The small room on the right of the short passage after the door was a dank but cosy place to sit. The shelves at the back were crowded with mementoes received at various occasions he had graced as chief guest. In a few minutes, the creator of Bengal’s own comics, Narayan Debnath would enter in his characteristic nonchalance, a broad smile across his face that could melt anyone’s heart. The meetings that I had with octogenarian Narayan Debnath were marked by homeliness, simplicity and complete lack of any airs about himself or his works. Few cartoonists from this part of India have received so much love and recognition as Narayanbabu had, but the one feeling that he had for his works was passion.
His little work room cum visitors room and familiar worktable with a board covered with white paper were witness to the hours of hard work he did to create his illustrations and stories. Stained with paint and ink, sheafs of paper stacked on one side and a small table lamp over the table, illuminated the board with its yellow light. That was his characteristic workplace for decades. Time has probably swept off many old things from our lives, but Narayan babu’s worktable was untouched by modernity. He liked it that way. His lifestyle flaunted his simplicity and disregard for anything too flashy. This also reflected in his drawings. He always liked to keep them black and white although publishers would later add colour to them. Although he never protested, he would be happy when some old fan would reminisce the black and white days and how they enjoyed those illustrations.
He loved visitors with whom he could chat for hours about his experiences. How he started working as an illustrator and designer for advertisements and film title cards and later became a cartoonist. But no conversation would be complete without a cup of tea and biscuits or snacks. Another reason he loved visitors was that he could ask for an extra cup of tea. In 2008-2009, I had to visit him once every two weeks to collect an illustration that he would make for the weekly tabloid I worked for. I would often have to wait for him to give finishing touches to the strip and make any necessary corrections in the text. Once, I had asked him for an illustration for my own collection. He readily agreed and asked me to come back later to collect it. He had drawn a picture of Bantul and signed it for me, a precious gift that I will cherish for the rest of my life.
Most people will laud the cartoonist Narayan Debnath for his works and how he has been a part of every Bengali’s growing up years. Undoubtedly, his works have made him Bengal’s own legend, but what I cherish about my relationship with Narayanbabu was his affection and childlike innocence. He would always aske me to come back to visit him. I could hardly ever make time to meet him, but when I did, he would be overwhelmed. The last time I met him was in 2019, a couple of days after his 95th birthday. His workstation was clean – no pens, brushes, paper. All paint bottles closed tightly and put away. When asked if he missed work, he vehemently said ‘No’. What remained in him was his humility and innocent chuckle and that wide smile that welcomed fans, guests and anyone who came to meet him. Several bouts of severe illness had left him restricted inside the house which is why, he would be overwhelmed to meet visitors who came specially to meet him. Even today, we will continue to remember him not only through his art but his humility and warmth.
