that fused aesthetics and politics, the embodied poet and the embodied protester. He articulated such a fusion in a piece published in the Berkeley Barb in 1965, in which he couched political protest as “spectacle,” using the same language of declaration found in “Wichita Vortex Sutra”: “Open declarations, ‘We aren’t coming out to fight and we simply will not fight.’ We have come to use imagination. A spectacle can be made, an unmistakable statement OUTSIDE the war psychology which is leading nowhere. Such statement would be heard around the world with relief.”50 Here Ginsberg is recommending strategies for actual political protests, which, he argues, must exploit “imagination” to be effective; otherwise put, he urges tactics that would seem nonsensical to the “war psychology,” but that would paradoxically be effective precisely for the ways they expose broader cultural and political ideologies that have become so widespread as to seem reality itself. Ginsberg’s political intervention is to reset the terms of reality via the imagination.
While we can finally only remain suggestive as to questions of influence, I do think it is fair to say that the Beats and the Hungryalists were mutually generative literary and cultural movements. This is perhaps most evident in the material history of how the Hungryalists were circulated and packaged to Anglophone readers as a “generation” not unlike the Beats. But there is also a deeper argument to be made about how these movements came to perceive the relationship between poetry and politics. I do not think it is incidental that in the Berkeley Barb piece quoted above, Ginsberg insists that the use of imaginative spectacle in political protest “would be heard around the world with relief,” for this underscores his post-India interest in cultivating political solidarities beyond national borders. When thinking about the Beat movement, then, readers and critics must be attentive to the particularities regarding how U.S.-based writers read and interacted with the work of global writers, and vice versa, which helps us understand the profusion of texts produced in the context of an international avant-garde. And as attested by the various connections among the Beats and the Hungryalists traced throughout this essay, there is need for further work that acknowledges these continuities while still attending to the particularities of the writers understood as associated with these movements.

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  • See Allen Ginsberg (1996), Indian Journals (New York: Grove); Joanne Kyger (2000), Strange Big Moon: The Japan and Indian Journals: 1960–1964 (Berkeley: North Atlantic Books); Peter Orlovsky (2014), Peter Orlovsky, a Life in Words: Intimate Chronicles of a Beat Writer, ed. Bill Morgan (Boulder: Paradigm Publishers), pp. 175–213; and Gary Snyder (2007), Passage Through India: An Expanded and Illustrated Edition (Berkeley: Shoemaker & Hoard).
  • Quoted in Deborah Baker (2008), A Blue Hand: The Beats in India (New York: Penguin), p. 148.
  • Lawrence Ferlinghetti to Allen Ginsberg (2015, p. 166). (15 November 1962), in I Greet You at the Beginning of a Great Career: The Selected Correspondence of Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Allen Ginsberg, 1955–1997, ed. Bill Morgan (San Francisco: City Lights Books).
  • City Lights Journal 4 was not published until 1978.
  • Malay Roy Choudhury (1964b) to El Corno Emplumado (9 August 1963), El Corno Emplumado 9 (January 1964), p. 153. In later years, Choudhury would reverse these terms by arguing that the Hungryalists had a profound though largely unacknowledged impact on Ginsberg and his work; see Malay Roy Choudhury (2009), “Impact of Hungry Generation (Hungryalist) Literary Movement on Allen Ginsberg,” www.sciy.org/?p=6127.
  • To my knowledge, no comprehensive, English-language study of the Hungry Generation exists. In fact, there is a surprising lack of work on the Beats and India in general; even the recent, otherwise thorough Routledge Handbook of International Beat Literature, ed. A. Robert Lee (2018), which has chapters on Beat-associated literature from Australia to China, lacks a chapter on India. Deborah Baker’s (2008) A Blue Hand: The Beats in India (New York: Penguin) is the clear exception insofar as it is a lively account of the American Beats in India, but some critics have questioned the book’s accuracy with regard to its brief discussions of the Hungryalists (see pp. 154–59, 177–78, 194–99, 216–20); Maitreyee B. Chowdhury (2016), for example, calls it “a somewhat fictionalized account of Allen’s stay and influences from India” (“Talking Poetry”). See also Café Dissensus 26 (special issue on “The Beat and the Hungry Generation: When Losing Became Hip”), ed. Brahmachari and Kumar (2016), https://cafedissensus.com/2016/06/16/contents-the-beat-and-the-hungry-generation-when-losing-became-hip-issue-26/. In addition to this special issue (only some of which actually deals with Beat–Hungryalist connections), fans of the Hungry Generation do actively post brief essays, interviews, and other material about the movement online, and while I refer to some of these sites in this essay, note that they can be laced with misinformation and are often colored by the idiosyncratic memories or biases of the compilers. Although it is somewhat difficult to locate, the best English language collection of Hungry Generation material—including poetry, manifestos, letters, and legal documents pertaining to the 1964 arrests and subsequent trials—remains the “Hungry!” issue of Salted Feathers 4.1–2 (March 1967). Readers of Bengali may also consult Saileswar Ghosh (1995), Hungry Generation Andoloan [The Hungry Generation Movement] (Kolkata: Pratibhas).
  • Carl Weissner (1968b), “introduction,” Intrepid 10 (“Poetry of India” issue) (Weissner 1968b), n.p.
  • Aditya Misra (2016), “‘I can but why should I Go?’: The Romance of Opposition in Shakti Chattopadhaya’s Poetry,” South Asian Review 37.2, p. 181; and Bhaswati Bhattacharya (2017), Much Ado Over Coffee: Indian Coffee House Then and Now (New Delhi: Social Science Press), p. 196.
  • Maitreyee B. Chowdhury (2016), “Talking Poetry, Ginsberg and the Hungryalists: Samir Roychoudhury, a Retrospective,” Café Dissensus 26 (special issue on “The Beat and the Hungry Generation: When Losing Became Hip” (16 June 2016). https://cafedissensus.com/2016/06/16/talking-poetry-ginsberg-and-the-hungryalists-samir-roychoudhury-a-retrospective/.
  • Weissner (1968b), “introduction,” n.p.
  • Malay Roy Choudhury (2009), “Impact of the Hungry Generation (Hungryalist) Literary Movement on Allen Ginsberg,” www.sciy.org/?=6127.
  • The Complaint against the ‘Hungry Generation’ (1967), reprinted in Salted Feathers 4.1–2 (“Hungry!” issue) (March 1967), n.p.
  • Malay Roy Choudhury’s Prosecution (1967), reprinted in Salted Feathers 4.1–2 (“Hungry!” issue) (March 1967), n.p.
  • See Howl on Trial: The Battle for Free Expression, ed. Morgan and Peters (2006).
  • Howard McCord (1966), “Note on the Hungry Generation,” City Lights Journal 3 (1966), p. 159.
  • The Verdict Against Malay Roy Choudhury (1967), reprinted in Salted Feathers 4.1–2 (“Hungry!” issue) (March 1967), n.p.
  • Malay Roy Choudhury (2015), “The Sunflower Collective Interview with Malay Roy Choudhury” (10 November), malayinterview.wordpress.com/category/hungry-generation.
  • The letters to Choudhury from Aldan, Bergé, Randall, and Paz—along with others, a total of 21—are collected in Letters/Letters, ed. Tridib Mitra (1968). Mitra, another Hungryalist writer, explains that the selection is “idiosyncratic,” that he pulled from “thousands of letters dumped in a trunk” and collected “letters from those persons only whom I’ve heard of and am damn fascinated for” (n.p). Mitra and his wife Alo Mitra edited two little magazines associated with the Hungry Generation, Waste Paper (English) and Unmarga (Bengali).
  • Lawrence Ferlinghetti (1963), “City Lights Journal,” City Lights Journal 1 (1963), p. 4; and Ferlinghetti (1964), “City Lights Journal: Number Two,” City Lights Journal 2 (1964), p. 5.
  • Allen Ginsberg (1963), “In India,” City Lights Journal 1 (1963), p. 9. The excerpts come from a series of letters Ginsberg had written to Ferlinghetti on 2 November 1962, 15 November 1962, and 10 January 1963.
  • A revised version of this piece appears in Snyder (2007), Passage Through India, pp. 87–95.
  • “Weekly Manifesto of the Hungry Generation,” City Lights Journal 1 (Choudhury 1963), 24. Note that there are differing methods of transliterating Bengali names into English, and as such writers’ names are spelled variously across venues. I have changed the spelling of names in order to maintain consistency in the context of this essay (for instance, Shakti Chattopadhyay appeared in City Lights Journal as Shakti Chatterjee, and Malay Roy Choudhury as Malay Roy Choudhuri).
  • Malay Roy Choudhury (1961), “The Hungryalist Manifesto on Poetry” (Calcutta: H. Dhara, no date), n.p. See also Choudhury (1968a), “The Aims of the Hungry Generation Poets,” Intrepid 10 (“Poetry of India” issue) (Choudhury 1968b), which counts among these aims “abolishing the accepted modes of prose and poetry” (n.p.).
  • Donald Allen (1960), “Preface,” in The New American Poetry, ed. Allen (New York: Grove, 1960), p. xi.
  • Allen Ginsberg (1964), “A Few Bengali Poets,” City Lights Journal 2 (1964), p. 117. See also Samir Roy Choudhury (1968c), “Tagore,” and Malay Roy Choudhury (1968d), “from Subimal Basak—Victim & Spirit,” both of which discuss Tagore and link him to what Maitreyee B. Chowdhury calls Calcutta’s “post-Partition poverty politics” (both pieces appear in Intrepid 10 [“Poetry of India” issue] [Choudhury 1968e], n.p.).
  • Jimmy Fazzino (2016), World Beats: Beat Generation Writing and the Worlding of U.S. Literature (Hanover, NH: Dartmouth College Press), pp. 1, 33. For more on the rich connections among another key Beat writer and transnational poetics, see Hassan Melehy (2016), Kerouac: Language, Poetics, Territory (New York: Bloomsbury).
  • See “Morris” in Peter Orlovsky (1978), Clean Asshole Poems & Smiling Vegetable Songs (San Francisco: City Lights), pp. 61–67.
  • Ginsberg (1964), “A Few Bengali Poets,” p. 118. Note that from Malay Roy Choudhury’s perspective, Sunil Gangopadhyay ought not to be associated with the Hungryalists, but rather with the circle around the journal Krittibas, those whom Choudhury calls a “pro Establishment commercial renegade coterie whose machinations had led to the arrest and trial of the Hungryalists.” At the time he was gathering material for inclusion in City Lights Journal 1, such sectarian differences were opaque to Ginsberg, and Choudhury later recalled that “One thing which annoyed me at the time was that Ginsberg was unable to differentiate between the members of avant garde Hungryalist movement and the … commercially inclined pro-Establishment Krittibas group” (Malay Roy Choudhury (2009), “Impact of the Hungry Generation (Hungryalist) Literary Movement on Allen Ginsberg,” www.sciy.org/?=6127).
  • Gregory Corso (1992), Gasoline (San Francisco: City Lights; Corso [1958] 1992), p. 42.
  • Sunil Gangopadhyay (1964), “Age Twenty Eight,” City Lights Journal 2 (1964), p. 120.
  • See also Sankar Chattopadhaya’s “Civilization Through Angry Eyes,” which couches an anti-civilization stance in the concept of hunger: “In all the ravaged scenes, civilization gives birth to art, love / and hunger in a continuous process” (Chattopadhaya 1964, p. 124).
  • Steven Watson (1995), The Birth of the Beat Generation (New York: Pantheon), p. 40.
  • Malay Roy Choudhury (1964a), “Drunk Poem,” City Lights Journal 2 (1964), pp. 128, 126. Given that in August of 1962 Ginsberg had remarked to Ferlinghetti that he could not title his new manuscript “Tasty Scribbles” because he “used the word scribbles too oft in the book already,” it seems likely that he wrote the note appended to “Drunk Poem” (Ginsberg to Ferlinghetti [27 August 1962], I Greet, p. 157). Note that a very different “Drunk Poem” by Choudhury (1968c) appears in Intrepid 10 (“Poetry of India” special issue) (Choudhury 1968c), n.p.
  • Malay Roy Choudhury (1968e), “The Aims of the Hungry Generation Poets,” reprinted in Intrepid 10 (“Poetry of India” issue) (Choudhury 1968e), n.p.
  • The Hungry Generation (1964), Time 84.21 (20 November 1964), p. 46.
  • Howard McCord (1965), “Afterword,” in Malay Roy Choudhury, Stark Electric Jesus (Pullman, WA: Tribal Press,), n.p. For more on McCord, see http://www.possibilityx.com/hm/bio.htm.
  • McCord (1966), “Note on the Hungry Generation,” p. 159.
  • Debi Rai, et al. “Hungry Generation,” City Lights Journal 3 (Rai et al. 1966), p. 164.
  • Allen Ginsberg (1956), Howl and Other Poems (San Francisco: City Lights), p. 22.
  • Allen Ginsberg (1999), “Foreword,” The Beat Book: Writings from the Beat Generation, ed. Anne Waldman (Boston: Shambala, 1999), pp. xiv-xv.
  • Malay Roy Choudhury (1966), “Stark Electric Jesus,” City Lights Journal 3 (1966), p. 161.
  • See Stark Electric Jesus, dir. Hyash Tanmoy and Mrigankasekhar Ganguly (2014).
  • Tony Triligio (2007), Allen Ginsberg’s Buddhist Poetics (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press), p. 67.
  • Ernie Barry (1964), “A Conversation with Allen Ginsberg,” City Lights Journal 2 (1964), p.131.
  • Ginsberg (1996), Indian Journals, n.p.; and Ginsberg (1968), Planet News, 1961–1967 (San Francisco: City Lights), p. 127.
  • Choudhury (2015), “Sunflower Collective Interview.”
  • Note some later work by Hungryalists employs similar language of declaration. For example, Malay Roy Choudhury (1968d) writes: “I declare AC [“Aamaar Chaabi” by Subhash Ghose] the first Bengali experiment to peel off the rusty anti-communicative bourgeois layers of Bengali language” (Choudhury, “On Subhash Ghose’s AAMAAR CHAABI,” Intrepid 10 (“Poetry of India” issue) (Choudhury 1968a), n.p.). Robin Datta’s (1968) poem “An Indictment” excoriates “America seeking peace with Starfighters & Napalms through/masskilling in the Mekong Delta” and includes the line “I Declare The End of God” (Intrepid 10, n.p.).
  • See, for example, Triligio; Amy Hungerford (2010), Postmodern Belief: American Literature and Religion since 1960 (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press); and Alex Houen (2009), “‘Back! Back! Back! Central Mind-Machine Pentagon…’: Allen Ginsberg and the Vietnam War,” Cultural Politics 4.3, pp. 351–73.
  • Allen Ginsberg (2000), “Demonstration or Spectacle as Example, As Communication; or How to Make a March/Spectacle,” in Deliberate Prose: Selected Essays, 1952–1995, edited by Bill Morgan (New York: Perennial), p. 10.

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