As a bi-lingual author (writing both in English as well as in his vernacular, Bengali) of chiefly experimental prose (both fiction and non-fiction) --- though occasionally he does pen experimental poetry too --- what he believes is that all and every creative work should essentially be an inventive piece of ‘ecriture’, that drifts ‘genre-less’ somewhere in-between fiction, non-fiction, prose, poetry, autobiography, memoirs etc. and eventually, successfully culminate into ‘a psychological quest’, ‘a mental juggling’, ‘a kind of self-exploration’ --- for the author, during the process-of-writing, as well as, the same, for the readers, during the process-of-reading of each of them. He believes that’s what makes one a true ‘cerebral writer’. He never calls himself an ‘author’; he prefers to be known as a ‘penman’.
In fact, NILOTPAL does not write. He ‘NILOTPALISES’. IN-BETWEEN THE LINES. AND IN-BETWEEN IN-BETWEEN THE LINES. Like Kundera’s poet-protagonist Jaromil, “HE DETESTS THE PETTINESS THAT MAKES LIFE SEMILIFE AND MEN SEMIMEN.” His lethally venomous texts are REACTIONARY & PROVOCATIVE which challenge the readers and make them feel the crisis they are living amidst, --- a challenge which for sake of coping with, if even the Almighty and the Devil have to but helplessly ally an emergency entente, they get vanquished. THE READERS CANNOT READ HIS BOOKS; RATHER HIS BOOKS READ THE READERS, EXPOSING THEIR PSYCHIC GENITALS; making them feel aware as well as ashamed of their own identities, making them question the worth and meaning of their futile existing entities; just as he himself goes on unmasking his true ‘I’ tirelessly in all his ‘NILOTPALISINGS’; --- a venture to fatally poison his already moribund reader comrades; as we all know, like cures like.
He feels that today’s reader-writer world has become entirely ‘of the mediocres, for the mediocres, by the mediocres’, where there are few ‘cerebral readers’, and even fewer ‘cerebral authors’; and ours has become a race that is often guilty of being laden with the vain legacy of mythologizing mediocrity, and eulogizing them underrating the true literary prodigies. Maybe a few ‘talented’ writers are out there, but the number of ‘true genius’ is but only a cipher. Personally, as a reader, (because in order to be a prodigious writer, first one has to be a voracious reader), he does never feel attracted even to the ‘talented’ ones, rather only the ‘genii’ interest him. He feels James Joyce and Nirad C. Chaudhury as his occidental and oriental ‘spiritual fathers’ respectively; and apart from being a ‘self-proclaimed disciple’ of Borges, Bataille, Beckett, Burroughs, Vonnegut, Perec and Markson; he does also consider authors like Rimbaud, Baudelaire, Eliot, Mayakovsky, Nietzsche, Kafka, Wittgenstein, Sartre, Genet, Ionesco, Pinter, Camus, Dostoevsky et. al. to be ‘his soul’s companions’.
According to him, the process of his metamorphoses commenced (not much later since he first started as a penman) when he began true creative writing as Joyce. Then he became Beckett, just as once upon a time, and a very good time indeed it was, Beckett’s masterpieces were outwitting those of Joyce. Now he sees, it is high time for him to write as Nilotpal as he has surpassed Beckett too. As Joyce he wrote emptiness in-between the lines. As Beckett he wrote emptiness in-between-in-between the lines. Now is the time when his readers are to learn how to read emptiness in-between emptiness, and emptiness in-between-in-between emptiness, and emptiness in-between emptiness in-between emptiness, and emptiness in-between-in-between emptiness in-between-in-between emptiness. The readers should therefore be aware, less of emptiness, more of Nilotpal, the deathless leg-puller who spares none, not even himself. His works are written with rebellious narrative forms as well as an anachronistic jumble of labyrinthine style and anomie-imbued content --- all these being the substance of his vision as an author, symbolizing post-postmodern man’s anxiety-ridden and grotesque alienation in an indifferent and hostile world. His effervescently inventive narrative forms and multitudinous diversity of scattergun techniques using collage, cut-out, fusion, montage etc. enmeshing the ‘avant-garde’ underpinnings of his texts exhibit the endless process of interchange between his ‘language of thinking’ and his ‘language of writing’. The myth of narrative has been vehemently rejected by him as he hates the age-old tradition of story-telling. His works are never thematic and in several cases merely handy repositories, where his merciless satire, sarcastic criticism, and even the most wry self-caricature is overtly severe. His ‘nilotpalisations’ seem indecipherably chaotic to the unprepared readers, as the riddles of his language are prone to trap his readers in their respective subconscious matrices of thought. Here language becomes a tendency, a phenomenon to which his readers fall preys as he lures them to psycho-penetrate into his language’s indigenous absurdity.
NILOTPAL claims himself to be a ‘COUNTER-INTELLECTUAL’. He feels that it is worse to be a ‘mediocre-intellectual’ than to be simply a ‘mediocre’. And even just a single DEAD ‘counter-intellectual’ is at least a million billion times more creative in his originality than those thousands of so-called LIVING ‘intellectuals’ who are but merely ‘pseudo-creatives’. He knows that by such pretentious hypocrisy --- (remember that old saying) --- one can fool some people for all time, all people for some time, but not all people for all time. He believes that THE INK OF A CREATOR IS MORE SACRED THAN THE BLOOD OF A MARTYR.
BUYING BOOKS & READING THEM, NOT MERELY BUYING FOR BUYING’S SAKE
SMOKING 60 KING-SIZE CIGARETTES A DAY & DRINKING VODKA-SMIRNOFF (STIRRED, NOT SHAKEN) WITH LIME-CORDIAL & SODA
SPEAKING TO HIMSELF
1. “ . . . and pus and blood and semen and sweat and vomit and . . . et cetera ”
A self-selected collection of his own experimental English counter-poems, counter-essays and counter-stories.
[ published in the Kolkata Book Fair 2004 by ‘THA!’ Publications Incorporations ]
2. A Bengali counter-novelette, the title of which cannot be pronounced, not even be read silently; it can only be viewed and re-viewed, and understood or not-understood. A graphic text.
[ published in the Kolkata Book Fair 2004 by ‘SAPTORSHI Prokashan’ ]
PUBLISHER(S) WANTED FOR :
1. “ PASTICHE OF ANGST : THE POLYLITHIC ANALECTS OF A SCHIZOPHRENIC ”
His multi-multi-dimensional MAGNUM OPUS; so far the most experimental NILOTPALISING, in form, in content, as well as in presentation. THE 21st CENTURY ‘ULYSSES’. For the readers, reading this book is experiencing the good, bad and ugly faces of a genius.
[ genre : FICTION ]
[ language : English ]
[ words : 37325 ]
[ pages : 208 excluding ‘front-cover’ & ‘back-cover’ ]
2. “ , ; : . ? ! … ― / - ’ ‘’ “” ”
Another experimental text with a title betraying the speech and tongue of the reader. An implementation of Jacques Derrida’s DECONSTRUCTION theory delivering the diverse levels of existence and individuality of the author himself as a human being; this time NILOTPALISING pensees. As Camus’s ‘La Etranger’ was the first existentialist novel ever written since Sartre propagated his theory; likewise, this is the first ever deconstructive one.
[ genre : PENSEES ]
[ language : English ]
3. “ RAIN UPON BIBLIOTHEQUE ”
A mesmerizing counter-playlet. Hitherto unforeseen experimentation with form. Perhaps the only counter-playlet ever written that is meant more to be read, less to be viewed or performed for the readers, and vice versa for the theatre-going spectators, in order to experience the visual dimensions of the presentation of the text. Above all, at the same time, this one is an absurd-drama, as well as, a poetic-play. Remember Guillaume Apollinaire’s ‘Les Mamelles de Tiresias’!
[ genre : PLAY ]
[ language : English ]