Knit India Through Literature Volume II - The East - Oriya

By Sivasankari

Knit India Through Literature...' is a mega literary project, first of its kind in Indian literature, is the result of the penance-yagna done for 16 years by Sivasankari, noted Tamil writer.

'Knit India Through Literature' has inolved intense sourcing, research and translation of literature from 18 Indian languages. The project she says aims to introduce Indians to other Indians through literature and culture and help knit them together.

The interviews of stalwart writers from all 18 languages approved by the eighth schedule of Indian Constitution, accompanied by a creative work of the respective writer are published with her travelogues of different regions, along with an indepth article by a scholar on the cultural and literary heritage of each of the language, in four volumes - South, East, West and North respectively.

Her travelogues, her interviews and the overview of each literature she has sought, all reveal one important unity... the concern our writers and poets express in their works for the problems that beset our country today. Through her project Sivasankari feels writers can make an invaluable contribution with their writings to change the thinking of the people and help eliminate those problems.

In this volume she deals with Oriya one of the languages spoken in eastern region of India.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pustaka Digital Media
• Release date: Jun 15, 2024
• ISBN: 6580501810975

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Knit India Through Literature Volume II - The East – Oriya

Author:

Sivasankari

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Table of Contents

Foreword

Preface – I

Preface - II

But For Whom This Project Would Not Have Been Possible...

TRAVELLING THROUGH ORISSA

RAMAKANTA RATH

POEMS

KISHORI CHARAN DAS

THE VISITOR

PRATIBHA RAY

THE UNTOUCHABLE GOD

MANOJ DAS

THE BRIDGE IN THE MOONLIT NIGHT

SANTANU KUMAR ACHARYA

PLUS AND MINUS GREATER THAN ZERO

MODERN ORIYA LITERATURE

Vision of Indian Literature

award from

The Tamil Literary Garden, Canada

Foreword

Whenever I am invited to address a gathering of Indian writers, I feel honoured and embarrassed at the same time. To communicate with my audience, I have to depend on a language which is not my own. Further, I cannot comment on Indian writing in general, as my understanding of the literatures of other regions is very limited. The literary works of other areas, which reach me through translations, are few and far between. My colleagues from other languages who participate in such programmes must be having the same problem. Some of us may be able to discuss in detail recent American literary trends or contemporary Latin American fiction, but we are unable to do so with literature next door.

Very few serious attempts have been made in the exchange of major literary works through translations between different languages in the country. There are State institutions like the Sahitya Akademi and the National Book Trust which undertake occasional translation projects. I am not ignoring their contributions. But before the formation of such official bodies, there were individuals in different parts of the country who learnt other languages and translated many works into their own. Almost all the writings of Sarat Chandra, Bankim Chandra, Tagore and Premchand have been translated and published long back in all the regional languages. They were not merely literary works for reading pleasure. There were revealing glimpses of an India and Indian life unfamiliar to other regions.

Now the market and media hype project Indo-Anglian writing as Indian literature. No doubt there are good works in this category; but nobody can ignore the genius of Indian literature reflected in the regional languages of our country. The colonial concept that the multiplicity of languages is a stumbling block in the progress of the country’s culture is still endorsed by some, I am sorry to say. Salman Rushdie and Khushwant Singh refuse to acknowledge the writings in the Indian languages over three millennia.

When Rushdie wrote his much-talked about article on ‘50 years of Indian writing’ in the New Yorker, many language writers felt deeply hurt. Not all. We, the language writers, have no reason to feel inferior. We are also very much part of the great tradition set up by the community of writers all over the world. We too have a small but dignified space in the vast heritage map of literature. In spite of the forces that control and manage literary markets, the regional writers have their own trusted readership. They value this mutual trust and love greatly. That is why the Bengali writer Sunil Gangopadhyay could boldly assert: The minute I realise that the readers’ response to my writing has decreased even slightly, then I shall stop writing.

National integration is a favourite theme and an ideal for my distinguished Tamil colleague Sivasankari. She believes in the Nehruvian theme of unity in diversity.

Some years ago, when we met in Chennai, she mentioned this project with great enthusiasm. She wanted to underline the assumption of Dr. S. Radhakrishnan that Indian literature is one, though written in different languages.

After reading two volumes (the first volume was devoted to four South Indian languages), I found to my great satisfaction that she was not conditioned to look for the mythical oneness of Indian literature. The interviews with various writers reveal the differences in their styles and substance. They are related to region-specific issues and social realities. An authentic search for the differences also is a step towards the realisation of a harmony. This is what Sivasankari has achieved.

There are 22 languages in this country recognised by the Sahitya Akademi. And there are hitherto marginalised literatures like Bodo and Tulu, gaining the momentum to leap into the recognised mainstream. There are also innumerable dialects screaming for identity.

The colonial power which ruled the country with its mono-lingual and mono religious culture failed to understand the multi-lingual and multi-religious ethos of Indian life. Lord Minto and Lord Macaulay wanted English to function as the sole language of the educated class as they believed that science and literature could not develop in the decadent’ languages of India.

The colonisers would not replace our languages. Rather, our languages used the opportunity for modernisation through interaction with English.

In the post-Independence period, some thought Hindi would replace the regional languages. But they soon realised that Hindi, however rich it may be, cannot bulldoze the regional languages, minor languages and dialects merely in the name of national homogeneity. Standardisation of Indian literature through a national language is another Minto-model concept. Every language, irrespective of the number of people who speak it, has its own identity and soul. Homogenisation of linguistic variants also is not possible. Tulsidas composed Ramcharit Manas in Avadhi. It has stood the test of time and reached the entire Hindi-speaking world, cutting across all barriers. Vidyapati wrote in Maithili and Surdas in Bhojpuri. They stood firmly on the foundations of their respective dialects and created poetry with pride and pleasure.

Sivasankari came to Kerala in the winter of 1992 to launch her project. When she explained her methodology in detail, it was mind-boggling. Travelling all over the country and meeting writers of 18 languages was not at all an easy task. (She was sticking to 18, in line with the Eighth Schedule of our Constitution.) She was not planning an encyclopaedia type of work. What she wanted to present was an introduction to the 18 literatures through detailed interviews with selected writers in these languages. This was to be presented in four big volumes, one for each zone of the country. She was totally involved with the project; rather, she was obsessed with it.

I took her first to Tirur, the birthplace of Thunchath Ezhuthachan, the 16th Century poet who is considered the father of the modern Malayalam language. I could feel her thrill and reverence when she handled the iron stylus with which Ezhuthachan wrote his great poetry. Later, I arranged for her to meet with Vaikkom Mohammed Basheer and Thakazhi Sivasankara Pillai. Basheer was bedridden, but he enjoyed the long session. He passed away after a few months and that was his last interview. Thakazhi also had health problems. But he talked for hours. I was present on both occasions and I was pleased to note that the interviewer had come fully prepared, having done a lot of homework on Malayalam literature.

I had my own doubts about this project considering its magnitude. No longer, for I now see that she has completed the first two volumes successfully and is ready to start work on the next two volumes. And eight years labour of love! I consider the invitation to write a Foreword to the second volume an honour and a privilege.

Before reading the present volume, my awareness of the literary scenes in Nepali and Manipuri was virtually insignificant. To some extent, I was familiar with the literature of Bengali, Oriya and Assamiya. This volume has given me more information and insight regarding these three languages. There may be shortcomings. Some may point out that instead of writer ‘A’, it should have been writer ‘B’, and leaving out so and so was a mistake. But there will be many like me who will feel they have been truly benefitted by this stupendous work.

During the interviews, writers sometimes come up with striking observations. Manoj Das believes that a life force is inherent in every language. If we repose faith in such a divine force and maintain our relationship correctly, we are sure to have beneficial results. The young Nepali poet Kewal Chandra Lama, who earns his livelihood by painting advertising boards and posters, dreams of a new revolution which will sweep the world he lives in and bring about a healthy change. For Binodini Devi, the Manipuri writer, the so-called commitment of literature is not governed by ground rules as in the case of a political party, My commitment is to remain a sincere and truthful writer. For Ramakanta Rath, the Oriya poet, The written word is a search for a particular stage of thought. There is another kind of truth there. The truth does not occur immediately despite being a part of our lives.

Can India be knit through literature? Understanding a literature is understanding its people and their culture. Ignoring our languages is part of the ‘culture amnesia’ induced by the hangover of colonialism.

Sivasankari’s work is not merely an introduction to the contemporary regional literatures of India. It is also a plea for the revival of our cultural memory and rediscovery of the identity of our languages.

I feel the relevance for such works is greater now when the politics of language is dividing democratic India by erecting walls of intolerance.

- M.T. Vasudevan Nair

CALICUT

March 2000

Preface – I

(Volume I - The South)

As a young girl, I had often heard my mother narrate this little tale.

Once upon a time there was a kind-hearted girl who lived in a small village. The girl was a poor orphan, but she always wanted to help people around her. While saying her prayers one night, she wished for a money-bearing tree that would allow her to help a lot more people. When she woke up the next morning, she found a huge tree near her little hut. Instead of fruits, the tree bore gold coins. Passers-by wondered who had sown the seed from which the tree had sprouted. The girl had no answer to the question, but she continued to pluck the coins and distribute them to people around. As a result, poverty was removed from her land.

Thinking back on this story, I feel that the latter half of it in particular describes my own situation quite accurately.

I do not know who sowed in me the seed that has today grown into the Knit India through Literature project. But, blessed with the right type of soil, water and fertiliser, the seed has grown into a huge tree that abounds with fragrant flowers and luscious fruit. Yet, I do not want to enjoy them all by myself; but I would rather share this bounty with my countrymen.

Even as I sit down with pen in hand to write this preface, I beget memories of by gone times. About ten years ago I was in Mysore, to participate in a literary meet that attempted to analyse a novel written by a Black American woman writer. Around twenty writers from different parts of the country had gathered there to analyse the work in minute detail. Dwelling on the discussions on my journey back, I was suddenly struck by the incongruity or irony of the whole situation. While we had sufficient knowledge of world literature - Black, Latin-American or European - to be able to thoroughly analyse it, we were woefully unaware of our very own literary treasures.

Let alone the people, even our learned writers do not have much of a knowledge of the literary works in Indian languages other than their own! What could be the reason for this? The fact that there had not been much effort to translate literary works into other languages could be a possible reason. Was it this thought that sowed the seed for the Knit India through Literature project in me? Thinking back. I believe that may well be the case.

On yet another occasion, when I was in Sikkim for a writers’ meet. I found that the writers who had congregated there had heard about Tamil Nadu’s idli sambar (a traditional breakfast food) and her silks but knew next to nothing about her literature. This had quite an impact on me. There is also another aspect to this issue. While it is true that others do not know much about us, isn’t it also a fact that we know hardly anything about them? Calcutta is synonymous with rasagollas, Rajasthan with marble and Kerala with coir. How much do we Indians know about the literature created in States other than our own, and what sort of an effort have we made to get to know their traditions, their customs, their joys and sorrows?

I am not saying that there haven’t been any cultural exchanges amongst us at all. A dweller of Kasi (Varanasi) may name his son Ramnath after the presiding deity in the southern temple town of Rameswaram. Or a Tamil girl could be named ‘Vaishnavi’ after the goddess who dwells in the foothills of the Himalayan ranges. Meera bhajans are sung in the South and Kathakali is performed in Delhi. Religious, cultural or even political links have been established over time. But are they sufficient to strengthen the unity and integrity of our nation?

What is the role of literature in this effort to ‘knit’ people together? Very many years ago our former President Dr. S. Radhakrishnan said that while it may be written in different languages, Indian literature is one. Does his belief hold good today? How many Indians know of the Assamese writer Birendra Bhattacharya, Karnataka’s Shivaram Karanth or West Bengal’s Mahasveta Devi who are till today engaged in efforts to enrich their people’s thought processes? Should not language function as a bridge to introduce people to their treasured heritage?

It is probably these questions and thoughts that have nurtured the seed of the Knit India project within me. Plagued by all these questions, I continuously wondered if I could do something about it.

India is an ancient land We are its citizens

United we will all live Divided we will all fall

Inspired by these words of the turban-clad Tamil Poet Bharati, I began work on the ‘Knit India’ through Literature