Recent Essays

Reading Hindi literature in translation


MUCH OF MY READING over the past year has been of modern Hindi fiction, encouraged by the fact that this literature is now increasingly available in English. Remarkably, it is only in the last five years that several landmark Hindi novels havebeen translated: Yashpal’s voluminous account of Partition and its aftermath, Jhootha Sach; the first of Upendranath Ashk’s six-volume Girti Divarein; Dharamvir Bharati’s Gunahon ka Devta (described as “Hindi’s highest-selling novel”); Jainendra’s Tyagpatra; and Krishna Sobti’s Zindaginaama, which will be out soon. Along with these, I was able to read more recent Hindi works also now out in English translation, such as Kamleshwar’s Kitne Pakistan, Vinod Kumar Shukla’s Khilega Toh Dekhenge, and the fiction of Uday Prakash and Geetanjali Shree.

I belong to that class of Indian readers which has a shadowy relationship with Hindi, in that I read translations from that language without prior knowledge of the original, but with enough of a grasp of the idiom to be able to savour a good translation. But I have also been trying to form an idea of Hindi literature as a whole, not just judge individual works and their renderings. Do these recent translations create a faithful picture, or even a satisfyingly representative one? How can I, as a reader in English, fruitfully compare what the field looks like in the original to how it appears through the lens of translation?

Read full piece in Caravan, November 2015

Why Don’t We Have More Novels About Art?

When I set out to write my just-published novel, The Cosmopolitans, which is among other things an attempt at a conversation about art, I tried to reach back in memory to art-driven novels I had read. Michael Frayn’s Headlong was one that immediately came to mind. (A couple of weeks ago, a reviewer flatteringly compared the novel to Somerset Maugham’s The Moon and The Sixpence, based on the life of Paul Gauguin. I only realised then that I had read it as a teenager and over time mostly forgotten it or replaced it in my head with what I later learnt about Gauguin’s real life.)

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