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Hindi Short Stories

I propose to publish henceforth on this blog, in a series translations done by me, some of the finest short stories written in Hindi by eminent Hindi writers, though little known among non-Hindi knowing national or international readership, or even among the common readers familiar with the contemporary short story scene in Hindi. In Art, the real merit of a work lies in the work, and not in name of the artist. Read these stories by some lesser-known Hindi writers, most of them from Bihar, whose fictional writings are much lesser known even in the contemporary Hindi literary scene. These stories were published in a collection with the title I AM A WOMAN FIRST (in 2021), selected and translated by me in English. It begins with my Introduction written for this book, followed in this post by a remarkable O.Henryesque brief story  written originally in Hindi by an eminent Professor of English Dr D P Vidyarthy. This series will continue every month on the first Sunday. The next serial shall be the title story of the book 'I am a Woman First' by the eminent Bihari fictionist Raja Radhika Raman with an introductory story of how he wrote a thousand-page novel on a wager to compete with William Thackeray's famous novel 'The Vanity Fair'. I would love to read your comments on these stories published serially on this blog henceforth.

Introduction

 

What is a ‘short story’? Does the modifying tag ‘short’ indicate its length or size, or does the appellative signify some other quality? Obviously a physical measure of any literary work cannot be defined in terms of any particular length or size . When we write a short story we know that it doesn’t have its boundary lines drawn like a straitjacket Petrarchan sonnet. A short story can be of only two pages or even twenty pages. ‘Short’ therefore is not a modifier here in its usual sense of size or length. At best, it is a neutral modifier of the traditional and free form of a ‘story’ loosely meant to distinguish it from its arch rival novel which again is totally free from any such limitation of length. And because the central element of the ‘story’ is integrally common to both, the modifier ‘short’ is surely a distinctive definer.  It only means that ‘short’ is a general distinguishing term which only signifies that both the novel and the short story are modern derivatives of the genus ‘story’, except for their undefined length. For instance, when we speak of a ‘long short story’ ( as we often do in case of longer stories like Melville’s ‘Billy Budd’, or Henry James’s ‘The Turn of the Screw’ – also, sometimes termed as novelettes) or a ‘short short story’ we certainly consider ‘short story’ not as a ‘measured unit’ but as a specific literary genre – like an essay, or a lyric or a play where the length of the work is quite flexible and proportional to the nature of its content and theme.

The ‘novel’ itself as a distinct literary genre emerged first in an age of industrial revolution in the 18th century in England where the term ‘novel’ emphasized only the novelty of the form – with distinctive suggestions of its being in prose and its closeness to the temporal world - to distinguish it from the other traditional literary genres like epic or lyric poetry or drama. And as the modern age of democracy and science evolved with the importance of the individual, particularly after the Romantic revival, by the dawn of the next century, with the increasing reduction of leisure in life, a shorter form of fiction was necessitated which had to be distinguished from the larger form of the ‘novel’ because both had in them the ‘story’ as the highest common factor – with all its ingredients of characterization, dialogue, progression of events from a beginning, through a middle, to an end. Thus was born the modern genre of the ‘shot story’.

The ‘short story’ vis-à-vis the ‘novel’ then is what a ‘short cameo’ is to a full-length film! Their genus is the same, with the story at the core – as the spine in its anatomy. The traditional story-telling attribute is essential to both. In both, we have the same story-teller and the listener, in a one-to-one relationship, as they have been for centuries. But a time came when the ‘story’ had to be curtailed into a ‘short story’, not by any defined limitation of length or size - even though length had become a distinctive feature with the reduction of leisure and other similar constraints - but by a distinctive quality of ‘intensity’ or condensation, which Edgar Allan Poe (famous as the American ‘progenitor of the modern short story’) designated as ‘unity of effect or impression’. Also, this formula of ‘unity of impression’ was something vitally related to time constraints of modern living and to the developments in modern psychology: the concepts of attention span, emotional sensitivity, psychic complexity, ‘stream of consciousness’, and so forth.

Poe was not only among the finest short story writers of his time, he was also the first critical theorist of the new genre with stipulations of the ‘unique or single effect’, ‘economy of management’, ‘each word and detail contributing to the total effect’, and so on. In his short stories (which he alternatively designated as ‘tales’) he strove towards a ‘single effect’ created by incidents chosen with economy and a rigorous sense of necessity in the design. In course of its development in the 20th century the ‘short story’ acquired more modernist traits like limited characters with no sustained development of character, no prior exposition, or no details of setting, beginning close to or on the verge of the climax, sparseness in the narrative giving higher visibility to the artistry, and so forth. It was to be a world in brief compass, with its ‘unity of impression’ imparting a feeling of totality by concentrating on a single character, event or emotion and by compression and the avoidance of digression or repetition. These stipulations themselves gave the ‘short story’ a dramatic pattern and significance in experience  that were new and distinctive.

These changes, in the historical march of modern civilization, demanded a fresh look on the  story element traditionally used as an essential ingredient in the novel, or even in drama and poetry – and most of all, in a more dynamic form of modern creativity – in the ‘short story’. It was the latest invention in the repertoire of imaginative literature, contemporary with changes in human life in modern times. Thus it was ‘short’ because it was ultra-modern, with its own attributes of modernity, not merely because of its reduced indeterminate length. ‘Short’ then was not used in the usual sense of size, but as a distinctive mark of its modernity as a genre. As a new modernist art form, the ‘short story’ was to be less diffuse than the novel in its structure.

As a modern genre, the ‘short story’ signified distinctive attributes of modernity, chief of which were ‘tighter organization’ and ‘more artful construction’ of a relatively miniaturistic nature with a clear focus on ‘a climactic moment in the protagonist’s life’. In its form it also  had a ‘mercurial diversity’ with varying modes of ‘ realism, naturalism, lyricism, symbolism or fantasy’ in sync with the fast emerging modernist trends in parallel art forms – painting, music, sculpture, etc. Verisimilitude became less important than suggestive symbolism, musical patterns and psychological exploration of reality. Greater psychological depths were explored by unfurling a ‘central controlling image’ holding close to the ‘essential unity (like in Kafka’s  Metamorphosis) which transcends as it complements the unity’.

It is also significant that the ‘short story’ was invented in America in the early 19th century, which stood as the icon of modernity with an entirely new definition of individual freedom and human potential. America proved to be a crucible, a ‘melting pot’ of a new world, of a new civilization. It was a new world with new horizons which needed a new literary form of creativity because the relatively older form of the novel was already looking enervated and effete.

 Also, the ‘short story’ came to have amazing popularity for obvious reasons – its newness of form, its immediacy to everyday life, its welcome portability and suitability to the cycle of a busy life-style, and above all, its value as instant aesthetic nourishment. Another practical favourable factor was its easy staple consumption in the fast-developing periodical journalism. The way had already been shown by the publication in instalments of long and unwieldy novels in weekly periodicals in England of novels of Dickens and Thackeray. It was like a clarion call for the invention of a shorter form of fiction. Novel had had a long innings spanning over almost a century, and also had changed its content and form considerably with the emergence of novelists like James Joyce and Marcel Proust taking the form almost to its highest level of experimentation, while also slowing it down into some kind of ennui. Besides, poetry and drama had their own circumscriptions of audience and theatres. But the ‘short story’ was the most lively, most dynamic, and most conveniently available form of literature to all and sundry, in both print and audio formats, and soon in hour-and-a-half feature film formats. Because of this element of celerity and convenience it soon overtook the other literary forms in popularity with an amazing rapidity and soon gained a world-wide spread as popular entertainment and as an agent of social transformation for a fast growing literate world

In India the first wave of fiction - both novel and short story - arrived as a novelty to Bengal and other coastal regions by the middle of the 19th  century, rapidly spreading in the mainland provinces, the largest being those in northern India where Urdu language was preponderant for a while, and Hindi meanwhile was growing by leaps and bounds. The first Hindi short story that could be compared with some of the best written in English by then was Guleri’s ‘Usne Kaha Tha’ (1916). Premchand’s short stories written around that time (‘Panch Parameshwar’, ‘Namak ka Daroga’, etc), laying the foundation of the modern Hindi short story (like Guleri’s), evinced a clear influence of the Western elements of short story writing.

In the stories selected in this collection, mainly from writers from Bihar, two extracts from critical prefaces on short story writing by Nalin Vilochan Sharma and D.P. Vidyarthy (given in the Notes) lay due stress on this aspect of influence of the West on the Hindi short story writing. Undeniably, the technical aspects of short story writing were sufficiently developed in English by the early decades of the 20th century in writers like Hardy,Wells, Kipling, Conrad, et al, and most writers of the Hindi short story had access to them, either directly or through translations. Thus, the format of the modern short story in almost all Indian languages including Hindi, to a varying extent, was definitely an imported framework of a new kind of story writing.

In this volume of Hindi stories, 20 modern Hindi short stories have been selected for translation, of which 18 are by eminent Hindi writers from Bihar. Some of the stories presented in this selection, specially those by Shivapoojan Sahay, belong to that early period of the 1920s, and manifest such modernist elements in the handling of the plot and the characterization, though with their content fully ethnic and indigenous. Their language and style also are fully developed with the rapid development of modern Hindi prose during the age of Mahavir Prasad Dwivedi and Premchand.

A new feature in the short story – a dramatic ‘twist in the tale’ had been introduced in the short story by the Russian and American fictionists like Chekhov and O. Henry, just around this time. This magical touch at the very end of a short story was the most striking feature which we find surprisingly in some of these translated short stories, mainly in two of Shivapoojan Sahay’s stories - –‘The Key’ (1923) and ‘Plot for a Story’ (1928), belonging  to this early phase of the Hindi short story writing. Sahayji may or may not have been familiar with this typically modern magical formula of a striking end to the short story, but at least these two of his stories in this selection, evince this ‘twist in the tail’ trait to a brilliant effect.

The short story is as distinctive and artistic a form in the modern age as the sonnet was in Renaissance Europe. It is, like the sonnet (minus its complicated structural paraphernalia), a literay genre, with its own innate characteristics, that has the attraction for maximum public consumption. In fact, the short story has emerged in the present times as the most popular form of people’s aesthetic and literary sustenance. Like in other literatures, the short story collections in Hindi would easily seem to outnumber books in other genres –even novels. To take just one obvious example: Premchand published about six dozen short story collections (of around 300 short stories) as against only a dozen novels. It is also believed that the first Hindi short story ‘Dulai Wali’ was published in the first literary monthly of eminent recognition, Saraswati (1900-’23), when the era of Hindi mass literary journalism was just heralded.

The 20 short stories in the present collection are given in the chronological order of their writers’ lives, though the earliest published of the short stories is Shivapoojan Sahay’s ‘The Key’. Of the 20, the largest number of them (18) are written by eminent writers of Bihar, with the most eminent two among them being Raja Radhika Raman and Shivapoojan Sahay, close contemporaries of Premchand. All of them, including Agyeya and Himanshu  (the two from outside Bihar) are duly introduced in ‘Notes on Authors’ given at the end. Extracts from their notes on their own short story writing are also given at the head of these introductory notes which are then followed by ‘Word Notes’ explaining italicized  Hindi words which are ethnic and closely connected with cultural ‘local colour’(even though the context makes their sense sufficiently explicit).

The period covered in this group of short stories is from pre-independence days of 1920 till the 1990s – the most turbulent and historically momentous period in India’s march towards freedom and modernity – both in its socio-political and literary fields. The stories cover the entire gamut of the socio-political issues and concerns during this century long period, ranging over all social classes from the lowest to the highest, including a distinct class of the tribal society in Bihar. The social life reflected in some of them presents an intimate and sensitive picture of the rural and ethnic sections of society which may be of special interest even to social anthropologists - in stories like ‘Plot for a Story’ or ‘Odehul’. The prime focus in the selection for translation has been on short stories or writers generally forgotten or little known to the present generation of readers (hence, for example, the omission of well-known Bihari writers like Renu or Nagarjun).

Another important factor in this selection is that, by and large, in most of these stories – except in stories like ‘The Key’ or ‘The Killers’ - the central focus is on the Indian woman, which is reflected in the title of the collection itself. The character of ‘Bhagjogani’ in ‘Plot for a Story’, the fifth story, may be taken as a representative figure of a socially oppressed woman symbolizing the nadir of degradation in the Hindu society. Most other stories in this selection reveal the various aspects of women’s degradation, oppression, or their sordid suffering in the context of the modern feminist discourse which has been - almost across the whole span of the last century and more – as an underlying theme in the major part of Hindi fiction.

In their published original Hindi version, not so much in their content or form, as also in their language and style, there is inevitably a sense of development from the early and old to the modern and contemporary – a linguistic ascendancy which has been, to an extent, leveled by translation on a uniform linguistic scale. This should prove of slight advantage to the reader who is likely to be, in most cases, a non-Hindi knowing reader. On a linguistic level this could give an equable flavor to the stories as a whole, especially for the modern reader. At the same time, it gives them a permanent form as classic examples of modern Hindi short story rubbing off their temporal period flavor. These stories in their translated and edited form are now precious samples of ever-resplendent gems that can compare favourably with the best short stories written in world literature in their time. In fact, the book can be read as a unique and valuable all-time addition to the realm of comparative literature.

Finally, a few words about the various challenges faced in the translation of these stories, and the different strategies and liberties resorted to in such trans-cultural translation of literary works chosen from a period nearly a century or a half old, and from a language which developed from an inchoate stage to a world-class standard across those decades .

First, the titles of the stories. In most cases, the translator had to take some liberty in providing new titles to some of these stories. Throughout his endeavour in rendering the original story (OS) into a translated story (TS), the translator has used one uniform standard language of translation (LT) in all its variety and literary expressiveness. He has a target audience, and a well-devised strategy of handling the material (OS). He also has to have a strategy that is capable of achieving a level of craftsmanship that can adequately adumbrate the craft of the OS. The biggest challenge before him has been to handle the cultural and local colour in the OS. This is the most troublesome part of the handling of the LT.

Titles generally are a kind of summation of the content and the message of the work to be translated which would necessarily differ in the case of a short story as against a novel. David Rubin who translated Shrilal Shukla’s Pahla Padav as Opening Moves has made a pertinent observation in this regard, as also about translating passages abounding in ‘local colour’, and slight editing of the text where necessary. As he says:

The author [Shrilal Shukla] preferred a completely new title for the English edition ‘Opening Moves’ rather than a translated version of the Hindi (‘Pahla Padav’) which may be roughly translated as ‘The First Stage of (or stop on) the Journey’…For many Hindi words – title and nick names, particularly, and certain foods –there are no exact equivalents in English. Both in order to keep the Indian flavor and to avoid any falsification I have in several cases retained the Hindi word. The context will usually be sufficient for understanding. A large number of Hindi words are now commonly included in standard English dictionaries, such as…pan, tilak, dhoti, etc….Readers who compare the Hindi with the translation will in a few instances find an addition to or deletion from the original text.

It would be appropriate here to quote similar observations by Rupert Snell, the famous translator of Harivansh Rai Bachchan’s 4-volume autobiography Kya Bhooloon Kya Yad Karoon, who also condensed and edited it (with the author’s permission) into a single volume as In The Afternoon of Time.Snell says:

One aspect of the translation concerned the title of the autobiography. None of the titles from the four Hindi volumes was appropriate for the consolidated version, so a new one had to be sought elsewhere. The half-line ‘In the afternoon of time’[is] in an autobiographical poem by R.L. Stevenson…. Hearing the suggestion, Dr Bachchan thought for a moment, smiled, and said, ‘Bahut acchå hai – I like it!’….[Another] criterion for abridging the text was a more subjective assessment of its contents and of its likely English-language readership….The first difficulty in the actual process of translation was to find an appropriate English style to suggest the qualities of [the author’s]Hindi. What was needed was to create an idiomatic English voice, while not straying into stylistic territory which Bachchan himself would find unfamiliar; thus one had to forge a reproduction which would remain faithful to the flavour and spirit of the Hindi, while also being sufficiently readable to sustain the interest of an English readership…. What was needed was to create an idiomatic English voice,… thus one had to forge a reproduction which would remain faithful to the flavour and spirit of the Hindi, while also being sufficiently readable to sustain the interest of an English readership….The difficulty is to break out of the straitjacket of the source language and to produce a version which makes sense in the idiom and style of the target language.

Both Snell and Rubin are excellent translators*. Their observations contain all the essential problems of translation. But I had some indigenous problems in addition. All my selected writers, (except Ushakiran Khan) were no longer there for any consultation or guidance, but they were all known to me on a personal level. Secondly, all or most of them were known stylists of the Hindi language; though, inevitably, they differed greatly in their variety of style and idiom. Thirdly, the original texts of the short stories were available in badly edited form (which is of utmost importance in the case of a short story); paragraphing was sloppy as was punctuation (again of great importance in an extremely syntax-sensitive form). Some of the stories were rather lax and prolix in their contemporary style of writing (for instance the stories by Radhika Raman and Dwij) which needed some compression and tightening of form to fall in line with the other stories with the requisite compression of form (like the stories by Sahay and Vidyarthy). And my consistent endeavour in translating these short stories was to edit, translate and transcreate them into a uniform variety of language (to quote Snell’s words) that is able “to forge a reproduction which would remain faithful to the flavour and spirit of the Hindi, while also being sufficiently readable to sustain the interest of an English readership.” I must add, however, that this selection is, perhaps, meant more for a non-Hindi knowing target audience in India than for a world-wide English speaking readership, with the presumption that the former would naturally find the content and the translated version closer to their sensibility than the latter for obvious reasons.

 

The Flying Fish 

 

Ramdhani stopped his bullock-cart beneath the bunyan tree opposite the railway station. He freed his bullocks from the cart and put some straw before them and only then awakened his master who was in sound sleep. All along, with cradle-like swings in the cart and the soothing murmuring music of the rolling wheels, his master had fallen into deep sleep. On waking up, he went lethargically to the booking window with Ramdhani trailing behind him with his suitcase. After boarding his master safely in the train, Ramdhani came out of the station. He saw that it was only afternoon yet, and to reach his village it would take him hardly about an hour. He still had enough time on his hands.

 Ramdhani pulled out his flute from underneath the straw spread on his cart, and took the empty cigarette tin from his canvas bag hung by the yoke which contained wheat-flour for making bait-balls. He, then, patted the bullocks and asked them affectionately not to break away from the cart in his absence, and walked towards the nearby river. The dust on the road shone in the golden light of the November sun. As Ramdhani walked ahead he was already in a dream - seeing his Sukhia lovingly frying the fishes, and himself sitting facing her with his potful of toddy. Thus treading into the imaginary heaven of his dream, he soon reached near the river bank.

There in the fields
, some young girls were cutting grass, but as soon as they saw a stranger approaching, all of them rose and fled from there out of shame, though Ramdhani had not even noticed them. It was the face of his son, Budhua, that danced before his eyes. He  was only dreaming of Budhua who was struggling to swallow the hot fried fish pieces taken right from the frying pan. Hardly a week gone, lots of fish had come in the Badi Haveli. Heaps of fishes piled up – but more of rehu and bachawa, also some mangur and kawai! At night, Ramdhani had sat by the master’s pond, with his fishing line sunk in water, his face covered in his thick cloak; but the fish would just not take the bait.

Sukhia, his wife, with her feet heavy, was now pregnant. She had grown a tasty tongue – often asking for mustard leaves for a tangy curry, or for seasonal flattened rice. Today when she was crushing wheat flour on the grind-stone, the whiff of frying fish filled her nostrils and saliva filled her mouth. She couldn’t muster enough courage to go into the kitchen, but when she came home in the evening she told Ramdhani about her strong wish for fish. Ramdhani was hell-bound to catch fish the same night. But in catching fish stealthily in the pond that night, Ramdhani himself got caught. God knows from where, Sumer Singh, the goddamned gumashta suddenly appeared carrying a lota at this late hour in the night. It must be because of a stomach upset due to overeating those fishes in the haveli! Ramdhani was severely abused and beaten that night for that stealthy fishing in the master’s pond. He felt so bad, he didn’t even tell Sukhiua about it.

Today, a week, later how can Ramdhani let this rare chance near the railway station slip out of hand? Within an hour he was able to catch three good-sized fish – all three katla! Two of them at least a ser each, and the third also only a little less, may be. Ramdhani’s eyes shone with glee. He put back the bait materials – flour, etc in the tin box, carefully coiled back the fishing line, tied the three fishes by stringing them together and flung them on his back. Then he walked back towards the station humming some forgotten tune.

A railway station! Ramdhani would rarely get a chance to come to the town bazaar and an interesting place like the railway station. How nice it’d have been for Ramdhani to be a railway employee - a pat man. Instead of tending his bullocks, he would wear a proper uniform, twirl his moustache, and pull the signal down! He would spend all his days hearing the ‘tik-tik-tuk-tuk’ of the telegraph printer in the station master’s office. He does understand the bellowing of his bullocks, but what could he make out of the stationmaster’s patterings of the machine!

Ramdhani walked slowly towards the railway station on the grassy path parallel to the railway track. He heard the pat man ringing his bell and shouting loudly – “O Jamadar, let the train in!” Ramdhani would watch this fascinating spectacle of the steaming train and then drive back his bullock cart to his village.

 

The Station Master’s Assistant was also standing in the office with his boss, Bannerji Babu, who hailed from east Bengal, where most villages had ponds flanked by sedge and laburnum trees; but not so here in Bihar. Bannerji Babu had got the signal down to let in 9 UP, and was waiting for its entry. Just then he saw Ramdhani with the fish hung on his back. O, that was truly tempting!

 

“Hey, where are you coming from?” – he shouted at Ramdhani. His Hindi still had the Bengali accent. Ramdhani froze like a stone.

 “I’m a villager, Sarkar”, Ramdhani pleaded in terror. “ I came just to see the scene of the coming train, Sarkar. I had come here only to put my master in the morning train.”

Bannerji Babu remained unrelenting. “No, you are a passenger from 14 Down! Show me your ticket!”

Amidst the threatening and pleadings, ultimately it boiled down to the only possible compromise: that Ramdhani would either pay a fine of 4 rupees 12 annas at once, or hand over the three fish to Bannerji Babu in lieu of the fine. Otherwise his Assistant would ‘challan’ him and send him to jail by this very train that was coming. Ramdhani knew he had to face the inevitable, though for a while he bargained for two of the fishes, leaving only the smaller one for him. For a moment, seeing the poor fellow pleading so earnestly, Bannerji Babu seemed somewhat compliant. But when he remembered his seven sons and five daughters at home – not even a piece then for each of them – he recovered his wit. The smoke-bellowing train was almost in sight. He shouted for the Pointsman to come and seize Ramdhani, who now realized he must capitulate sooner. The three fishes were promptly kept in Bannerji Babu’s office. Ramdhani stood like a stone statue near the gate. He had lost all enthusiasm for watching all the show of the coming train.

 

As the train arrived, the Pointsman brought the news that the last bogie in the train was the saloon of the T.I. Saheb who was soon coming there. Bannerji Babu rushed into the office to put on his trousers over his dhoti and came out buttoning his coat. He lost no time and started collecting tickets at the exit gate from the detrained passengers. As the T.I. Saheb came the Assistant bowed to him in salute. By then all the four or five detrained passengers had left. Bannerji Babu received the T.I. Saheb and brought him into his office. A grumpy Ramdhani kept watching all this from the window. The Anglo-Indian T.I quickly examined some of the registers and signed some papers before coming out of the office to return to his saloon. Just then his eyes fell on the three fish kept near the door.

            “O, what lovely fish!” he exclaimed as his eyes riveted on them.

            “Of course, Sir! O, Rambaran Singh, Take these fishes with Saheb to his saloon”- he promptly ordered his peon. He assured the Saheb that here one could easily get fish aplenty but in the town it must be difficult to get fresh fish. The Saheb thanked him profusely for the gift. The fish was carried to his saloon and the train let off a shrill whistle and chugged off..

            Muttering to himself, the station master returned to his office and found Ramdhani still standing near the gate. In great annoyance, he shouted at him and asked him to get lost! Ramdhani quietly slunk from there.

            When that night Ramdhani tied his bullocks in the compound of the haveli and left for his home, just at that hour, about 60 miles away, the T.I.’s wife Mrs Johnstone was enjoying and appreciating the flavour of the delicious fish on their dinner table.

            Ramdhani then was sitting near the alaaw. He spoke to Sukhia – “Do you remember, three years back when the eldest son of our malik had returned from England, he said he had seen large flying fish in the seas. Budhua’s mother, in our village river also similar flying fish are found! I saw not one – but three such flying fishes today!”

            “Are you drunk again?” Sukhia wondered. “Have some shame, man! There’s not even a single grain for us to eat, and you have gone and boozed again right in the evening? – talking all bullshit now!

            Ramdhani fell silent. He only started blowing into the alaaw to reignite the flames to sit there idly enjoying the warmth of the fire.

 



  Diwakar Prasad Vidyarthy (1913-1962)

 

          In a short story ‘unity of impression’ is of utmost importance. When all the ingredients of a short story, singly as well as in unison, help in the attainment of ‘unity of impression’, then we consider that short story successful from such a point of view. The various ingredients – characterization, dialogue, situational details, etc – should produce this ‘unity of impression’ in their totality. The complete success of style and technique in a short story lies squarely in the attainment of this ‘unity of impression’. For a short story aiming at a high degree of sensitivity, a style that is analytical would prove to be unsuitable. Again, a short story on a naturalistic pattern which moves in a wayward fashion with multiple suggestions, instead of a straightforward –beginning, middle and end – design, would also be infelicitous for such a high intensity- seeking short story which would rather have a appropriately contrived technique. In this other kind of a short story the writer would deliberately mould  the characters and the event rather freely to proceed in the desired direction. A short story not aiming at high sensitivity, but intellectual sublimity, should better have a naturalistic or symbolic technique. In any analytical appraisal of a short story there must be a thorough evaluation of its use of technique. But style is not technique. Style has words and prose as its components. Technique is concerned with the plot and its ability to reach the climax. In some of the writers the style may be effective, though the use of technique may be infirm. Both style and technique are creatively intertwined, and yet have their separate significance. When attempting an evaluation of a short story, critical attention must be focussed on both.

         Diwakar Prasad Vidyarthy was born in a humble rural family of the Champaran district in North Bihar - the eldest son of a sub-inspector of police in British India - Dr. Vidyarthy, attained the highest education available in India at the time - Master of Arts in English. He also went on to obtain one of the highest academic honours from a British University - Ph.D. in English from the London University. Also, in his very short life (49 years) he distinguished himself as a teacher and scholar of English, an able administrator, and a shining star in the newly emerging firmament of Hindi literature. He wrote in its various literary forms: short stories, poems, essays, travelogues, etc. At the invitation of the Government of India, he also translated into Hindi, various works of William Shakespeare. More can be read about him on the website : drvidyarthy.hypermart.net

         This story is taken from Rajani or Tarey (1960), the only collection of  short stories by Dr Vithyarthy with an illuminating Preface in that book on modern short story writing.      

 

Word Notes: [12]Badi Haveli: the main residential house of a zamindar.Rehu, Bachawa,Mangur, Kawai: local names of varieties of fishes. Gumashta: agent of a business man for business deals. Lota: a small portable metal water pot. Jamadar: a minor official in charge of a group of workers. Sarkar: government; also a way of address to a government official.  

 (C) Dr BSM Murty 

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    The Broken Mirror                                               ‘Distortion of Reality’ in Nirala’s Poetry Nirala’s poem ‘Kukurmutta’ translated into English with a Note BSM Murty   Dog-piss                                                                        There was a Nabob Who got roses from Persia, Planted them in his huge garden, Even some indigenous saplings; Employed many gardeners, Looke...
  POETICA : 1   The magic of poetry   I am not a poet. I am an ordinary human being. But even I can’t escape the snare of poetry. Poetry is like air. Everyone breathes it. It is like our life breath. It’s part of our life - every moment of it. It is inseparable from our existence. Even when we don’t realize it’s inseparability from our living, it is in and around each one of us. To that extent everyone who lives is a poet. We have our sensory and super- sensory experiences, waking or asleep. Just as our breathing doesn’t stop even for a moment, all our experiences are subservient to our breathing. We experience because we live and we live because we breathe. Poetry, therefore, is passively and unmanifestedly always with us.   But we can be aware of it, just as we can be aware of our breathing if we concentrate and focus on it. Suddenly we realize its being; we become aware of its regular inhalation and exhalation. We then start hearing the soft pounding o...
कविताएँ : पहली खेप मंगलमूर्त्ति की हिंदी कविताएँ १.सरहद के पार मैं एक बहुत बड़े मकान का सपना बराबर देखता हूं जो न जाने कब से अधूरा बना पड़ा है एक अनजाने शहर में उसकी बाहरी छोर पर जहां शहर का आख़री मुहल्ला ख़तम हो चुका है और जहां से खेत चारागाह और पगडंडियां शुरू हो जाती हैं गांव की ओर जहां उस दुहरे सीमांत पर खड़ा है लाठी टेके न जाने कितनी सदियों से एक बूढ़ा बरगद का पेड़ लंबी दाढ़ी वाला जिस पर एक बहुत पुराना भूत भी रहता है जिससे चलती रहती है चुहल , नोक-झोंक पेड़ पर बसने वाली चिड़ियों के हरदम गुलज़ार मुहल्ले की वहां से दूर मैं आ गया हूं नदी किनारे नदी जो सूख कर छिछली हो गई है जिसके ऊंचे किनारों वाले सूराखों में रहते हैं काले नाग , मोटे चूहे और घोंघे नदी जहां गहरी है , दिन में नहाते हैं गांव के बच्चे , नौजवान , बूढ़े उसमें पर इस समय तो वहां कोई नहीं एकदम सन्नाटा है चारों ओर पूरे गांव में भी लगता है कोई है नहीं पर कहां चले गये गांव के सारे लोग ? बरगद के पेड़ के पास भी सब सुनसान है और वह आधा-अधूरा मकान भी    अब वहां नहीं...