Welcome to the interactive blog of the optional course on Subaltern Literatures at the Department of English Jadavpur University. This course challenges you to consider your own cultural conditioning and re-think your own subject position with respect to new literature and orature emerging out of marginalized communities in your own country and across the world. We are dealing with the Fourth World, as it were, communities that are severely disempowered in a range of contexts, from the First World to the Third.
Read the blogs carefully. Are there terms or concepts that seem new to you? Do you want to interject or comment or reflect on a blog post, or a class lecture? Please use the 'comments' section at the bottom of each post to express your thoughts., or report on new writing relevant to the course that you have read. Since this is an official course blog, you will be expected to avoid slang, and use appropriate language that you would employ in an actual class discussion.Please try to phrase what you are saying in a fashion that is not offensive,racist, violent, or objectionable. This course stands for healthy debate, for examining our own inbuilt biases, and a willingness to hear, accept and understand those different from us in a respectful but not condescending way.
One of the first things I would ask you to consider as you embark on this course is your own location - most of us are implicated in structures of power though we would not like to think about it - we often get influenced by the predominant attitudes of our class, caste, gender, regional and other positions even as we read new writing; hence our readings of new texts are often 'blighted' or biased by these ingrown attitudes. I would like each of you to honestly locate yourself in the context of what you read, and be self-critical and self-aware when you read.
Please post comments on the following questions after you've given them some thought:
1. In what way does your prior training in English literature affect the ways in which you read new writing, ie, your sense of what is 'good literature' or a work of 'aesthetic merit'?
2. How does the fact that the book you are reading is a translation from an Indian language affect your appreciation (or not) of it? If the book is originally in broken English or 'pidgin English', or not a good translation into English, what is your reaction?
3. What are the biases about tribal peoples/Adivasis/Aboriginal people/minorities/Dalits that commonly affect people's minds because of discussions that are heard in the home/family, comments by elders and peers, or seen in movies, on TV (news reportage of events etc.)?
4. What were the reasons you decided to try this optional course?Have you read any writing by people of historically underprivileged communities, for example, Afro-American writing?
I response to the questions:
ReplyDelete1) I disagree, firstly, with calling the study of English literature ‘training’. Engineers are trained to build bridges, and surgeons to make incisions, and although discipline can instill a certain critical attitude in literature students, I believe that it is futile, if not impossible, to attempt to ‘train’ a person to appreciate and understand literature. It is also important to remember that the critical stance should never become anything more than a healthy skepticism. The danger of being an academic is that intellectual egotism, which inevitably plagues all of us to some degree, tends drown out the sense of wonder when we read something new. If we allow this to happen though, the purpose of reading – to make us better human beings – will be lost. We cannot be ‘trained’ to be literature students. Our minds can at best, be illuminated. Studying literature, at least to me, is a process of learning how to see things in new ways, of looking at life through multiple lenses, of appreciating varied voices and being moved by the thoughts of great thinkers. Therefore, my attitude to new books I read remains largely unaffected by my 4 years in a literature department. Before entering JU, I read to fulfill my longing for wonderful new experiences and thoughts, and I still do. Perhaps unchanged would be a better word than unaffected. I do not claim not to be edified, even altered, as a person, by much of what I have read here. But everything that I have read has only broadened my mind more. Thankfully, most of the literature I have encountered in this department, has been of such quality as to defy narrow-minded interpretation or criticism. The practice of reading secondary material, ie, literary criticism of these texts has been largely rewarding, although the experience can sometimes be frustrating because of the tendency of most critics to use jargon and intentionally difficult language. One must often beg of these essayists, to explain their explanations, to borrow Byron’s words. However, on the whole, reading secondary, laborious though it tends to be, is rewarding, because most of what these people have said tends to offer new perspectives on the text, leading to a fuller understanding in our minds.
My sense of what is ‘good’ literature has remained largely the same after 4 years of schooling. Good literature, to me, has always been literature that profoundly moves me, contains some valuable thought, or is immensely enjoyable simply as a diversion. The rare author manages to wrap that kernel of truth that makes good literature in a package that is aesthetically pleasing and enjoyable to read. I reject the critical tendency to hierarchise what I read into ‘high art’ and ‘low art’. A well written Mad Magazine article can be considered good literature just as well as something written by T.S. Eliot can – if it contains something of value to my mind.
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ReplyDelete2) To answer this question satisfactorily, I ought to have read considerably in two languages, so that I could compare a book I have read in, say Bengali, to its translation into English. But to my shame, I must admit that with the possible exception of a few Satyajit Ray stories I may have read in both languages, what little Bengali literature I have read, I have read in translation, without having read the originals. And what little I have read in Bengali, I have not read again in translation. That said, I have read enough of Bengali literature in English, and enough purely in Bengali, to realize some of what is lost in translation. What I usually feel is a vague sense that something is not quite right, a certain displacement. Reading a translation can feel like watching a movie through coloured lenses, or reading a foreigners’ perspective on our culture. Every language has a certain flavor. Bengali for instance, has a certain tactile quality, a certain rosh, (there, I just pointed out how poor a substitute the word ‘juice’ is for rosh) which I feel is hard to achieve in English. Only the greatest poets, such as Keats and Tennyson come close to achieving the intimacy of Bengali. Therefore, a translation can feel strangely uncomfortable – as if the content is struggling miserably in the form. A lot of course, depends on the skill of the translator as well as the content of the story. Satyajit Ray, for instance, translates his own writing into English admirably. One rarely becomes conscious of language being a factor, in a professor Shonku story translated into English. I put this down to the remarkable use Ray makes of clipped, short, precise sentences – he does so both in Bengali and in English. Besides, Shonku’s travels take him all over the world, and alien geographies are rendered just as well in one language as in another. However, when Feluda is described in flawless English, sitting in a dinky Kolkata apartment, wearing a genjee and smoking a Charminar, one suddenly becomes aware that one is reading a translation. Poetry is even harder to translate. I remember reading a translation of Aabol Taabol, and noting that while it was an admirable effort on the translator’s part, it felt strange on the tongue, used as I am to hearing the whacky rhymes in the original Bengali. Dialect, colloquialisms and the likes are very difficult to translate.
ReplyDeleteI have little experience of reading poor translations. If I find a translation to be ridiculously poor, I may spend a few minutes laughing over it, but I will usually put it aside. I must admit that I have a rather snobbish attitude towards those who misuse English – blame it on 12 years of primary education in a Jesuit school, or on my admittedly anglicized cultural upbringing – from American shows on TV to rock music – and my parents’ insistence on correct English being used at home. I find it hard to take anything written in poor English seriously.
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ReplyDelete3) I have learned something very interesting after staying in the USA for a month. Perhaps my opinion is ill-thought-out, and perhaps it would change if I stayed here, an alien in this country, for longer. But I have come to believe that where there is racial or cultural difference, there is inevitably some amount of discrimination and segregation. With all the talk of abolishing racism, a black president and the predominance of hip-hop in the music scene, when a black person walks down the street in the USA, a white person will notice the colour of his skin, and make some assumptions about him, many of which may be unfounded, but not all of which will miss the mark. I am not a bigot. I write this after careful though and observation. Nor do I believe that this otherness we all perceive in those of different racial or cultural backgrounds needs be an impediment to human bonding, social development or the wellbeing of a nation. We can accept that our neighbor is not exactly like us, and love him just as well.
ReplyDeleteIn my own country, which is about as culturally diverse as any country in the world, biases abound. I cannot help but feel biased myself, judgemental to a certain extent of minorities. There has been a lot of talk in recent years about reservation for scheduled castes and scheduled tribes. One can’t escape the subject. Even a pro bias, is a bias. It strikes one as amusing when the constitution is loaded in favour of minorities, but the greater extent of people are biased against them. What then are the derogatory things said about underprivileged people and minorities? That they are crass, unclean, unhealthy, promiscuous (it seems promiscuity is the favourite label that racists like to use: an interesting fact), prone towards violence and crime, and the likes. It is revolting even to list them, as I realize that these pejorative generalizations can only be made because socio-economic circumstances have led to certain classes becoming impoverished and underprivileged. Minorities who are not underprivileged, are not exempt to discrimination. In school, jokes about Punjabis were very common, and appreciated by all, including the Punjabis themselves, much to the credit of their large-heartedness. A lot of the time, these biases can be relatively harmless. As I said, it is inevitable for us to notice differences in others, and as long as we’re all cheering when Sachin hits a six, it’s all good, as the Americans say. It ceases to be funny however, when a part of you is careful while walking through poorer, predominantly Muslim parts of town at night, which your elders have described as ‘shady’. It ceases to amuse you when your aged relative recites a racist rhyme, it ceases to amuse you when you hear about Rizwanur Rehman’s death. This kind of discrimination has its roots in an older value-system, the world of our grandparents, where caste and creed was an oppressive reality. In truth, it still is – only us liberal, educated, urban folks can claim, and that too not without doubt, that we are free of biases. But we are the future, and I believe, that with time, though differences should not and will not be erased, discrimination shall slowly be eradicated. I believe the tendency of the world becoming more accessible, smaller in a sense, helps. Diaspora cultures spread their own cultural identity around the world, and suddenly you find yourself, an Indian boy, sitting in a Mexican resturaunt, in a predominantly white state of the USA, smiling at the Chinese girl at the next table.
4) 4) I took this course for a number of reasons. To begin with, I find POCO fascinating. I enjoyed it when I studied it in first year. I also enjoy reading texts by people whose voices, if I may use the term loosely, differ from my own, or from the dominant voices in society. As I said, the reason why I decided to study literature, is to broaden my mind, and what better way to do so, than to hear the subaltern speak? I have a perpetually soft corner in my heart for the underdog. I cheered for Ghana in the world cup, I cried when I read Things Fall Apart, I watched with vicarious thrill as the unnamed, lean-limbed protagonist of Fight Club bravely took on the oppressive system. I like to think about what a text has not said as often as I think about what it consciously says. To this day I consider Coetzee’s Foe one of the best texts I’ve read in JU. I enjoyed writing a term paper on the unspoken, the silence, as it were, in Shakespeare’s Tempest. I am currently musing about immigrant mentalities in the USA, and blogging away into the night about my experience of being here. As a matter of fact, it was coming to the States on my holiday that made up my mind about taking this course. I was in two minds before, but once I realized how much I like to think about human beings and the way they interact in groups in society, about why, while walking down the streets here, I am noticed first for being Indian, and then for anything else, I made up my mind.
ReplyDeleteAs for literature by minorities, or historically underprivileged communities, I have to admit, that I have not read much. Barring some texts prescribed in our UG1 POCO syllabus, I can only think of Ruskin Bond, (an anglo-Indian and therefore a minority writer), who I have read plenty of, and Salman Rushdie. Of course, many a book I have read talks about these issues under a different banner. As a matter of fact, my favourite kind of literature, fantasy fiction, often deals with the relationship between oppressors and the oppressed. I have watched a fair share of films relating to the subject as well. For instance, I recently watched the fascinating, Oscar winning film Crash, directed by Paul Haggis, which deals with racism and the life of minorities in Los Angeles. Let me not exclude comedians such as Russel Peters and Sacha Baron Cohen, who have a lot to say about minorities in their own unique ways. I have heard a fair share of music that deals with the life and experiences of African Americans in the USA. An example would be the song When the Levee Breaks, originally by Kansas Joe McCoy and Memphis Minnie, which speaks about the hard life of the underprivileged. Given my relative ignorance about minority literatures, I consider this course an opportunity to broaden my horizons.
Madam, your first question,regarding what "good literature" means to me, reminds me of the essay we had to write for the BA Entrance Examination,JUDE,2006:"Can literature ever be bad?"(as far as i remember). My four years of "training" in English Literature,doesn't seem to have in any way affected or altered my thoughts regarding what "good literature" is. Something which has the mark of coming right from the depths of the author's heart, which has an element of earnestness of feeling and truth is what i think makes "good literature". It doesn't matter if the language is not "sophisticated", it doesn't matter if it is full of elements which is usually considered "obscene". Samaresh Basu's "Bibar", or Nabarun Bhattacharya's "Herbert" might cross the boundaries of what is considered decent by "bhadrojon" but does that allow one to overlook the raw passion, the overwhelming portrayal of a range of conflicting human emotions in the work?
ReplyDeleteSunrita Chakravarti.
I haven't really come across poor translations of works written in other Indian languages. What arouses my curiosity at times is how some words and phrases would have been in the original. Recently i felt this very strongly while i was reading Mahesh Elkunchwar's "The Wada Trilogy", in translation. I felt i missed out on the flavour of the warhadi marathi dialect, the meaning of the local proverbs etc. The same is true for Habib Tanvir's
ReplyDelete"Charandas Chor" and Chandrashekhar Kambar's "Jokumaraswami". The translations were all by competent and highly efficient people but still the folk traditions conveyed by songs and poetry remained out of my grasp due to my ignorance of marathi, chattisgarhi or Kannad!
Your third question reminds me of an orthodox friend of mine who once argued that there must be strong reasons behind the aversion of a large majority of people to intercaste marriages. He firmly believed that intermingling of the Bhrahmins with any of the lower castes would lead to their genetic degradation. It is tempting to write him off as a fanatic whose views are "pre - modern". But a glance at the matrimonial columns is enough to arouse the discomfiture of those who would like to believe that people in general have become much more "liberal".Rarely will one come across a matrimonial ad which steers clear of mentioning the caste of the groom or the bride.Surely sometimes, one does witness a certain amount of "flexibility" : "Kayasthya'o cholibe"( We can accept a Kayastha too as our prospective son/daughter-in- law). To be entirely honest it is not only an orthodox friend, relative or the unknown person seeking matrimonial alliance, but i myself and most of my friends around me, cannot escape from being biased. The reservations in educational institutions and proffessional fields often make the so called "higher castes" question the merit of those who get through by the virtue of being a member of a certain community or minority.
ReplyDeleteThe answer to the ultimate and most important question lies partly in the last comment. The desire to fight the age old biases, to read Subaltern Literature and try to simultaneously "read" my own responses with honesty ,work behind my taking up of this course. Apart from that, i want to listen to that passionate voice which speaks of its being not only as that of a "subaltern" but as a human being whose basic emotions are no different from that of its "higher caste" counterpart.
ReplyDeleteResponses:
ReplyDelete1. Before I started off with my B.A. course in English Literature I was conditioned to think in a certain way and it was slightly difficult and confusing for me to be reading texts that are so different from each other, right from the style, to the language used and ideas expressed. School texts seemed so simple in comparison to what we were reading in college. However, texts in the undergraduate syllabus broadened my notion of what ‘literature’ is and I started liking different kinds of writing. Right now my first reading is always a combination of earlier perceptions and the new ideas I’m grasping with. It’s only with subsequent re-readings that new meanings emerge. Good literature continues to be anything interesting that touches the heart.
2. Translations are particularly interesting to compare with the original whenever that is possible. However, the fact that I haven’t read many leaves me unable to answer this question satisfactorily. Mahasweta Devi’s novel The Book of the Hunter (Byadhkhanda) was a fascinating read because it closely revealed the customs of the Shabars amidst their attachment to the forest. Despite being a translation, it lucidly conveyed the various emotions felt by the characters, often being able to move from the topical situation to a more general analysis.
ReplyDeleteAppreciation does come in for translations, even though one feels a step away from the original ideas. Also, I tend to approach translated works more cautiously and try and read carefully to understand it as well as I can.
If the translation is difficult to follow, my progress may be slow. However, I’m quite sure that with works that convey something meaningful ‘pidgin English’ ceases to be a major problem.
3. My earliest ideas about tribals springs from films I’d seen as a child where these people would be portrayed in a bizarre manner, engaged in strange mannerisms and customs. Unfortunately, there was always the tendency to view these people as uncivilized or not worthy of attention. The whole question of reservations also caused a mixed response from those around me, with some feeling that this was much required and others constantly complaining about the lack of opportunities for meritorious students. Thanks to translated works now available these biases are gradually fading though we still have a long way to go. This course will also help me understand the subaltern voice better and provide a more balanced view of the situation.
ReplyDelete4. I wanted to take up this optional course because it sounded so different and yet so pertinent in today’s times. Further, a friend of mine doing her Masters in Social Work has been working with an organization for minorities and I was fascinated when she told me about her interactions with the people during surveys she conducted. Though we are all part of the same country, there is a different face of India that I have never seen and I hope to know more about my country and its people through this course.
ReplyDeleteI have just read a little bit of this kind of writing. My knowledge of historically underprivileged communities is very poor. So I hope this course will get me closer to the voices of these people and make me a better student of literature.