Posted by on Nov 20, 2014 in Miscellaneous Translations | 0 comments

[In his Sampadaker Boithake, Sagarmoy Ghosh recounts how a young and unknown Bibhutibhusan Bandopadhyay was discovered by a man who patronized literature and litterateurs. Translated excerpts…..]

You know Bangalitola (the locality of the Bengalis)? The Bangalitola of Bhagalpur? The Ganguly’s of Bangalitola were a very aristocratic family, it was Sarat Chandra’s maternal uncle’s house. Sarat Chandra spent his boyhood and adolescence in that house. Our Upen-da belonged to that family. He graduated in law from Calcutta and came to Bhagalpur to work as a lawyer. But even during his student days in Calcutta he remained addicted to literature, his writings were published in such journals as ‘Bharatbarsha’ and ‘Sahitya’ and he had by then even earned literary fame.

Even when the Kabuliwallah (natives of Afghanistan who used to vend dry fruits, essences etc. from house to house in Calcutta) leaves his bag of asafoetida at home, his whole being smells of it. In the same manner when Upen-da left his literary pursuits in Calcutta and came to Bhagalpur to join the legal profession and to earn money, he began to patronize a literary association there. The man was not only addicted to literature but he also loved the company of others. Every evening in the drawing room of his house, there would assemble an intimate group of friends for a session of discussion. Songs were sung, stories would be told in a thoroughly delightful manner and discussions about literature would follow suit.
sampadaker boithake_2

In Bhagalpur such a literary atmosphere was created since olden days. In those informal chat sessions at Upen-da’s, many Bengalis would come and go uninvited, but nobody seemed to mind.

In those days an unknown Bengali young man was a regular visitor to those sessions. He wore short dhoti that touched his knees and over it he would wear a punjabi made of ‘Markin’ cloth, washed with his own hand and never smoothed and ironed. In one hand he would have a lantern, and a stick on the other. Every evening he would come, sit silently and unknown in the last row behind all the others and the discussions over, he would depart as silently as he came. No one thought it necessary even to know who he was. His only identity was that he used to attend those adda sessions. Who cared for his past?

Winter came after autumn, then the spring and summer. You know the summer in Bhagalpur, when the sun is out, it is not possible to come out of the house and people heave a sigh of relief only after sundown. The court was closed. Upen-da was writing a new novel and kept to his room all day and when the evening descended, he would come to his drawing room and eagerly wait for the arrival of his friends. On one such day a howling Nor’wester came and blew all the dust. Upen-da felt sad. Will anyone come today in the face of this storm? He felt dejected but the compulsions of daily habit kept him sitting at his drawing room. That day the windows were closed because of the storm. Darkness descended outside, the storm was less intense but a few drops of rain fell. Upen-da opened the door and as he looked out, he could see the faint light of a lantern slowly approaching his house accompanied by a shadowy figure. Upen-da gave a sigh of relief, at least he would have one companion that evening and the evening would be spent well, he hoped.

When that shadowy figure finally reached his verandah and appeared in physical form, Upen-da felt a little disheartened. Although he had been observing this person for the last five or six months in his drawing room sessions almost every day, the man appeared very taciturn and shy. He would speak very little and whatever he would say was so bereft of any humour or cheer. What would he discuss of literature with such a person, let alone derive some literary pleasure?
sampadaker boithake

Upen-da used to try and find the character of his stories and novels from the people he met. He thought that in this apparently dumb and meek person, he might discover some ingredients for his novel. With that purpose in mind he accepted the visitor as his guest that evening. On entering the room the person kept his umbrella, stick and lantern against the wall and went back to that last bench where he used to sit every day.

Upen-da protested vehemently. “Why would you sit so far back, come here to this chair in front.

The visitor replied diffidently, “Oh, but many others would come, would it be right for me to take their place?”

Upen-da assured him:” You needn’t hesitate, no one will come today braving such an inclement weather. You please come to the front.”

The man came to the front chair with much hesitation and as soon as he settled in it, Upen-da said, “You come to our sessions every day but I am not yet acquainted with you. Actually, for a session of discussion, no identity is necessary; if the face is known the person becomes an eternal acquaintance. But may I know your name?”

“My name is Bibhutibhusan Bandyopadhyay…”

“What do you do here?”

“I came here from Calcutta to attend my duties. I am employed here.”

“You came to Bhagalpur from Calcutta for a job? You couldn’t find any in that city?”
sampadaker boithake_4
Perhaps Upen-da’s own covert repentance for leaving Calcutta coloured his question. His soul wasn’t willing to leave his literary pursuits in Calcutta and to come here and get established in the legal profession for the sake of money only seemed very foolish to him. So he felt for his visitor and tried to console him…

“If you tried you could have a job in Calcutta.”

“I got a teaching job but couldn’t adjust to it. That’s why I came here as the manager of Khelat Ghosh’s landed property.”

“Khelat Ghosh’s lands? That’s so far away! It is at least four or five miles away from here. Moreover don’t you have to come through a deep forest?”

“Yes, I have to walk for a few miles negotiating my path through the forest.”

Upen-da became tongue-tied. After a few moments he said…

“You come here every day finding your way through this deep forest? Aren’t you afraid? I have heard that there are wild beasts in this forest…and then there’s no dearth of snakes.”

Bibhuti-babu gave a shy smile and said:”What is there to fear? What if ferocious animals are there? If I don’t attack them, they would do nothing to me. Moreover this jungle holds a fascination for me, I am infatuated with it. And snakes? See this stick…as long as I have that in hand, I am not afraid of anything.”

Upen-da bubbled with a hidden sense of happiness and discovery. What a strange man this is, he thought.

He asked,”Will you tell me why you make such an effort to come here and then sit quietly all evening? You come for what, what is the attraction?”

“How do I explain to you why I come! What is the attraction….hum…Even before coming to Bhagalpur I have heard of your place here.I have heard that Sarat Chandra grew up here, that this is the birthplahce of his literary meditations. Moreover well-known literary figures like Anurupa Devi and Kedar Bandyopadhyay used to attend these discussions here.This house is a place of pilgrimage for me. Then you are here. The literary renown of this house was known to me even in Calcutta.”
sampadaker boithake_3
The ideas that Upen-da formed in his mind about his timid visitor now gradually began to transform as his guest began to reveal his soul to him and Upen-da could feel that deep inside the man’s mind there were those faint and yet stirring signs that reveal the soul of an artist.

“Do you secretly indulge in the practice of literature?” Upen-da asked…………