Sakambari is back again – and this time her razor-sharp repartees are in English. It suits her no end. Fiery author Parijat's equally fiery heroine Sakambari has reemerged in 'Blue Mimosa' (Shirish Ko Phool) translated by Tanka Vilas Varya and assisted by Sondra Zeidenstein. Parijat's legendry novel was first published in 1965, and the path breaking work immediately swept up the Madan Puraskar for that year. Its English translation was first published in 1972, and has been recently reprinted, as a treat to all of the readers who missed it the first time.
And it is always a treat to go through Blue Mimosa for the mere presence of Sakambari alone, the wayward character who must have encouraged many a young women to rebel. She may speak in a foreign tongue now, and it may have been many years since she was first introduced to us, but Sakambari still continues to enthrall. The enigmatic, unreadable Sakambari, better known as Bari – who smokes with such élan, welcomes the dreaded disease of cancer to her life, has eyes as alert as a cat's, sprawls on the lawn like a snake, frowns on the existence of God, seems to be so indifferent towards her femininity – and is yet remembered as an utterly feminine character. She is bold, and feisty, and does not think twice before verbally pouncing on anyone at all. In fact, talking to her is 'to pick a fresh wild berry on a thorny slope and toss it in one's mouth.' It is then a surprise to note how she crumbles down at the touch of a man.
And this man, Suyog, is himself a semi-remarkable character, who has an unbelievably placid present for a man with such a gory past. In self-denial about the girl he likes, and leading even the readers astray, his descriptions of his unusual experiences also add to the interest factor of the novel. It may be a slim volume, with a sparse setting that gets lively only in the war scenes, but it has got emotions intermingling from all over.
The translators have done a commendable job of keeping intact all of these emotions we felt as we went through the original fiction. Also, the most surprising and lovable part of the translation is that even though it was done almost four decades ago, the freshness of it remains intact. There is a ceratain colloquialism to the language and at very few places does it appear jaded. We can say that the translators were ahead of their time, and hence we garner the same pleasure in reading the translation to this day. The confident yet self-deprecating Suyog, amiable Shiva Raj and his three sisters with their distinct identities are such characters that we may have met in our real life, and which have been rendered intelligently into a non-native language.
Another remarkable feature of the translation is that there has been a sincere effort to reproduce the original fluidity, suppleness and simplicity of language. In keeping with Parijat's use of beautiful and thought-evoking language, the translators seem to have searched for the closest translation possible. Hence we have here words like 'golden-brown head' and 'skin the color of wheat' for exact descriptions. In fact, it is the details and descriptions, from the mundane to the erotic, that echo the original version the most. 'Mujura is a lovely story that makes the heart overflow' Suyog says at one point, and one cannot but imagine her as one. However, this has sometimes acted as a handicap for the translators, as they seem to try to be so faithful to the original text that the English version sometimes seems to be a bit rigid and inflexible, going by a word-for-word translation.
Translating a work of this stature is always a challenge and there is nothing like a fully satisfactory translation. In this work, it is hard to know whether the glitches are typos or omission on the part of the writer, but they are sprinkled throughout and take away from the flow and smoothness of the work. A simple example is misspelling 'soldier' as 'shoulder' – the sentence then simply makes no sense! When a photograph falls down, it is referred to as 'fallen face', which is inadvertently hilarious in its negative connotation. A carton is misspelled as a 'cartoon', there is a mention of an 'unlooked picture' with the 'at' glaringly missing in the middle. There are awkward sentence formations like 'I had no faith in setting up in a wife' and 'To wash away a crime how laughable that is!' At one place, Suyog says Shiva Raj would 'think of marrying her (Sakambari)' as if it were Suyog who were going to marry his sister instead of arranging for it. The correct expression would have been 'think of getting her married.'
In the next reprint, it would be advisable to look into these errors and rectify them so that the beauty of the original is restored. Other than that, nothing can take away from the power and flow of the original, it still shines through in all its glory. Beginning as a roundabout, languid tale, it picks up such speed in the concluding pages and ends with such a painful cry – that it still has the force to leave you in a blue mood for days.