The Greatest Bengali Stories Ever Told
Author: Arunava Sinha
Publisher: Aleph, Rs499
Arunava Sinha’s translated anthology of some of the finest Bengali short stories lends an insight into the creative literary history of the State, writes TINA DAS
Translator of Bengali writing, Arunava Sinha’s newest feat — The Greatest Bengali Stories Ever Told — is the translation of 20 well-loved Bengali short stories. It is no secret that the eastern state of India, West Bengal, has produced literary revolutions and geniuses. Each of the stories selected and translated by Sinha is an exercise in not just translating but also documenting how all of them have shaped his understanding of Bengali fiction in general and short stories in particular.
Sinha claims to have chosen the 20 greatest Bengali short stories ever told. The claim is sought to be justified by the impressive array of writers that he chooses, from Rabindranath Tagore and Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay to Mahasweta Devi and Moti Nandy to Ritwik Ghatak. Each writing at a significantly different time period, the stories are an insight into the myriad forms incorporated within this genre.
The first story in the collection is the famousThe Kabuliwallah by Rabindranath Tagore. Among the many short stories written by the consummate storyteller, this one stands out as being widely read on account of being translated and prescribed as part of school curriculum at many places in India. The simplicity of the story and its utter humaneness manage to strike a deep chord even if it is the umpteenth time one has read it.
Tagore’s brilliance is infused in his description of the father-daughter relationship, across boundaries, and of Mini and the Kabuliwallah. Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay’s story stands in sharp contrast to Tagore’s. An author with sharper precision in observing the exploitation meted out to the lower classes, Chattopadhyay’s Mahesh is a social drama. Mahesh is the name of a cow owned by a poor Muslim sharecropper. The relationship between the owner and his animal is showed with a startling depth of perception. Gafoor’s plight evokes a deeper sense of pathos than the Kabuliwallah’s.
Once the stage has been set, Sinha leads the readers into a multitude of forms and narratives within the Bengali short story. The fertility of Bengali literary heritage can be understood in this kaleidoscope of narratives from almost every social class and nook and corners of Calcutta, if not Bengal. Among the stories centred around modern Calcutta, News of a Murder by Moti Nandy and Urvashi and Johnny by Mahasweta Devi stand out.
Nandy’s story narrates in a succinct manner the impact of news on the life of a simple middle class Bengali family, highlighting how mass media affects life on an everyday basis. Mahasweta Devi’s Urvashi and Johnny on the other hand is a remarkable study of the life and psyche of street performers and slum dwellers. Bengal is known for its plethora of thriving street performances, the most popular and evolved form of which is thejatra. Devi’s story talks about a fading star and his obsession with his lover Urvashi. It reads like a tale of consuming love between two people, only to reveal in a powerful climax that it documents the inseparability between art and the artist. Urvashi’s cancer is actually Johnny’s ailment, an ailment which affects life as well as performance. In the midst of the horror of Urvashi’s cancer is Johnny’s dream of having a grand funeral, of being mourned after his death.
In the exploration of life in the smaller cities, Ten Days of the Strike by Sandipan Chattopadhyay is an interesting portrait. The blockage of a toilet in a rented apartment lets loose a variety of human emotions. In a country where superstitions and personal beliefs overrule logic and scientific explanation on an everyday basis, the story is a microcosm of this kind of life.
Among the 20th century writers, Satyajit Ray stands out for his sheer finesse of understanding the idea of show business. Two Magicians narrates the lives of a master and student — both magicians; of the genius and his protégé, as each grapples with notions of inheritance of a form of art which has remained largely enigmatic. Tripura Babu’s reverential practice of magic is juxtaposed against the foreign, illusionary and machine-bred magic of Chefalo. The inheritor is faced with the dilemma of choosing to perform either art or illusion.
Ray directs the attention of the reader not just on the show business but also towards the guru-shishya relationship, integral to Hindu ideology. And in the end, magic is not just the theme but the narrative device as well.
Ghatak’s story remains true to the writer’s politics of portraying the reality of the working classes. His story Raja narrates the demise of a poet and the rise of a pickpocket. In the land of opportunities, one ceases to look for poetic justice. The reunion is a mirage as is the dream of Raja being served lunch. At the end, the reality of one’s life prevails.
Sinha’s anthology is a personal collection of revered and most importantly, well-remembered short stories. Memory seems to be the criteria for choosing these stories, many of whose writers are little known or unknown outside the quintessentially Bengali circle. But perhaps this is what makes the collection special, as much like the stories which give an insight into every imaginable mode of life.
This collection reveals the creative history of the Bengali short story. One can definitely argue and question the basis of this selection, but as Sinha already points out in his disclaimer, these are the greatest stories according to him, and one can agree to disagree.
The reviewer is pursuing MPhil in English, Delhi University
