Slow Passage Through the Brahmaputra

Assamese novelist Arupa Kalita Patangia8217;s epical narrative is the story of young Binapani, a bright girl-child growing up in her grandp...

Assamese novelist Arupa Kalita Patangia8217;s epical narrative is the story of young Binapani, a bright girl-child growing up in her grandparents8217; house in Assam. These are the days of the Independence struggle. Even in this green landscape filled with the grunts of coolies at work, someone or the other is always singing a song about Swaraj in the background.

But in the foreground is Bina8217;s childhood, set against the typical politics of life in a well-to-do joint family. In this family, like many across the country, sons are groomed to become doctors and lawyers, while daughters are taught to read the Gita. Nevertheless, Bina8217;s brightness is a matter of pride as well as of concern, and her grandfather, the elderly patriarch Nanda Barua, is persuaded to send her to study at the missionary school, while her grandmother Jashoda teaches her the everyday business of living with courage and compassion. The family8217;s brush with the freedom movement comes when Nanda Barua decides to harbour Mahananda Barua, an injured freedom fighter, in their house, despite his sons8217; misgivings. Barua, whose little son is Bina8217;s friend, is eventually hanged, but not before leaving an inspiring legend for thousands of others who, like him, aspire for freedom in this land.

Patangia integrates the story of Barua8217;s family into the narrative with sharply etched accounts of Jashoda8217;s and Bina8217;s visits to see Barua8217;s pregnant wife and children. We see the children lay out a little piece of sacking for the old lady to sit on; and then we see the little boy hide the kitchen vessels in the shallow side of the stream, away from the eyes of the white soldiers. At another moving moment, we see Barua return for a final glimpse of his wife and children before making his escape. With what little food she has, rice and boiled yam, salt and a chilli, his wife cooks dinner for him, denying her hungry children in the process: but Barua feeds a fistful of rice to each of the children, singing 8220;Kadam, kadam, borhaiye ja, khushi ke geet gaye ja8221;.

Even as the drama of the freedom movement unfolds, however, we see the inner drama of Bina8217;s quest for personal freedom. The brightness of her mind and her eagerness to learn about the world are quelled by the sheer force of social mores. 8220;We women are like a piece of white cloth,8221; even her grandmother tells her. 8220;Even a light stain shows prominently.8221; Bina is pulled out of school as soon as she reaches puberty; and she is married off, against her wishes, to a man much older than her and completely different in temperament.

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The family8217;s brush with the freedom movement
comes when Nanda Barua decides to harbour an injured freedom fighter despite his sons8217; misgivings

The compelling success of Patangia8217;s narrative is that instead of presenting these events with excessive emotion or long passages of interiority, the story remains grounded in the rich texture of the Assamese family life that it describes, the everyday details of food, garden, weaving and bhaonas, of silk mekhelas, oronis and chadors, of a Ragha borali fish with, eerily, a dead man8217;s hand inside it 8212; all the little things that take up most of the women8217;s days. But in the midst of this rich detail, Bina8217;s emotions are not glossed over but presented as piercing, painful flashes of anger or disappointment, all the more intense for being as vivid and as unforgettable as the brilliant bakul, keteki and kopou flowers that colour the landscape.

Dawn is a rich, moving story, and this translation is a valuable addition to the great translation project that can form a crucial way for us to interpret the different parts of this varied country for each other.