My dirty breath

Cast Out:
Poems of anger and angst
by Basudev Sunani
translated by J P Das
Rupantara, 2009

Modern Oriya verse is said to have begun in the 15th century, when the poet Sarala reproduced Sanskrit epics like The Ramayana and The Mahabharata in Oriya. This was the first translation to take place into Oriya literature. Since then, powerful renderings of this and other works have been published by Oriya poets writing in English, including Jayanta Mahapatra and Niranjan Mohanty. Senior Oriya poets such as Ramakanta Rath and Sitakant Mohapatra have also translated their own works into English. Today, a wide range of Oriya poetry in English can also be found on the Internet, largely thanks to poet Rajendra Kishore Panda, the architect of the Varnamala web anthology*. Now, J P Das has come out with his translation of a selection of a younger Oriya poet Basudev Sunani's works.

Das's motives in translating Cast Out are clear from the very beginning. The introductory Translator's Note states: "'Is there Dalit poetry in Oriya?' is a question I have often been asked, but never had an answer to. Till I came across Basudev Sunani's poems. In Basudev I discovered a poet who represents all that is powerful, significant and poetic in the genre known as Dalit poetry." What is significant about this collection is that an established poet has chosen to engage with an upcoming one – a Dalit poet from Orissa, at that – in an attempt to introduce him to the wider world.

Born in 1962, Sunani started writing poetry early. And though his ideas represented a mixed bag, a Dalit voice was noticeable throughout his work. Coming from the traditionally underdeveloped hilly tract of western Orissa, sympathy for the oppressed class ran through his poetry. One need only look at the marginalised characters in his poems: they could be goatherds, farmers or petty politicians, but none was above the poverty line. Gradually, Sunani began to take an increasingly clear stance that became particularly pronounced with the publication of his third collection, Asprushya, or 'Untouchable'. From this point on, Sunani began to be identified specifically as a Dalit poet. It seemed that he had found his true voice at last. Encouraged by public appreciation, Sunani went on to produce two more collections of this kind, Karadi Haata (Bamboo Shoots Market) and Chhi (Sneer).

The Dalit focus of Sunani's work is not to say that no other Oriya poet deals with issues of class discrimination and social injustice. Senior writers such as Ashutosh Parida and Prasanna Mishra have delved into the subject. Sunani's contemporaries, including Bharat Majhi and Akhil Nayak, also explore the theme sensitively, even though indirectly. Sunani, however, writes almost exclusively on the lives of his people; and in so doing, he seems to be growing from strength to strength. In translating Cast Out, Das does a competent job of giving wider exposure to an Oriya poet who deserves the attention.

Culling feelings
A potential limitation in choosing a single theme for a volume of Sunani's work could be the overall sameness of the material. Perhaps to break the monotony, the translator has included some poems such as "The Visitor", "This Crow" and "Golden Jubilee", which do not deal with the Dalit experience per se. The eponymous visitor in the dead of night is a mysterious being; the crow has donned white feathers; and the "Golden Jubilee" paints a satirical picture:

Gandhi –
a cool painting
to brighten up
the living room.

Only at the end of this poem, if at all, can a Dalit reading be made from the following lines:

The dancers do not know
how many years
they have been dancing.

Or perhaps it is that the translator intended to enhance and broaden the selection of Dalit writing. Overall, Das presents a one-dimensional Sunani: socially committed and, by extension, somewhat scatological, digging up dirt and sewage pits to let readers have the (to take the name of one poem) "Smell of Untouchability":

Simply because my feet
touched the ground
you are seeking to purify it,
sprinkling holy water.

This poem portrays how acutely the sense of caste persists among many so-called 'upper' castes – how it oftentimes lurks just under the skin:

Perhaps you do not know
that the land your house stands on
is surrounded by air
suffused with my dirty breath.

These lines prepare the reader to face a poet driven by rage at the upper castes, and the sense of inferiority among his own people. As such, he takes it upon himself to drive away this dated discrimination. Though this message is not explicitly stated in the poems selected for Cast Out, one feels it through and through. Sunani might point to the indignity and humiliations that a Dalit suffers in his day-to-day life; yet nowhere does he lose control over his tongue, letting it mouth obscenities. (This is quite unlike much of Dalit poetry in Marathi, such as that of Namdeo Dhasal). On the other hand, neither does he exhibit self-pity; instead, he maintains a fine balance, the kind evident in "Content":

I changed my religion,
Not because I thought
I'd attain salvation
But only for a bit of consolation
When I'm in mental agony.

The very first work included in this volume, "Prayer", sets the tone, theme and voice that are adopted by the poet throughout much of the rest of the work – that of an oppressed caste, treated unfairly, sometimes to a sub-human level. Going beyond any well-meaning man, or a purportedly concerned society, Sunani says that even god is helpless in doing away with the caste system:

Can you do that, God –
Pick from the bowl
Our respective surnames
And return them
Each to his own?

An exemplary piece of Dalit poetry this is, practiced by an insider. In "Nectar-seekers", Sunani chastises upper-caste men who seek "nectar":

Can you show me the man here
who has tasted nectar?
I'll pull him by the hair,
give him a slap and tell him:
you fool…

Instead they should, writes the chastising poet, "empathise with" the people they look down upon. Empathy is the fountainhead of all nectars, Sunani powerfully writes. But writing declaratory verse – and Dalit poetry is mostly of this mould – is an uphill task, requiring the writer to overcome the stereotypical picture of a Dalit as downtrodden, subjugated by humiliation, and emaciated. This image is evident on the cover of the book, with the reproduction of Jogen Choudhury's famous painting "Fear". In contrast, Sunani's achievement as a Dalit poet lies in his subtlety of expression. Talking of the 'taste' of nectar, he brings in a loving picture of a woman labourer who hides berries in the end of her sari, making his imagery realistic and convincing.

A great many poems in this selection – such as "Seek Him Out" and "Cursed City" – deal with the oppressed class's social as well as physiological conditions. In this, Sunani represents a contradiction. On the one hand, he says, in "Self-Respect":

From now on,
the hatred I face everyday
will be my self-respect.

But when he falls off this cherished tract he can be preachy and a bit loud, as is the case in "Alone in the Temple":

Here,
one who cannot scream
his heart out
is impotent

The poet is sombre, however, when he withholds more than he says, becoming less angry and vituperative. There are extraordinary patches in many of the poems included in Cast Out, in which the poet is seen to be the blessed one seeking forgiveness – forgiving his tormentors. The intent in these works is that, with a change in caste dynamics being a possibility, the writer does not have to say anything harsh: "The monkey knows/which branch will break today."

Some of Sunani's most accomplished works are, however, those containing brief character sketches, of a Haju Tandi, Chelin Bai or Sadananda. It is the innocence of these characters that saves them from being impostors. Chelin Bai is the goatherd in whose eyes the poet "sees the innocence of a thousand goats". Sadananda, a farmer from the drought-affected tribal pocket of Orissa who has come to receive a medal from the governor "for growing the best brinjal", finds that the sea has imprisoned all water. Or Haju Tandi, a common labourer, who has the "strength"

to do any task you give him:
from collecting flowers
for your puja,
to cleaning your latrine.