A news item published in Odia newspapers in February 1963, startled the elite of the State. A writer in his late twenties who had lately won recognition through his short stories and who was also the editor of the most popular monthly in the language which he had launched while a high school student, had resigned as a lecturer and decided to leave Odisha for Sri Aurobindo Ashram at Pondicherry. Many lamented what appeared to them obvious — that the Odia literature would lose its most promising star.
The news was a bit of sensation for more than one reason. First, Manoj Das had achieved renown at a very early stage. When a popular Odia periodical, the Dagora, conducted an opinion poll among a hundred select critics, professors and other intellectuals of the State to determine who were the two most powerful writers in each genre of creative writing in post-independence Odia literature, Das was among the very top-most talents such as Gopinath Mohanty and Sochi Routray, needless to say, the youngest of all. Recognition had come to him so soon that when he was writing his exams for MA in English, students appearing for MA in Odia, sitting beside him, were already making references to him in their essays on modern Odia literature. Must he break away from this raid pathway to glory in his own homelandIJ
But what intrigued most of the people was the fact that Das was an eminent leftist youth leader whose oratorical skill, sometimes accompanied by lyrics composed and put to tune by himself could arouse thousands to mutiny. He was once behind the bars for leading a forceful agitation. What was more, he was an atheist and adept at brainwashing the vulnerable. How come he chose the mystic pathIJ
In 1959, he had married Pratijna, daughter of eminent freedom fighters, Narayan Birabar Samanta and Ratnamali Jema. Jema was the daughter of the last Raja of Kujang and Samanta was from another feudal dynasty. Jema was the only lady from the princely class to have participated in the salt Satyagraha. It is believed that Das and Pratijna had some unusual spiritual experience when, on a visit to Pondicherry, they saw the mother of Sri Aurobindo Ashram which made them stay put in that erstwhile French colony.
His admirers, however, were delighted to find that Das had left Odisha, but not his unique role in Odia literature. By and by, he churned out stories each one of which shone like a gem. He also became a trend-setter in writing regular personal columns in the premier Odia newspapers. The Odisha Sahitya Akademi was quick to bestow on him its awards, first for his short stories and again for his prose. Numerous honours followed. By now, Odisha has exhausted all its awards on him —the Utkal Sahitya Samaj, the State’s hoary literary institution, bestowing on him Utkal Ratna and the State Akademi, the Atibadi Jagannath Das Award.
Mid-sixties of the last century onwards, Das had begun writing in English. It was not for finding a new avenue to give vent to his creative zeal, but as a protest against the depiction of the Indian village life by more than one writer in a silly way. He said, “Born and brought up in a remote village, I thought it was my duty to put the rustic situations and characters in their proper
perspective.”
He succeeded remarkably well, if we go by the warm recognition that came to him from the academic circles in the West. Whoever read him for the first time felt the thrill of a discovery. If Graham Greene was highly impressed by him, HRF Keating wondered how he had not found him earlier, for each of his stories brought him a sense of wonder and joy. Wrote A Russell, “There is little doubt that Manoj Das is a great storyteller of the subcontinent and he had too few peers, no matter what yardstick is applied to measure his ability as an artist...He proves that reality is richer than what realists conceived it to be.”
Wrote John Harvey in the British Fantasy Society journal, “Manoj Das is one of those writers who can express in simple language items of considerable importance while entertaining you, while making you laugh or cry, happy or sad. He is a rare person in today’s world.”
So many anthologies and special issues of serious journals in the U K and the USA, whenever they wished to include a story in their collections that projected the real Indian genius, chose one of his stories.
No wonder that greater India should recognise him with more accolades. The Book sellers and Publishers Association of South India bestowed on him their BAPASI Award as the best writer in English in the South for 1998. Andhra Pradesh gave him the NTR Vijnan Trust National Award. Kerala gave him the Amrita Keerti Puraskar, so on and so forth. Five universities have bestowed on him Dlitt (Honoris Causa) and another the honorary position of Professor Emeritus.
Extracts from an interview: Raja: A discerning critic like Dr KR Srinivasa Iyengar, a gifted dramatist like Vijay Tendulkar and a noted journalist like MV Kamath have found in your fiction the most authentic Indian ethos. How are you so different from your contemporary Indo-Anglian writersIJ
Das: Probably because I lived in a typical Indian village till my teens and grew up amidst recitation of mythology and folklore and truly loved the folks around me. Their life pulsates in me, their hearts beat in mine. I experienced the transition of India from a colony into freedom, from a feudal order into democracy. I experienced the effect of these changes on the people. Hence, my depiction of such situations should throb with life!
Raja: Content apart, how did you muster a unique style that impresses both your Indian as well as non-Indian readersIJ
Das: Honestly, I’ve never thought about the factor that is style. It has followed my theme in a natural way. I did not study in any English medium school. I’m not a great reader either. But when I sat down to write in English, I began loving that language. I strongly believe that each language is a miracle. You utter a word and what it symbolises comes to life in your vision. I feel that there is the same divinity behind every language. I write spontaneously and I believe that the spirit behind the language responds to my need.
Raja: While presiding over that gala opening function of the 20th World Book Fare in New Delhi two years ago, you paid a tribute to translators as those who were undoing the mischief of some of the demi-gods. Will you please elaborateIJ
Das: I was referring to the Greek myth of the Tower of Babel. The people of ancient Babylonia were busy erecting a tower to touch the heavens. One night, while they were asleep, some demi-gods made them forget their common language and imprinted different languages, one for each, in their memory. In the morning even when all of them were saying the same thing, each one said it in a different language. Nobody understood anybody. They spoke louder and louder until their voices cracked and, exhausted, they dispersed. Today the translators are making it possible for the people of one language to understand and appreciate the mind and literature of those belonging to a different language.
Hence they are performing a great role.
Raja: But you don’t translate your stories or novels!
Das: No. I write originally in both the languages - though generally on the same themes.
Raja: What is your greatest strengthIJ
Das: My faith in humanity — not humanity as it is today, but the potentiality lying involved in man. Sri Aurobindo tells us that a new humanity will evolve out of the present one. That is the faith that sustains me and gives me the impetus to write.
Raja: You will be completing eighty in a few days. You have passed through numerous experiences. Even your life was on the brink of death at least twice - once when a murderous gang of dacoits invaded your house in your childhood and another time when an anti-communist terrorist group began shooting at a log cabin that lodged you and three of your comrades way back in 1956 in a lonely hill station in Java. Happier experiences too are many, I suppose. Is there anything that you regretIJ
Das: There are so many things any sensitive man would regret in life - deeds of commission and omission. But once you grow aware of the law of your personal evolution, you know that each experience - happy and unhappy, triumphant and humiliating, had a contribution to your psychic being, that is, your individualised soul, you stop regretting. You begin looking at events around you as indispensably necessary for your inner growth, if you can derive the right lesson from it, without an egoistic bias. That alone matters, for that is the treasure we carry into our future birth.
(Dr P Raja is based at 88, Poincare Street, Olandai-Keerapalayam, Pondicherry 605 004. Cell: 9443617124. Website: www.professorraja.com)