Friday, December 8, 2023

Many cities, many voices

A review of 'Masani Sahara Dilli'

Sailen Routray



Mashani Sahara Dilli is an important book for many reasons, one of which is its sheering honesty. This Odia novel tells us stories that are marginal to the aspirational India we are supposed to inhabit these days. These are narrated from the vantage point of Anurag, a Government of Odisha officer who is now posted in Delhi for work. He lives alone in the city (we do not know where his family lives, the novel is mostly silent about it) and explores Delhi primarily through his interactions with its subaltern characters. One of the first persons he seeks out is Ramdulal, an elderly Dalit shoe repair person, who has a stall not far from where Anurag lives.

Over his stay in Delhi, Anurag becomes friends with Ramdulal, visits his stall even when he does not have any work to share cups of tea, sometimes visiting Ramdulal’s home in Sarita Vihar which he shares with his children, his wife being there no more. Over the course of his acquaintance with Ramdulal, Anurag gets to know of his decades long struggle to get a foothold in Delhi, after leaving his village in UP’s Rae Barely district. After spending nearly five decades in the city, he has finally put down roots in Delhi. His son works as a mechanic. His daughter takes care of the house and the household. 

Ramdulal’s story provides the backbone to the structure of the novel, albeit a makeshift one. Through multiple visits, Anurag gets his life story out for us, one episode at a time. This story is perhaps, unfortunately, a common one. A Dalit adolescent orphaned by the murder of his father by upper caste men over a trivial matter, Ramdulal suddenly has to fend for himself after his mother also dies of the shock. Finding it difficult to make a living as a shoeshine boy working in trains, while living in the home of his maternal uncle, he leaves for Delhi where over a period of time he finds community and family.

Through Ram Dulal’s story, the novel also provides a micro history of the slum areas of Sarita Vihar locality, where after his first few explorations in the city, Ramdulal settles down. He finds a mentor in Chandulal, who helps him clear a plot of land and put down roots. Around the same time, Ramdulal falls in love with Chhabeli, an orphaned Dalit girl who works as a sweeper in the road on which Ramdulal has a stall, and they decide to become man and wife. 

Through descriptions of the visits that Anurag makes to the Sarita Vihar slums, we get a sense of the ethnographic history of this area. Around half a century back, the area was almost a jungle through which a stream flowed. Dalits and Muslims first settled in the area, slowly cleared the forest, bearing the brunt of wild beasts such as the boars who roamed the place and often attacked people. 

This ethnographic eye is visible when Anurag describes other encounters as well. On a park he comes in contact with a group of young and middle-aged plumbers from Kendrapada with whom he becomes pally. He also gets to know a community belonging to a caste known as ‘Ganaa’ from Western Odisha, who started migrating to Delhi from the time the British shifted the capital to the city in 1911. We also come to know of other aspects of micro communities such as the living conditions of those inhabiting the servant quarters of bureaucrats on rent and the festivities of the Nepali community in his neighborhood. 

But all through this, the story that acts as the backbone of the novel is that of Ramdulal. We get to hear of Ramdulal’s history from multiple vantage points. Sometimes the point of view is that of Anurag whose telling occasionally slips into that of the omniscient third person narrator. On other occasions we hear the narrative as a first person account from Ramdulal himself, which suddenly gives it an intimacy and immediacy we often encounter in Dalit autobiographies.

Through the reactions that Ramdulal’s story produces in Anurag we get to know that Anurag is himself Dalit, who often encountered discrimination in school in his village as a student. The same experiences continue in his office in Delhi now, where casteist colleagues often disparage him because of his jati background and create difficult conditions at work. 

As a Dalit who is conscious of structures of oppression, Anurag is often impatient of the apparently simple minded Ramdulal who believes in gods and goddesses and visits the local temple regularly, which seems to be the center of sociality in the area, anchored by an orthodox priest. But through a process of continuous engagement, Anurag and Ramdulal come to know each other’s lifeworlds and motivations better. 

This book is perhaps autobiographical in nature, at least in parts. Basudev Sunani, the author, was posted in Delhi for a few years (as he mentions in the dedication of the novel to his wife ‘Sanu’), like Anurag, the protagonist. The latter’s voice seems substantively identifiable with that of the author himself. He often comes to stand in for the author. 

We see Delhi through Anurag’s eyes. The only reason why a character is introduced in the novel is because Anurag comes across him in Delhi. Therefore, this enforces a certain episodic nature on the narration. This has perhaps led to the division of the book into chapters with titles. Despite this, however, the book can feel meandering at times. This has perhaps more to do with ineffective editing than any structural reasons. 

Nonetheless, the novel does manage to hold one’s interest all throughout and is an engaging read. This has to do with the natures of the stories themselves for which the novel acts as a vessel. My biggest quibble is with the title itself, which literally means ‘Delhi – The Graveyard City.’ Perhaps it was better titled as ‘Delhi – The City of Rebirth,’ as it is filled with stories of grit, survival and flourishing against great odds, stories that only an urban space like Delhi seems to make possible. 

Bibliographic Details: Basudev Sunani. 2020. Mashani Sahara Delhi. Bhubaneswar: Vishwamukti Publications. 384 Pages. Rs. 450. [Cover by Jayant Parmar]. 

Note: This piece was first published with the title ‘Migrants and Micro-Communities’ in The Book Review 46 (7).

Friday, December 1, 2023

ଚିତ୍ତ ବର୍ଗ ୧-୨

ପାଲି 'ଧର୍ମପଦ'ର ଓଡ଼ିଆ ପଦ୍ୟାନୁବାଦ

ଅନୁବାଦକ - ଶୈଲେନ ରାଉତରାୟ


ଫଟୋ କ୍ରେଡ଼ିଟ୍ - ୱିକିମିଡିଆ କମନ୍ସ୍ 

ଓଡ଼ିଆ ପଦ୍ୟାନୁବାଦ


ଚିତ୍ତ ଅଟଇ ସ୍ପନ୍ଦନଶୀଳ ଓ ଚପଳ 
ଚିତ୍ତର ରକ୍ଷା ଓ ନିବାରଣ ଯେ ଦୁଷ୍କର ।।
ମେଧାବୀ ଜନ ଏହାକୁ ସଳଖ କରନ୍ତି
ଇଷୁକାର ଯେମନ୍ତେ ନାରାଚ ନିର୍ମାଣନ୍ତି ।୧।

ଜଳପିପ୍ପିକା ଉଦକଗୃହୁ ଆକର୍ଷିତ 
ହୋଇ ଯେପରି ସ୍ଥଳରେ  ହୁଅଇ ନିକ୍ଷିପ୍ତ ।।
ସେହିପରି ଭାବରେ ଯେ ପୁଣ ଏହି ଚିତ୍ତ 
ମାରର ରାଜ୍ୟତ୍ୟାଗକୁ ହୁଅଇ ବ୍ୟଥିତ ।୨।

ମୂଳ ପାଲି ପଦ


ଫନ୍ଦନଂ ଚପଳଂ ଚିତ୍ତଂ ଦୁରକ୍ଖଂ ଦୁନ୍ନିବାରୟଂ ।
ଉଜୁଂ କରୋତି ମେଧାବୀ ଉସୁକାରୋ'ବ ତେଜନଂ ।୧।

ବାରିଜୋ'ବ ଥଳେ ଖିତ୍ତୋ ଓକମୋକତ ଭବ୍ଭତୋ ।
ପରିଫନ୍ଦତି'ଦଂ ଚିତ୍ତଂ ମାରଧେୟ୍ୟଂ ପହାତବେ ।୨। 

ଅନୁବାଦକୀୟ ଟୀକା: ଏହି ଅଧମ ଅନୁବାଦକକୁ ପାଲି ଜଣା ନାହିଁ । ଏଣୁ ଏହି ପଦ୍ୟାନୁବାଦଟି ପାଇଁ ତାହାର ମୂଳ ସହାୟ ହେଲା  ପ୍ରଫେସର ପ୍ରହ୍ଲାଦ ପ୍ରଧାନଙ୍କ ଦ୍ୱାରା ସମ୍ପାଦିତ 'ପାଲି ଧର୍ମପଦ' ଗ୍ରନ୍ଥଟି, ଯେଉଁଥିରେ ସେ ସଂସ୍କୃତ ରୂପାନ୍ତର ସହ ଓଡ଼ିଆ ଗଦ୍ୟାନୁବାଦ କରିଯାଇଛନ୍ତି । ଗ୍ରନ୍ଥଟିର ପ୍ରଥମ ସଂସ୍କରଣ ୧୯୭୮ ମସିହାରେ ପ୍ରକାଶିତ । କିନ୍ତୁ ଏହି ଅନୁବାଦକ ୧୯୯୪ ମସିହାରେ କଟକସ୍ଥ ପ୍ରକାଶନ ସଂସ୍ଥା ଫ୍ରେଣ୍ଡ୍‌ସ୍‌ ପବ୍ଲିଶର୍ସ ଛାପିଥିବା ଦ୍ୱିତୀୟ ସଂସ୍କରଣଟି ବ୍ୟବହାର କରିଛି । ଏହା ଛଡ଼ା ଏହି ପଦ୍ୟାନୁବାଦ କରିବା ପାଇଁ 'ଦି ସେକ୍ରେଡ଼୍ ବୁକ୍ସ୍ ଅଫ୍ ଦି ଇଷ୍ଟ୍' ସିରିଜ୍‌ରେ ମାକ୍ସ୍ ମ୍ୟୁଲର୍‌ଙ୍କ ଦ୍ୱାରା ସମ୍ପାଦିତ 'ଦି ଧମ୍ମପଦ' ଇଂରାଜି ଗ୍ରନ୍ଥଟିର ୨୦୧୩ ମସିହାରେ ରୁଟ୍‌ଲେଜ୍ ଛାପିଥିବା ସଂସ୍କରଣଟିର ମଧ୍ୟ ବ୍ୟବହାର କରାଯାଇଛି । 

Wednesday, November 29, 2023

Permission

Basudev Sunani

Translated by Sailen Routray

Photo Credit: commons.wikimedoa.org/Raamleaks

May I be granted the permission sir!
May I rest for a while?
 
As per your order
the shades have been swept,
the goats have been fed,
your drains have been cleaned.
There will be no foul smell now.
 
I have bee beating 
the drums for your entertainment 
for ages now,
And my fingers crave for stillness.
May I rest for a while?
 
I feel the sweat of my forefathers,
my gods, my spirits.
 
Therefore, 
my dear sir,
an hour’s rest is almost salutary,
since I stink of sweat 
and of a few other things.
 
I wait for the sweet hour 
of your fulfillment
and some hint of completion 
of my fly-infested life.
 
Even waiting induces exhaustion, 
my dear sir,
especially after millennia.
Therefore, 
may I rest for a while, 
my dear sir?
As even a dork like me 
knows the arts of minor rebellions.

Translator's Note: Basudev Sunani (b. 1962) is one of the foremost poetic voices of his generation in Odia literature. He has a body of prose in the form of novels, monographs and essays in the language as well.

Wednesday, November 22, 2023

ଜୟଦେବ ବିହାର 

ଶୈଲେନ ରାଉତରାୟ


ଜୟଦେବ ବିହାର ଛକ (ଫଟୋ କ୍ରେଡ଼ିଟ୍ - ୱିକିମିଡିଆ କମନ୍ସ୍)

ମତେ ରାତିରେ ଗାଡ଼ି ଧରି ବୁଲିବାକୁ ଭଲ ଲାଗେ । ପାଗ ଭଲ ଥିଲେ ଚାଲିଚାଲି ମଧ୍ୟ । ତମର ମୁଁ ଡେରିରେ ଘରକୁ ଫେରିଲେ ଡର । ତମେ ଏଠି ନଥିଲେ ବି । ବିଶେଷତଃ ତମେ ଏଠି ନଥାଇ ସେଠି ଥିଲେ । ହେଲେ ଭୁବନେଶର ବାକି ସବୁ ସହର ଭଳି ରାତିରେ ହିଁ ଭଲ ଲାଗେ ।

ଆମେ ରାତିରେ ବୁଲି ବାହାରିଚେ । ଖାଇ ପିଇ । କାମଦାମ ସବୁ ସାରି । ରାତି ଆଠଟା ପର ହେଲାଣି । ଜ୍ୟେଷ୍ଠ ମାସ । ହେଲେ ଆଜି ଗୁଳୁଗୁଳି ଆଉ ନାହିଁ । ଆମେ ଘରୁ ବାହାରି ଇନ୍‌ଫୋସିଟି ଛକ, ଡମଣା, ନାଲ୍‌କୋ ସ୍କୋୟାର୍, ଜୟଦେବ ବିହାର ଟ୍ରାଫିକରୁ ଡାହାଣକୁ ଯାଇ ଫ୍ଲାଏଓଭର ଧରିଲେ ।

ପାଞ୍ଚ କିଲୋମିଟର ଖଣ୍ଡେ ଝୁଲନ୍ତା ରାସ୍ତା । ବାଟ ଦୁଇ ପାଖରେ ଗଛ, ଆଲୁଅ । ଗାଡ଼ିସବୁ ଉପରୁ ଦିଶୁଚି ମିଟିମିଟି ଯେମିତି ଭବିଷ୍ୟତ ଆଖିମିଟିକା ମାରି ତମ ପାଖକୁ କୁତୁରିପିଆଙ୍କ ଭଳି ଆସି, ସାଏଁ କିନା ଅତୀତ ହେଇଯାଉଚି ।

ଆମେ ବେଶି ଜୋରରେ ଯାଉନେ । ହେଇ ହେଇ ଚାଳିଶ କି ପଚାଶ । ଦେହରେ ପବନ ବାଜୁଚି । ଥଣ୍ଡା ନହେଲେ ବି ଗରମ ନୁହେଁ, ଆରାମଦାୟକ । ପରପ୍ପରକୁ ସଲସଲ କଲା ଭଳି ।

ଆମେ ଏମ୍ସ୍ ପାଖ ସର୍ଭିସ୍ ରାସ୍ତାରେ ଫ୍ଲାଏଓଭର ତଳେ କଟି ୟୁଟର୍ଣ୍ଣ ନେଇ ଫେରି, ଖଣ୍ଡଗିରି ଛକରୁ ବାଁକୁ ଯାଉଚେ ଚନ୍ଦକା ଆଡ଼କୁ । ବେଶି ବାଟ ନୁହେଁ । ତମକୁ ଡର ।

ଏ ସବୁ ଏରିଆ ଏବେ ଯେମିତି ଲାଗୁଚି, କାନନ ବିହାର ମୋ ପିଲାବେଳେ ସେମିତି ଥିଲା

ଦିଶୁଚି ନିଛାଟିଆ, ଶୁନ୍‌ଶାନ୍, ହେଲେ ଘରୁଆ । ଛୋଟ ସହରଟିଏ ବହୁତ କଷ୍ଟ କରି ବଡ଼ ହେବା ପାଇଁ ନିଜ ଚେଷ୍ଟାରେ ଫେଲ ମାରିଲା ପରି । ଯେମିତି ମୁଁ ଭଲ ସ୍ୱାମୀଟିଏ ହେବାକୁ ନାଗିନାଗି ବିଫଳ

ଫେରିଲା ବେଳକୁ ଜୟଦେବ ବିହାର ଛକ ଟପିଲା ପରେ ମୁଁ ତୁମକୁ କହୁଚି, ଦେଖୁଚ ଏତେ ରାତିରେ ବି କେତେ ଗହଳି?”

ସତେ ତ ଆମର ତ ସେପଟେ ଏବେ ରାସ୍ତାରେ କେହି ଜଣେ ବି ନଥିବେ

ହଉ ଏଥର ଆମେ ତମ ଘରକୁ ମିଶିକି ଗଲେ ଡେରି ରାତିରେ ବୁଲିବାଚାଲିଚାଲି ନା ତମ ସ୍କୁଟରରେ?”

ପାଗଳ କେଉଁଠିକାର । ଯାଃ 

Wednesday, November 15, 2023

Hit

Bharat Majhi

Translated by Sailen Routray


Top view of Kantanagar Temple, Bangladesh
Photo Credit: commons.wikimedia.org/
Pinu Rahman

You said that the rivers 
that know the art of flowing, 
meet the ocean.
I replied,
the ocean does now know
how to flow.

You said that the sky holds up 
the ever moving horizon.
I replied,
the sky does not know
how to move.

You said that it is possible 
to kill one’s thirst with a drop of blood, 
or with a tongue-full of touch.
I replied,
even thirsts know 
of the science of rebirth.

You lectured at me
about existential solitude,
forgetting that I am yet to cease 
being a cascading waterfall of reverberations.   

Note: The poet, Bharat Majhi (born in 1972 in Kalahandi), works in an Odia language media house in Bhubaneswar. He has published nine volumes of poems in a poetic career spanning more than three decades. Amongst other recognitions, he has won the Bhubaneswar Book Fair Award in 2008 and the Sanskriti Award in 2004. 

Wednesday, November 8, 2023

ଜଗନ୍ନାଥ ନାମ ସୁଖଦାୟୀ

ଶୈଲେନ ରାଉତରାୟ


ପଶ୍ଚିମ ବଙ୍ଗର କାଲ୍‌ନା ସ୍ଥିତ ଜଗନ୍ନାଥ ମନ୍ଦିର
ଫୋଟ କ୍ରେଡ଼ିଟ୍ - ୱିକିମିଡିଆ କମନ୍ସ୍/ ରଙ୍ଗନ ଦତ୍ତ

ଭଜରେ ମନ ଜଗନ୍ନାଥ ନାମ ସୁଖଦାୟୀ
ଭଜି ନ ପାରିଲେ ଧନ ତିନି ପୁରେ ଠାବ ତୋ'ର ନାହିଁ ।୦।

ଧନ ଦାରା ସୁତେ ମଜ୍ଜି ବେଳ ଗଲା ସରି ।
ଶମନ ପାଶରୁ ତୁହି ଯିବୁ କି ଉବୁରି ?
ରଖିଲେ ରଖିବେ ରମାସାଇଁ ।୧।

ନୀଳାଚଳେ ଅଛି ସେ କି କହ ବଡ଼ଦାଣ୍ଡେ ?
ଖୋଜିଲେ ପାଇବୁ ତା'କୁ ନିଜର ଏ' ପିଣ୍ଡେ ।
ବିକଳେ ହେଜିଲେ ଯାଇ ପାଇ ।୨।

ଚକା ପାରି ବସ ତୁହି ଦେହ କରି ଥିର ।
କଟିକୁ ସଳଖ କର, ନ ଖୋଲ ତୁ ଗିର ।
ନାସାମୂଳେ ଦେଖ ସେ ଦିଶଇ ।୩।

ମନରେ ରଟିବୁ ସାଙ୍ଗ ନ ଧରିବୁ ମୁଖେ ।
ଦନ୍ତ ଓଷ୍ଠ ନ ହଲାଇ ଜପିବୁ ସଳଖେ ।
ମଉନରେ ସିନା ତା'କୁ ଧ୍ୟାଇ ।୪।

ଭଜି ଭଜି ଯେବେ ବନ୍ଧୁ ମନ ଲୟ ହେବ ।
ସେବେ ଯାଇ ତୋ' କରମ ବିପାକ ସରିବ ।
ଶୁଦ୍ର ସିଲୁ ରାଉତ ଭଣଇ ।୫।

Wednesday, November 1, 2023

I shall arise

Bharat Majhi

Translated by Sailen Routray


Residence of the erstwhile rulers of the princely state of Kalahandi
Photo Credit: commons.wikimedia.org/ Siddhant Naik

I shall arise and milk 
the wind and the three worlds.

Those of you, 
who have been awake till now,
have you been able to tell 
a tree for a tree, 
a river for a river,
a flower for a flower,
a bird for a bird?

Have you been able 
to get drenched in the rains 
and get scorched in the sun 
and in the white heat of the dew? 
Have you been able to play marbles
at some unknown square,
revolve with the abandon of tops;
and fly kites reaching 
the other end of the earth?

You had never opened your doors. 
The only activity that was going on 
was the hanging of oil paintings on the walls,
and the vague recognition that 
this is the morning; 
that is the evening;
this is the monsoon; 
and those are the winter and the spring;
this is a tree; 
that is a flower;
this is a parakeet; 
and that is a deer.

Remember,
that when it seemed 
as if one was lost in sleep, 
I was busy searching for dreams, 
where I was a pair of scales, 
weighing torn oil paintings in some junkyard. 

Note: The poet, Bharat Majhi (born in 1972 in Kalahandi), works in an Odia language media house in Bhubaneswar. He has published nine volumes of poems in a poetic career spanning more than three decades. Amongst other recognitions, he has won the Bhubaneswar Book Fair Award in 2008 and the Sanskriti Award in 2004. 

ବାଳ ବର୍ଗ ୭ ପାଲି 'ଧର୍ମପଦ'ର ଓଡ଼ିଆ ପଦ୍ୟାନୁବାଦ ଅନୁବାଦକ - ଶୈଲେନ ରାଉତରାୟ ଇଣ୍ଡୋନେସିଆ ଦେଶର ବୋରବୋଦୁର ସ୍ତୁପ ଫଟୋ କ୍ରେଡ଼ିଟ - ୱିକିମିଡିଆ କମନ୍ସ୍ ଓଡ...