Bengali version of fairy tales, i.e. Roopkatha is hardly
translatable into English, not only due to immense cultural difference
between East and West, but also because of the language the tales are told in.
The charm and subtle nature of one folk-language cannot be captured in another
language. There lies limitation of languages; we are rarely able to enter into
the world of the country folks from geography unknown to us.
There is where my childhood dream of translating Dakshinaranjan
Mitra-Majumdar’s Thakurmar jhuli (Grandma’s satchel) - collection of fairy
tales of Bengal suffered a big jolt after I actually started working as a translator. But I found
the preface of this book written by Tagore in 1908 so appropriate to be
considered as a message to translators, that I could not resist translating
that part.
Queens waiting for the Parrot-faced ship
Tagore on Bengali Roopkatha:
Is there anything
else more indigenous than Thakurmar jhuli? Unfortunate is, even this fascinating
satchel is being imported as product of Manchester factories these days. The
foreign “Fairy tales” have turned out to be the only option for our kids. Our
own Grandma Company seems to have gone bankrupt. You may even find Martin’s
ethics or Burke’s notebook of French revolution in their satchel, but where are
the Prince and the Nobleman’s son? Where did the Byangomaa-Byangomi and the
jewel of the seven kings from the land past seven seas and thirteen rivers disappear?
The tradition of folk
festivals, plays, storytelling and elucidation of myths is dying like a drying
river. Even the Bengal villages, where these streams of folk flavours used to
flow in various branches, are converted into dry desert. The adult minds are being
twisted to self-centred deformed ones; but why are our children being punished like
sinners deprived from savouring joyfulness? Why is their bedtime so silent?
Their reading desks lit by kerosene lamp are crammed with buzzing sound of
reading scary foreign spellings. How are we fancying keeping our kids alive by
feeding them only chickpeas while completely depriving them from their mother’s
milk!
Tales are written in
the books nowadays. Where did the tales told by our affectionate mothers vanish?
Where are the tales from hearts of the ladies of our land?
The heart of the
Bengal mother was the source of our fairy tales – the Roopkatha, which have
been continuously flowing through the minds of our children throughout the
history marked by many uprisings and changes in the ruling clans here. These
tales are born from the deepest eternal affection, which has raised everyone
from the wealthiest king to the poorest peasant in this country, enchanted all
of them showing the bright moon in the sky, comforted all by singing lullabies.
That is reason listening
to these stories do not only make Bengali children delighted, it makes them
absorb themselves in the eternal flow of Bengal’s deepest affection.
I was hesitating to
open the “Thakurmar jhuli” written by Dakshinaranjanbabu. I had a doubt if the
steel-sharpness of modern Bengali language did sever that tune of affection. It
is difficult to sing in that tune while composing in today’s bookish language.
I did not dare taking up this task. I have tried to make an educated
storyteller write these stories. Even though written by a woman, under the
influence of the foreign pen, those fairy tales lost their fairy-spirit in
spite of the tale’s remaining intact – thus making the eternal tale very modernistic.
But Dakshinababu’s
effort is commendable! He picked up our grandma’s words and planted them in
written form; still their leaves remained as fresh and green as ever. He
maintained the simplicity of the old language and unique style of our fairy
tales with a fine and natural articulation.
I would propose that,
a school for modern grandmothers of Bengal should be opened immediately, so
that they can adopt the book written by Dakshinababu, which would in turn help
them retaining their past glory in the world of our children’s dreams.
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