Tag Archives: Rakhshanda Jalil

Short story: Mrs Ahmed’s Diamonds by Rakhshanda Jalil

TBASS

There is a restless energy about Mrs Ahmed. She appears to be chewing on something all the time. Her jaws move constantly, distractedly. Her eyes, large and protuberant, are never still. Moving relentlessly, they skim the room, flitting from objects to people, seldom settling on any one for very long. And yet she herself is oddly still, sitting almost motionless for hours in that room filled with walking and talking people.

I have been seeing her for years now. She usually occupies one of the high-backed wingchairs in the Lounge, the one at the far end of the room. Set against large bay windows, it is an excellent vantage point to take in the activities both inside the Lounge and on the gravel path outside going towards the Bar. In winters, she has her chair pulled close to the roaring fire. Set at an incline to the fireplace, once again this position affords her a great view of the goings on in the room. In the warm glow of the fire, the light glinting off the many diamonds on her large, handsome person, she occupies the still centre of that otherwise frenetic room with its constant to-ing and fro-ing of members and bearers.

She is a handsome woman. The angular jut of her chin and the bulging eyes make her stop short of being a beautiful woman, but there’s still a great deal to declaim that she must once have been striking-looking if not a great beauty. Her unnaturally dark hair might owe much to a professional hair colourist but it’s still thick and long, piled up as it is in an artful updo. Her body, stocky and inclined towards stoutness now, shows a trace of its former nimbleness when she stands up to her full height or on the few occasions that I have seen her walking towards the Card Room. What is more, she wears her sari tightly draped across her chest and hips in the way that modern young women do, women young enough to be her granddaughters.

I am no card player and have nothing in common with the gin-drinking ladies who gather everyday without fail to play Rummy and Bridge. I come to the Club to use the Library and Swimming Pool and, increasingly, to pop by for some tea. And so, I have only ever encountered Mrs Ahmed sitting in the Lounge, possibly waiting for her friends to come at noon—or after her game, when the others have gone and she is by herself, alone. Once, I must confess, I even followed her till the Card Room to see who she would meet and, frankly, also to see how she looked when she spoke or interacted with others. For, I had only ever seen her still and silent in the Lounge.

 

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When literature travels from one language to another

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Left to right: Rakhshanda Jalil (writer – Invisible City: The hidden Monuments of India), Urmila Pawar (Marathi writer), Radha Chakravarty (writer & translator), Nirupama Dutt (Journalist, writer & translator), Rashmi Menon (commissioning editor at Amaryllis Books)

By Aminah Sheikh

Translated literature is like perfume in a bottle. One often expects the perfume to retain its fragrance when poured into another bottle, but that isn’t possible given the nuances of the source literature – culture, period, emotions. Some essence is lost, while a new aroma is added.

“The word ‘translation’ comes, etymologically, from the Latin for ‘bearing across’. Having been borne across the world, we are translated men. It is normally supposed that something always gets lost in translation; I cling, obstinately to the notion that something can also be gained,” renowned writer Salman Rushdie describes in his work ‘Imaginary homelands: Essays and Criticism 1981-1991’.

This emotion echoed during a panel discussion ‘The Glory of Translation’ at the Kumaon Literary Festival. The session was moderated by Rashmi Menon, commissioning editor at Amaryllis Books.

The genre of translated books has been under experiments in the last two decades. “However, it is only in recent times that translators have new found confidence as publishers and source (literature) authors are growing to accept translated work that isn’t literal,” said literary historian & writer Rakhshanda Jalil, of Invisible City: The hidden Monuments of India fame.

Increasingly, writers are Indianising their translations which helps retain a certain flavor from the original literature. Radha Chakravarty, writer & translator (of Tagore’s prominent work) is of the view that, translations are where cultures meet, people from different orientations and backgrounds come to understand each other in harmony.

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The Lounge Chair Interview: 10 Questions with Rakhshanda Jalil

R jalilLet’s get down to brass tacks. Why do you write?

Let me tweak Descartes and say, ‘I write; therefore I am.’ I think by now it is almost a compulsion; it defines who I am.

 Tell us about your most recent book or writing project. What were you trying to say or achieve with it?

I always have more than one in various stages. So, there is a biography of the Urdu poet Shahryar which is almost two-thirds done; a translation of a novel by Krishan Chandar called Ghaddar which my publishers are hoping to pitch as a partition novel next year (2017 marks the 70th year of the annus horribilis that was 1947); an edited volume of critical writings on Ismat Chughtai which is nearly done; and a translated volume of short stories and poems by Gulzar on the partition, again due in 2017 to mark the 70th anniversary. And lurking somewhere in the future is a travelogue – on Ghalib’s journey from Delhi to Calcutta and back in the early 19th century.

Describe your writing aesthetic.

KLF LogoI worked for years as an editor in various publishing houses. I have also written journalistic pieces for various newspapers. My training for the Ph D taught me diligence and painstaking research. And then I have also been a translator for decades now. So all of these ‘roles’ have defined my writing style. As an editor, I produce a clean copy and have learnt over the years to do a self edit of everything I write. As a translator, I trained myself to do a close reading of texts and also learnt to value words and tease out their exact meanings. As a columnist, I learnt to write quickly and meet deadlines and be considered a reliable and swift writer. As a researcher, I learnt there are no short cuts to producing good writing. So everything comes together in a happy mix! Read more

Hard Lines: Rakhshanda Jalil’s review of Iqbal by Zafar Anjum

In lucid prose, Zafar Anjum presents before the modern reader the life of a visionary poet, and possibly the last of the great  Muslim thinkers: The Indian Express

iqbal frontI must confess to being somewhat dismayed at the sight of Zafar Anjum’s Iqbal: The Life of a Poet, Philosopher and Politician. For me, a near-perfect non-scholarly introduction to the poet’s life and work has long been Iqbal Singh’s The Ardent Pilgrim, first published in 1951 with a revised reprint coming out in 1997. Singh, a journalist of some repute, made Iqbal accessible to the English reader and in elegant prose located Iqbal on the cusp of a change between tradition and modernity. Over the years, a series of academic works in English — most notably Annemarie Schimmel’s erudite Gabriel’s Wing: A Study Into the Religious Ideas of Muhammad Iqbal — have tried to grapple with the complexity of Iqbal’s oeuvre and the dualities and contradictions that make him a biographer’s delight. But I have found none that match Singh’s simplicity and empathy. Read more