There
are numerous technical matters to be handled by a translator, particularly one
from the region, finds Ranjita Biswas
Ever since Sofia Coppola’s film Lost in Translation (2003) set in Japan earned critical acclaim,
the title has often been used while referring to a branch in literary work,
though the view has been in circulation in sections of the academia for quite
some time. In short, the belief that a
creative work in translation loses something in the process from the original,
that the act of translation, or transliteration if you may, gives the reader a
bastardised version of the writer’s work. There is, of course, the other view,
and honestly more accepted today, that without the act of translation, readers
worldwide would have been deprived of appreciation of some of the greatest
works of the world. Coming nearer home, with so many listed regional languages
recognised under the Constitution, only translation into English, or another
language from the source, say Assamese-Hindi or vice-versa, could introduce the
booklover to the literature of the ‘other’.
As Vanamala Viswanatha has said: “Translation is above all a
dialogic process, one that pre-supposes cultural exchange and transfer. Whether
necessitated by trade, propelled by propaganda or activated by an interest in
intra/inter-cultural dialogue, translation activity remains a phenomenon that
cut across culture, sociology, linguistics, anthropology and literature” (Routes: Representations of the West in
Short Fiction from South India in Translation). She goes on to say: “As an
‘interfield’, to borrow a term from cultural ties, translation allows all of
these seemingly separate disciplines to interface and gain new dimensions.”
Talking about literature from the Northeast, it is
undeniable that most of the works in translation have been from the Brahmaputra
Valley, though, of late, talented writers from other states have taken up
writing, translaing and, most importantly, weaving the oral traditions which
figure majorly in tribal societies into the stories.
In Mamang Dai’s The
Legends of Pensam the stories of the Adi tribe of Arunachal Pradesh that
encompass myths and oral histories do not seem to be translated but echo in the
present as if they have been flowing seamlessly from time immemorial to this
day. The word pensam means
‘in-between’ — a middle ground — “but it may also be interpreted as the hidden
spaces of the heart where a secret garden grows.”
 |
| Most
of the works in translation have been from the Brahmaputra Valley, though of late writers from other states have taken up writing, translating and weaving oral traditions into the stories |
One realises that traditions reflecting a community’s values
and beliefs, whether in direct translation or transcreated into the narrative,
give readers a glimpse of a tiny corner of a world and also preserve, in print,
nuggets of oral history. Temsula Ao of Nagaland also blends the oral and the
written sensitively in her stories. In her poem The Old Story Teller, Ao seems to say the same:
I have lived my life
believing
storytelling was my
proud legacy
The ones I inherited
From grandfather
became
My primary treasure
And the ones I
garnered
From other chronicles
Added to the lore.
Lately, Assamese short stories have been increasingly
finding a forum in their translated versions. Like the oral stories getting
translated into English, in Assamese, too, the challenge remains how to bring
out the essence of the local culture but at the same time not hinder the text.
Today some publishers do not italicise the Indian words in English, letting the
words flow along and even avoid footnotes. Whether it is a hindrance to a
foreign reader or to those unfamiliar with the nuances even within the country
is debatable.
But translators can
try to bring out the flavour of the source material by adding qualifiers
subtly: “Like her, a couple of others
also sit by the roadside, hawking vegetables such as baah ganj — tender shoots
of bamboo, dhekia fronds and kosu tubers” (Guilt,
Harekrishna Deka, translated by Mitra Phukan).
However, there are moments when a choice has to be made
while translating local idioms. In the story “Crows, Crows and Crows” (Kawri, Kawri, Kawri by Bhupendra
Narayan Bhattacharya which the writer translated) there is a place where the
character called Crow, on seeing his boss just when he was preparing to take
French leave from the office uses the local idiom: jote baghar bhoy, tate rati hoy, which roughly translates to ‘night
falls at a place where you know tigers abound’. Instead of making it too
long-winded, disturbing the flow of the story, it was translated thus: “I
suppose it always happens like this. What you fear most will always take
place.”
But sometimes it reads better if some sentences are kept
intact from original because a translation may even spoil the mood of the
story. For example, Harendra Kumar Bhuyan’s Assamese story Rainmaker translated by Apratim Barua, begins with the line “Allah megh de, paani de.”
Another problem a translator may encounter especially is
when it involves doing it from Indian regional languages into English or other
foreign languages sans the social formalities we practice. For example, address
forms. In an Indian language such an expression can establish a relationship: a
peha is not the same as khura in Assamese. So blanketing it as
‘uncle’ does not bring out the same essence and it may not even be contextual.
This is also true of address forms like a tumi
and aapuni as ‘you’ does not very
well bring in the subtle difference.
Arunava Sinha, whose translation of Bengali novel
Chowringhee by Shankar has been a huge hit at home and abroad, tackles this
problem neatly by adding non-intrusive explanations as in his new translation A Tale of the Times from Buddhadeva
Bose’s Tithidore:
‘You..’ . Using the
formal aapni the professor noticed the books in Swati’s hands. Pausing abruptly
– and avoiding both the
formal aapni and the less formal tumi — he mumbled ‘From college?’
Finding evocative words for local abusive words is not easy
either because some of them are so rooted in the land and culture that it
simply is not possible to create the same impact while in translation.
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