Letter from Boston
Nazrul and Tagore: Two contrasting offerings
My mother often used to say that when you don't have a choice, "dudher shad gholey mitao", i.e., satisfy your yearning for the taste for fresh milk with the taste of buttermilk. My wife Rumi and I would have loved to be in Kolkata or Dhaka to celebrate Rabindra and Nazrul Jayanti this year, but since that is not an option, we decided that we might as well take my mother's advice and celebrate these twin birthdays with gusto here in Boston and Connecticut, even if that leaves you with the taste of buttermilk. My letter today will offer my dear readers a glimpse of our efforts and I hope that you will see what we lack in scale and extravaganza we make up with our zeal, creativity and a little bit of bravado, not to speak of our boundless love for these two literary giants. Let me first confess to the bravado I alluded to in the introduction. A few weeks ago I had forwarded an announcement by email to some of my literary friends with the opening line, "Greetings from Boston, the world headquarters for Tagore's Sesquicentennial Celebrations". The pushback from my friends far and afield was strong and furious. Some objected to my audacity and cheek. "How dare you try to steal the thunder from New York?" one said, while another one fumed, "If there is a world headquarters for the Tagore celebrations, Los Angeles should claim the honor, you dumb skull!" As my readers will probably understand, I only meant it tongue and cheek, but the anger and vituperative that was hurtling towards me made me realize that Bangalees living in diasporas were very possessive about Tagore. Anyway, in the interest of global harmony, I refrained from any further references to the "world headquarters" title, and decided to let Shantiniketan, Churulia, Jorasanko, or even Dallas lay claim to that title. We the Bangalees of Boston are just happy to offer our best when it comes to paying tribute to our National Poet, and the author of our national anthem. The first call to participate in a commemorative event came through an email from Swapna Ray, founder of Swaralipi, "The Rabindrasangeet Academy", to an open-air concert and parade to honour Tagore at Harvard Square, a popular and colorful gathering place in the middle of Harvard University, on 8 May 8, a Sunday. We had missed last year's gathering but have seen the video and images of the event and knew we had to attend the homage to Tagore this year, to sing, to enjoy, and to join Swapna and Rahul, her husband and accomplished writer, singer and scientist, in this unique annual outdoor tribute. We were not disappointed. It was a warm sunny afternoon, and Harvard Square was teeming with visitors from across the globe, who come to taste the food, browse the books at its two well-known bookstores, the Coop and the Harvard Book Store, or just to listen to its street musicians and performers. In spite of the much dreaded "parking problem" at Harvard Square, a big crowd of Bangalees came to this outdoor concert-cum-festival. When we approached the Square, we could see the colourful crowd that was making its presence known by the posters, bright and eye-catching clothing and the loud music. Tapash, our musician and impresario friend, had the harmonium slung across his shoulder; Zahed Mamun, a virtuoso percussionist, was playing a type of dhol, with Rahul, with the violin, completed the ensemble. Swapna's students were already singing and dancing to Rabindra Sangeet and we rushed to join the group. The Square, which is surrounded by boutiques and businesses on two sides, serves as the entry point to the various schools of Harvard University, as well as the underground subway station. The nice weather and the location provided the Tagore enthusiasts with a bonus, as the celebration was joined by curious passers-by who had any familiarity with Tagore, or onlookers who were drawn in by the colourful performers in their traditional outfits, saree, kurta, fatua, and sadria. Our numbers started to swell and we soon found ourselves overflowing onto the street and running into vehicular traffic navigating through the normally busy circular road in front of the Coop. Unlike other celebrations, usually indoor, this one had an international flavour, as Harvard Square is always a big draw for tourists from Japan, China, and South East Asian countries. The organizers had brought banners and festoons, which boldly declared in English the purpose of this gathering with pictures of Tagore. Even the casual passer-by got a quick introduction to Tagore and his accomplishments. The art director of the event must be credited for the catchy design of the many posters, particularly for one that capitalized on the more photogenic and well-known figure of Gandhi, and showed Gandhi and Tagore sitting next to each other under the caption "Gandhi and Tagore"! After two hours of singing and dancing, we decided to take the show on the road, and the entire group of performers crossed the road and marched in procession heading first towards the Kennedy School of Government, another local landmark, and went around the block coming back to Harvard Square by way of John F. Kennedy Street. We held the posters high for everybody to see as well as to tempt the onlookers to join our procession as we marched and chanted in commemoration of a national hero. No sooner had we finished Swaralipi's public event than we received an invitation from Kazi Belal (known to us as Shahjahan Bhai), and his better half, Gulshan Ara Kazi (Pushpa Apa), a charismatic couple well-known in North American literary and cultural circles, to a private Nazrul-Rabindra jayanti at their house on the 29 May, during the Memorial Day long weekend. Shahjahan Bhai and Pushpa Apa, Nazrul and Rabindra Sangeet singers, respectively, are instrumental in setting up two Nazrul Endowments in the USA, one at the University of Connecticut and the other at California State University, Northridge. On a personal level, Rumi and I have spent countless nights in their living room over the last quarter of a century in planning and executing various cultural events and in learning to dance, act and sing from this duo. The email from Shahjahan Bhai indicated that this was a very intimate tribute to Tagore and Nazrul and invited us to spend the evening from six o'clock onwards and ended with the reminder: "Bring your poetry book and songs with you". The only problem is, now they live in Northford, Connecticut, a small town near Yale University and University of Connecticut, a full two and a half hours drive from us. Furthermore, having done a few all-nighters when they lived in Medford close to the Tufts University campus, I knew what Shahjahan Bhai and Pushpa Apa's invitation to celebrate the twin birthdays meant: party until you drop dead. Our wiser friends always caution us that while all night musical soirees are good for the spirit, they might be bad for health especially when you are no longer a spring chicken! But we went and did not regret it although by the time we came back home after 3 a.m. the next morning, we were completely wiped out. The food (which is always a big attraction for me), the company (more on that later), the ambience, and finally the presentations of songs, recitation, and jokes (during coffee breaks) were unparalleled. The trademark of a Shahjahan-Pushpa get-together have always been a. everybody participates, and b. the hosts back you up whether you are doing Rabindra Sangeet, Nazrul Sangeet, ghazals, or Hindi geets. Tonight, it was a cozy gathering of twenty people, where we each know the other devotee, and you get the feel of a family gathering with everyone sitting on the floor in the "jalsha ghar", except for the children who are allowed to opt out and watch TV or read in other rooms. By the time we reached the Kazi home a little after 6, the set up for the jayanti was ready and we could hear Shahjahan Bhai and his nephew, Jazir, putting the final touches on the sound system. After a quick detour to the kitchen to sample the array of delectable snacks (including my favorite samosa and shandesh) we entered the artfully decorated music room in their basement. Pushpa Apa was at one of the harmoniums and Shahjahan Bhai at the other, and his brother Babu at the tablas. To put everyone at ease, Pushpa Apa reminded us that at this celebration of Nazrul and Tagore's birthday, there were no prepared programs, and we each could participate in our own way, with a song or two, and choose to read our own or borrowed poems. The evening's offering flowed in an organic manner, as we all started with a few devotional songs leading to solo recitals, interspersed with recitations from Tagore, Nazrul, Nirmolendu Goon, Pablo Neruda, and other poets, which were then followed by more songs after dinner with a slight detour with stand-up comedy. I recited a section of Tagore's "Jetey Nahi Dibo" and segued into an English translation of the same by Fakrul Alam. I could barely finish before Jayanta and Mehdi pointed out the difficulties inherent in translating Tagore, and this led to an interesting discussion on the topic of presenting Tagore and Nazrul to the Western readers. A recent observation by Adam Kirsch in the New Yorker also caught our attention. Kirsch, in an otherwise interesting review of "The Essential Tagore" recently published by Harvard University Press remarked that Tagore's "literary genius … remains elusive in translation" (New Yorker, May 30, 2011). When Jayanta, a poet himself, cited favorably a translation by William Radice, a firestorm broke out about the strengths and weaknesses of various works of translations. I reminded him that I had read some critical comments on Radice's works in a blog where one blogger had commented that Radice's translations pale in comparison with that of his wife Ketaki Kushari Dyson. It was interesting that so many of us, living thousands of miles away from our land, still feel so passionate about a word or two, or a twist in the translations. The question on which we ended the debate was, "can you really, with high fidelity, convey the meaning of Tagore's line, shomukh-urmirey dakey poschater dheu?" We did not resolve the issue that evening nor could we agree on whether something is lost in translation, but we all felt blessed to be able to read Nazrul and Tagore in its original, and noted with laughter how nostalgic we get after even living away for so many years. When it was Mehdi's turn, he came up with a number of excuses for staying away from the microphone. A Professor of Engineering by profession, he reminded us that at BUET, where he had his undergraduate education, his life was spent pursuing mathematical formulas and strength of materials rather than the "cultural stuff". But, finally he succumbed to thye mounting pressure on him, and obliged us by reading aloud "Juddho" by Nirmolendu Goon, a three-line poem. The most interesting thing is I probably last heard this poem many ages ago, but, when I heard Mehdi recite it, it all came back. I wonder if poetry is then like love that stays even when memory fades. As Tagore once said "raater shob tara…" Or, maybe not. As we were driving home with Rumi at the helm, I was ruminating about it, and she consoled me by offering to debate it at the next jayanti. I relented and fell asleep as she did two encore presentations from the previous evening's repertoire just for me: "megho medur boroshay kothai tumi" and "piu piu birohi papiya"!
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