Thinking of Edmund Jayasooriya

I first sighted Edmund Jayasooriya with his translation of Thera Theri Gatha into English. That's when I fell in love with his English for the first time - I kept the book in my possession for later reference.

Then I saw him in the press. I was always interested in what scholars got to say about Sri Lankan English. And obviously I remember Jayasooriya's opinion: We cannot use English the way a native speaker does. But our local usage and Standard English should be fused into one.

That reminds me of Tissa Abeysekara, who not only voiced the same thing, but in fact practised it. In My Kingdom of the Sun and the Holy Peak was the first step. I see them indirectly scoffing at those who keep on cheeping and twittering about a standard English sans Sri Lankan English. Well, I'm not going to drone on about that now.

I didn't take much notice of the Gunasena publishers's invitation card on the Sinhala translation of Geethanjali launch. But later I realized it was an elegantly printed invitation card, with a verse in the back flap. First I was just reading the lines, but then my eyes really fell on those words. That was, as anyone would have murmured, awesome, but there was something deep at the same time I just could not heft. Suddenly I felt as if I'm living inside those words, myself listening to someone chant words musingly and rhythmically.

But then again, I started wondering why I feel something like this. I have already read the Geethanjali, first as a translation and then in English. There have been four translations, I heard, including Jayasuriya's latest addition. Though not a follower or a fan, I admired Tagore's ideas and concepts as laid down in the famous work.

I enjoy listening to Anduru Kutiya Thula and Patu Adahas Nam Pavurin Lokaya. The music, voice and lyrics do not tire me in the least to listen even for the umpteenth time. These songs are based on two Geethanjali verses. There was a time I took pains to locate these particular verses and compare the English one, Sinhala translation and the song based on it. Surprising enough I like the song better than the original verse. I wonder if our culture or language has got anything to do with this. You can well say it surpasses the mere translation.

Geethanjali was originally written in Bengali. Later on the author translated it into English with W B Yeats - that too, I heard. When you translate, of course you have to retain the quality of the original. This is harder when it comes to poetry. So Jayasooriya has a challenge. He cannot enjoy any liberty of recreating. But he does that somehow, wonderfully enough, within the confines of translation.

Tagore had a specific aim when he wrote the Geethanjali. More than letting out a spontaneous overflow of some personal feelings, Tagore was mainly concerned about reforming the tumbledown society. He meant quite a thing in a single sentence.

This is where Orientalism comes in. Holistically speaking I do not agree with the branches of Orientalism (save Buddhism), and yet the gospels such as Hinduism and Jainism continue to fascinate me. The concepts of God and non-violence are just beautiful. I can still admire a shrine room, breathe in the sandalwood scent wafting through. Religion and aesthetic sense are two different things, after all. Initially I had no intention of reading Jayasooriya's translation of Geethanjali. Not that I have ceased to admire him or anything, but the fact that I have already read a translation.

And when I started on, taking a little break here and there to read between a line or two, thoughts surged in wave upon wave. They hit each other both aggressive and calm, though with a pervading sense of serenity. This, above all, looks great.

I haven't read much about or into Tagore. My knowledge seemed so useful, because that was only a little. That little made me picture a Tagore of my own in Jayasooriya's translation of Geethanjali.

Siddhartha, the protagonist of Hermann Hesse's novel of the same name, is a Brahmin ascetic. The novel's pinnacle is where Siddhartha encounters the Gotama Buddha. Those disciples following the path taught by the Buddha seemed as fallen leaves to Siddhartha. Herman Hesse strikingly spins the thoughts into words.

Siddhartha to the Buddha: "You have learned nothing through teachings, and so I think, O Illustrious One, that nobody finds salvation through teachings."

Tagore, like Siddhartha, is on a quest to seek out the truth. He can wait and think. That makes him aloof from others. He did not want to follow any particular religion, because he too did not believe in salvation through teachings. So he let himself enjoy both worldly and spiritual pleasures. He tried self purification, patience and all those samana practices, which lead to the social reformation. Geethanjali embodies this saga.

As I slowly go into rapture with the book, my ears feel the beauty of the drizzle hitting a neighbouring roof, drop by drop. Thank you Edmund J, for gifting this book in a language close to our heart.

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