The Hour Before Dawn
Rajen
Barua
"The stars were
beginning to fade in the in the patch of sky that showed through the trees
towering over the rooftops. A lone star flickered to stay alive, fanned by an
areca leaf swaying in the breeze. A bird screeched somewhere nearby – cheep-
cheep, cheep-cheep, and a child in one of the homes let out a series of long
wails. … It seemed as though the bird's call had started the crying, just as
the distant howling of foxes had set the neighbourhood dogs barking a few hours
ago." …That is how the novel begins,
with a description of a pre dawn hour scene in a remote village in Assam.
`The Hour Before Dawn' is a
translation of a famous Assamese novel `Ontorip'
(projection) by late Dr Bhabendra Nath Saikia, the renowned Assamese writer and
film-maker. It is also one of his best novels for which he received several
literary awards including the prestigious `Assam
Valley Literary Award'. Later Dr. Saikia also made the story into a popular
Assamese film `Ognisnan' (fire-bath)
which also won him lots of acclaim from critics as well as from his fans.
Now, Ms. Maitreyee Siddhanta, an Assamese house wife from Bangalore translated
the full length original novel into English. The book is published by Penguin
India. The Book is also available in www.amazon.com
and other book-shops for the international readers. (ISBN:9780143063858).
Translating
an Assamese novel into English is not easy. The
translation becomes even more
difficult if the author happens to be a master craftsman in Assamese like Dr.
Saikia whose magic in Assamese writing lies in depicting rural scene and
environment with minute details. However, reading the English translation in ‘The Hour Before Dawn’, one would feel
that Maitreyee Siddhanta did a good job. In real life, Maiteryee was very much
influenced by the Dr. Saikia. The
translation is, as she puts it, "an
attempt to bring some of Dr Sakia's magic writing to non-Assamese folks."
The story of the novel is set in pre-independence time in
India in a small village in Assam that reflects the pleasingly pastoral rural life of Assam. Behind
its rustic background, it is a haunting
story of conjugal retribution not commonly seen in rural conservative Assamese
society. From that aspect the story is a protest against conjugal betrayal. "She had given her husband four
children, had bared her body and soul to him. Why then he wants to
remarry?" That was the question with which the story unfolds, and that
was also the central and lifelong question for Menoka, the heroine of the story. Menoka, unlike a typical Indian housewife, instead of accepting it
as her fate, decided to take fate into her own hands. After her initial
anguish, she finds new strength, and decided to revolt, and she revolted by
embracing an illicit relationship with a village outcast. Thus the story shows
not only an woman's inner strength in her darkest hour, but also shows the
unforeseen bond that develops between unlikely people in unlikely
circumstances. This is a universal theme which would be repeated in any society
and in any time.
One reason of her success may be, besides her mastery in
English language, that she translated the novel with her heart. This success of her translation can be
seen for the following few samples, beside the beginning. Here is a scene where
Menoka, the housewife, sets out from
her house secretly, at dead of one night, for the first illicit encounter with Modon, a village outcast.
"Holding her breath,
she slid the bolt with as much care as when taking off a long-worn glass bangle
grown tight on one's wrist. She couldn't recall if the door cracked. Very
slowly, she opened one plank. No sound yet. She squeezed through the narrow
slit and eased it shut. She looked out at the darkness - what should she do
now? Which part of the garden should she go? When the pounding of her heart
made standing difficult, she sank on to one of the narrow steps leading down
from the room. After a while, starlight seemed to dispel the darkness and she
could make out the outlines of the familiar trees. Insects screeched all around
her, but Menoka heard none of the noise as her ears alerted themselves to catch
the slightest hint of one special sound.
Soon an indistinct form
approached from the direction of the trees bordering Gojen's backyard. Menoka
rose. There was still time; she could still get back to her room. She shut her
eyes, drew a deep breath and slowly massaged her heart. Modon stopped a little
away from the star-fruit tree. Menoka stepped down and wordlessly walked past
him, into the further end of the garden.
The tips of the bamboo
drooped over to kiss the top of the jack-fruit tree. The bheleu stump lay where
it was, and Menoka settled herself on one end of it. Modon came up and stood
near her. They gazed deeply at each other, fully aware that each could see the
other in darkness. ....
A light, short gust blew,
and something creaked in the bamboo grove. Menoka tried to speak, but the words
would not come. A night patrol blew his whistle in the distance. This time, she
drew herself close to Modon....." (pp 105)
In these translations, one can feel equally not only the emotions and
excitements of human drama but also some of the magic of the original Assamese
writing depicting a moonless starry night scene in a village in Assam where 'areca tree leaf`, ‘bamboo groves',
`jack-fruit trees', `bhelu stumps' etc are typical rural scenes full with
their own ethnic ethos. Also phrases like ‘fox
howling’, ‘dog barking’, 'something creaking in the bamboo grove', 'the tips of
the bamboo drooping over to kiss the top of the jack-fruit tree', ‘a night
patrol blowing his whistle in the distance’ and others, not only bring alive
the realty of a typical village night scenes in Assam with vivid audio-visual
imagery, but also they carry their own symbolism. Critical night scenes like these also make the title of the
book "The Hour Before Dawn"
very appropriate.
Here is another scene from the novel which shows the
unusual courage of an Indian house-wife to speak to her husband.
`Suddenly, her voice grew sharp again.
"But why should I suffer alone? What have I gained from it? Simply suffer
until I'm dead? Will I go to heaven then? Will I become a Sita or Sabitiri? For
what sin of mine have I burnt in these fires of hell? My parents had taught me
to emulate Sita and Sabitri. If I could not quite be like them,
Beautifully written
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