Published: 12:00 AM, 31 October 2026
How Folk Myths Continue to Shape Bengali Literature
Sonia Tasnim
Long before the written word became a vehicle for literary expression, myths carried humanity’s earliest attempts to understand the world. Born from oral traditions and shaped by collective beliefs, fears, hopes and imaginations, these narratives travelled across generations, preserving the cultural memories of communities while offering explanations for the mysteries of existence.
In Bengal, this ancient storytelling tradition has evolved into a rich literary heritage in which gods and goddesses, rivers and forests, serpents and boats transcend their mythical origins to illuminate the complexities of human life.
The word ‘myth’ derives from the Greek ‘mythos’, meaning a story or narrative. Yet myths are far more than imaginative accounts of supernatural events. Rooted in the beliefs and experiences of particular communities, they often explore fundamental questions about creation, morality, suffering, power and humanity’s relationship with the natural world. Their significance lies not simply in what they narrate, but also in what they reveal about the societies that created, preserved and transformed them.
In Bengali literature, myths have long served as a source of creative inspiration, philosophical inquiry and cultural continuity. From the medieval ‘Mangal Kavyaa’ tradition to the enduring legends of Behula and Lakhindar and Bonbibi of the Sundarbans, these narratives have shaped the region’s literary imagination. Passed down through generations, they have retained their cultural resonance while acquiring new meanings in changing historical and social contexts.
The medieval Mangal Kavyaa tradition offers some of the most compelling examples of how folk beliefs can be transformed into literature. Among these narrative poems, Manasamangal stands out for its dramatic exploration of the conflict between the goddess Manasa and the merchant Chand Saudagar.
At first glance, their confrontation appears to centre on the worship of a deity. Beneath that religious framework, however, lies a more complex struggle involving recognition, personal conviction, pride and authority. Manasa seeks acknowledgement of her divine status, while Chand Saudagar resists worshipping her, asserting his own beliefs and self-respect. Their conflict brings spiritual authority into confrontation with individual agency, revealing the tensions that emerge when competing claims to power collide.
Few figures in Bengali folk literature have captured the imagination as enduringly as Behula, whose journey to restore her husband, Lakhindar, to life has become a powerful symbol of love, perseverance and determination.
Traditionally, Behula has been celebrated as the embodiment of conjugal devotion. Her extraordinary journey through grief, danger and uncertainty affirms the strength of her commitment. Yet a closer reading reveals dimensions of her character that extend beyond conventional ideals of womanhood.
Behula does not remain a passive witness to tragedy. She undertakes a perilous journey, makes consequential decisions and confronts forces far more powerful than herself. Her determination transforms personal suffering into an act of resistance, challenging the boundaries imposed by fate and divine authority.
Viewed through a contemporary literary lens, Behula’s story raises questions about women’s agency, resilience and the relationship between devotion and independence. Her courage does not necessarily negate the traditional interpretation of wifely loyalty; rather, it complicates that interpretation by revealing a woman who acts decisively in the face of overwhelming adversity.
If Behula’s journey explores the struggle between human determination and supernatural power, the legend of Bonbibi offers a compelling perspective on the relationship between people and the natural world.
Deeply rooted in the cultural life of the Sundarbans, the Bonbibi tradition reflects the precarious existence of communities whose livelihoods depend on the mangrove forest. Honey collectors, fishers and other forest-dependent people enter an environment that sustains them while exposing them to considerable danger. Within this landscape, the stories of Bonbibi, Dakshin Rai and Dukhey express a moral universe shaped by vulnerability, livelihood, faith and the need for protection.
The forest in these narratives is neither an empty wilderness nor a passive backdrop. It is a living environment upon which human survival depends, yet one that cannot be entirely controlled. The stories acknowledge the limits of human power and the risks associated with exploiting the natural world.
This perspective gives the Bonbibi tradition particular relevance in an age of environmental uncertainty. Read through the framework of contemporary environmental literature, the legend can be understood as an expression of the delicate relationship between human communities and fragile ecosystems. It encourages reflection on coexistence, restraint and the ethical responsibilities that accompany the use of natural resources.
Such an interpretation should not reduce a living religious and cultural tradition to a modern environmental message. Rather, it demonstrates how inherited narratives can speak to contemporary concerns while retaining their distinctive cultural meanings. In the Sundarbans, where survival depends on negotiating the boundaries between livelihood and danger, Bonbibi remains a powerful figure in the collective imagination.
One of myth’s most enduring literary contributions is its ability to transform ordinary elements of the natural world into symbols of extraordinary depth.
In Bengali narrative traditions, rivers frequently evoke journeys, separation, uncertainty and the passage of time. They can connect distant communities while simultaneously dividing people and places. A boat may signify escape, survival or the fragile hope of reaching an unknown destination. Serpents can evoke fear, mortality and the unpredictable forces of existence, while forests may represent both abundance and danger, offering sustenance even as they expose human vulnerability.
Myth thus enables literature to move beyond the straightforward recounting of events. It creates a language through which complex experiences can be communicated with emotional force, symbolic resonance and philosophical depth.
The literary influence of myth extends far beyond traditional folk narratives. It also finds a sophisticated expression in the works of Rabindranath Tagore, who repeatedly returned to inherited mythological and epic traditions to explore questions of individual freedom, ethical responsibility and human relationships.
In works such as Karna-Kunti Sambad, Gandharir Abedan and Chitrangada, Tagore reinterprets characters and situations associated with the Mahabharata, bringing their moral and psychological complexities into sharper focus. Rather than merely reproducing familiar episodes, he examines the tensions between personal desire and social obligation, maternal attachment and public duty, self-respect and recognition.
His treatment of Chitrangada, for instance, invites reflection on identity, love and the expectations imposed upon women. Through Karna and Kunti, questions of kinship, abandonment, loyalty and moral responsibility acquire renewed emotional significance. Gandhari’s voice similarly opens a space for examining grief, accountability and the consequences of political and familial choices.
Myths preserve cultural values, but they can also expose the contradictions embedded within them. Their narratives may celebrate courage while endorsing obedience, acknowledge female power while reinforcing restrictive gender expectations, or legitimise established authority even as their characters reveal its limitations.
These tensions become particularly significant when traditional narratives are examined through contemporary feminist, social and environmental perspectives. Behula’s determination, for example, can be read alongside the gender expectations surrounding her devotion. The conflict in *Manasamangal* invites questions about the relationship between authority and resistance. The Bonbibi tradition encourages reflection on the competing demands of economic survival, cultural belief and ecological responsibility.
Literature becomes especially powerful when it creates room for these competing interpretations. A myth can preserve the worldview of an earlier society while simultaneously providing the means to question that worldview. Its significance lies not in offering simple answers, but in sustaining conversations about the dilemmas that continue to shape human life.
Traditional Bengali myths have done far more than embellish the region’s literary heritage. They have provided writers with a language for exploring belief, resistance, identity, social power and the uncertainties of existence. The confrontation between Manasa and Chand Saudagar, Behula’s determined journey and Tagore’s imaginative engagement with epic characters demonstrate how inherited narratives can become vehicles for profound literary inquiry.
Their meanings have never remained entirely static. Stories once understood primarily through religious devotion can acquire new significance as expressions of social history, psychological conflict or ethical uncertainty. Environmental concerns, changing gender relations and evolving ideas of individual freedom further expand the possibilities of interpretation.
The roots of Bengali folk myth reach deep into the collective memory of the past, but its branches continue to spread across the expansive landscape of literary imagination. Its enduring beauty lies in this ability to renew itself—to preserve familiar stories while revealing unfamiliar truths within them.
From the rivers that carry the memory of generations to the forests that sustain fragile communities, from Behula’s courage to the moral dilemmas of epic heroes, Bengali myths continue to illuminate the complex relationship between human beings and the worlds they inhabit. Their legacy is not simply that they have survived through centuries of storytelling, but that they continue to invite new questions, new interpretations and new forms of creative expression.
Ultimately, the literary power of myth rests in its capacity to make the past speak to the present. As long as writers and readers continue to discover new meanings in these inherited narratives, the myths of Bengal will remain not merely relics of an ancient imagination, but living sources of literary beauty, cultural reflection and human understanding.
Sonia Tasnim is an essayist.
