THE NOVELS OF RABINDRANATH TAGORE
A. V.
Research
Scholar in English,
In
an article entitled The Plays of Rabindranath Tagore Dr. D. V. K. Raghavacharyulu says “…Tagore effected a fruitful synthesis
in his career and achievement between our Renaissance and Reformation. As a
child of the Indian Renaissance, he emphasized the values of intellectual and
imaginative creation. As a product of the Indian Reformation, he stressed the
need of relating the enlightenment of outward nature with the illumination of
the inner spirit….All the artistic output of his long life was a projection of
this quick pulp of national consciousness into the enduring moulds of vital
imagination.” This is no less true of Tagore, the novelist. Living in the
turbulent times of the late 19th century and the early 20th century, Tagore
naturally reflects the contemporary ideas and counter-ideas
in all his works–more particularly in his novels. His are Novels of Ideas
without the taint of propaganda; despite the particular thesis in most of his
novels, the characters are free in their action and organic in their
development.
A careful scrutiny of his novels reveals two concurrent ideas of special significance to his countrymen, one is the Upanishadic ideal of a Universal Man, the englightened soul, not the materialistic robot of a mechanical civilization; the other is the image of woman, symbolizing the sensitivity and energy of Prakriti, the Universal Mother, certainly not the sensual nymph of a hedonistic society. These are the two basic ideas of the Indian national consciousness that Tagore presents in his novels against the contemporary background of hatred and violence, vice and superstition.
It
was an Age of Renaissance and reformation. The reactionary forces of
conventional society were up against the Social Reformers and liberal
philosophers. On the other hand, the few educated
Indians were but a brown version of the white snobbery and
the complex of superiority. It was, in the words of Krishna Kripalani,
“an age of toadies and of reactionaries, those who aped the Western ways and
those who sought consolation in the bondage of immemorial tradition and dogma.”
Thus we see that the novels of Tagore inevitably constitute the imaginative
rendering of the contemporary social history, for, as Ernst Cassirer
remarks, “All human works arise under particular historical and sociological
conditions.” And Tagore’s greatness as a novelist lies in his artistic
detachment while painting the canvas in diverse hues.
Broadly
speaking, of all the novels of Tagore, available in English translation, Gora, The Home and The
World, Binodini and Four Chapters are as
stimulating as they are thought-provoking, demanding a close study. The
remaining three note-worthy novels are The Wreck, Farewell, My Friend, and
the Garden.
The
Wreck is thematically fantastic and fatalistic, as the
story is mainly based on the chance meeting of Ramesh
and Kamala after the boat tragedy, utterly ignorant of their true relationship.
This is one of Tagore’s light and detached social fantasies–perhaps the best
among them. The element of chance or accident, and the fatalistic outlook of
the chief characters recall to one’s mind Hardy’s
tragedies, though the latter are much better in their style and thematic
development and the final catastrophe. Compared even with his own other novels,
The Wreck is loose in construction, melodramatic rather than natural or
real. Ramesh is so weak and vacillating
that he sounds artificial. But, barring Ramesh, the
rest are quite convincing: Akshaya is sophisticated
and meddlesome–a common type; Nalinaksha is an honest
idealist with a firm will and subtle understanding–“a solemn stick,” as he
calls himself half-jocularly and half-seriously; Hemnalini
is perhaps the feminine version of Nalinaksha–strong
willed and bold both in her utterances and actions. But, the most impressive
character in the novel is Kamala, with her girlish simplicity in the beginning
and with her sensitive and mature behaviour in the
end symbolising the characteristic features of a
sensitive Hindu wife. The entire story is based on the unfortunate wreck in the
Padma river when Ramesh and Nalinaksha cross it
with their respective brides. Accident is the starting point of the Novel; the
element of chance plays a great role in the development of the plot; and a
fatalistic faith drives on the characters. It may be justifiably said,
therefore, that The Wreck is Tagore’s fancy-child, involving no serious
moral issue of national importance.
If
The Wreck is fanciful, Farewell, My Friend is a social romance
with ironical undertones, and an obvious dig at the new generation of social
snobs who fall in head long for the glittering appearance of the Western
civilization with no proper understanding of their own culture. The “hero” of
this romantic novelette is Amrit Rai,
an ultra-modern, Oxford-educated Bengali young man of considerable talent, who
tries to be self-consciously original by ridiculing both conventional and
contemporary social values; and, when he meets Labonya,
a typical product of modern culture, the synthesis of the old and the new, for
a time, Amrit is under the spell of true love, his
artificial modernity receiving a powerful jolt, thanks to his accidental
friendship. But his “old world” of coquetry and snobbery comes to claim him
even in the far off Assam hills, and Labonya truly
sensing his inner conflict of old pledges and the new discipline of love, bids
him farewell in a and touching poem, The Shesher Kavita. Brief and romantic as it is, its immediate
popularity may be traced to what Mr. Kripalani refers
when he says: “more than the development of the plot of the novel, it is the
form of its presentation, the artistry of the author’s style, the exquisite
poetry interwoven with scintillating, sophisticated prose, the half-lyrical
half-mocking tone of the narrative which startle the reader and give the novel
its distinction.”
Malancha
or The Garden is another long short
story of Tagore –a tragedy of psychological maladjustment. It has neither the
elaborate plot of a social fantasy like The Wreck, nor the satirical
slant of a romantic narrative like the Farewell, My Friend. It is a
penetrating study of the human mind in an invalid body. Niraja’s
jealous and possessive love for her husband, a florist, warps her mind with
increasing intensity as she realises that Sarala is to fill her place in her husband’s life. She
finally nervously breaks down, destroying the garden, the symbol of her own
life. Her spiritual death as it were, quickly and inevitably leads to her own
tragedy.
It
is, however, in Gora, The
Home and The World, Binodini and Four
Chapters, that we find a full proliferation of the national culture in a
memorable and crucial period of the history of modern
Gora artistically
demonstrates the unavoidable clash between thesis and antithesis, resulting in
the emergent synthesis. Paresh babu,
the Brahmo sage, is like Tagore himself: serene and
unruffled even in the face of a malicious and scandalous domestic crisis;
always dignified, exuding warmth and affection; and respected and accepted as
Guru, even by such an ardent Hindu fighter like Gora.
He is not a Brahmo bigot, who is a false copy of his
Western contemporary, like the Pedantic and proud Brahmo
leader, Panu Babu; nor is
he an emotional Hindu extremist like Gora; he is, in
fact, the real representative of Tagore’s ideal of the Universal Man,
transcending sectarian limits and the narrow national frontiers. Gora rightly confesses, in the end,
“It
is you who have the mantram of that freedom…and that
is why today you find no place in any society. Make me your disciple: Today
give me the mantram of that Deity who belongs to all,
Hindu, Musalman, Christian and Brahmo
alike–the doors to whose temple are never closed
to any person of any caste whatever–He
who is not merely the God of the Hindus but who is the God of India herself.
And
after this clean and honest avowal of Gora, his
request to Sucharita, “take my hand and lead me to
this guru of yours” is readily granted when Gora
turned towards Paresh Babu
“the two together made their obeisance to him.”
Gora, “an incarnate image of revolt against
modernity,” is a genuine nationalist when he says to his dear friend, Binoy:
“At
present, our only task is to infuse in the un-believers our own unhesitating
and unflinching confidence in all that belongs to our country. Through our
constant habit of being ashamed of our country, the poison of servility has
overpowered our minds.”
A
devout champion of the Hindu way of life, Gora is not
a bigot; on the contrary, he admits the accretion of certain unwholesome
practices in the Hindu society as a “result of the totality of the conditions
of our country, but he insists on a personal and nationalistic approach to the
entire issue; for, he urges Sucharita, his ultimate
alter-ego:
“…..come
inside India, accept all her good and her evil, if there be deformity then try
and cure it from within, but see it with your own eyes, understand it….become
one with it.”
Thus,
it is quite perceptible that Gora symbolises
all that India stands for with her strength and weakness. This only becomes
enlarged after the dramatic revelation that Gora “was
a foundling at the time of the Mutiny,” and that his father was an Irishman;
because, he now becomes with his Hindu breeding and his own intellectual
affiliation to the spirit of the unmistakable symbol of the composite culture
of the greater India, the mother of transcendental, universal philosophy of
Man. And, in the process of this spiritual transformation, an exultant
exaltation of men and women with superior sensibilities like Gora and Sucharita, Binoy and Lolita, the
self-appointed and ego-centric leaders of society like Panu
Babu naturally suffer Bottom-like translations.
If
the character of Gora is a study of the progress of
an Indian nationalist, Sucharita is the image of
Indian womanhood. As the devoted disciple of Paresh Babu she imbibes the best of all cultures. Gora always regards her not as a social individual, but rather
as an idea.” The womanhood of India is revealed to him in the figure of Sucharita. Her discussion with Gora
regarding the intricate aspects of nationalism and religion is indicative of
her intellectual analysis of any problem that, demands sensitive perception.
And, finally, Ananda Moyi,
is Mother India herself, as Gora realises
and salutes her in the end:
“Mother,
you are my mother….The mother, whom I have been wandering about, in search of,
was all the time sitting in my room at home. You have no caste,
you make no distinctions, and have no hatred….you are only the image of our
welfare. It is you who are India.”
Anand
Moyi is the truest symbol of Mother India, with no
artificial distinctions and inhibitions. Her bringing up Gora,
the orphan-foundling, like her own son is, indeed a tribute to the Indian
motherhood; her expostulation of Gora on the
caste-distinction is a sample of her motherly care and kindliness:
“when
you hold a little child to your breast then you feel certain that no one is born
into this world with caste…”
Thus,
in the final analysis, Gora seems to be
a supreme example of the Indo-Anglian symbolist
fiction with national dimensions.
As
Gora is culturally symbolic, so is Binodini on the social plane. The translator,
Kripalani, affirms that “it is the first modern
novel in Bengali and, one might say, in Indian literature-which
is not to say that no novels were written in Bengali or other Indian languages
before it. But these novels whether Tagore’s or Bankim’s
can hardly be called modern.” Though primarily a poet, it was Tagore who
initiated the modern novel into vogue. His best novels are always realistic or
psychological or concerned with social problems. Binodini,
beautiful, young and vivacious, is the symbol of the Hindu social injustice.
The cultural cussedness of the Hindu society is primarily responsible for her
becoming a widow even before she becomes mature enough to understand and live a
married life. Educated and beautiful, young and frustrated, she naturally
rebels against the conventional moral code, and encourages Mahendra
to love her. Mahendra, the pampered son of Rajlakshmi, desperately clings to his own girl-wife, Asha, whose artlessness and simplicity unwillingly bring
about the inevitable domestic disharmony and conjugal unhappiness to herself
for a considerable time. Bihari’s warnings and
friendly intervention are easily and intentionally misconstrued by the
infatuated Mahendra. And, in fact, Binodini herself is no mean character, but really, loves Bihari for his dependable and ideal conduct. She soon
realizes her mistake in ruining the happy home of the good-natured and innocent
Asha. Binodini finally
turns to Bihari for protection and sympathetic
understanding and love; rightly does Bihari respond
to her sincere and impassioned importunities. Such is the theme of Binodini which is one of best written
problem novels of Tagore. In one of his lectures, Tagore asserts that
“our real problem in India is not political. It is social….” And Tagore never
evades the question, but offers a solution to the same. But even if it is
merely a presentation of the problem, Binodini
eminently satisfies the dictum of Tchekov
who says,
“you
confuse two things–solving a problem, and
stating it correctly. It is only the second that is obligatory to the
artist.”
Gora and
Binodini are two of Tagore’s novels
which directly deal with the contemporary culture, and social history. But it
is perhaps in The Home and The World that Tagore’s virtuosity as
a novelist is clearly discernible. The ‘dramatis personae’ are Sandip, Nikhil and Bimal. The problem is obviously political–one of Tagore’s
forthright statements concerning the national movement including a reference to
‘Bande Mataram’. Besides
the interesting theme, the technical device in narration–each character soliloquising his or her feelings and experiences in the
action–is also fascinating as a form of “internal monologue.” The story itself
is simple, the purport being mainly political.
The
‘Home’ is the ‘World’ to Bimala until Sandip makes his disturbing appearance with his aggressive
informality. Nikhil winks at the familiarity of Sandip and Bimala chiefly owing
to his innate large-heartedness and cultivated idealism. Sandip
and Nikhil are ideologically poles apart: the former
is an aggressive and unscrupulous nationalist while the latter is a non-violent
humanist. He disagrees with Sandip on the ideal of
Nation-god. A juggler of words, Sandip succeeds,
however, in winning the sympathies of Bimala whom he
acclaims as the symbol of Shakti that is Mother
India. Bimala is temporarily swayed by the maddening
cry of ‘Bande Mataram’, and
robs her own house, like a cunning thief, for the sake of the so-called
National Cause. Nikhil is prepared to set her free;
but soon wisdom dawns on Bimala, and she detests
wholeheartedly the filthy means of Sandip to worship
the Mother. His greed and lust, masqueraded and paraded as nationalism, are
extremely repulsive to Bimala now.
The
leitmotif of this novel is What Tagore himself declares in one of his lectures
in Japan: “With the growth of power the cult of self-worship of the nation
grows in ascendancy; and the individual willingly allows the nation to take
donkey-rides upon his back; and there happens the anomaly which
must have such disastrous effects that the individual worships with all
sacrifices a god which is morally much inferior to himself…” And Nikhil, being the main protagonist in this novel, reflects
the same extra-national ideas, opposing the “organized selfishness of
nationalism.” To him, as Radhakrishnan rightly
observes, “patriotism devoid of humanity is nothing but selfishness on a large
scale. The individual wants wealth, the nation wants earth. In both cases it is
greed and hunger for matter.” Nikhil’s humanistic
philosophy comes in conflict with the pseudo-nationalism of Sandip.
Bimala is doubtless a symbol of Shakti
or primordial energy, but Sandip’s exploitation of
the same is fraught with disastrous consequences–as is suggested in fact, by
the communal riots at the end of the novel. And Tagore’s emphasis is always on
the creative aspects of energy.
Four
Chapters, the last novel of our examination, is rather a
controversial novel of Tagore. Mainly the tragic story of Ela
and Atin, set against the bloody background of
revolutionary Bengal, it is a strong indictment of the revolutionary politics,
as it affects the lives of countless young men and women in gruesome
circumstances. Pleading artistic immunity, Tagore explains the theme: “what
might be called the only theme of the book is the love of
Ela and Atmdra. The nature
and course of the love between man and woman is determined not only by the
individual characters of the lovers; it is influenced also by the
impact of their circumstances on them...On the one hand, there is the inner
feeling, on the other, the conflict with outward circumstances.” Strongly
disapproving and deprecating the imputation of motives to him, Tagore states:
“what matters as literature is the portrayal of the poignance
and pain of their love against the stormy background of the revolution.” And to
that extent, of course, this brief and moving story of the doomed lovers is
completely satisfying.
Indranath, the
disgruntled leader of the revolutionary group, is a ruthless organiser of terrorist activities, to whom individuals do
not count. And hence the tragedy of Atin and Ela who have implicit faith in him as their leader. Atin, in fact, realises the error
of his judgment too late to turn back. And, Ela, the
turns spirited young lady that she is, has to accept the final tragic tryst
with destiny when her own lover is commissioned to kill her for the advancement
of the revolution. Her last cry “let me die awake,
in your arms. Let our last kiss be eternal, Ontu, my Ontu,” is not only courageous but expressive of the anguish
of a loving heart.
Thus,
in the ultimate analysis, the novels of Tagore are but the artistic
transfiguration of the vital values of Indian culture with a universal import.
While his Gora and The Home and The
World are the unquestionable testament of his faith in the composite and
humanistic character of Indian culture, his Four Chapters is a
forthright condemnation of the xenophobic expression of the amoral nationalism,
a potentially dangerous political doctrine borrowed from the West.