Half A Rupee Stories

The stories in the collection are authored by Gulzar, and that's what tempted me to add it to my 2014 book list. I had not read anything by him but I had seen his stories (Hu Tu Tu, Maachis) played out on the big screen. His storytelling had stood out in those films and I expected his stories to overawe me as well. But, I did not take into account that it is the good stuff that is often lost in translation.

Four years ago I completed my Diploma in Spanish and I take on Spanish to English translation assignments once in a while. They are mostly financial and legal documents or corporate brochures. Sometimes when I am stuck, Google translation or a similar tool comes in handy. But, it is dry, mechanical content, a one plus one equals two kind of translation. It does not that require expression.
To simply translate words good knowledge of the target language (English in my case) can suffice, especially when the purpose of the translated content is to simply pass information. But, the purpose of translating prose is not just to tell the story to the reader. The purpose is to create the same images like the original, to evoke all the emotions as the original and to engage the reader as wholly as the original. And that is not the job of a translator, it is the task for a storyteller who can also translate. Only someone who can articulate himself with ease in both languages can do justice to the expression of the writer. 

Half A Rupee Stories fail in translation.

The narrative reads awkward and the dialogue jars. What should have been a quick, smooth read was tedious. I was tempted, often, to give up but I turned to the next one hoping that would be the one that would break through the translation barrier and sparkle in all its glory. The very-ordinary translation spoiled the reading experience and none of the stories stuck. I found myself attempting to translate back to how I imagined Gulzar would have written it. Not an easy task for someone for whom the first best thing about college was 'choose French, dump Hindi'. I finished the book only because I hate unfinished books on my bookshelf, sitting there, mocking me. Silly me! Better use of time would have been to watch Maachis again.

What Arundhati Roy and I have in common...

Arundhati Roy and I have a connection.

I had just finished my workout and was sitting in the lobby and was chatting with the person who owns/runs the gym.

"Why don’t you become a personal trainer at my gym?" he asked.

"Are you mad? Who would want me to train them?" I laughed it off and left.

Later that day at lunch I told some friends about it, I thought they would have a good laugh. 

"Why not?" said Renu. "I think it’s a good idea."

"Ya me too." said Chloe.

"Are you all mad? I don’t look anything like a trainer and I don’t know anything about training. Plus, I am supposed to become a writer." I said.

"So? said Chloe. "Arundhati Roy was an aerobics instructor before she wrote The God of Small Things and became famous."

Well, I thought, if Arundhati Roy did it…and I have been a trainer for almost six years now.

                                              ——————-

My first attempt at reading The God of Small Things was when I was in my 20s. It had gained a lot of attention and appreciation and I thought reading it would be good for my intellectual image. A few pages was all i could get through. Though, I did pretend to have read it through. Now, at 35, it was the right time to take another stab at it. I am a more mature reader, I told myself, and a creative writing teacher. How shameful to not have read one of the gems of Indian literature in English. And one of my huge life decisions was inspired by her, I owed it to her.  

The start was hesitant, but short-lived. Within a few pages her writing had transported me to the Kerala of the twins, Rahel and Estha. Her detailed descriptions, which had bored me a decade ago, enchanted me and depressed me at the same time. ‘I will never be able to create images like this,’ my soul wailed, as I swallowed page after page. The narrative flow must have been difficult in the writing process but its reading is effortless thanks to the author’s ability to stay true the voice whether it is the older Rahel or the younger Rahel. But, more than the plot, it is the images that Arundhati Roy sprung on me with every detailed description, they evoked the exact emotion they were designed to - amazement, disgust, misery, joy, despair collided as the pages turned. The end came too fast.

Below: A picture taken outside Arundhati Roy’s house in Akkara, Kerala. Akkara also gets mention in her novel.

The Old Man and the Sea

The Old Man and The Sea is a short read, but not a quick one. I had attempted it before but abandoned it after 20 pages, can’t remember why. This time I persevered. Maybe it was the pressure of years of forsaken resolutions. Maybe it was the fact that I am a more evolved reader. probably a bit of both. This was Hemingway’s last novel published before his death. It was also one of his most successful stories.

The story is about an old fisherman in the middle of an unlucky spell and his three day struggle, as he tries to bring in, against all odds, the biggest catch of his life. What worked for me was not so much the story as his writing style. The simplicity gripped me. I also could not help but admire the patience with which he delves into the details, thus conjuring up vivid images. For most of the book, the old man is the only character but Hemingway uses the fish, the sky, the sea, the sun, moon and stars as an effective support cast. And therein lies his brilliance. I must admit that I tuned off at times especially when he detailed the fishing technicalities, but was baited back after a sentence of two.