From single words to nursery rhymes to fictional tales of adventure, a 75-year-old has been building a tiny handmade library for his granddaughter.
Since 2017, retired geologist Pradip Sengupta has been handcrafting pop-up books through which Myra Sarkar, now 7, can stay in touch with her mother tongue, as she grows up in California. It’s also a way for the two to build a bond, with Sengupta living all the way in Kolkata. “We meet twice a year. For two years, in the pandemic, we couldn’t meet at all. Through the books, we stay more connected,” he says.
It started when Myra was three, with a basic Bengali primer called Myrar Borno Porichoy (Myra’s Alphabet Primer). This book contained Bengali words known to her then. It also contained pop-up images of her. For “sari”, he cut out a picture of the little girl wearing the garment. For harmonium, a picture of her playing one; the same for “sindri”, Bengali for staircase.
“Pop-up books and cards were my childhood favourites. In adulthood, I have been inspired by the pop-up book Star Wars by Matthew Reinhart. When Myra was born, I decided that I should do this to help her learn Bangla. Since she is in the US she needed some help,” Sengupta says.
Myra now has three such books in her collection. The second is a handmade pop-up version of Chorar Chobi, a collection of popular Bengali rhymes for children. The third is a pop-up version of Sukumar Ray’s 1921 work HaJaBaRaLa, a nonsense novella about a child who enters a dream world in which a crow can do sums, an owl is judge, and adults who hit 40 then start to travel back towards childhood, calculating their age in reverse order. Where the original was in black-and-white, with illustrations by Ray, Sengupta’s abridged pop-up version is in all-colour.
Sengupta draws all artwork from the original books, then alters them on his iPad, adding background elements that might resonate with her — a favourite colour, a pet, a new favourite snack. Since the books are for personal use, copyright law does not come into play.
Once the pages are finalised, Sengupta has them printed digitally on 250 GSM art paper. He then cuts the pop-ups out by hand and glues them on such that each one will operate smoothly. “I learned the different folds and techniques from tutorials posted by (artist and paper mechanics professor) Duncan Birmingham and Matthew Reinhart on YouTube. I have become confident to some extent,” Sengupta says.
Including R&D and pages lost to trial and error, costs stay under ₹2,000 per book. But it’s not an easy process, Sengupta says. “The hardest part is visualising the output and selecting the appropriate folds that would seamlessly go with the objects or characters.”
For his fourth book, he plans to draw on children’s rhymes from Sukumar Ray’s collection Abol Tabol (The Weird and the Absurd). This one might be for more widespread publication; he is currently in talks with a publisher.
“The medium of pop-up books has remained vastly unexplored in Bengali, and to see my dad learning new skills, pouring his ideas, effort and time into bringing the medium to the life is a matter of great pride,” says his son Shinjan Sengupta, 38, a software engineer.
“Baba’s foray into this field has been very apt for his granddaughter,” adds Pradip Sengupta’s daughter Rai Sengupta, 42, Myra’s mother. “With her being brought up in America, these books are a perfect bridge to our rich literary and cultural heritage.”
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