Interview Posts

Arunava Sinha on translating Buddhadeva Bose’s classic “Tithodore” and the future of translations.

Arunava Sinha on translating Buddhadeva Bose’s classic “Tithodore” and the future of translations.

 

( This was an interview with Arunava Sinha, translator, that I did in 2011 for the Hindu. The original url is here: http://www.thehindu.com/features/magazine/leave-nothing-out-add-nothing/article2539907.ece )

 

Arunava Sinha: A window for translation. Photo: Special Arrangement
Arunava Sinha: A window for translation. Photo: Special Arrangement

Arunava Sinha on translating Buddhadeva Bose’s classic Tithodore and the future of translations.

Arunava Sinha is an award-winning translator of classic and contemporary Bengali fiction. His “day job” is as an internet professional. He won the Vodafone-Crossword award (2007) for Chowringhee, which was also short-listed for the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize, UK (2009). He recently translated Buddhadeva Bose’s masterpiece, Tithodore (1949) as When the Time is Right. In this interview, Arunava talks about translating Tithodore, BB, and the future of translations.

Why and how did you get into translating Bengali writers?

I started with short stories in the late 1980s for a city magazine Calcutta Skyline. But the whole process gathered steam when Penguin published my translation of Chowringhee — which I had actually done at the author’s behest in 1992 -— 14 years later, in 2006.

On what basis do you make these selections?

The primary appeal is subjective: do I love the book and do I want my friends to read it? The only reason not to translate a book that passes these parameters is if it’s so rooted in a local culture and geography as to lose its richness when read in a different cultural context, as translations are.

When did you begin translating Tithodore?

I began in September 2009. The first draft took one month, working six hours a day. I translated as if I was “possessed” by the experience and felt bereft when the exercise came to an end. Once it was complete, I revisited it thrice to iron out all angularities of expression, but I firmly believe in the motto of “leave out nothing, add nothing”.

When the Time is Right reads very smoothly. Comment.

It tells an absorbing and dramatic story, marked by Buddhadeva Bose’s seemingly casual voice which is, actually, intensely poetic. Given that he was a notable poet and verse-dramatist himself, Bose seems to have used these skills in prose. While translating, I discovered that Bose’s prose is rich with the cadences and inflexions encountered in poetry. The conversations are never dull, the dialogue and self-expression is honed and always heard. His observations about people are nuanced and layered and his characters are very aware and articulate themselves through casual conversation. Bose understood language deeply and all his choices of word, phrase and form are deliberate.

When do you find the time to translate?  

Whenever I get a window, which could be hours at a stretch or a few minutes. I was lucky when working on Tithodore, in that my day job was not as demanding as it is now, allowing me to work for about six hours a day. Sometimes, I am working on three books in different stages in the production cycle: actually translating one, working on edits of another and proof-reading a third. When it comes to actual translation, it’s usually one book at a time, because once you’ve got a writer’s voice — or think you do — you don’t want it polluted by anything else.”

Have you considered translating poetry?

Considered, yes. But I’m not equal to the task. I’ve tried my hand at a few small poems, but my work with verse is not good enough to be published.

Where you ever trained in doing translations?

No training. Is there even such a thing in India yet? There should be though.

I hear translations are a very expensive and tedious process…

I don’t think a translator who loves the work they’re doing and the book they’re translating would consider it tedious. Expensive yes; you do have to invest plenty of time and energy. But that’s true of any creative effort, surely. The passion of sharing is what starts it off, but once you’re into it, the need to complete the work becomes a living force in itself.

How would you define a “good” translator?

One who is true to everything in the original — content, form, voice, cadences, spirit — and still make the final product as accomplished and effortless a read as the original.

Is it possible to tell a good translation from a bad one, especially if you do not know the primary language? 

Yes it is. Assuming the original title has been chosen well, if the translation reads awkwardly while telling a great story, you know it’s the translation that’s at fault here.

Jaya Bhattacharji Rose is a international publishing consultant and critic. She also has a monthly column on the business of publishing, “PubSpeak”, in BusinessWorld online. 

 

My interview with Shovon Chowdhury, published in the Hindu Literary Review, 4 Aug 2013

My interview with Shovon Chowdhury, published in the Hindu Literary Review, 4 Aug 2013

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( here is the original url to the story http://www.thehindu.com/books/books-authors/people-need-stories/article4985459.ece )

Shovon Chowdhury talks about identifying the enemy, special places to write in, and his new book that took 11 years to complete.

Shovon Chowdhury is a Delhi-based humorist, well known for his blog, India Update, and the Facebook project, ‘The Trilokpuri Incident’. His work as co-author of the Very Rich Whitebook for the National Council of Applied Economic Research left him deeply prejudiced against the very rich.

His grandfather ran away from Dhaka to escape Japanese bombing in 1945, not realising that the war was about to end, and arrived in Calcutta just in time for the Great Calcutta Killings of 1946. These shared family experiences have left him deeply averse to sudden movement, which is why he has lived in Delhi for the last 20 years. In his spare time, he does advertising work for clients who cannot, he says, find anyone cheaper.

His first novel The Competent Authority (to be released shortly) took him 11 years to complete, because he can type with only one finger. He has also created a fake newspaper (http://nndt.wordpress.com) as a companion to the book. Excerpts from an interview:

Why write fiction?

People need stories. And sometimes facts are communicated better through fiction. Some things are so horrible that you don’t want to look at them or think about them, so they become invisible. Fiction makes you look, may be even think. And if it’s funny, then it’s not such a hardship. Mark Twain figured that one out years ago. I know people keep saying the novel is dying, and I’m sorry if I drove another nail in, but can you imagine a world without stories?

How did The Competent Authority come about?

I started soon after the Gujarat massacre. It set me thinking about the value of human life in India. One thing I’ve learnt from all this is: if you want to write a novel about the near future, it’s a good idea to write faster.

I also noticed that most government documents seem to contain phrases like, ‘by order of the Competent Authority’. I started wondering: supposing he’s a real person? I spent many years watching and reading the news, and studying the actions of the government to get to know him better.

I also discovered that most of the news in India is completely satire-proof; what with all the nephews and the genuflection and elderly youth leaders, not to mention Arindam Chaudhuri’s wardrobe. I tried to work out what kind of country we might to be, around 20 years from now, under the CA’s able guidance. I just extrapolated from today. It’s all completely logical. I hope he’s not reading this.

Does being an advertising professional help?

Yes because you develop a sense of what works and what doesn’t. It’s not foolproof, but it helps. It also cures you of delusions about the immortality of your prose; round about the third time the client’s maternal nephew changes your headline, pausing only to spit a mouthful of paan into a nearby plastic bucket.

Who are the writers that have influenced you?

Philip K. Dick, Bertolt Brecht, Sukumar Roy, Mark Twain, Manoj Mitra, Anthony Burgess.

What are the genres that have impressed you?

History, SF, Theatre, anything funny.

There are instances in the novel that rely considerably on the reader’s knowledge. Do you think it can be translated into other Indian languages?

I wasn’t thinking of foreigners when I wrote it, though I’d be thrilled if they read it. I was thinking of our friends, and our kids. It was for them. I didn’t want to slow down the story to explain things everyone knows, like ‘before Mulayam Singh Yadav, there was also one other gentleman who was known as Netaji’. Besides, a little bit of research never hurt anyone. Readers are much too lazy these days. Some work will be good for them.

Regarding other Indian languages, definitely. There’s very little wordplay, and much of the dialogue is actually in Hindi and Bengali. I’m very keen to have language versions, and willing to help. Those people who cared enough to spare the time to go to India Gate, or Ram Lila Maidan — I’d love for all of them to read it in whatever language they prefer. I like to think it would encourage them, maybe raise a laugh or two. We all like to fantasise. This might cheer them up. It’s nice to imagine a world where people commonly tell a bullshit artist ‘You’re full of sibal.’ As a common noun, of course. Nothing improper here.

What is the Trilokpuri Research Project about?

It’s a mass murder mystery. Facebook seemed the ideal medium for it, because it keeps reminding you. 1984 is something we need to be reminded about. Because if we forget about the victims, then they’ve won, haven’t they? Can’t let that happen.

Which is your favourite place to write?

I did this one on the run; in clients’ receptions, and the back of the car. Sometimes I pretended to be doing campaigns. I don’t much believe in special nooks and crannies. You have to switch it on when it’s needed. Some cheerful music helps, though.

What is the responsibility of the writer?

Several. To give his readers their money’s worth. To ensure his publisher doesn’t get arrested. To raise a smile. To provoke some thought. To entertain and inform, and help us identify who the enemy is, so we can all go together and sock him in the face.

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