First Light
Page 1
Sunil Gangopadhyay
First Light
Translated from the Bengali by Aruna Chakravarti
Contents
About the Author
Dedication
Introduction
List of Characters
Book I
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Chapter XXX
Chapter XXXI
Chapter XXXII
Chapter XXXIII
Chapter XXXIV
Chapter XXXV
Chapter XXXVI
Chapter XXXVII
Chapter XXXVIII
Chapter XXXIX
Chapter XL
Chapter XLI
Book II
Chapter I
Chapter II
Chapter III
Chapter IV
Chapter V
Chapter VI
Chapter VII
Chapter VIII
Chapter IX
Chapter X
Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Chapter XIII
Chapter XIV
Chapter XV
Chapter XVI
Chapter XVII
Chapter XVIII
Chapter XIX
Chapter XX
Chapter XXI
Chapter XXII
Chapter XXIII
Chapter XXIV
Chapter XXV
Chapter XXVI
Chapter XXVII
Chapter XXVIII
Chapter XXIX
Chapter XXX
Chapter XXXI
Chapter XXXII
Chapter XXXIII
Chapter XXXIV
Chapter XXXV
Chapter XXXVI
Chapter XXXVII
Chapter XXXVIII
Chapter XXXIX
Chapter XL
Chapter XLI
Chapter XLII
Chapter XLIII
Chapter XLIV
Chapter XLV
Chapter XLVI
Footnotes
Chapter XIV
Chapter XIX
Chapter XXXIV
Chapter I
Chapter X
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Copyright
PENGUIN BOOKS
FIRST LIGHT
Born in 1934 in Faridpur, now in Bangladesh, Sunil Gangopadhyay came as a refugee to Calcutta in 1947, following the partition of India. The family suffered extreme poverty initially and Sunil, though only in his teens, was forced to find employment. He still managed to continue his education, taking his Master’s degree from Calcutta University.
Sunil Gangopadhyay began his literary career as a poet, starting the epoch-making magazine, Krittibas, in 1953. Storming into the field of the novel with the trendsetting Atma Prakash (1966)—a powerful portrayal of the frustration and ennui of the youth of Calcutta—he soon rose to become the leading and most popular novelist of Bengali. Sei Samai (1982), which won him the Sahitya Akademi Award, Purba Paschim (1989) and Pratham Alo (1996) are among his best novels.
*
Aruna Chakravarti took her Masters and Ph.D. degrees in English Literature from the University of Delhi. She has held the post of Reader in Janki Devi Memorial College, one of the affiliated colleges of the university, for many years and is, at present, its principal. She is also an author and translator of repute.
Her first translation, Tagore: Songs Rendered into English (1984), won the Vaitalik Award for excellence in literary translation. Her translation of Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyaya’s immortal classic, Srikanta, is deemed her best work, having won the prestigious Sahitya Akademi Award for 1996. Srikanta was published by Penguin India in 1993. Those Days, a translation of Sunil Gangopadhyay’s award-winning novel Sei Samai, also published by Penguin India, followed in 1997. Aruna Chakravarti has also authored a biography of Sarat Chandra entitled Sarat Chandra: Rebel and Humanist (1985) and a work of literary criticism entitled Ruth Prawer Jhabvala: A Study in Empathy and Exile (1998).
For Poocham and Bhai—to grow up and read …
Introduction
In 1882 Rabindranath, the young scion of the Thakurs of Jorasanko, published a slim volume of poems entitled Bhagna Hriday. Though the poet was practically unknown, even in Bengali, the book found its way, somehow, into the royal palace of Tripura. The maharaja, who had recently lost his queen consort, read the poems and was so moved by them that he sent an emissary to Calcutta bearing gifts and a citation for the poet. This historical event is recorded in the opening chapters of Sunil Gangopadhyay’s Pratham Alo (First Light).
In a critical way, this hook is a sequel to the author’s earlier novel Those Days—a transcreation in English of the award-winning Sei Samai. They are both mega-narratives designed on the same lines and the reading of one is enriched by the other. But the two novels are structured as discrete texts linked by some common themes and characters. The undeniable resemblance between the two gives rise, inevitably, to the speculation of whether or not First Light brings to a conclusion the story of Those Days. It also opens up questions regarding the extent of history and historical authenticity in the novel. It might he profitable to open the introduction by attempting to answer some of these questions.
The events of Those Days, actual and imagined, took place between 1840 and 1870—a period which witnessed a unique movement in Bengal, the highlights of which were the germination and slow stirring into life of a social and religious consciousness and the emergence of a middle class that idealized British rule and used its support to usher in considerable change in Hindu society. This movement, which came to be known as the Bengal Renaissance, spread gradually to encompass the whole of India. Evoking time as protagonist and characters, historical and fictional, as bit players in the destiny of a nation, Sunil Gangopadhyay created a modern epic offering valuable insights into the era that saw this phenomenon
In the present novel the same exercise is stretched further. First Light takes over from where Those Days left off. Spread over a vast canvas that stretches across three continents, the novel depicts the social, political and literary awakening of India during the years that followed—another thirty years, approximately between 1880 and 1910. Many of the historical characters are easily recognized for they occupy spaces inherited from their predecessors in Those Days. Rani Rasmoni is dead but her spirit lives on in the persona of Ramkrishna the priest of the temple she built in Dakshineswar and after him, in that of his spiritual successor Vivekananda. The Thakur family of Jorasanko is a strong presence in First Light, as it was in Those Days, but the focus has shifted from Dwarkanath and Debendranath to their progeny. Infact the title of the novel derives from the genius of the greatest of them all—Rabindranath the poet, playwright, painter, composer, educationist and nationalist. The dawn or ‘first light’ of Rabindranath’s creative inspiration evolves, over the course of the novel, into a powerful symbol of awakening. The latter half of the book traces the first stirrings of resentment against foreign rule and the growth of a national
ist consciousness. It also documents the revolutionizing of life and values sparked off by the scientific discoveries of the West.
Other historical characters of the period, who are household names in Bengal and outside it, are also present here. Stoking cultural memory the author offers astonishingly lifelike delineations and penetrating analyses of lives and characters of the poet king of Tripura—Maharaja Birchandra Manikya; the eminent physician and fiery liberal Mahendralal Sarkar; the scientist Jagadish Bose; the poet and terrorist Aurobindo Ghosh; the notorious courtesan and brilliant actress Binodini; the freedom fighters Tilak and Gandhi. These and many more who follow in the wake of the historical characters of Those Days fill the pages of First Light. Is First Light, then, an inseparable part of Those Days? No. To use the novelist’s own explanation—‘First Light is not another volume of Those Days. It is a sequel in time.’
The greatest challenge before Sunil Gangopadhyay was to give these men and women a voice and dialogue with their counterparts, historical and fictional. The extent of his success can be gauged from the taut energy of the prose they speak and the vibrant authenticity of their thought and action. For, as in Those Days, the novel is wedded to facts but flirts with fiction. The magnificient personages listed above move in and out of the pages in free interaction with vividly imagined figures—the bastard prince Bharat; the bondmaid Bhumisuta; the ‘sullied’ beauty Basantamanjari and her protector—the expansive, ease loving, big hearted Dwarika Lahiri; the atheist turned Muslim fundamentalist Irfan. The strains of their unsung tales are skilfully woven into those of the lives of the great men and women they encounter. Bhumisuta acts with Girish Ghosh and Ardhendushekhar Mustafi; is a friend of Sarala Ghoshal’s and cherishes a secret infatuation for Rabindranath. Bharat, an illegitimate prince of the dynasty of Tripura, meets Gandhi and Rabindranath and, caught in a struggle to deliver his motherland from bondage, develops close links with Aurobindo Ghosh, Khudiram and Hemchandra Kanungo. Dwarika is Bankimchandra’s protege, has studied in Presidency College with Vivekananda and knows Mahendralal Sarkar.
History has never been presented in a more colourful package. But a novel such as this throws up other questions as well. What perspective or ideology colours the author’s delineation of historical characters and events? How much of it is fact and how much fiction? To answer this I must fall back on the author’s own comments. ‘History is a record of palpable facts,’ Sunil Gangopadhyay wrote in the epilogue to Sei Samai. ‘Fiction is not. The fiction writer, even when depicting historical truth, has to invest it with the light of the imagination.’ Consequently Sunil’s historical characters think, act and feel as he sees them do in his mind’s eye. Critics have had problems with some of his delineations—in what they perceive as distortions and trivialization of some of the most eminent men of the land. Mahendralal Sarkar is projected as an abusive bully who uses foul language. Ramkrishna is wimpish and fretful. Vivekananda’s passion for tobacco and spicy food is at variance with his declared ideals of austerity and abstinence. Bankimchandra’s arrogant self-confidence is a mask and his fear of gossip and slander swamps his fatherly love. And above all—Rabindranath. Rabindranath, who is used as a nodal reference in Sunil’s multidirectional novel, is loaded with attributes some of which are distinctly unpalatable. For he is not only a self-centred artist who neglects his wife; he needs women, other than her, to liberate the poetry trapped in him—his sister-in-law, Kadambari, in the first flush of his youth, and his young niece Indira in his prime.
Sunil Gangopadhyay, however, is non-judgmental, and herein lies the strength of his novel. A judicious balance is maintained, on the whole, between fact and fiction and the large cast of characters is well controlled. The novelist, however, denies any attempt to control his created world. ‘As the narrative flows on to an undefined end,’ he writes in his epilogue to Pratham Alo, ‘so do the characters. When I first brought the king’s bastard Bharat into the narrative I didn’t dream that he would come to dominate the entire novel in the way he has done. I had thought to make Rabindranath the hero …’
New Delhi
December 2000
Aruna Chakravarti
List of Characters
The Kingdom of Tripura
Maharaja Birchandra Manikya - King of Tripura
Bhanumati - his Queen Consort
Monomohini - Bhanumati’s niece
Radhakishor - Birchandra’s eldest son
Samarendra - another son
Bharat - Birchandra’s illegitimate son
Radharaman Ghosh - the king’s secretary
Shashibhushan Singha - tutor to the princes
Mahim Thakur - the king’s bodyguard
The Singhas of Bhabanipur
Bimalbhushan Singha - Shashibhushan’s eldest brother
Monibhushan Singha - Shashibhushan’s second brother
Krishnabhamini - Bimalbhushan’s wife
Suhasini - Monibhushan’s wife
Bhumisuta - a bondmaid
The Thakurs of Jorasanko
Maharshi Debendranath Thakur - founder of the Adi
Brahmo Samaj
Dwijendranath - his eldest son
Satyendranath - his second son
Jyotirindranath - his fifth son
Rabindranath - his youngest son
Balendranath Satyaprasad - his grandsons
Gaganendranath Abanindranath - his grandnephews
Gyanadanandini - Satyendranath’s wife
Kadambari - Jyotirindranath’s wife
Mrinalini - Rabindranath’s wife
Surendranath - Satyendranath’s son
Indira nicknamed Bibi - his daughter
Pramatha Chowdhury - Bibi’s husband
Madhurilata nicknamed Beli - Rabindranath’s eldest daughter
Renuka - his second daughter
Meera - his youngest daughter
Rathindranath - his elder son
Shomi - his younger son
Swaranakumari - Debendranath’s daughter
Janakinath Ghoshal - her husband
Sarala - their daughter
Akshay Chowdhury - Jyotirindranath’s friend
Ashutosh Chowdhury - Pramatha’s brother and
Rabindranath’s friend
The Theatre
Girish Ghosh - an actor, director and playwright
Binodini - a famous actress
Amritalal nicknamed Bhuni Ardhendushekhar - actors
Mustafi nicknamed Saheb Amarendranath Datta nicknamed Kalu - an actor, director and producer
Pratapchand Jahuri Gurumukh Rai Mussadi - wealthy Marwari financiers
Gangamoni nicknamed Hadu - an actress
The Freedom Fighters
Aurobindo Ghosh - a scholar and a poet
Barin - his brother
Satyendranath - his uncle
Rajnarayan Bosu - his maternal grandfather
Hemchandra Kanungo - terrorists, along with Barin Amitbikram and Satyendranath
Jatin Bandopadhyay - leader of the group
Kuhelika - his sister
Balgangadhar Tilak - an eminent freedom fighter
Count Okakura - a Japanese scholar
The Hindu Revivalists
Sri Ramkrishna Paramhansadev - priest of the temple at Dakshineswar
Naren Datta alias Swami Vivekananda, Brahmananda, Saradananda, Balaram Bosu - Ramkrishna’s disciples
Margaret Noble alias Sister Nivedita - Vivekananda’s disciple
Joe Macleod Ole Bull - Vivekananda’s friends
Others
Mahendralal Sarkar - an eminent physician
Jagadish Bose - a scientist
Abala Bose - his wife
Shibnath Shastri - a Brahmo, founder of the Sadharan Brahmo Samaj Dwarika
Jadugopal Irfan - Bharat’s friends
Basantamanjari - Dwarika’s mistress
Banibinod Bhattacharya - a priest
Book I
Chapter I
It was a lovely day. The clouds had part
ed and the sun’s beams fell, soft and silvery, on the mountain peaks that loomed against a sky of flawless blue. Trees, grass and creepers, glistening with last night’s rain, tossed joyful heads in the balmy air. It was the day of the festival, and Nature was rejoicing with Man.
From early dawn throngs of tribals could be seen walking out of the forest, down the green slopes, their strong bodies naked in the morning sun. They were dressed, men and women alike, in colourful loincloths but the women had flowers in their hair and garlands of koonch berries, gunja buds and bone chips hung from their necks. Plumes waved gaily from the heads of a few chosen men. It was as though a river, rainbow hued, was gushing down in full spate. But in reality, they were streams—separate and distinct. Riyangs from Amarpur and Bilonia walked in quiet files behind their Rai whose small, compact body atop a mountain pony, was shaded by an immense umbrella held high above his head. The Rai’s eyes were soft and drowsy with last night’s liquor, yet a sharp even cruel glint came into them every time he looked around. He was a ruthless chief and would not tolerate the slightest indiscipline within the clan. His second in command, the Raikachak, a fine figure of a man, walked briskly behind him. Though far from young, his chest seemed carved out of black marble and the hand that held a long spear was strong and muscular. Whenever he stopped in his tracks two youths sprang forward and, kneeling on the ground at his feet, massaged his calves and ankles. A drummer and a flautist brought up the rear. Some of the men and women sang with the music—a merry ditty that made the others sway in mirth and laughter rang through the throng like tinkling bells.