Bengali Comics |work| -
[1962: Handa Bhonda] ──> Launch of slapstick schoolboy duo │ [1965: Bantul the Great] ──> India's first iconic superhero │ [1960s-70s: Nonte Phonte] ──> Boarding school satire & hostel antics 1. Handa Bhonda (1962)
Despite their popularity and cultural significance, Bengali comics face several challenges. One of the major concerns is the lack of a formal publishing infrastructure, which makes it difficult for creators to produce and distribute their work.
, a legendary illustrator whose career spanned over 60 years. He introduced several iconic characters that remain household names: Bantul the Great bengali comics
Platforms like and Instagram became the new Anandamela . Young artists began publishing short, vertical scroll comics. Krittikaal by Sarbajit Paul and Abhijityer Pata (The Pages of Abhijit) brought back the detective spirit with modern, dark artwork.
To overcome these challenges, there is a need for a more organized and formalized comic book industry in Bengal. This can be achieved by establishing comic book publishers, organizing comic book festivals, and providing training and resources for creators. [1962: Handa Bhonda] ──> Launch of slapstick schoolboy
However, purists argue that the magic of Bengali comics lies in the static panel—where the reader controls the timing of the punchline. "A comic is not a storyboard," argues contemporary artist Debasish Deb. "It is a dance between the gutter (the space between panels) and the reader's imagination."
In conclusion, the story of Bengali comics is a mirror of Bengal itself: a narrative of glorious golden ages, painful decline, and resilient resurgence. From the slapstick genius of Narayan Debnath to the quiet, intellectual charm of Satyajit Ray’s Shonku; from mythological didacticism to the gritty, urban realisms of a new wave, Bengali comics have never been a monolithic entity. They are a sprawling, living archive of the Bengali imagination. They captured the innocence of the post-Independence decades, the growing pains of the 80s and 90s, and the fragmented, questioning spirit of the 21st century. In their panels, we find not just jokes and adventures, but the history of a people who learned to laugh at their own foibles, dream of distant lands, and quietly rebel against the mundane—one speech bubble at a time. As long as there is a child in Kolkata with a khata (notebook) and a pencil, or an adult scrolling through a webcomic on a smartphone, the art of the Bengali comic will continue to draw its next breath, forever finding new ways to say, in its own unique voice: “Once upon a time… and look what happened next.” , a legendary illustrator whose career spanned over 60 years
Just as everyone wrote the obituary, a strange thing happened. The children who grew up on Nonte and Phonte became graphic designers, filmmakers, and writers. They missed the smell of ink. Around 2015–2018, a digital renaissance began.
Many assumed the art form was dead. Iconic characters like Batul vanished. Bookstores stopped stocking comic Tintins in favor of imported manga. For nearly two decades, Bengali comics survived only in dusty annual Puja specials, sold during Durga Puja and then forgotten by November.
While comedy dominated early strips, Bengali comics quickly grew to include adventure, science fiction, and detective genres.
