Against the Grain

Her story unfolds against a backdrop of strained relationships. Mahendra and Asha are newly weds; in their cocoon of first love, even his mother Rajalakshmi and childhood friend Bihari find no place. Binodini, who had been spurned earlier by both men, enters the household as a widowed dependent and quickly becomes its axis: Rajalakshmi8217;s trusted aide, Asha8217;s best friend and, inevitably, Mahendra8217;s love. Yet it is Bihari she yearns for, Bihari who can give her what she craves most: societal respectability. And, tragically, that will be hers only when she renounces society.

Man, wife, mother, friend, other woman. It could be the stuff of a K soap, but for the shades of grey that colour the protagonists, the multiple conflicts that inform every twist and turn in the plot. With just the subtlest of hints, the merest mention of contemporary concerns, Tagore creates a domestic miniature of a clash of civilisations. Mahendra is a wimp, but he8217;s also guilt-ridden at betraying his wife; Binodini is as dangerous as a frustrated feline, but it8217;s impossible not to sympathise with the enormity of her battle of the self vs circumstance.

Thrust onto a readership used to larger-than-life stories, Chokher Bali, with its identifiable milieu and recognisable protagonists, was the first novel to turn the spotlight firmly onto an emerging middle-class reluctantly waking up to its own responsibilities. Surprisingly, many of the novel8217;s concerns remain valid. The middle-class is as uncomfortable with challenges as it was a century ago, the single woman is still considered a threat, the straying man is welcomed back as lord and master. Chokher Bali, in the 21st century, is a tribute more to Tagore8217;s timelessness than society8217;s.

Because of the parallels with Victorian novels Tess and Silas Marner come to mind immediately, some contemporary critics accused Tagore of writing an English novel in Bengali. The one charge that could not be raised against him, however, was artificiality. The man who authored 2,500 poems, and continues to be better known as a poet the world over, brought an amazing fluidity to his fiction. Abetted by any number of literals, the flow is lost entirely in the Srishti translation. Was Chakravarty trying to preserve some of the flavour of the period with convoluted sentences and long words? In the process, she seems to have lost sight of her readership, and of the distinction between formal language and stilted.

The contrast is even more telling next to Guha8217;s translation. The Penguin volume, appended with a helpful introduction by Swagato Ganguly, is a far superior work that retains the rhythm of the original with its unlaboured language and syntax. By dropping some of the more esoteric Bengali references 8220;Kayet thakurun8221;, for instance, becomes the 8220;neighbour8217;s wife8221;, Guha makes her work accessible without sacrificing any of the complex, meditative layers. If the original is out of bounds, this is the next best thing.