Chinu mora, Sulochane,
Godavari-tire, kapota kapoti
jatha uccha briksha-chure
bandhe nir, thake sukhe.
Mention this to a certain generation of Bengalis and there is high probability that it will be recognised, even identified. There are many such quotes, all from Meghnadbadh kabya (MBK) and they have passed into everyday Bengali usage, even when familiarity with the original text is lower than it should be.
William Radice translates this as, “We were living, O lovely-eyed one, on the banks of the Godavari river, Like a dove and its mate nesting contentedly high up in a tree.” One couldn’t have done better, bar possibly tinkering with “living” and “contentedly”.
I have a double confession. I have always empathised with Michael Madhusudan Dutt (alternatively Datta), in part because we share the same birth date, and in part because I first started writing in English and switched to Bengali later. Early in my college days, one of my first poetic forays in Bengali was a translation of The Captive Ladie, written by Michael in English. It was never published and has been lost forever.
Also lost forever is a desire to do a Michael biography. The last is no longer necessary. We have excellent biographies by Ghulam Murshid (the Bengali version is better than the English), a Murshid-edited collection of Michael’s letters and several papers by Radice (though his dissertation hasn’t yet been published).
Translating poetry is almost impossible. To the extent it can be done (the late P Lal would have argued for trans-creation), it requires another poet to attempt it. Radice has several advantages — he is a poet in his own right, he knows Bengali well and he is immersed in Michael. There are several reasons why Michael’s tragic life appealed to a certain generation of Bengalis. However, Madhusudan Dutt is no Tagore. Despite some resurgence of research interest in Michael, the name, the man and his works are less familiar today, to both the Bengali and the non-Bengali. That’s a pity, because Michael’s contribution to evolution of the Bengali language was considerable.
Murshid plugged the gap and so does Radice’s excellent introduction, with an interesting take on an emblem (that went with the published works) which probably Michael designed himself.
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This book is much more than a translation. That comprehensive introduction sets the context and explains the man and the background. There are two kinds of notes. Footnotes perform an explanatory role for readers interested only in the text. However, there are end-notes or source-notes too. Madhusudan was widely read, in both western and Indian classical literature. Consequently, it is easy to miss the allusions and influences. These source-notes perform a valuable research function in tracking down the roots.
Why is Michael’s poetry remembered today? The answer will be MBK and the sonnets (Chaturdashpadi kabitabali). Sharmishtha, Tilottamasambhab kabya, Brajangana kabya and Birangana kabya are rarely remembered. The plays Krishnakumari and Maya-kanan are all but forgotten, though the two short farces Ekei ki bale sabhyata? (Is this called civilisation?) and Bura shaliker ghare ro (A ruff on the neck of an old mynah-bird) are still occasionally read.
MBK remains his most important work. It is not as if MBK hasn’t been translated into English in the past. Radice’s is the fourth attempt. These four translations are Rajendranath Sen (1926, blank verse), Shyamal Bandyopadhyay (1986, free verse), Clinton Seely (2004, syllabic verse) and William Radice (2010, phrasal verse). Michael’s contribution to evolution of the Bengali language was both in use of blank verse and introduction of sonnets.
Of the four translations, I haven’t seen Rajendranath Sen, though judging by the Radice introduction, this is pedantically the most accurate, so far as the verse form is concerned. Shyamal Bandyopadhyay left one with a sense of something missing. Therefore, it is a toss-up between Seely and Radice, with the spirit and vigour of the poetry captured better in Radice. “The sun set; twilight fell; a jewel-like star hung on the brow of evening. Night-lotuses burgeoned; day-lotuses closed their tired, dry eyes on the lake; twittering birds returned to their nests; cattle hurried lowing to their byres.” This is no Radice and there is no denying this is poetry.
Madhusudan’s Bengali drew heavily on Sanskrit. If one uses terms like night-lotuses and day-lotuses, one has lost a bit of the poetry. But what else can one do? The translation of Debi Amrita-bhashini as “ambrosia-speaking goddess” jars. However, what is the alternative?
In translating poetry, there are difficult decisions to be made. Should one ensure the lyrical quality of the translation, without paying attention to the metre? Should one preserve the metre, sacrificing the lyrical quality? Should one preserve the vigour of the poetry, without paying too much attention to the verse form?
There are minor issues too, such as in rendering of Bengali words. Should one use diacritical marks? These are standardised now, especially for Sanskrit. However, diacritical marks put readers off. Besides, Bengali pronunciation doesn’t quite follow the Sanskrit and has deviated. Therefore, there is no consensus on the best way to render Bengali words into English. Radice avoids diacritical marks and seeks to make the English as phonetically correct as is possible.
Given the constraints, Radice’s translation of MBK is pretty good. However, he has also thrown in Madhusudan’s Atma-Bilap as a preamble and I didn’t like this translation. Ashara chalane bhuli as “dazed by the tricks of hope”? No matter. MBK is good. And perhaps both Bengalis and non-Bengalis will learn more about Michael Madhusudan Dutt and his work.
THE POEM OF THE KILLING OF MEGHNAD
(Meghnadbadh kabya)
Michael Madhusudan Dutt, translated with an introduction and notes by William Radice
Penguin Books, 2010
cxxi + 428 pages; Rs 499