THREE SIDES OF LIFE
Edited by Saumitra Chakravarty,
Oxford, Rs 350

The title of this collection of fifteen short stories refers to a line in Rajlakshmi Devi’s Meye: “Open windows to three sides of life — fear sits at the other.” Each of the five “Bengali Women Writers” (Ashapurna Devi, Mahasweta Devi, Nabaneeta Dev Sen, Bani Basu and Suchitra Bhattacharya) opens magic casements for the readers, taking them to the far shores of life. Fear looms large over their tales, though the outcome is not always abject suffering.

In Mahasweta Devi’s “Love Story”, Kusum’s fear of social shame, for instance, coexists with her equally keen awareness of social outrage. Troubled by these contradictory emotions, she is able to turn only to herself for support: “So Kusum wept for herself.” These are not just tears of self-pity; rather they wash away the debris of Kusum’s tragic past. Most of the characters in these stories appear vulnerable to various kinds of fears — of life, death, loneliness or simply, of abandonment. But this trail of fear leaves behind a residue of self-discovery, a sense of empowerment even in unbelievably grim circumstances.

Admittedly, their central concerns — suffering, redemption and empowerment — could have turned these narratives into feminist manifestoes. The editor, with her intelligent selection of stories, avoids the ready and the easy way. Mahasweta Devi’s unsparing evaluation of the human condition, reinforced by her passionate style, leads into Dev Sen’s perceptive eye for details, reflected in the poignant touch of her prose. In “Abar Eschhe Asadh” (translated as “And the Rains Came Again”), the serene thoughtfulness of her earlier story, “The Kayak”, dissolves into hysterical laughter. Coming in between these two, “The Aftermath”, an imaginative sequel to The Ramayana, is laced with irony and black humour. It becomes a suitable companion to Suchitra Bhattacharya’s less successful re-writing of the myth of Madhobi, Yayati’s daughter. Dev Sen’s edginess is absent from Bhattacharya’s earnest feminism.

Ashapurna Devi, Suchitra Bhattacharya and Bani Basu set their tales closer home, in the heart of Bengali middle-class domesticity. These stories are haunted by the neglect of elderly people (in Bhattacharya’s “The Indir Thakuruns” and “Bonds”) and the wronged woman’s dream of retribution (Ashapurna Devi’s “Padmalata’s Dream” and Bani Basu’s “Shirish”) ending in ironic self-defeat.

In the ‘Introduction’, Tutun Mukherjee writes comprehensively about the history of emotions that these stories trace. Mukherjee sets out the theoretical context for Women’s Writing in Bengali, though her prose in this section reads a bit wooden. With the sketches of the individual writers, however, she becomes more lucid, and even engaging in places.

The translations are able to do justice to the originals. Sharmistha Dutta Gupta and Vikram Iyengar execute the difficult task of translating Mahasweta Devi’s fiery Bengali valiantly. Ahitagni Chakraborty is competent as well. However, the best comes from Krishna Sen. Her beautifully stylised English becomes the perfect vehicle to convey the verve and subtle nuances of Dev Sen’s tour de force, “And the Rains Came Again”. Saumitra Chakravarty’s translations of Bani Basu and Suchitra Bhattacharya are less forceful, maybe because the density of the Bengali originals is extremely difficult to capture in English. There have been a few editorial lapses, apart from several typos. (Anurupa has become Anupama on page 159.) Even with these errors the book remains entertaining and engaging.