Under the shadow of politics: Bangla poetry
surreal_ravi
By Haider A. Khan
"Not everyone is a poet... only some are." This famous remark by the
best known of the South Asian modernists and yet the uniquely Bangali
poet from the 30s, Jibananda Das, is strikingly apt in a discussion of
the post-1971 Bangla poetry of Bangladesh. The Bengalis' legendary
love of poetry still endures in the country. But in keeping with Das's
dictum, the number of true poets is still small although the body of
work they have produced is considerable in terms of both quality and
quantity.
Several trends in South Asian and international poetic traditions and
literary movements influenced the pre-1971 Bangla poetry in the then
East Pakistan. Briefly, the most important of these were: Rabindranath
Tagore's inescapable shadow, Nazrul's synthetic genius, the Islamic
and non-Islamic poetic traditions from pre-modern Bengal and the
indigenous folk literature and songs related to these traditions.
Finally, the international modernist movement increasingly influenced
the more avant garde poets of the 50s and the 60s.
Closer to home, next to Tagore and Nazrul Islam, the influence of the
Kolkata-based urban poets of modernism set the direction and tone of
Bangla poetry from the 1930s onwards. Eager to go beyond the pattern
set by Tagore, these poets founded their own journals such as Kallol
and Kalikalam. It was Buddhadev Basu's Kabita (Poetry) that made the
most profound contribution over several decades. Himself a first rate
poet, Buddhadev's selfless role as an editor and a critic sustained
several generations of poets in both East and West Bengal. Jasimuddin
was the only one Bangla poet who stood apart from this modernist
movement and distinguished himself by extracting both the contents and
the form of his lyrics from the depths of the folk traditions in East
Bengal.
It was, however, the war of liberation that cast the most immediate
and the longest shadow over the literary landscape from 1971 onwards.
In a sense, poetry had become intensely political in the 50s and the
60s and still remains so. Some poets, such as Shamsur Rahman, the
leading poet of Bangladesh in many ways, have written on the strengths
and dangers of this historical destiny of Bangla poetry in Bangladesh.
It has led to the emergence of honest and courageous national poetry
which at its best unites the formalistic elements with the politically
and aesthetically potent content dialectically. But at its worst it
can become mere sloganeering.
A number of poets such as Shamsur Rahman himself, Al Mahmud, Abu Zafar
Obaidullah, Nirmolendu Gun, Syed Shamsul Huq, Mahadev Shaha, Rafiq
Azad, Rudra Mohammad Shahidullah, Abul Hasan and others have
maintained a delicate balance between poetry and politics and have
produced some enduring poems that are also political. The lengthy
poems mixing myth with history by Abu Zafar Obaidullah are
particularly striking, as are the poems on freedom and resistance by
Rahman and Gun among others.
But the major thrust and talent of Bangla poetry has always been
lyrical since the time of Jayadev continuing through both Muslim poets
such as Alaol and Hindus such as Chandidas in the middle ages until
now.
The rivers of the delta called Bangladesh, the wide open sky, the
green and gold landscape, the confluence of Austric and Aryan groups,
Hinduism, Buddhism, Christianity and many indigenous spiritual
traditions, and the evolving material culture have lent a unique
colour and cadence to its contemporary poetry that is also reflective
of the universal aspects of love and hate, joy and pain, glorious
beauty and ghastly ugliness that modern lyrical trends in other parts
of the world also capture.
Such a lyrical tendency under the conditions of postcolonial
postmodernity and globalization is of necessity forced to be
fragmented, inchoate and in rebellion against traditional forms. Yet,
experimental as our poets are, they have shown great fascination for
both traditional Bangla and western forms. Almost every poet has
written sonnets. Al Mahmud, in particular, has written many exquisite
sonnets in several decades of lyrical outpouring.
The poems included in the collections called Sonali Kabin (The Golden
Marriage Contract), Lok Lokantar (This World and Beyond) and Kaler
Kalosh (Pitcher Time) are particularly resonant. Needless to say, no
translation can ever do justice to such perfect creations as the best
of Al Mahmud's sonnets. Nevertheless here is a specimen:
A black horseman comes leaping across the wall/ Whistling whip the
brave rider - invisible/ Descends on the floor of a jail; which
prophet's call/ Will resound in my heart? Will the closed cells
crumble?
No sparrow shouts; just the holes hollow/ Cunning as the eyes of a
monstrous skeleton banging/ The ties that bind brick and metal I may
follow/ Precipitates caution; from the window a blanket hanging
Sentry's sharp eyes; rifle cocked ready to aim/ Evading him the black
cat comes everyday/ Rolls both her eyes sees me in waiting the same
As always, with feast ready come what may/ Are you then she?
Schopenhauer's flame?/ Nature love philosophy pillars and minarets -
she never came?
However, the stresses of contemporary postcolonial life under
globalization and urbanization have made most creative poets - Al
Mahmud included - experiment with more irregular lines, unconventional
syntax, and foreign vocabulary. While not always successful, such
practices are isomorphic in a semiotic sense with the practices of
late modern and postmodern poets everywhere.
One particularly poignant aspect of the various postcolonial,
postmodern genre is the still futile and self-refuting search for
meaning that is constantly in danger of negating itself in an endless
series of deconstructive gestures. Shamsur Rahman's poem,
"Self-portrait" carries such taut tension both formalistically and
semiotically in the play of its signifier/signified ensemble. The poet
is certainly not an alien, yet not completely at home either:
"... not a foreigner, not in disguise in my own home/still why must I
find myself in a dark room...?"
The poet continues, "No, none knows me as my own private self/ who am
I? What do I do always among others?/ Why do I go to art exhibitions,
bars, bookstores/ Why this storm of arguments in the den of my
intellectual friends?/ No, not one among us knows...'
Another poet, Rafiq Azad states with resignation, "half my life spent
in prayers, waiting will take up the remainder."
And Mahadev Shaha uses the pathos and painful images of everyday life
to present his poems of muted sorrow.
Rafiq Azad is more explicit:
You want/ Still a landscape of wonder/ Wondrous life, unpolluted life/
Wherever you go/ You will never find it/ You'll find a radio-receiver/
Dirty drains, polluted water, yellow leaves, chimney smoke/ Polluted
air - and late at night the sound of heavy boots.
It is relevant here also to mention the Bangladeshi diaspora since the
assassination of Sheikh Mujib, for both political and economic
reasons. In exile, of necessity, the sense of alienation becomes the
dominant mood in an even more acute form. Unfortunately, although
Bangladeshi poets abroad have produced a large volume of poems, most
of it is quite unremarkable.
However, Shahid Kadri is one talented poet whose output though slim
both before and after his emigration to the US deserves mention. There
have been some attempts at experimentation as well. In my long
postmodern 'ersatz epic' poem "Mandra shaptak" (The lowest octave) I
have used the musical analogy of an octave to weave together the
imaginary and the real Bangladesh in a slowly ascending manner that is
intended to reveal both the deep pathos and the enduring hope of our
poetry lyrically.
Through self-irony, reflective humour and reflexive reverberations of
earlier poets from Jayadev to Jibanananda, the poem mixes myth with
history. Metaphors and metonymy mingle to deepen the absurdity of
history which, to paraphrase Stephen Daedalus, one of Joyce's main
characters in Ulysses, is a nightmare from which we all are trying to
awaken.
The children of Bangladesh/ Scatter through the universe/ At midnight
madness strikes/ The sky looks down merciless/ Cruel moon/ Searching a
self scattered from the full moon/ To the midnight sun/ In Finland
station Berlin Rome London New York/ See self-portraits/ Grafitti/
Colours on subway walls/ But not all is lost yet,/ The slave moon/ My
lover/ The eternal ephemeral cycle/ Seasons in hell/ Still endless
time running running running.../ For endless kalpas let imagination
soar/ Let's go back to 'C' the beginning of love.
(Mandra shaptak - from the 7th movement)
The poem attempts a resonance with the past - both Islamic and
non-Islamic - in South Asia by referring to mythical-historical,
legends and locutions.
Bangali translators have also worked diligently to create a two way
traffic between international and Bangla poetry. Kabir Choudhury
stands apart as the most outstanding translator of Nazrul and other
poets in English. I have translated Shamsur Rahman in English and
French.
In terms of presenting international poetry to Bangladeshi literati,
Monzurul Huq is a pioneer in translating from Russian and other East
European languages into Bangla. Monzurul Huq and I have also
translated the great Japanese poet Matsuo Basho's classic Oku no
Hosomichi (Narrow Road to the Interior) into Bangla which was
published in the year 2000.
Spanish poets such as Garcia Lorca and Latin American poets such as
Pablo Neruda and Octavio Paz have also been translated. Only a few
poets came into the limelight during the 80s and the 90s. Shubrata
Augustine Gomez belongs to the generation of the 1980s and his poems
reflect the frustration of members of the younger generation who find
the reality of life running contrary to the aspiration of the war of
liberation.
Poets of the 1990s, on the other hand, have drifted further apart from
what once was considered the essence of Bangla poems - a keen
engagement with the social and political realities and the interaction
between nature and humans. At the same time they are involved much
more in experimenting with the introduction of spoken form of language
than the earlier exponents of modern Bangla poetry.Therefore, it is
fair to conclude that the commitment to both nationalism and
internationalism, the local and the global, the emotional as well as
the intellectual aspects of poetry continues, albeit in modified
forms.
Although there is legitimate worry about the future of poetry in
general and the relative dearth of poets of the calibre of Shamsur
Rahman and Al Mahmud in the near future, the further evolution of
Bangla poetry will continue among poets both inside and outside
Bangladesh.
It may very well become postmodern in a more nuanced way by
encouraging the kind of tolerant syncretism, continuing closeness to
the spoken forms of language and an exuberant lyricism that have
historically inspired our best poets.