topics: |  poetry | bengali | translation | single-author

Jayanta Mahapatra is one of India's finest English language poets, and his
translations are direct and compact, and well crafted.  However, sometimes
I don't find them as emotive as the originals - perhaps that's more my
fault than Mahapatra's.

As in most translated text from India, the book has only the English, and
no originals.  This made sense in the orientalist era, where no reader
would be expected to know bAnglA; but increasingly, much of the audience
for such volumes are bengali-lovers everywhere.  Including the 
original bAnglA would have also shown the respect that is due to the
original, even if the reader doesn't understand it (e.g. translations of
Pablo Neruda or Dante - how many readers will know the originals?).  

I include a few of bAnglA texts in the excerpts below. 

Excerpts

I can, but why should I go

I think I should turn around and stand.             
So much black I have smeared with these two hands,  
			all these years!	      
I have never thought of you, as you really are.     
						      
Now when I stand beside the pit at night	      
The moon calls out: Come!			      
Now, when I stand, drowsy on the Ganga's bank	      
The wood of the pyre calls: Come!		      
						      
I can go					      
I can go any way I want to			      
But why should I? 				      
						      
I shall plant a kiss on my child's face	      
						      
Go, I will					      
But not now					      
I shall take you along			      
I will not go alone before my time.  		      

যেতে পারি, কিন্তু, কেন যাবো?

       ভাবছি, ঘুরে দাঁড়ানোই ভাল                 
       এত কালো মেখেছি দু হাতে          
       এত কাল ধরে।                     
       কখনো তোমার করে, তোমাকে ভাবিনি।       
                                       
       এখন খাদের পাশে রাত্তিরে দাঁড়ালে    
       চাঁদ্ ডাকে আয়, আয়, আয়।            
       এখন গঙ্গার তীরে ঘুমন্ত দাঁড়ালে                
       চিতা কাঠ ডাকে আয়, আয়, আয়।               
                                       
       যেতে পারি,                      
       যেকোনো দিকেই আমি চলে যেতে পারি        
       কিন্তু, কেন যাবো?                         
                                               
       সন্তানের মুখ ধরে একটি চুমো খাবো    
                                               
       যাবো                           
       কিন্তু, এখনি যাবো না              
       তোমাদেরও সঙ্গে নিয়ে যাবো                
       একাকী যাবো না অসময়ে।           

 

Tell me, you love me

Here in the hospital, I find I am the only one ill. 
All the others are in good health, full of life,
those who walk up and down the corridors. 
Loiter around, stand at the window, watch the birds,
talking with the birds for a while -
the newspapers don't come here at all. 
How does the daily news matter, the price of cooking oil? 
Here, costlier than gold, are the few who are healthy!
I am ill.  I am the only one diseased. so here
I lie in bed, sit up, standing sometimes
in front of the mirror, and you, to my heart. speak. 
ghost or spirit whoever you are, speak to my inner being. 
speak to me of love, even if it be as cruel as a needle.
speak with words meaningless, speak to my soul,
speak with words of rain, with words electric, 
and with words of roots -
Tell me, that you are well and your illness is gone
Tell me, that you love me and so your illness has gone. 
     	      	       	      	 p.13

Never found

In just two days, this has happened. 

Midnight, clear moonlight above, 
The rhythm of its flood hugging the blind lane. 
The breeze softly caressing. 
The street-lights a little downcase. 
Looks of listlessness on the doors of the buildings. 

But this house of ours, so familiar --
That we kept on searching. 
But could never find
Any day, or ever, later. 
    	      p.23