In 1913, Rabindranath Tagore became the first writer of colour to get the Nobel Prize for Literature, “because of his profoundly sensitive, fresh and beautiful verse, by which, with consummate skill, he has made his poetic thought, expressed in his own English words, a part of the literature of the West”. It’s unusual for the prize to be awarded on the basis of a single work, but the Academy makes it pretty clear that the basis of its decision was this collection, translated into English by Tagore himself and published in November 1912, only twelve months before the Nobel Prize was awarded.
The collection has a rapturous foreword by W.B. Yeats and clearly caught the 1912-1913 Zeitgeist. Its 103 poems include 53 of the 157 in the original Bengali collection of the same name, and another 50 of Tagore’s other poems, freely translated.
Second paragraph of third poem (English version):
The light of thy music illumines the world.
The life breath of thy music runs from sky to sky.
The holy stream of thy music breaks through all stony obstacles and rushes on.
Second paragraph of third poem (Bengali version):
| পুরানো আবাস ছেড়ে যাই যবে, মনে ভেবে মরি কি জানি কি হবে, নূতনের মাঝে তুমি পুরাতন, সে কথা যে ভুলে যাই। দূরকে করিলে নিকট, বন্ধু, পরকে করিলে ভাই। | When I leave my old home, I wonder what will happen if I die, Among the new, you are old, That is a thing I forget. You bring the distant near, friend, And make the stranger a brother. |
I was not able to identify either the Bengali source verse of the English text above, or the English translation of the Bengali text given immediately after it.
I was somewhat bemused by the prominence that this collection of poems thrust upon Tagore. They are very strong expressions of devotion to the divine, without giving offence by supporting any one religion over another, and I found them a bit repetitive and not really inspiring. Tagore had a Hindu background, was and is very popular among Muslim Bengalis, and was writing here (well, translating here) for disaffected Christians. Perhaps I just was not in the mood.
Amartya Sen, in an essay about Tagore on the Nobel Prize website, argues convincingly that the intense but short-lived popularity of Gitanjali is not a fair reflection of Tagore’s talents. His reputation has endured in both India and Bangladesh, both of whose national anthems were written by him. Certainly I had previously read his The Home and the World, and enjoyed it much more, and I may continue my exploration.
One must also give Tagore credit as the first person on record as renouncing a knighthood awarded by the British state. He was knighted by George V in the 1915 New Year’s Honours (as were Lord Kitchener and General Haig), but after the Amritsar Massacre in 1919, he wrote to the Governor-General:
The disproportionate severity of the punishments inflicted upon the unfortunate people and the methods of carrying them out, we are convinced, are without parallel in the history of civilised governments…
The time has come when badges of honour make our shame glaring in their incongruous context of humiliation, and I for my part wish to stand, shorn of all special distinctions, by the side of my countrymen.
Well put.
You can get Gitanjali (with Yeats foreword) here.
Next in this sequence is a short novel, Reeds in the Wind by Italian writer Grazia Deledda.
