Imagined homelands

THERE is a sudden spurt in literature from Bengal in English translation, particularly in the genre of the short story. Most such attempts are varied in theme, content, form and style, with even variance in the selection of writers. But all these enthusiastic attempts have to be welcomed with enthusiasm even if they are invariably lacking in competence and spontaneous translation.

The 10 stories in this volume concentrate on the theme of home, though in a broader perspective. The variables are interesting and unsual. This is probably because they are not the handiwork of the better known and regular fiction writers from Bengal. There is nothing cinematic about Ritwik Ghatak's eminently readable "The Road" though the poetic nuances and spontaneity of thought come across very well even in a laboured, and occasionally, wayward translation. Thoughts flow and merge into one another and make the narrative a vibrant experience. In fact, it is the unconventional tone and narrative styles that lend a special hue to these stories. The only exception is the inclusion of the old warhorse, Syed Mustafa Siraj whose "The Horse of Death" follows the traditional Bengali narrative pattern. No beating about the bush while telling a simple story in a straightforward narrative style. "When I was nine years old, one afternoon, I came back home from school and found my mother standing near the door - her face red and swollen, and her eyes wet." Nowhere does the translator make an attempt to rearrange the structural pattern.

Similarly, in Jibanananda Das's "The Return", the translator, Gautam Chakraborty, fails to bring about the inherent lyricism while attempting to be literal and straitjacketed. Among the strong points in the works of senior Bengali writers, especially those who lived and worked in Calcutta, are the sounds and smells of the city. These elements make their stories vibrant and alive. And the absence of these elements in translation - an extremely difficult proposition with anything that is rooted in soil and tradition - makes the works lacklustre and unpoetic.

The best example of this is young Anita Agnihotri's "Sunder Patua". Ostensibly about pat painters, a languished community in Bengal, but essentially about a home away from home with a renewed hope. Yet another story that suffers despite Rani Ray's best efforts, or so it seems. "Colour was his life. He feels happy now that Lisa would go home and hold up the dazzling picture in front of lonely Judith's misty eyes. And then the days of 40 years ago would come alive and leap out at her through the riot of colours. It is perhaps the last pat he painted with his own hands". The sudden tense changes in the first and last sentences reflect on the quality of translation which is not really bad but somehow seems to fail to bring out the inherent lyricism of the original.

SURESH KOHLI

Homes In Emptiness: Anthology of Bangala Short Stories, Compiled by Sumanta Banerjee and Rani Ray, Srishti Publishers and Distributors. Rs. 145.

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