chaos in Paglapur

Paglapur is a fictional town in an alternate universe where women rule the roost and men make cucumber sandwiches. It is loosely inspired by Begum Rokeya’s 1905 short story, ‘Sultana’s Dream’, where gender roles are reversed and men live in the mardana.

Early 20th century, Colonial Bengal

Bonolota Mukherjee, private secretary to the district magistrate was in her office polishing off the last sentence in her weekly dispatch to Calcutta. It has been a long day of putting out political fires. Last week the newly appointed governor of Bengal, Baroness Carmichaela, had dragged Bengal into chaos heaven. Her new school reforms have punctured a very fragile Bengali nerve.

The local newspaper, Paglapur Gazette, has called her ladyship a British buffoon with neither sense nor sensibility. Meanwhile, the Paglapur Student’s Union has applauded the reforms as timely and of utmost importance in modernizing Bengal.

Last night a public debate raged at the town hall where the collective temperature reached 43 degrees Celsius. More protests were scheduled and the district officials were preparing for a long week of civil disobedience and carnage.

This evening the district magistrate has called an emergency meeting at her official bungalow of all the prominent gentlewomen of Paglapur. On the agenda were the latest reforms and how to bring down the town temperature to a tolerable 32 degrees.

Among the illustrious guests were – Begum Zebunnessa, largest landowner of the district; Protima Devi, a journalist of some ill repute; Sufia Khatun, the renegade student leader; Lily Woodehouse, the fashion forward director of the Paglapur Bank; Rehana Banu, 2nd officer at the Education Board; and Charulota Sen, the social activist owner of Maharani Bakery.

The district magistrate, Lady Sandwich, was a seasoned and well-marinated civil servant. Descended from a long line of warrior countesses, she learned the ropes of diplomacy in the jungles of Burma, her first government post.

Bonolota Mukherjee, her trusted right-hand woman and a graduate of Lady Eatona College, was helping the guests settle in by serving them cucumber sandwiches prepared by the magistrate’s husband.

“Begum….,” started Lady Sandwich, “you are a voice of reason, what do you say about these new reforms? Should our boys be allowed to go to school in shorts?”

“Madam Magistrate, in my very humble opinion I urge us to tread extremely cautiously. We are dealing with the Bengali psyche here – steeped in traditions and bull headed to the core. Any change, good or bad, will be profusely resisted. It is in our blood, we cannot help it.”

“Of course we should resist such foolish notions!” exploded Protima Devi. “Why should we be bulldozed into wearing foreign clothes in our own land? This is absurd!”

“And what will people say?” chimed in Rehana Banu. “I mean how long will the shorts be? Will they be knee length, above the knee or, below? And who will marry these poor boys once they have bared their legs in public?”

Sufia Khatun could not keep quiet any longer. Anger was burning up her intestines. “Absolutely ridiculous! In this day and age we are discussing what men should and shouldn’t wear? We should be more concerned about their education and if they know how to manipulate the stock market and become financially independent of their mothers!”

“I second Sufia,” offered Lily Woodehouse with a hint of sterness. “The government needs to allocate more funds to the capitalist development of our young boys. After all a life without money and status is not worth living.”

Charulota Sen roared with her signature laughter, “That is the single most obnoxious thing I have heard all monsoon. A capitalist mind set will destroy the moral fiber of Bengal along with all its fish and folk songs!”

While the prominent guests were thus engaged in verbal battle, Bonolota Mukherjee couldn’t help but wonder what the school boys thought of all this ruckus. Just then the head bearer came in. A telegram has arrived from Calcutta sealed with the governor’s coat of arms.

Lady Sandwich quickly put on her spectacles and slowly began to decipher its contents. She looked up. With a somber voice but gleeful eyes she said, “Ladies I’m afraid I have some unsettling news. Due to the national shortage of shorts, the governor has been forced to postpone the new school reforms until the next Poush Mela!”