Oof. This is not a good book for a first encounter with Rabindranath Tagore if you're not already familiar with India.
It's sad, because I was really looking forward to it. A recollection of Tagore's childhood, written near his death, it also has so many aspects I usually love: autobiography, an author who received the Nobel prize for literature (in 1913), short stories of childhood and imagination, a 19th century time frame (Tagore was born in 1861), life when old traditions still existed in parallel with the things we know today, and the promise of splendid, evocative prose.
Alas, Tagore's "Boyhood Days" could use a critical edition.
Amartya Sen's 12-page foreword is a bit of an introduction to the man himself, his later beliefs, his core ideas and his achievements (including creating a new genre of music), but you can feel his disappointment at the translated text not having quite the same charm as the original Bengali. That's never a good sign.
Radha Chakravarty explains her choices in translation: in order to preserve the atmosphere of the original, she chose to retain in Bengali words without a direct equivalent in English. She also strived to "achieve a 'modern' translation with an 'old-time' atmosphere" - and as a translator, I'm fully aware of how difficult such an endeavor can be. Sadly, although her intentions were commendable, I think the result is too esoteric for a general audience.
Which brings me back to the idea of a "critical edition" (which this is not).
As I was reading the book, I realized I had no idea what a 19th century Indian household looked like. I'm familiar with the European 19th century. I am somewhat familiar with the US's 19th century. I know something about the Japanese 19th century. But I have no idea what India's 19th century looked like - except for the fact that the British were there.
Between the Bengali words (not all explained in the dictionary at the end of the book) and the cultural references, between Tagore's allusive, poetic style and the narration aimed towards children growing up in the '40s, I was lost. Entirely.
“When everyone went to bed, I would roam about, like a follower of the Brahmadaitya," Tagore says at one point. Now, what am I to do with that? What does a follower look like? What is Brahmadaitya?
"But there was no stemming the tide of his song. He was especially partial to the ragini bihag," we're told about a tone-deaf adult. What is this? What does it sound like? I don't know.
Every page (and these are short pages, that I can cover top to bottom with the palm of my hand) contains on average 2-3 words in Bengali, creating difficulty and obscurity. I say on average - page 36 has: paan, betel, chuna, khoyer, catechu, albola, amburi, sandesh, ustad, raga; also two verses of songs in Bengali. Aside from those, page 36 also has the names of what I assume are well-known things: Nagaloka, Jadubhatta, Kafi; although Jadubhatta might be a person, it's hard to tell from the context of "a major ustad Jadubhatta ensconced himself in our house". Does this mean a major master of music of the type Jadubhatta, or a major master of music called Jadubhatta?
You see my problem here.
I have very little to say about the stories themselves. I'm afraid that, trying hard to understand them, I probably didn't.