Foraying into Tagore’s short stories
It is important to set unconventional examples at the time that they are written; Tagore’s work did this
My introduction to Tagore's works happened rather early, in Grade 5, when I read the short story "Kabuliwala" (1892). As a young reader, the story evoked a whirlwind of emotions in me, and I kept craving more. The tale revolved around the bond between Mini, the daughter of a middle-class aristocratic family, and a merchant from Kabul who visits Kolkata to sell dry fruits. At its core, it was a heart-wrenching story exploring the father-daughter relationship, affecting me in a way unlike the usual English fables I grew up reading. In a way "Kabuliwala" was a "first" for me—I could finally relate to the protagonists of the story and appreciate the nuances of the society in its backdrop. 10 years later, it remains one of my favourite short stories; it still brings back memories of childhood.
Having completed my schooling from Delhi, I had my fair share of experiencing Tagore's magic in English literature classes. In Grade 8, we read "The Home-Coming" (first published in 1918), a heart-breaking tale set around the theme of familial love. Fourteen-year-old Phatik Chakraborty was seen as a nuisance by his mother. His life takes an unusual turn when he is offered to stay in the city with his uncle. In a quest for happiness, Phatik does everything he can to win the affection and care of his dear ones. Being around the same age as Phatik, it allowed me to understand the character in a better way, and dissect layers of the emotions he felt. The way his happiness was slowly replaced by the longing to get back home always made me wonder if his excitement was in a way superficial, and whether the underlying agony had always been there, waiting to be addressed.
Two years later, in Grade 10, I read "The Postmaster" (1891), and just like the other short stories, it managed to stir up a whirl of emotions as I engaged with the lively characters. It revolved around the lives of a postmaster, and his household help, Ratan; they two became emotionally interdependent on each other.
While the postmaster misses his home, Ratan is seen to build a bond with him. This story made me think about the colours of human relations and question the foolishness of human nature which asks us to expect and hope, even when everything is falling apart. That was a sensitive year for us, as we were expected to sit for the Board exams, and I was to come back home to Bangladesh. On the surface, it did seem to be a rather bleak story, devoid of emotions. In retrospect, it loosely struck the chords of loneliness I myself was beginning to feel, and resonated with how difficult it is to articulate emotions as adults.
I couldn't help but wonder at how delicately he crafted these stories to provide a glimpse into the diversity of human nature and the social issues of his time.
For many readers, including myself, Tagore resonates through the everydayness of his short stories. History regards him as Bangla literature's first successful short story writer, and his contribution in popularising the short narrative is noteworthy indeed. His focus as a writer was on the people, on humanity in general, on nature and lived experiences. These short stories often shed light on uncharted territories—social issues such as the life of a widow as seen in "Chokher Bali"—making his words appear ahead of their time. As a more mature reader now, I found myself fascinated by his more adult characters, the way their nuances, with all their human flaws and flairs, were portrayed in such simple words. Fiction doesn't always have to portray perfection, like fairy tales portray ideas of beauty and happily-ever-afters; some stories exist just to remind us of the mundanity of everyday lives. Though fiction may be a way to escape our regular lives, it is equally important to set unconventional examples at the time that they are written. Tagore's work did this.
One such tale is "Samapti", where free-spirited Mrinmayi grows up climbing trees and playing with the boys in her village. She defies the conventional ideas of femininity and questions the lack of choice faced by women. Unlike most stories from this era, which reduced women's identities to their marriage, Mrinmayi is not defined by her relationships and takes her own time to adjust to the new setting. Thus, Tagore presents us with a character who is just trying to be herself, instead of struggling to fit into the ecosystem in which she is brought up. Much like Tagore's other short stories, this too would stay close to my heart for a while.
As I revisited these favourites on the occasion of Tagore's 162nd birth anniversary yesterday, I couldn't help but wonder at how delicately he crafted these stories to provide a glimpse into the diversity of human nature and the social issues of his time. Despite being set in Bengal, his stories transcend geographical boundaries and resonate with readers across the world. Foraying into Tagore's short stories is, now and always, a delightful experience that offers insight into his genius as a writer and his contributions to literature.
Maisha Islam Monamee is a student of IBA, DU, and a freelance journalist who likes reading, scribbling, and blogging. Follow @monameereads on Instagram.