JOIN USAt the edge of intensity
Social media has been all agog in the past few days raking up memories of Dilwale Dulhaniya Le Jayenge (it was the 25th anniversary of its release), arguably the highpoint of the long list of romantic films that held Bollywood enthusiasts in thrall in the ‘90s. The movie that sparked this trend was Maine Pyar Kiya in 1990. I recalled a line from this film when reading Brink over the last few weeks. The line (translation mine) went: ‘A boy and a girl can never be friends.’
In some sense, this line can be applied to encapsulate Brink, which is the English translation of Anchu by S L Bhyrappa, published in Kannada in 1990, around the time the romantic movie fad was beginning to take off in Bollywood.
The Bollywood fad, of course, was all fluff and superficiality. Brink, which is a distillation of the relationship between a man and woman, is anything but. An intensely written novel about the tortuous relationship between Amrita and Somashekar, Brink demands that the reader, at some level, participate in the relationship as it unfolds between the main characters, by taking sides and attempting to think through its particulars.
Lives and loves
The two main characters begin simply enough as friends. But in time, the relationship turns romantic. Amrita, a college professor, who is estranged from her husband and has two children, is a tormented soul. Somashekar, a successful architect, who is unattached (having lost his wife and child), is well-meaning. She is quick-tempered and sharp-tongued, unable to restrain herself from violence on occasion. He is all patience and kindness. Over 400-odd pages, the two characters discuss their lives, loves and doings in graphic detail, laying bare their insecurities, pains, joys and hopes.
For all practical purposes, they are the only two characters in the novel with all others having little more than a walk-on part or serving as triggers to the conversations or quarrels that figure throughout the book.
Intense discussions between Amrita and Somashekar are the book’s mainstay. Amrita seeks to dissect every action and reaction of Somashekar.
He attempts to respond in good faith, but frequently ends up tripping on his own words. Often, these discussions take an intensely quarrelsome turn, resulting in blazing rows with Somashekar storming out. But, soon enough, the lovers are back together. At all times, it appears that they are on the brink of a break-up.
Mysuru as a character
Perhaps, the novel’s only other strong ‘character’ is the city of Mysuru where both characters live. The Mysuru portrayed is the one of its residents, away from the prying eyes and intrusive cameras of tourists. It is a Mysuru where autos are not easy to find in the middle of the day and the road to Chamundi Hill is pretty much empty at night. In one quaint neighbourhood of this lovely city, Amrita and Somashekar act out their lives.
Brink is an unusual text. A relationship portrayed in such close-up cannot be a pretty picture. Often, the text tires you, the conversations wear you out and the tiffs begin to appear irksome. Reading it therefore is an act that requires persistence. Depending on how one’s own relationships have panned out, accordingly, one is likely to come to a conclusion about the one depicted. There are no standard yardsticks that can be applied to judge the quality of what the novel portrays.
Atypical and demanding, the novel expects a level of engagement that might not be for everyone. But, judging the work by the yardsticks of translation, a few things need to be said. The novel would have been better served if the language used in the translation had been made a trifle more contemporary. Stilted, old-fashioned language hinders a smooth reading of the text. A round of proof-reading would have in all likelihood caught most of the errors that remain. A few samples: ‘Pray, what the job is?’, ‘All yesterday had you lost my phone number?’ and so on. These are the work’s low points.
Equally, a debate around whether a translation ought to reproduce each and every quotidian detail that the source text holds, might be useful. This text, it appears, has chosen to reproduce the original text in toto. Should it have? That is not a question with an easy answer. But, thinking on these lines would serve the world of translation and future translators well. Brink is also a pointer to the wealth of literature that Indian languages hold in their bosom. By choosing to translate a work, a translator performs an act of literary service to both tongues. That is the work’s most enduring reminder.