Cultural Production of ‘Invisible Privilege’: Critical Reflections on the Figure of Pratima Barua Pandey in Goalpariya Folk Music of Assam

Introduction

Goalpariya folk music, originating in the erstwhile undivided Goalpara district of Assam, provides us with important insights into how the terrain of folk music is shot through with diverse forms of power relationships and a complex politics of regional, gendered and subnational identities. Among the several folk genres in Assam, Goalpariya folk music became particularly interesting to explore from a feminist perspective, as it has within it several songs that explicitly speak of women’s desires, feelings and sexuality. Migration being a common theme, several songs bring forth the feelings of the ‘separated woman’. This theme of migration can be tied to the historical context within which Goalpara was positioned. Since erstwhile Goalpara was a feudal society, the socio-economic scenario of the region was characterized by the dominance of the land-owning classes like the jamindars. Working for these feudal lords, the peasants/serfs would migrate to different places for various kinds of work. It is then that the wives used to sing the bhawaiya songs (a class of love songs within Goalpariya folk music) for their absentee husbands. The element of biraha or ‘deep emotion’ comes out strongly through such songs. It can be especially culled out from the elongated tones that the singers sing with, in a way that the last word of every line is lengthened with touching resonances. One can almost feel the throes of desperate passion throbbing with pain. The repetition in stanzas and even the tunes of each stanza along with the expressions through songs often point towards a definite connection between the song and life in itself. Margaret Trawick (1991), in her analysis of a song by an untouchable Tamil woman, has also written how such songs elucidate and strengthen certain life events, like separation and suffering in human relationships. Such ‘autobiographical narratives’ that distinctly elaborate the pain/passion can be seen as leading to a construction of the ‘experiential self’ (Appadurai, Korom, & Mills, 1991, p. 10). In other words, as soon as it is sung through a song, the expression and tonality bring life into it and almost invisibilizes the thin line between expressive genres and the real. Therefore, one can glimpse into the numerous struggles of the ‘lived body’ through these songs. Such songs also take us back to Ramanujan’s (1991) idea where he argued that the very idea of a woman speaking through texts express or result in the construction of her ‘self’. An otherwise ‘silent woman’ may, therefore, become a ‘speaking woman’ (Appadurai, Korom, & Mills, 1991, p. 9). One can understand these songs as discourses of emotions that allow for the free expression of one’s feelings in socially acceptable ways. Such emotional discourses, however, are often shaped by the political economy of which they are a part. Such an exploration allows us to recognize the expression of powerful emotions, particularly by those who are lower in power hierarchies, as an act of resistance, a rupture of the normalization of everyday power relations and hence as an inherently political act.

Given this backdrop, we intend to interrogate what happens when these songs are vocalized by someone higher in the power hierarchy, who then goes on to become the face of Goalpariya folk music. Thus, apart from the themes of the folk form itself, Goalpariya folk music became an even more interesting genre as it has been invariably and inevitably connected to the charismatic figure of Pratima Barua Pandey ¹ (1935–2002). She was an eminent Goalpariya folk singer, who played a significant role in the popularization of Goalpariya folk music and is still a part of the collective memory of the people of Assam. Pratima Pandey is further lauded by several scholars (Choudhury & Neogi, 2013; Prodhani, 2008) for playing a vital role in giving Goalpariya music a space of its own within the dominant Assamese culture. Goalpariya songs being sung in the Rajbanshi dialect (which takes a liminal space between ‘pure’ Assamese and ‘pure’ Bengali) has often been marginalized in the mainstream Assamese cultural field. However, Pratima Pandey, the queen of Goalpariya folk music, is often portrayed as the ‘hero’ who ‘has helped provide a cultural address to the community that has been desperately seeking space of its own in the geo-cultural space of its habitation’ (Prodhani, 2013).

During the course of our fieldwork (conducted in the cities of Gauripur and Guwahati in Assam, where most of the Goalpariya folk artistes reside), the inseparability between Goalpariya folk form and Pratima Pandey became even more prominent. Her name came up in every single interview. Thus, the image of Pratima Pandey as reviving and consolidating this folk form that was facing impending doom in the face of Partition during the British period (as Rajbanshi territories were then getting divided and amalgamated into Assam and Bengal) has often been highlighted. It is of course commendable that she broke the constricting shackles of gender and sexuality to become a symbolic figure and made a mark in the cultural field largely dominated by males. However, to appropriately understand the context of her engagement with these songs, it is particularly essential to set forth the fact that she belonged to a completely different socio-cultural milieu (with regards to her class and caste) and community than the people from whom this folk tradition originated. Therefore, it is essential to question how an upper caste/class royal family member or an ‘outsider’ singing the songs of the common folk ² came to be constituted as the ‘queen’ of Goalpariya folk music. Since most songs explicitly narrated the experiences of the separated woman, can her vocalization of these same songs be seen as ‘dislocation of experience’?

Therefore, as feminists, apart from unearthing the different moments of rupture inherent within the songs, it is equally important to critically look at the diverse forms of power mechanisms involved in the dissemination of the songs belonging to the common folk, (given that folk songs are naturally understood as songs of the common people) into the public domain by select individuals with specific forms of privileges. The significance of this privilege lies in the fact that the social structures and the cultural dynamics often work together to invisibilize its operation. McIntosh (1988) in her article White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack has comprehensively described how unacknowledged white privilege tends to confer unearned power in a systemic manner. In fact, the very power of this privilege lies in its invisibility. Therefore, through the framework of ‘invisible privilege’, this article will try to delineate the several factors that have played a significant role in Pratima Pandey’s successful reach and recognition.

The article begins by locating Pratima Pandey within the larger power structures prevalent in Goalpara at the time and explicating her journey into Goalpariya lokageet. ³ It will then focus on the various mechanisms through which her singing began to be considered as normative, such that she gradually became historicized and objectivized in ways that constituted her as the ‘living history’ representing this folk form. Such ways of looking at her persona will give us an added understanding of how power relations can take material form and get articulated in and through the medium of folk music.

Locating Pratima Pandey Within The Larger Power Structures

Goalpara being one of the only territories within Assam with a feudal past, rajas and jamindars were an integral part of its economy. Pratima Pandey, being the daughter of Prince Prakritish Chandra Barua, was a princess in the Rajbari ⁴ that was located in the city of Gauripur. During fieldwork, we did get a chance to visit the Rajbari, as it is still called. On reaching the Rajbari, where Pratima Pandey spent most of the later part of her life, one could immediately comprehend the significance that this place holds for the entire region of Goalpara. The history associated with the palace was explicated in a way that inevitably spoke of the power dynamics that operated within the region, between the commoners and the jamindars and kings. For instance, in an interview with a close relative of Pratima Pandey, he described each and every room of the Rajbari and showed the kind of novel intricacies that were present in the palace, unlike other houses of the same space and time; like the house had a unique property of cross ventilation, as a result of which it was also called Hawa Khana. Also, pointing towards one of the rooms, he mentioned how Bhupen Hazarika, one of the eminent singers of Assam, resided there for two months after his wedding. He added how most people residing in the town would then visit their palace to gain a glimpse of his wife wearing bideshi clothes. ⁵ His way of emphasizing this ‘gaze of the commoners’ further corroborates the kind of ‘social’ and ‘cultural capital’ ⁶ this family wielded.

In fact, the Rajbari is located in an area that speaks tremendously of power. It is spatially located on a hillock, which is at a higher elevation than the rest of the city from where the entire city of Gauripur can be watched over. This can be easily correlated with Bentham’s structure of panopticon, utilized by Michel Foucault to explain his theory of disciplinary technology. It represents a particular organization of space and human beings that clarifies how the visual order can be used to deploy the various mechanisms of power. The panopticon is principally a structure with a large courtyard and a tower in the centre surrounded by several buildings divided into levels and cells. The function and technology of this structure is such that the supervisor who stays in the tower can watch over each and every cell from his location while the inmates are not able to see the supervisor in the tower or any other inmates in their cells. Because of this architectural arrangement, the inmates feel a constant gaze of the power holder, despite the fact that they may not even be present the entire time. ‘Thus, through spatial ordering, the panopticon brings together power, control of the body, control of groups and knowledge (the inmate is observed and examined systematically in his cell). It locates individuals in space, in a hierarchical and efficiently visible organisation’ (Foucault, 1984, p. 19). Such spatial arrangement was clear as soon as we stepped into the royal property, which further made the relations of power in the city evident. Power dynamics of this kind become very important to understand the cultural tradition of the region, as well as to comprehend Pratima Pandey’s relation with the songs.

Pratima Pandey’s Journey Into Goalpariya Lokageet

In the Gauripur king’s palace, there has always been an environment replete with cultural expression. It began with the time of Raja Prabhat Chandra Barua, the king of Gauripur Rajbari. Because of his close affinity to music, he used to organize classical music evenings, either in the Rajbari or in Matiabag (which was the summer palace of Gauripur Rajbari). When he started ruling the state, he used his contacts from Banaras, Kolkata and Lucknow to invite several such cultural icons. During his visits to the circle office of the jamindars, people belonging to the Rajbanshi or Mali communities (since they were in majority in this region), often welcomed him by performing diverse folk songs. Getting attracted to these songs, he used to invite the gidals, i.e., the experts of Goalpariya lokageet to perform in front of him. For this, he met with much resistance from the people belonging to the upper echelons of society. One of the relatives of Pratima Pandey, Deepak Barua (name changed), who is now involved in the ‘preservation’ of the folk form, mentioned this about Raja Prabhat Barua:

Since he had a music sense, he thought that these folk songs have a very rich culture and since we do not have any knowledge of this culture we must bring them into the respectable society. But at that time the culture was such that these were seen as songs of the ‘abhadra’ or the non-respectable, of the poor and destitute. So people questioned him on how and why will they be sung in the jamindari courts. Because of the prevalence of ‘babu culture’, many people objected these songs. Although they were songs of the ‘lower class’ common people, he felt the content to be very rich. That is why he wanted to uplift them and bring them forward. (Deepak Barua, in-depth interview, 24 June 2017)

This conversation implies how the Rajbari intended to ‘rescue’ these songs from the commoners to bring them into the respectable society. Although such patronizing did help the folk tradition to move to different platforms rather than being confined to its localized context, the discourse of ‘rescue’ needs to be problematically located. ⁷ It often takes away the agency from the people who are thought to need rescuing, thus making them mere puppets in the hands of the powerful other. In the process of such rescuing however, the songs began to be associated with the rescuers more than the original performers, so much so that during fieldwork, we were only taken to people who identify themselves as ‘folk artistes’. Pratima Pandey being a part of this palace began to be closely associated with this folk form. Attending the several singing ceremonies held in Rajbari and listening to the workers in the palace who used to sing these songs as part of their day-to-day activities, helped her learn the songs from a very early age. Such a project led to the making of a new kind of ‘artiste’, Pratima Pandey, who was an individual interpreter rather than merely a hereditary practitioner (Weidman, 2003, p. 203).

Her father was the chief patron behind her successful career in Goalpariya lokageet. It was in 1949 that Pratima Pandey first sang these songs on a public platform in New Empire Theatre Hall in Kolkata. In 1955, when Bhupen Hazarika, the legendary Assamese singer and musician visited Gauripur Rajbari and heard Pratima Pandey sing for the first time, he encouraged her to take these songs to the wider platform. In 1956, when Hazarika made the film Era Bator Xur, he gave her the opportunity to record the songs to be included in the film. It was first in 1960 that Pratima Pandey got her breakthrough into All India Radio (AIR) (Neogi, 2008). However, there are several complexities surrounding her entry into the Radio, which will be discussed in the latter sections. Due to the dialect of Goalpariya folk songs (which was neither Assamese nor Bengali), she had to face a lot of rejections. Ultimately with the help of Bhupen Hazarika and Purushottam Das, one of the staff artistes and a musical prodigy, she was able to playback the songs.

Pratima Pandey: Creating and Becoming the Norm

As soon as the songs reached the larger audience through stage functions and the Radio, her position in the context of Goalpariya lokageet changed significantly. People all over began to associate her with the ‘ideal’. Women from different strata and backgrounds, belonging to diverse communities, began singing Goalpariya folk music. Pratima Pandey, therefore, became an inspiration for many female folk artistes. In the interviews with Goalpariya folk singers, Pratima Pandey was cited as one of the chief reasons for them wanting to sing this folk form. ⁸ This was an illuminating piece of information as it portrays the image of Pratima Pandey as the idol and generator of this folk form itself. Despite being an ‘outsider’, she was believed to understand Goalpariya folk music like none other. Along with the singing, they also try their level best to make it sound as close to Pratima Pandey as possible. To quote from one of the interviews with Mounomi Deka (name changed), a Goalpariya folk artiste living in Gauripur:

Baidew had an innate quality to sing these songs. ⁹ Her singing directly used to touch my heart. When Baidew performed these songs on the stage, I got the opportunity to listen to them closely. I used to go near the stage and pay attention to how Baidew sings, what is her style, and in that way, I learned the songs. But it is not enough to just learn the songs. To refine them further, I got engaged with a musician involved with Baidew called Sri Rai (name changed). I called him to my house and learned the taal or rhythm that has to be perfected. People used to say that I have almost everything common with Baidew. This made me feel very good and fortunate. (Mounomi Deka, In-depth interview, 24 June 2017)

This evidently portrays the kind of influence that Pratima Pandey started to have within this ‘cultural field’. ¹⁰ She began setting the bar for the way the folk songs should be sung and even the kind of voice that can and should sing Goalpariya music. One of the research participants, who has made a film on Pratima Pandey, while being asked about her attraction towards her character, she argued,

Well, the major reason behind me making this film is her voice. Her voice is like the golden wing. In fact, she is the golden wing of folk song. According to me, there cannot be anyone like her. Engaging with folksong so dedicatedly is amazing. She stuck to that and never tried anything else. She is the only person who took these songs to the stage. So no one can be a golden wing like her. (Bonti Sarma Barua (name changed), in-depth interview, 14 August 2017)

This clearly brings out how her ‘voice’ is inevitably connected to her being one of the greatest folk singers of all times. She is also credited for taking the folk form to the stage. Emulating her ‘thick’ voice, singers with mostly thick voices began to sing Goalpariya lokageet. ¹¹ In other words, her voice as well as singing style has become the ‘naturalized voice’ for Goalpariya folk songs. It is essential to point towards this ‘politics of voice’ where a particular kind of voice is valorized for performance in the public sphere (Weidman, 2003). On the other hand, the narratives also point towards an effective function of this ‘thick’ voice. For many of the singer participants, this voice provided them with some form of authority as well as legitimacy due to the kinds of songs sung in Goalpariya folk tradition. For instance, one of the singers mentioned how the bold voice allowed her the confidence to sing and perform on stage. Thus, several of the female folk artistes drew inspiration from Pratima Pandey and negotiated with the various power structures through their voice. In other words, this musical voice allowed them a voice to speak up.

Given that Pratima Pandey is considered as the first person who started to stage Goalpariya folk music publicly, the rules of the stage performances were also set keeping her as the nodal performer. For instance, she used to perform Goalpariya folk music by sitting on the stage, along with her musicians, rather than in a standing position, which began to be carried on by several performers who came after her. However, as gathered from the interviews, the women who originally performed Goalpariya folk music mostly used to dance while they sang. Similarly, a Dhakua, one who plays the Dhaak/Dhol, mentioned how the style of playing the dhol was also different. It was taken on the shoulder and was played in a standing position. Thus, Pratima Pandey brought in the style of ‘disciplined/organized singing’. This can be seen as a form of ‘classicization’ where the folk tradition is more or less getting established as an ‘art’ fit for upper caste, middle class, family women. Pamela Moro has referred to such forms of standardization and systematization as ‘cleaning-up’, before being promulgated widely (Moro, 2004, p. 191). A similar kind of ‘purifying’ is also visible in the way some lyrics that were ‘crude’ and apparently ‘vulgar’ were removed and replaced with something else. Such forms of changes were considered mandatory to raise the aesthetics of the folk form. Extrapolating them from a context where they were deemed okay, to another context where they were considered problematic, then needs to be critically looked at.

Making of a ‘Charismatic Leader’: The Process of Historicizing and Objectivizing

Gradually, Pratima Pandey began to be considered as the propagator of Goalpariya lokageet such that her style of singing became the authentic representation of Goalpariya culture. In music, authenticity has generally been understood to mean ‘historically correct’ by the early music revival movements of the 1950s and 1960s (Schippers, 2006, 337). Hence, idealizing her has led people to construe and imagine a ‘correct’ form of Goalpariya folk music. Such notions of the correct form, which inevitably leads to the ‘politics of authenticity’, have mostly to do with objections regarding distortion of songs sung by Pratima Pandey. Pratima Pandey being the benchmark, people associate Goalpariya style with her. In other words, changes were accepted as long as they were not distorting the songs sung by Pratima Pandey, even though the songs were not really hers. ¹² To corroborate this with an excerpt from an interview,

As times are changing, people do sing this folk form in modern ways now. However, I feel that at least Pratima Baidew’s (sister’s) songs shouldn’t be modernized. She has sung them so beautifully that we like listening to them in that form only. Why should those be modernized now? If someone thinks that we want to sing Goalpariya songs in a modern way, then there are many new songs written by several others which may be modernized. But the original songs should be kept like that. Now many singers are damaging the songs, which isn’t correct. Given that an honourable artiste has sung it in a particular way, it shouldn’t be modified or distorted. (Mounomi Deka, In-depth interview, 24 June 2017)

Thus, such claims of authenticity frequently lead to the constitution of an authentic artiste. Hence, Pratima Pandey then went on to become the epitome of authenticity.

Such quest for authenticity can be tied to constituting her as a ‘living history’. Living history has been defined by Jay Anderson (1985) as ‘the stimulation of life in another world’ (Handler & Saxton, 1988, p. 242). According to Handler and Saxton, the historical world created by living history has narrative coherence such that they are recounted as stories (Handler & Saxton, 1988, 243). Such stories authenticating and naturalizing the association of Pratima Pandey with Goalpariya folk music were in abundance in the interviews as well. One such phrase, which was enough to portray the way she was envisioned by the larger society, was:

She is like the God of Goalpariya lokageet (Mounomi Deka, In-depth interview, 24 June 2017).

Such narration is often accompanied by objectivizing through diverse mediums. Sometimes collective representations that accumulate and prevail are protected from alteration by literally putting them in museums and archives or by organized effort at their conservation (Suttles, 1984). One such form of ‘museumisation’ was evident in the Rajbari itself, the home of Pratima Pandey where a room is dedicated to this entire project of showcasing their heritage and her achievements (both culturally and otherwise) (see Figure 1).

OPEN IN VIEWER

Figure 1.

Source: The authors.

Another such form of objectivizing, visible in the urban city life, is through building of statues, which seem to endorse and give credence to people’s memory (Suttles, 1984, p. 293). In one of the central locations of Guwahati city, the commercial hub of Assam, one can see the statue of Pratima Pandey, in her act of singing (see Figure 2).

OPEN IN VIEWER

Figure 2.

Source: http://static.panoramio.com/photos/large/84089896.jpg

Through such depictions and representations, Pratima Pandey became an embodiment of authority, that is and should be. Statues are also symbolic of how folk music is often utilized to facilitate memory work. And authority such as this often prevails on the idea of charisma. One can thus consider Pratima Pandey as an exemplar of ‘charismatic authority’. Max Weber in his typology of kinds of authority argued that the term ‘charisma’ refers to a particular kind of quality that an individual possesses such that she/he is considered extraordinary. For Weber, others feel a duty towards the person in authority to recognize its genuineness and act accordingly (Weber, Roth, & Wittich, 1978, pp. 241–242). The field notes also point towards this kind of ‘charisma’ that is associated with Pratima Pandey, which till today, makes her the ‘golden wing’ of Goalpariya lokageet.

Apart from statues and musuems, another important medium of representing her as the torchbearer of Goalpariya lokageet has been the fictionalized representation of the life of Pratima Pandey on celluloid, which has also played an important role in constructing and solidifying her figure in the public sphere.

Being largely involved with Bhawaiya songs (a sub-theme of Goalpariya folk music), that have the element of pathos, she has been considered as the incarnate of pathos. She is revered for the fact that she introduced these songs to the larger society. One of the research informants, who is a member of the Koch Rajbanshi community (the community largely associated with this folk form) and stays in Gauripur, mentioned how Pratima Pandey carried the songs from the market to the Rashtrapati Bhavan. In his words,

Her voice quality is exceptional. She also has a vibration in her voice from birth. Another quality that she had was her stamina. Even if she performed for three hours she never got tired. [Subroto Sharma (name changed), In-depth interview, 28 June 2017)

Barua is here represented as an indefatigable performer (both as an on-stage performer as well as metaphorically). She is admired for giving the folk form a status that it did not have before. Several narratives from musicians (mainly belonging to the folk community and largely residing in the villages) who played with her also spoke of her ‘dutiful’ and ‘caring’ character. Biren Rai (name changed), the Dhakua, narrated a story of how she would stay with all the musicians in the same condition despite being provided five-star treatment. For them, she would give equal status to everybody in a way that they did not feel ‘otherized’.

Such narratives prevent from looking at her role and legacy merely from the point of appropriation. However, the fact that her upper caste/class privilege benefitted her in most affairs is completely removed from the narratives. In fact, stories about how she resisted the restrictions placed upon her as an upper caste women and how she transgressed those moral boundaries, are abundant. Her ‘heroic’ character is something everyone commented upon. There emerged several narratives from the field that emphasized how despite being a royal princess she visited the villages and learned the songs from the village women or the people involved in farming, fishing, woodcutting, etc. The research participants connected her jamindari background to the barriers she had to face due to it. Her protest against society, within her home, for her music, for her life was something that everyone dwelt upon. Deepak Barua, a relative of hers, explained her situation in the following way:

That time ours was a respectable family such that she wasn’t allowed to sing these songs. They used to exclaim in suprise that a girl was singing a Dotora (the mandatory musical instrument played with Goalpariya lokageet) song! Dotora was seen as a dirty instrument used by the lower classes. Being a Jamindari girl, they couldn’t let her do it. People also worried about her marriage prospects. The idea was that girls who sing with Dotora wouldn’t get married. Basically, singing and dancing women weren’t seen as ‘respectable’. Girls of good families do not indulge in such stuff. But Baidew was desperate. She was like a boy. Although she would fulfil all her roles like washing clothes or cleaning the house, she could never accept domination by men. She believed in equal status. If need be, she would also fight. She couldn’t care less. (Deepak Barua, in-depth interview, 24 June 2017)

Because of the prevalence of such stories, the women behind the veil, the lower caste/class women from whom she had taken the songs have always remained hidden. The account of her entry into AIR is also filled with her struggles. However, this entry can be seen within the larger discourse of ‘respectability’ as well. One cannot consider the Radio as a monolithic structure devoid of power differentials. If we move back in history, we can find traces of inequality that seeped through this communication medium. Saba Dewan in her article In Search Of the Other Song: Travels Among the Tawaifs of Banaras (2010), has discussed how in 1946, Sardar Patel, veteran Congress leader and Minister for Home and Information and Broadcasting in the interim government, banned women artistes whose ‘private lives were a public scandal’ from singing on AIR. In other words, it was open for only the reputable and ‘respectable’ women. This rule, Dewan mentions, in effect ensured that AIR was left with almost no female Hindustani music singers since most came from courtesan backgrounds (Dewan, 2010, p. 29).

The Other Side of the Story

The narratives above make it clear how the field of cultural production is rife with relations of power. Pierre Bourdieu in his theory of ‘cultural production’ argued that ‘symbolic production’ of art is equally important as its ‘material production’. Therefore, one cannot underestimate the contribution of people who are the producers of art’s meaning or its value. Hence, it is important to acknowledge that the position a person occupies in the field of cultural production is heavily dependent upon their class status and the degree of capital they possess (Bourdieu, 1993). Although capital is generally understood in economic terms of wealth, Bourdieu expanded its definition to include economic, social and cultural capital. To quote him,

capital can present itself in three fundamental guises: as economic capital, which is immediately and directly convertible into money and may be institutionalized in the form of property rights; as cultural capital, which is convertible, in certain conditions, into economic capital and may be institutionalized in the form of educational qualifications; and as social capital, made up of social obligations (‘connections’), which is convertible, in certain conditions, into economic capital and may be institutionalized in the form of a title of nobility. (Bourdieu, 1986, p. 242)

Going by this definition of ‘capital’, it is evident how Pratima Pandey had access to a much wider range of economic, social and cultural capital.

Although she was able to defy all odds and sing the songs (which is, of course, admirable), one must also look at her journey critically. All of the narratives paint a uni-dimensional perspective about her character and her role in Goalpariya lokageet. Her act of singing is always only equated with courage and bravery. Stories about her are also filled with anecdotes that talk about her hunting expeditions. Such anecdotes further paint the boldness into her character and provide legitimacy and admiration for her singing.

However, one does not inquire into the fact that she carefully decided what songs to sing on stage and what not to sing. The fact that she strategically left out Hudum puja and Kati puja songs (other sub-themes of Goalpariya folk music that have explicit sexual connotations) from her singing career and focused more on other genres is never discussed. Such selective rendition indicates the sanitization process she herself indulged in.

Thus, we can look at her figure as disrupting/transgressing spaces (in the way she developed relations with the people of ‘lower classes’) while at the same time co-opting the form. This paradox makes her an interesting personality to explore. By entering this location from the outside world, she began to emerge within new spaces of modernity. This led to the entry of this folk form into a new trajectory.

Who Can Take ‘The Stage’?

Taking this further, one arrives at the question of who then has the power and opportunity to access this larger platform and display oneself. These questions underscore the power relations inherent within the process of representation, such that only a select few get the chance to take the stage and become popular, based on the kinds of social and cultural capital they possess. Tied to this, it is also important to critically look at ‘who remains at the forefront of the stage’? The very fact that Pratima Pandey was the one to bring Goalpariya folk music onto the stage speaks largely of such power relations. The emergence of the folk form into novel spaces of communications like radio, TV, internet, etc., brings us into some critical questions like who has visibility vis-à-vis those who are losing livelihood. Several artistes, who have had a lot of contribution in the field, are devoid of any form of aesthetic appreciation whatsoever. Thus, their identity as artistes or as performers is seldom given importance (Naithani, 2006, p. 119). In other words, ‘the dichotomy between their arts and their lives was apparent’ (p. 113).

Since the term ‘appropriation’ is unsuitable for this context, it could be replaced with the term ‘dissociation’. It is important to recognize, why, by whom and in whose interest existing genres are being dissociated from their original contexts and the purposes served by such a tendency. Perry Hall (1997), in his discussion on the ‘politics of innovation’ associated with African-American music, argued that ‘the appropriated forms become ineffective as expressions and affirmations of the unique cultural experiences from which they arise’ (Hall, 1997, p. 32). In other words, the experiences of people from which the songs have emerged, and their connection to the aesthetics have almost become ‘invisible’ while they themselves remain disadvantaged and disenfranchised. Hall also notes that, in addition to this separation of the aesthetic and the experiential dimensions, the attachment of economic value to the songs, due to market forces, further contribute to this dissociative tendency (Hall, 1997, p. 38).

Conclusion

Thus, one can see that changes in the global cultural economy have brought Goalpariya folk music onto the ‘performative stage’. We have particularly tried to evaluate this change by raising the question, who gets to sing the folk form in this new performative location? By specifically focussing on this aspect from the lens of caste and class, We have brought in the figure of Pratima Pandey to look at how her invisible privileges and caste/class location assisted her to acquire the ‘symbolic capital’ as the most ‘authentic’ Goalpariya folk artiste. The research becomes particularly important at this juncture, as it tries to problematize the conventionally represented figure of Pratima Pandey as the pioneer and the most influential character in the field of this folk form. Instead, by looking at her privileged position, the research brings forth other power differentials associated with becoming the ‘artiste’ she had become. Therefore, it is important to recognize how caste, class, ethnicity and other forms of social identity delimit the category of folk artiste.

This article has attempted to theorize ‘privilege’ in a context where it becomes routinized, not only in the wider public discourse, but also among the ones who are suppressed due to this privilege. Her position as the ‘queen of Goalpariya folk music’ is an amalgamation of intersecting axes of privileges and power dynamics. Considering the diverse means of historicizing and objectivizing her into an ‘ideal’ singer, We locate her within a field of contradictions, as someone who transgressed the constricting spaces of gender to be where she was, and as someone who had co-opted the form at the same time (giver her own location in an upper caste/class royal family). By bringing forth the relations of power that encompass the field of cultural production, one can see how various forms of capital might heighten one’s representation as the ‘authentic’ folk artiste in a way that the original performers (belonging to a lower caste/class category) of the folk form remain hidden. The article has looked at ‘invisible privilege’ as a category that travels onto spaces where it goes unquestioned and rather celebrated in time.