I read Dahan and watched Rituparno Ghosh’s award-winning movie based on the novel. Like many other readers, I was moved by the story and never stopped marvelling at the tautness of the author’s language. The milieu was thoroughly middle class with ordinary folks living ordinary lives, and yet the characters were far from the wooden stereotypes crowding contemporary Bengali fiction. The conversations were crackling crisp, not at all predictable, and yet not necessarily in the genre of ‘clever writing’.
There was something profound about them. And the plot was refreshingly free of tear-jerking episodes leading up to sentimental melodrama. It was robust, free flowing text. The writer seemed to be well versed in the lifestyle of contemporary youth; she had a firm but gentle finger on their pulse so to speak. And she had an empathetic approach towards the women.
It was clear that Suchitra Bhattacharya liked her women characters to have poise and common sense, and have rare strength and depth of mind. Even at the face of ‘defeat’ and resignation, they retained their dignity. I read quite a number of Suchitra Bhattacharya’s short stories and novels before the offer to translate Dahan came to me some fifteen summers ago. It was on a winter evening that I first met her on my way home from work. A thin mist was descending and the light nip in the air was turning chilly. The house on Ballygunge Circular Road in south Kolkata belonged to her friend. I was thrilled to meet her and discuss ‘literature’ over coffee. And then toy with the idea of an English translation of Dahan . We signed a contract with the publisher in Delhi and I began.
It was more a labour of love as I turned and twisted each word and sentence into its English equivalent, painstakingly paraphrasing, wringing out the essence and flavour, reading and rewriting the poignant passages till I almost knew the novel by heart.It was during this period of frenzied creativity that I again visited the author at her residence a few times, where she lived with her husband, daughter and brother. It was a simply furnished house and we always met in the evening, after work hours. Suchitra di – as I called her– did not mince words whether it was constructive criticism or happiness with my work. There were also long phone conversations.
I realized Suchitra di understood human nature and its varied manifestations like a good doctor did the functions and malfunctions of the patient’s internal organs.
The English translation of Dahan was finally completed and published, with a still from the movie on its cover. She fleshed out her characters with rare ease and flair, her extensive research behind each plot, character and event coming to good use. It was always real life that she portrayed, life that breathed within the city’s homes, in the kitchen, at the dining table, behind closed doors, in bed . . . If she had to set an event at a court, or at a roadside dhaba, at the fish market or the lounge of a club, the men’s room of a corporate office, at the college canteen, teachers’ common room, hospital cabin or simply a bus or a train compartment, she would learn the nuances and only then attempt to put her thoughts down.
On May 13, on my way to work I got the news of the Gyanpeeth Awardee’s sudden death.
The first thought that struck me was Suchitra Bhattacharya. She would not contribute to the special Durga Puja editions of Desh and Anandabazar this year. I mourned that. Bengali literature lost a strong, honest yet lyrical pen that brought to light the world of middle class urban Bengali women and their men, wedged painfully between convention, family ties and the not-too-distant lure of things more adventurous.
Who would now sketch the little joys and sorrows scavenged from the dark crevices and narrow winding alleys of Kolkata in everyday household conversation? Suchitra Bhattacharya’s ichher gaachh , meaning the wish tree (it is also the name of one of her novels based on the mother-son relationship with oedipal overtones) probably has a last wish for her— to rest in peace in the hearts of her readers, her fans and the middle class urban woman.
Mohua Mitra has translated Suchitra Bhattacharya’s work, Dahan
