LOOKING GLASS - The art of literary re-creation : Deepika Phukan

Noted translator Deepika Phukan who has introduced English readers to such works as Felanee talks about her experiences in bringing stories from a different language alive

At times, the translator is at loss. Has she been
successful in maintaining her fidelity to the author?
Has she been able to retain the flavour of the
original work? This doubt can be a
source of acute misery for the translator

Most Assamese short stories are beautifully seasoned and flavoured. The veteran writers are themselves seasoned; the flavour spills out naturally. Younger and upcoming writers have a completely different twist in their writings. It is in entirely new vistas, that open up into a huge canvas, of a medley of events and situations covering passion, crime, poverty, corruption, intrigues and pathos. They make for interesting and easy reading.

When I first started reading Assamese short stories, I had been battling cancer. During my most horrid hours, these stories helped to keep my mind away from my misery. That is when I decided to translate these stories. It seemed a pity that those of my friends who neither spoke nor understood the language were missing out on a good thing. Also I felt that these stories should get a wider exposure in other states of our country, and perhaps outside as well. That is when I had started translating some Assamese short stories into English.

My first venture was my book Moments. It was a collection of a dozen short stories, published by Cambridge India. Earlier, Arupa Patangia Kalita had asked me to translate Felanee. I had then told her, that I needed to gather enough courage to translate so many pages at one go. But I promised to translate the book, if and when I felt confident after my first venture with short stories. Moments included one of her stories too.

After Moments, I took a holiday from translating and wrote my own stories for a while. And then, I decided to translate Felanee. Arupa was delighted and so was I, for being confident. This was a most powerful novel that I had decided to translate! I looked forward to doing it.

It took me seven-and-half months to complete the translation. Zubaan very kindly agreed to publish the book. They did not know me, but they had previously published Dawn which had been authored by Arupa. They knew the quality of her writing.

It was while I worked on Felanee that I realised how difficult translation work could be, more so when the matter was as steeped in cultural contexts as this book was. There were Assamese expressions that were colloquial, but beautiful. They were faithful representations of a person’s moods of sullen resentment, sympathy, passion, love and hate. But translated into a different language, they soon lost their original essence and true flavour. To cite an example, the word abhiman does not have an English counterpart that would faithfully convey the mood of an Indian woman in an Indian setting. It is truly a very typical Assamese word portraying a very unique and subtle emotion.

Then, also, there are forms of address such as heri, hera and herou in Assamese. The first is a respectful address for a senior, the second is usually an affectionate address between husband and wife, which can also be used with youngsters, while the third is the common form of address reserved for a domestic help and also for children of the family. The word, used in context, automatically creates the mood of the situation. This cannot be conveyed in a different language. Also some of the colloquial expressions are beautiful but defy translation.

At times, the translator is at loss. Has she been successful in maintaining her fidelity to the author? Has she been able to retain the flavour of the original work? This doubt can be a source of acute misery for the translator.

While translating Felanee, it had been necessary for me to replenish my stock of swear words and not too pleasing abusive dialect, in keeping with the text.

Once the work is with the publishers, it is possible to set aside some parts of the original during editing. But then, the translator does not possess that right.

By the time I had completed translating the novel, I had decided that such work was no joke. When I finished, I decided once again to take a holiday from translating. I went back to my own writing and published The Plum Tree. It soothed me.

But then, I had this commitment to myself. I went back to translating many other short stories, Burhi Aair Xadhu and then Makam. In Burhi Aair Xadhu, I encountered the same problems with culture-based words. But I thoroughly enjoyed translating Makam. It made wonderful reading, and the language flowed naturally and smoothly. As such, translation was good going. Very rarely did I have to go back to my own work, with a sense of irritation or discontent. This translation brought to me a sense of freedom and fulfillment. The book was straightforward, educative and dotted both with anguish and humour. I was happy with what I produced by way of translation.

However, I do have this to say about translation. At the end of the day it makes you feel that it is really a thankless task. Considering the hours you spend on a paragraph to bring about the desired effect, it is after all a reproduction of a work of art produced by someone else. You can only hope that the author and the publisher would be happy with the work. In reproducing it in another language, you might even have recreated something. It might give you a sense of fulfillment, no doubt. But you are still taken for granted.

Publishers for translated work are difficult to come by, unless you are a renowned writer. Then, when you find a publisher, it is usually months or a couple of years, at least, before a translated book gets published and reaches the market. You tend to forget that yours is not the only job with the publishers. By that time your enthusiasm is at zero level.

Personally, I have been inordinately fortunate to have found a straightforward, reasonable and cooperative publisher like Zubaan. I have known many translators who have been fed up looking for a publisher for their translated work. Eventually, when they do find a publisher, they are disappointed with the terms offered. I fervently hope that things get better for translators in the coming years.