Poetics
Jibanananda Das started writing and publishing in his early 20s. During his lifetime he published only 269 poems in different journals and magazines, of which 162 were collected in seven anthologies, from Jhara Palak to Bela Obela Kalbela. Many of his poems have been published posthumously at the initiative of his brother Asokananda Das, sister Sucharita Das and nephew Amitananda Das, and the efforts of Dr. Bhumendra Guha, who over the decades copied them from scattered manuscripts. By 2008, the total count of Jibananda's known poems stood at almost 800. In addition, numerous novels and short stories were discovered and published about the same time.
Jibanananda scholar Clinton B. Seely has termed Jibanananda Das as "Bengal's most cherished poet since Rabindranath Tagore". On the other hand, to many, reading the poetry of Jibanananda Das is like stumbling upon a labyrinth of the mind similar to what one imagines Camus's 'absurd' man toiling through. Indeed, Jibanananda Das's poetry is sometimes an outcome of profound feeling painted in imagery of a type not readily understandable. Sometimes the connection between the sequential lines is not obvious. In fact, Jibanananda Das broke the traditional circular structure of poetry (introduction-middle-end) and the pattern of logical sequence of words, lines and stanzas. Consequently, the thematic connotation is often hidden under a rhythmic narrative that requires careful reading between the lines. The following excerpt will bear the point out:
Lepers open the hydrant and lap some water.
Or maybe that hydrant was already broken.
Now at midnight they descend upon the city in droves,
Scattering sloshing petrol. Though ever careful,
Someone seems to have taken a serious spill in the water.
Three rickshaws trot off, fading into the last gaslight.
I turn off, leave Phear Lane, defiantly
Walk for miles, stop beside a wall
On Bentinck Street, at Territti Bazar,
There in the air dry as roasted peanuts.
(Night - a poem on night in Calcutta, translated by Clinton B. Seely)
Though Jibananda Das was variously branded at times and was popularly known as a modernist of the Yeatsian-Poundian-Eliotesque school, Annadashankar Roy called him the truest poet. Jibanananda Das conceived a poem and moulded it up in the way most natural for him. When a theme occurred to him, he shaped it with words, metaphors and imagery that distinguished him from all others. Jibanananda Das's poetry is to be felt, rather than merely read or heard.
Writing about Jibanananda Das' poetry, Joe Winter remarked:
It is a natural process, though perhaps the rarest one. Jibanananda Das's style reminds us of this, seeming to come unbidden. It is full of sentences that scarcely pause for breath, of word-combinations that seem altogether unlikely but work, of switches in register from sophisticated usage to a village-dialect word, that jar and in the same instant settle in the mind, full of friction – in short, that almost becomes a part of the consciousness ticking.
A few lines are quoted below in support of Winter's remarks:
Nevertheless, the owl stays wide awake;
The rotten, still frog begs two more moments
in the hope of another dawn in conceivable warmth.
We feel in the deep tracelessness of flocking darkness
the unforgiving enmity of the mosquito-net all around;
The mosquito loves the stream of life,
awake in its monastery of darkness.
(One day eight years ago, translated by Faizul Latif Chowdhury)
Or elsewhere:
... how the wheel of justice is set in motion
by a smidgen of wind -
or if someone dies and someone else gives him a bottle
of medicine, free - then who has the profit? -
over all of this the four have a mighty word-battle.
For the land they will go to now is called the soaring river
where a wretched bone-picker and his bone
come and discover
their faces in water - till looking at faces is over.
(Idle Moment, translated by Joe Winter)
Also noteworthy are his sonnets, the most famous being seven untitled pieces collected in the publication Shaat-ti Tarar Timir ("The Blackness of Seven Stars), where he describes, on one hand, his attachment to his motherland, and on the other, his views about life and death in general. They are noteworthy not only because of the picturesque description of nature that was a regular feature of most of his work but also for the use of metaphors and allegories. For example, a lone owl flying about in the night sky is taken as an omen of death, while the anklets on the feet of a swan symbolizes the vivacity of life. The following are undoubtedly the most oft-quoted line from this collection:
বাংলার মুখ আমি দেখিয়াছি, তাই আমি পৃথিবীর রূপ খুঁজিতে যাই না আর...
Jibanananda successfully integrated Bengali poetry with the slightly older Eurocentric international modernist movement of the early 20th century. In this regard he possibly owes as much to his exotic exposure as to his innate poetic talent. Although hardly appreciated during his lifetime, many critics believe that his modernism, evoking almost all the suggested elements of the phenomenon, remains untranscended to date, despite the emergence of many notable poets during the last 50 years. His success as a modern Bengali poet may be attributed to the facts that Jibanananda Das in his poetry not only discovered the tract of the slowly evolving 20th-century modern mind, sensitive and reactive, full of anxiety and tension, bu that he invented his own diction, rhythm and vocabulary, with an unmistakably indigenous rooting, and that he maintained a self-styled lyricism and imagism mixed with an extraordinary existentialist sensuousness, perfectly suited to the modern temperament in the Indian context, whereby he also averted fatal dehumanization that could have alienated him from the people. He was at once a classicist and a romantic and created an appealing world hitherto unknown:
For thousands of years I roamed the paths of this earth,
From waters round Ceylon in dead of night
to Malayan seas.
Much have I wandered. I was there
in the grey world of Asoka
And Bimbisara, pressed on through darkness
to the city of Vidarbha.
I am a weary heart surrounded by life's frothy ocean.
To me she gave a moment's peace -
Banalata Sen from Natore.
(Banalata Sen)
While reading Jibanananda Das, one often encounters references to olden times and places, events and personalities. A sense of time and history is an unmistakable element that has shaped Jibanananda Das's poetic world to a great extent. However, he lost sight of nothing surrounding him. Unlike many of his peers who blindly imitated the renowned western poets in a bid to create a new poetic domain and generated spurious poetry, Jibanananda Das remained anchored in his own soil and time, successfully assimilating experiences real and virtual and producing hundreds of unforgettable lines. His intellectual vision was thoroughly embedded in Bengal's nature and beauty:
Amidst a vast meadow the last time when I met her
I said: 'Come again a time like this
if one day you so wish
twenty-five years later.'
This been said, I came back home.
After that, many a time, the moon and the stars
from field to field have died, the owls and the rats
searching grains in paddy fields on a moonlit night
fluttered and crept! - shut eyed
many times left and right
have slept
several souls! - awake kept I
all alone - the stars on the sky
travel fast
faster still, time speeds by.
Yet it seems
Twenty-five years will forever last.
(After Twenty-five Years, translated by Luna Rushdi)
Thematically, Jibanananda Das is amazed by the continued existence of humankind in the backdrop of eternal flux of time, wherein individual presence is insignificant and meteoric albeit inescapable. He feels that we are closed in, fouled by the numbness of this concentration cell (Meditations). To him, the world is weird and olden, and as a race, mankind has been a persistent "wanderer of this world" (Banalata Sen) that, according to him, has existed too long to know anything more (Before death, Walking alone) or experience anything fresh. The justification of further mechanical existence like Mahin's horses (The Horses) is apparently absent: "So (he) had slept by the Dhanshiri river on a cold December night, and had never thought of waking again" (Darkness).
As an individual, tired of life and yearning for sleep (One day eight years ago), Jibanananda Das is certain that peace can be found nowhere and that it is useless to move to a distant land, since there is no way of freedom from sorrows fixed by life (Land, Time and Offspring). Nevertheless, he suggests: "O sailor, you press on, keep pace with the sun!" (Sailor).
Why did Jibanananda task himself to forge a new poetic speech, while others in his time preferred to tread the usual path? The answer is simple. In his endeavours to shape a world of his own, he was gradual and steady. He was an inward-looking person and was not in a hurry.
I do not want to go anywhere so fast.
Whatever my life wants I have time to reach
there walking
(Of 1934 - a poem on the motor car, translated by Golam Mustafa)
In the poet's birth centenary, Bibhav published 40 of his poems that had been yet unpublished. Shamik Bose has translated a poem, untitled by the poet. Here is the Bengali original, with Bose's translation in English:
ঘুমায়ে পড়িতে হবে একদিন আকাশের নক্ষত্রের তলে
শ্রান্ত হয়ে-- উত্তর মেরুর সাদা তুষারের সিন্ধুর মতন!
এই রাত্রি,--- এই দিন,--- এই আলো,--- জীবনের এই আয়োজন,---
আকাশের নিচে এসে ভুলে যাব ইহাদের আমরা সকলে!
একদিন শরীরের স্বাদ আমি জানিয়াছি, সাগরের জলে
দেহ ধুয়ে;--- ভালোবেসে ভিজইয়েছি আমাদের হৃদয় কেমন!
একদিন জেগে থেকে দেখিয়েছি আমাদের জীবনের এই আলোড়ন,
আঁধারের কানে আলো--- রাত্রি দিনের কানে কানে কত কথা বলে
শুনিয়াছি;--- এই দেখা--- জেগে থাকা একদিন তবু সাংগ হবে,--- মাঠের শস্যের মত আমাদের ফলিবার রহিয়াছে সময়;
একবার ফলে গেলে তারপর ভাল লাগে মরণের হাত,---
ঘুমন্তের মত করে আমাদের কখন সে বুকে তুলে লবে!---
সেই মৃত্যু কাছে এসে একে একে সকলেরে বুকে তুলে লয়;---
সময় ফুরায়ে গেলে সব চেয়ে ভাল লাগে তাহার আস্বাদ!--- Under this sky, these stars beneath --
One day will have to sleep inside tiredness --
Like snow-filled white ocean of North Pole! -- This night - this day - O this light as bright as it may! --
These designs for a life - will forget all --
Under such a silent, fathomless sky! -- Had felt the fragrance of a body one day, --
By washing my body inside sea water --
Felt our heart so deep by falling in love! --
This vigor of life had seen one day awaken --
Light stoking the edge of darkness --
Have heard the passionate whispers of a night - always for a day! -- This visit! This conscious vigil that I see, I feel --
Yet will end one day --
Time only remains for us to ripe like a harvest in green soil --
Once so ripen, then the hands of death will be likeable --
Will hold us in his chest, one by one --
Like a sleeplorn --
Fugitive lovelorn --
Inside tender whispers! -- When that time will prosper to an end and he will come --
That savor will be ... the most relishing.
Much literary evaluation of his poetry has been produced since Jibanananda Das's untimely death, beginning with the ten-page Introduction of Naked Lonely Hand, an anthology of 50 of the poet's poems rendered into English. Winter appears to have caught the essence of the poet, who appeared to be subtle, mysterious and bizarre even to native readers and critics of his time. He was also known as a surrealist poet for his spontaneous, frenzied overflow of subconscious mind in poetry and especially in diction.
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