Sunil Gangopadhyay exposes libertine Tagore
Satya Sandhani
and loves of India's greatest poet, Rabindranath Tagore
Stanley Thomas
"I hate pretensions in the sexual context"
Sunil Gangopadhyay shines a light on women-his own and Rabindranath
Tagore's Novelist Sunil Gangopadhyay can empathise with a libidinous
Gurudev. At 67, says Gangopaddyay, "I don't feel that I have lost a
bit of my sexual urge."
His creative urge is more celebrated. Starting as a love poet, he
turned to fiction and won all the major Indian literary awards except
the Jnanpith. The creative halo round him brightened when Satyajit Ray
filmed two novels, Aranyer Din Ratri (Night and Day in the Forest) and
Pratidwandi (Competitors). Most of his novels have been
autobio-graphical, but ten years ago he became interested in the
historical.
"I had a few questions about 19th century Bengal," he says. "Did we
really have a renaissance, as the historians claimed? What were the
contributions of the major historical characters?"
During his creative period, Tagore admitted he always liked women's
company. Their company inspired him, widened the horizon of his
thought process.
The urge to know resulted in three major novels. The first, Sei Samai
(Those Days), serialised in the literary magazine Desh, created a
sensation. It focused on the period between 1840 and 1860 and
shattered several myths and traditional concepts. The next novel,
Purbo Paschim (East-West) revolved round Bangladesh's war of
independence in 1971 and the West Bengal Naxalite movement. The third
novel, Pratham Alo (First Light), a magnum opus that captures the
spirit of Bengal between 1880 and 1910, when Tagore was coming of age.
The novel centres on the 1905 Partition of Bengal.
Critics sank their teeth into First Light. "Gangopadhyay's history is
more fiction than history," said one. "He has trivialised historical
characters to suit the taste of common readers."
Gangopadhyay has uninhibited answers to every such criticism and to
the theory that Tagore treated his female friends in a
philoprogenitive (paternalistic) manner. Excerpts from the interview
with the novelist at his ninth-floor apartment in south Kolkata.
Is it true that you began your career as a poet?
I was basically a poet. For the first 18 years, I wrote only poetry. A
girl inspired me to do so.
Who was this girl?
I cannot divulge her name. But she is alive and well-settled in
London. Later in my life, I passed through London many times but I
have never met her. I still cherish those five to six years when we
were quite close.
How old were you then?
I was about 15 and she might have been a couple of years younger.
I assume she was not the only girl in your life.
Certainly not. When I went to America for the first time in 1963, I
lived with a French girl, Margueritte Mathew, who was mad about
poetry. From her, I learnt a lot about modern French literature. She
widened my horizons. I am still grateful to her.
Do you still maintain contact with her?
No. She simply vanished. Sometimes, I feel that she might have been
murdered.
Is your wife aware of your affairs?
I haven't hidden anything from her. Right now, my autobiography is
being serialised in Desh. There, I have written in detail about these
two women.
What about your post-marital affairs?
Do you remember these lines from Hamlet: "O, throw away the worser
part of it and live the purer with the other half." I don't want to
embarrass those ladies nor do I want my wife to spend sleepless
nights. I guess a few people like Shyamal [Gangopadhyay, famous
novelist] and me did not lead routine lives. I have no hesitation to
admit that the company of women always inspires me. So does my wife's
presence in my life.
Is this true of Tagore also? In Pratham Alo, you have portrayed him as
being head-over-heels in love with his sister-in-law Kadambari and
later, his niece Indira. Then in Ranu-o-Bhanu, your latest novel, you
have shown him in love with Lady Ranu Mukherjee, who was younger than
him by 47 years.
I hate pretensions in the sexual context. I am aware of the Indian
ethos which always tries to suppress all these things as if it is
filthy. But I had no hesitation in mentioning in my autobiography that
I have gone to brothels. Rabindranath was a normal human being, with
all his instincts and urges intact till he breathed his last. He did
not become great in a day. He became great while passing through a
hard grinding process over the years.
Kadambari was almost the same age as him. In teens or early youth, a
young man prefers a girl of his age or someone slightly elder to him.
But in later life, it is natural that he is interested in girls much
younger than him. Rabindranath was no exception to this natural law.
Why do you feel that a great man cannot have sex except with his wife?
Your critics think that you deliberately tried to tarnish
Rabindranath's image by portraying him as a sex maniac. They say that
it is a figment of your imagination.
There is no use going into disputes. All I can say is that neither
Rabindranath nor Vivekananda or Ramakrishna was born great. Like most
human beings, they were prone to frailties. Those who overcome this
and work hard with devotion attain greatness. If I can show that all
our great men, our national leaders, were once very common like you
and me, won't it inspire my readers to try to do good and, thereby,
some of them might become great? Remember, it is deeds, not birth,
that make a man great.
But what about Rabindranath?
What did he do? The man who wrote Streer Patra (on women's
liberation), married a 10-year-old girl, Mrinalini, and gave dowry to
get his daughters married. He regretted all this in his later life.
That's what makes him great. He could identify his mistakes and atone
for it openly through his own writings. He never tried to hide his
follies.
During his creative period, Rabindranath himself admitted that he
always liked women's company. Their company inspired him, widened the
horizon of his thought process. Some of the very old residents of
Santiniketan, who saw him with their own eyes, told me that he hardly
liked men's company. What's wrong with that? Once Saratchandra
[Chattopadhyay, great novelist] said that like us, Tagore also fell
prey to human frailties. But because he was Gurudev, no one would
pinpoint his weak points, while we were all caught red-handed.
But is there any proof that he actually fell in love with Kadambari,
Indira or Lady Ranu? His letters, however vague, bear the proof of his
intentions. Since he knew that his letters would be read by posterity,
he carefully avoided giving direct hints. But there is enough proof
for any discerning reader.
Take the case of Indira. She was of the same age as Mrinalini. When
Indira was 10, Rabindranath was 21. In Tagore's family, girls were
married before they were 10 or 11. Indira refused to marry until she
was 24. Why was this allowed in her case? If you go through the
letters of Rabindranath, which he wrote to Indira, you are bound to
feel that there was certainly an affair. Perhaps they were afraid of
incest. I have seen those letters kept in Santiniketan, neatly penned
through in places by none other than Indira. She has done it so well
that those very words or lines that could reveal something can hardly
be deciphered today.
What do you think of Rabindranath's and Victoria Ocampo's
relationship?
In Ocampo's diary, at one place, she has written, "He (Tagore) touched
my breast like plucking a flower." What should we deduce from this
sentence?
What about Lady Ranu?
In her unpublished autobiography Lady Ranu mentioned an incident after
she had got married. She went to Santiniketan with her husband (Sir
Biren Mukherjee). It was known to everyone there that Tagore used to
write songs for her and sing them in her presence. He dedicated his
play, Rakta Karabi (Red Oleander) to her. In the autobiography, Ranu
writes: "What the poet wants from me, I can't give it to him, I can't,
I can't."
She wrote "I can't" three times. What did Rabindranath want from her
that was impossible to give him? We know this much: Sir Biren never
liked Rabindranath. That's why, after their marriage, she was not
allowed to go and see the poet. It continued for many years. Whatever
my critics may think, I personally feel that this relationship between
Rabindranath and Ranu was quite natural.
When he first met her, she was 12 and he was 59. At that stage, the
poet might have showered her with parental love. But Ranu, by 20, was
an exquisite beauty and Tagore at 67, perhaps, had not lost his
vigour. The paternal feeling might have now turned to sex. It is
nothing unusual when I look at myself. Like I said before, I don't
think I have lost my sexual urge even though I am 67.
Tapash Ganguly
THE FAMOUS FOUR
LADY RANU MUKHERJEE met Tagore when she was 12 and remained close to
him till his death. Tagore composed songs praising her beauty. She
became a connoisseur and patron of the arts. Died in 2000.
KADAMBARI DEVI
Tagore's sister-in-law, married to his elder brother Jyotirindranath.
She was almost the same age as him and spent much time with the young
poet, encouraging him and goading him to greater heights. Committed
suicide a month after Tagore's marriage.
VICTORIA OCAMPO
A strikingly beautiful Argentinian who found solace in Tagore's works
and later was his hostess as he recuperated from illness in her villa.
He wrote 26 poems in Argentina and dedicated a collection to her. Died
in 1988.
INDIRA DEVI CHOWDHURY
Tagore's niece, 11 years his junior and the same age as the poet's
wife Mrinalini. Tagore's letters hint at an affair. Died in 1960.
Extract from 'First Light'
You're everything to me...
Kadambari was only eighteen months older than Robi. She hadn't borne a
child yet and because of that, perhaps, there was something youthful
and unworldly about her. Her soul seemed untouched by mundane reality.
Deeply sensitive to romance and beauty she sought them all the time;
her yearning haunting her like a passion. And, strange though it may
seem, this passion found a resting place in the person of her young
brother-in-law. She reached out to the shy, sensitive boy and nurtured
and cherished him as if he was her very own. Robi, on his part, could
open up to her as he couldn't to anyone else.
****
Kadambari turned her face towards him but did not speak. Robi's heart
sank. He had expected her to turn eagerly to him; to ask a hundred
questions; to read the citation and look excitedly through the gifts
laughing and teasing him all the while.
"The Maharaja of Tripura has read Bhagna Hriday and liked it,' he
said, adding shyly, "He has sent two of his officials to offer me a
citation and some presents. Aren't you pleased?'
"Why shouldn't I be?' Kadambari replied indifferently. "Everyone who
knows you will be happy at your success.' A shadow fell over Robi's
face. "Bhagna Hriday is yours,' he said in a pleading voice. "If
anyone deserves the citation it is you.'
"Nonsense.'
"Won't you look through the presents?'
"I will, later.' Kadambari rose and walked towards the house. "Is
anything wrong?' Robi followed her. "Are you unhappy about something?'
"No,' Kadambari sighed and shook her head. "There is nothing wrong.'
"Why were you packing me off to Tripura? Were you trying to get rid of
me?'
"I don't have to. You'll go anyway. Your work will become more
brilliant by the day and your fame will reach the ends of the earth.
The wide world will claim you for its own. How can I hope to keep you
to myself? And why should I?'
'I'll never leave you. Be sure of that.'
"No Robi. I'm nothing-nothing. You'll find other people more worthy of
reading your poems for the first time.'
"Don't talk like that. I can't live away from you. You're everything
to me'.
"But you went away to England last year leaving me alone in Jorasanko.
Your Natunda is so busy-he has no time for me. I was so lonely. I felt
like a prisoner locked up in my room.'
"I thought of you all the time and everything I wrote was for you. The
poems of Bhagna Hriday are all yours.'
Kadambari stood quietly for a few minutes, her face buried in her arm.
Then, suddenly changing her voice and manner, she said "Oh yes, I
wanted to ask you something. Why is the dedication to Srimati He?'
"It was meant for you.'
"You shouldn't have done that!'
"No one will guess the truth. You're Hemangini. You're Hecate. Only
the two of us know that.'
"That's what you think. I was Hemangini and you were Alik in the play
Alik Babu. A lot of people have seen it. Besides, everyone knows you
call me Hecate.'
"Let people think what they will. I shall write as I please'. A note
of joy crept into Robi's voice.
Printed with permission from Penguin Books India
_____________________________________________
Cupid's confusion
Ana Turkhud was perhaps Tagore's first love
By Nityapriya Ghosh
Rabindranath Tagore admitted of an affair in his Chhelebela (My
Boyhood Days) which he wrote when he was 80. He had skipped it in his
Jivansmriti (My Reminiscences) written at 50. The ageing poet
apparently outgrew his inhibitions and referred to the affair in an
interview with composer Atulprasad Sen and singer Dilip Ray when he
was 66.
In Chhelebela, Tagore wrote: "After my stay here [Ahmedabad] for some
time, my second elder brother [Satyendranath] thought my homesickness
would be relieved if I mixed with girls who can make home out of
foreign land. Moreover, that would have been an easy way to acquire
the English language. So I spent a few days with a Bombay family.
One of the girls [Ana Turkhud] in that family had returned from
England. She was educated in modern ways and got her education
refurbished there. I had little schooling and she could not have been
blamed if she ignored me, but she did not. I had no capital to display
academic knowledge and so I let her know at the slightest opportunity
that I could write poems. That was my biggest capital to attract
affection. She did not measure my poetic existence that I made known
to her but just accepted it.
She requested for a pet name, which I readily supplied, and it sounded
good to her. I wanted to enmesh the name in a poem. I installed the
name in a poem's structure. When she heard it sung in a morning tune,
Bhairabi, she said, "Poet, I shall perhaps rise up from my death bed
if I hear you sing.' This makes it clear, girls exaggerate with a
touch of honey when they express their affection, just to make
everybody happy.
I remember it was she who first told me that I was good to look at.
Her appreciation was varied. Once she told me, "You must promise me,
you will not ever wear a beard, the contours of your face must not be
ever covered.' It is well known that I have not kept the promise. She
had died [in 1891] before disobedience manifested on my face."
It was not Robi but Ana who made the advances; Robi did not even
realise the importance of Ana's gestures. But was Tagore honest in
saying that he did not recognise love and that he did not reciprocate?
Why should he then write a song using the pet name he gave her-Nalini?
He was a 17-year-old school dropout aspiring to be a civil servant,
and she, an accomplished lady of 23. Robi stayed at her residence for
six weeks during August and September 1878. A year later Ana would get
married to Harold Littledale, whom she loved from days abroad.
The affair becomes more mystifying in Tagore's interview with Sen and
Ray in 1927. "I was then 16. I was sent to a Marathi family in Bombay
to pick up conversational English.... The heroine of that family was a
Marathi girl of 16. [A memory lapse? Did he intentionally make the
girl younger?] She was educated as she was smart and a free-mixer....
She used to come and mix with me on her own, hovering around me at the
slightest excuse. She consoled me when I was depressed, used to put
her palms on my eyes from behind, when I was gay.
I admit that I knew something special was happening but, alas, I had
neither alertness nor ready wit to fan that flame.
One evening she suddenly came to my room. It was a moonlit night. The
light and air all around was incomparable.... But I was all the time
thinking of home....
She blurted out, "Ah, what do you brood on?' I was well acquainted
with her actions and reactions but even then I was slightly taken
aback. Because she came and sat on my string cot as she asked the
question.
What could I do-I went on mumbling to all her questions. Perhaps she
too didn't feel free in talking. Suddenly she said, "Come on, pull my
hand, let's see who wins the tug-of-war.'
I really couldn't fathom why she chose tug-of-war of all the games.
And I was not even ready to accept her challenge when she succumbed to
a slight pull. But the win didn't give me any delight or excitement,
neither was I any wiser in the art of love. She must have lost faith
in my future.
After all this, one day, she said all of a sudden, "Do you know that
if a girl falls asleep and somebody steals her gloves, he earns the
right to kiss her?' Saying this, she fell asleep after sometime in my
easy chair. She looked at her gloves beside her when she woke up. None
of those were stolen."
The restraint of Chhelebela is missing here. The picture given is more
of a frolicsome maiden of 16 than of a mature woman of 23.
Subsequently in the interview, Tagore, however, recovered his poise
and said, "But I never forgot her or underestimated her any day by
lightly labelling her attractiveness...."
Tagore talks of many loves in his life. The word love, both in English
and Bengali, is an omnibus carrying many imports and it is possible to
misinterpret his talk of love in conversations, letters and writings.
Indeed it is being more frequently misinterpreted these days than
before-Scott daughters, Kadambari Devi (his sister-in-law), Lady Ranu
Mukherjee, Victoria Ocampo. But, on record, Tagore himself talked only
of Ana's love and in passing of the Scott daughters, and of nobody
else.
(The writer is an essayist in Bengal)
Weblink: http://www.the-week.com/21apr22/cover.htm#1
Gandu
Well, it seems that the poet was attracted to other women. But the truth
about the national poet of BD is very juicy, and would easily fill the
pages of a racy tabloid. Started out well, and realizing what a 'great'
religion he was a follower of, wrote songs in praise of Hindu Goddess
Kali. But, after all, he was a Muslim, and the being a follower of the
'great' Prophet, took to unbridled sex. The cheaper the prostitute, the
better, because he did not have much money. Then disaster struck -
contracted a whole host of sexually transmitted diseases. Ultimately
turned into a complete brain-dead moron, a slobbering silly fool. Oh
hail ye the national poet of BD.