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First
of all, I thank the Indo-Swedish Translation Project and all the
circumstances that conspired to make it possible for this edition of Pippi
Lambemoze to be here today. In this gathering of well-known writers
and translators, I won’t presume to hold forth about translation. Instead,
I’d like to share my experiences and observations in the course of
translating Astrid Lindgren’s Pippi Longstrump
into Hindi. And something about why this book is so important and why we
wanted so much to do it.
The noted
educationist and currently Director of the NCERT, Prof. Krishna Kumar, chose
Pippi Longstrump as his children’s
book of the millennium. In the introduction to an article on it in a
literary journal published from Delhi (The Book Review, 2000), he says
“her story asks us to give civil society just as radical a shake as
Gandhi’s” (Hind Swaraj) does. If the Pippi
trilogy is available in India in English and in translation, he believes
“she will embolden the next generation of children to take political
leaders, big officers and the rich in their stride. She will give our boys
and girls the courage to stand up to teachers who beat and parents who want
their progeny to become this or that”…. Of course, we wanted
to do the book!
Pippi
Lambemoze actually began her journey in the neighbourhood of
another publisher in Delhi. But I guess her hair was too orange and her
freckles too prominent and maybe they didn’t like it that the stockings
didn’t match. Whatever the reasons, she set out on a picnic and winding
her way through the gullies of Old Delhi and a small village called Mjovik
in Blekinge, she took the flight to Chennai via Stockholm and London. She
liked the weather when she landed and she was free as a bird to eat as many
pancakes and ginger biscuits as she wanted, and wash them down with tumblers
and tumblers of steaming hot filter coffee! So, in any case, she couldn’t
possibly have reincarnated in chai-country — which is what a lot of the
Hindi-speaking belt is.
That, in fact, was
the first thing I discovered when I arrived in Meta Ottosson’s home in
Mjovik: Swedes don’t drink tea, they drink coffee! That knowledge was my
first insight into Pippi Lonstrump. And of course, an English translator
would transform coffee into tea! Things began to fall in place, thereafter,
vis-à-vis Edna Hurup’s 1954 English translation that I had referred to,
and the original 1945 Swedish Raben & Sjorgren version so assiduously
studied by Meta Ottosson, my friend, philosopher and guide through the life
and literature of Astrid Lindgren.
In any case, when I
arrived in Sweden, nearly missing the flight, on February 1, 2002, there
were two things: one, Astrid Lindgren had just died (on January 28) aged 94;
two, Pippi became my passport. Even at the passport control counter, the
official literally kicked me through the gate saying, “Run or you’ll
miss your connection!” And this was just about everywhere. Already on the
flight, the young man sitting next to me talked about a fairy doll he had
bought his three year old in Uppsala and then when he heard about Pippi in
Hindi, he said, “Oh fantastic, I would like to buy a copy when it’s
published!” and gave me his card.
Meta greeted me with
her son’s huge blue jacket and as we drove up to her little yellow house
in Mjovik, I expressed my distress at Astrid’s recent demise. Meta, in her
very goodsensical way, comforted me and said, “Well, look at it this way.
This is the best time to be in Sweden with Pippi, because the media is so
full of Astrid.” And that was true. The newspapers, television, children,
even people on the streets were full of Astrid: they talked about her books,
her life, their lives, her highs and lows, the air was full of Astrid
memories…. Yes, it was the second-best time to be in Sweden. The best, of
course, would have been if one could have met her.
Once home, I was led
up wooden stairs to a cosy slopey-roofed room: there, waiting, were pictures
of Astrid, copies in English of many of her books (The Brothers Lionheart,
Ronia the Robbers Daughter, Emil, The Children of Noisy Village), tapes
of Astrid reading Pippi, a bottle of sockerdricka and a box of ginger
biscuits! And a notebook with picture of – August Strindberg on it!
The tone was set and
Meta easily incorporated me into her family which lives in and around
Karlskrona. I tagged along wherever Meta went: to the dentist, to the gynae,
to the opening of Lars Gynnig’s tapestry exhibition, and many mornings of
coffee with Meta’s mother, Ingrid, who shared reminiscences of her own
childhood in Blekinge. (Going to school one day through snow piled six
feet high on either side! )
During the
three weeks with Meta, there were interactions with school children and
college students, a visit to the radio station, meetings with the Rotary, a
visit to the museum, a birthday dinner with group of fascinating women, and
lunch with an Indian woman, Neeru, settled in Karlskrona who had read about
a Hindi translator’s visit and longed to speak in Hindi! And of course,
the mandatory visit to the library. The highlight was an overnight trip to
Vimmerby, where Astrid was born.
Just
in case you were wondering: we started working on a close reading of the
Swedish right away. I had already worked fairly extensively prior to the
visit. There were many questions and doubts and as we worked for a couple of
hours each day, and as the experience of life in southern Sweden unfolded,
these questions were answered, the doubts were clarified. By night and
morning I worked on the Hindi, making changes, corrections, trying to
improve the work while Meta caught up with her routine. Thanks to email it
was possible to consult my walking-arguing dictionaries back home at Tulika!
During
my stay in Sweden, there were two or three frequently asked questions. One
was: Do you have a writer like Astrid in India? The questioners must have
regretted they ever asked that because the response was always a convoluted
explanation about the plethora of languages and cultures compounded by
issues of literacy and social inequalities and the oral tradition and the
attitude to children’s books…. A simpler answer, though, would probably
be: It is likely there is no children’s writer quite like Astrid Lindgren
in the world.
Nearly
everyone I met in Sweden said they just couldn’t understand why or how
Astrid had not yet got the Nobel prize. (Actually there was just one
person who said he didn’t understand why such a fuss was being made about
Pippi, and he is here: Hokan Bravinger! But I suspect he wanted only to be
provocative.) Then, when I started to read some of her other books (The
Brothers Lionheart, Ronja the Robbers Daughter, the Emil series, the
Bullerbyn series, and, later, Mio min
Mio, and the other two Pippis) and began to understand her and
her place in Swedish life, I was converted. Why hasn’t she received the
Nobel as yet? Is it something to do with being a children’s writer?
Apparently, she is even more popular in Germany than in Sweden, and that’s
saying something. According to Lena Tornqvist, who has put together a
delightful and insightful book called Astrid from
Vimmerby that accompanies the exhibit called ‘Astrids Varld’
in Vimmerby, there are something like a 100 schools in Germany named after
Astrid!
Sweden had surely
pulled out all the stops to keep Astrid’s flag flying. The 12-minute film
they show in Astrids Varld is brilliant. And on the weekend that Meta and I
visited, there was a special treat: loads of children had turned up to
audition for various parts – Pippi, Annika, Tommy, Madiken, Mio, Skorpan,
Ronja, Mattis, Emil – when the outdoor exhibition opened in the summer
vacation!
Walking through a
completely deserted Storgatan and town square, one did get a sense of why
Astrid might have wanted to leave smalltown Vimmerby for the more
‘happening’ Stockholm. But there was a small adventure that night: we
discovered, in our hotel, signs saying Emil's Room and Pippi's Room. We
followed the signs and knocked on Pippi's Room: “NO,” said the lady who
opened the door. “Pippi doesn't live here.”
The last week was
spent in Stockholm, courtesy Tomas and Birgitta, who had organised several
interesting meetings and discussions with publishers, translators, students,
librarians and a visit to the fabulous state library which has an enviable
storytelling corner for children. The highlight was a visit to Junibacken,
an amazing exposition of Astrid Lindgren’s work. The three of us managed
to get a second look at the exhibition for the price of one. It also has a
fabulous children’s bookshop and activities around different writers each
month. I cannot forget the sight of a three or four-year-old seriously
working in Pippi’s kitchen! Maybe she was trying to make pancakes!
Pippi
was a controversial book when it was first published in 1945 although,
according to Vivi Estrom in Astrid Lindgren, A Critical Study
published by Rabens and Sjorgren, there is “even regret in some quarters
that the decorous taste of those days made Astrid Lindgren abandon some of
the gunpowder that ignited the initial Pippi version”. Even
so, after the initial popular reaction, there was a backlash a year later
when a well-known professor of education, John Landqvist, in a major article
in the Aftonbladet, attacked the book as showing “a lack of
literary taste and understanding” and the writer a lack of “imagination
and culture”. Pippi’s behaviour reminded him of “morbid
obsessions” and the book would possible be remembered as “something
unpleasant which scratches at the soul”. Strong words and the debate
picked up.
However, it soon
waned in the face of the book’s popularity, and by 1948, Astrid’s
position in the world of Swedish children’s literature was undisputed. The
debate was reopened in 1995 with Carin Stenstrom writing in Svenska
Dagbladet that the book “has turned everything upside down: school,
family life, normal behaviour. It has ridiculed order and respect, honesty
and politeness. It has glorified self-obsession , self-fixation, lack of
consideration and the flight from reality….” She hit out at what she
called “Pippi worship”.
But then
it appears Pippi supporters quickly launched to her defence and voted her
“the world’s first children’s ombudsman”. An evening paper arranged
a telephone vote where defenders of Pippi were in an overwhelming majority.
That’s the power she wields and whatever
we may feel, Pippi certainly arouses strong feelings!
This brings me
to another frequently asked question: Will you
change the names? How will you translate the culture that Pippi springs from
and represents? In fact, in some translations names have been
changed, and certain other things as well. For instance, in the English
/ American editions the name Malin (in Pippi Lonstrump) has
been changed to Martha, in the Bullerby books Lasse is Karl, Olle is Olaf,
in Mio min Mio, Bosse is Andy and so on…
This is
something that comes up in my work as an editor of children’s books in
Tulika since we now work in eight different languages, producing single and
dual language books. To give you an example: the characters in a Manipuri
story had typically Manipuri (or Meitei) names: Sanatomba, Sanajaoba,
Sanayaima, Sanatombi…. We also like to use words and phrases of the
original language, even in the translation. A good friend, who was doing the
Kannada, objected fiercely to this saying children, especially in small
towns and villages, would find the words difficult to read and pronounce,
and might even be put off the book altogether. What he said was entirely
possible.
However, it is
equally possible that children will be fascinated. I know for a fact that
children in the bookstore, and elsewhere where I have read Pippi in Hindi or
in English, love to say Pippi Longstrump! Ville Villekulla! As much as
Sanayaima! Sanatomba! Sanatombi!
Anybody
with imagination will embrace new experiences. Children have the most vivid
imaginations, they are the most willing to suspend disbelief. We
see this all the time at Goodbooks, our
children’s bookstore in Chennai. Especially at storytelling sessions. And
even if they don’t understand every single word and thing, they are still
willing to trust the story. Carried along on the wings of a brilliant
storyteller, they float. And, as Lennart Hellsing has said of Astrid, “She
is a rattlingly good storyteller.” In fact, in her speech on receiving the
Hans Christian Andersen Medal at the International Congress on Children’s
Books in Florence, 1958, Astrid said: “I don’t
want to write for adults. I want to write for readers who can perform
miracles. Only children perform miracles when they read.”
Besides, children
in India grow up with the most fantastic stories imaginable. We
all know about the oral tradition in which much of children’s literature
in India is rooted. Surely there are few more fantastic stories that the
folktales we’ve grown up on? Or more improbable than some stories from the
Mahabharata? The stories that hold up the various theatrical forms in India:
what are those? And how do we understand them, if not with our imaginations
and our feelings? Of course, adults would add experience to that. Still…
My grandmother was a
great storyteller and she told us stories at the drop of a hat. I remember
my cousin Bharat used to always say, when we ate together, “I am Bakasura,
give me lots of rice!” We were very small and the story and setting and
experience were far removed from our own, especially the way my grandmother
told the story, but we were totally hooked. We understood.
In this context, the
third most frequently asked question and the most frequently asked question
among children was: Why do you
have the caste system in India? I was surprised. How did such little
children in faraway Sweden know about something that is, truly, the shame of
our generation in India? It’s there in their textbook. When we ourselves
cannot comprehend why and how such discrimination is humanely possible, how
would children? Talking about
it was difficult and painful, but we had to, we did. Back home, a group of
children and I at a writing workshop in the bookstore, tried to grapple with
the question ourselves, after which each child (about 15 of them) shared
their thoughts through letters to individual children at the Rodebyskolan
where Meta’s brother teaches.
Anyway, to get back
to Pippi: Children’s literature in India is still
not taken as seriously as it ought to be. Translating for children? Even
less so. It’s not the words so much as what is being said, and what is
being said needs to be conveyed in as completely comprehensible a way as
possible. How do you do this? One of the ways in which we approach
translation in Tulika is to engage with the spirit of the original, and how
that may be conveyed. The grammar can always be set right, that’s just a
mechanical matter. And that is how this translation too was
approached. We also consulted with people like Prof Madhu Dhawan, head of
the Hindi department, Stella Maris College, and Prof Krishna Kumar, for
feedback and suggestions on the translation.
But the question
still remains? What if a child didn’t understand
something? We tackled this by borrowing a device from a picture-book series
that we have: the wordbird. The wordbird is a bird that explains
certain words and ideas. It’s quite simple. In Pippi, the wordbird is
introduced on the contents page. It says: I am a wordbird. If there’s
something you don’t understand while reading this story, wordbird is at
your service to explain. This makes it easy to explain references such as
Little Red Riding Hood, or croquet, or dandelion, or kroner…. It is up to
the reader, of course, to look up the explanation or not.
The
toughest bits to translate were the verbal jugglery, the fooling around with
language that apparently Astrid is so fond of. Of course, it’s
nothing like Sukumar Ray’s Abol Tabol! (turnupstuffer, nuffries in the
nuffboard, play on clock and caster sugar …. Skurlov, red
toadstools, summer song).
So
much of Pippi
actually derives from the absurdities and peccadilloes of adult human
behaviour, that was easy to flow with. For instance, in one
chapter, we have Pippi watering the garden in the rain. Well, what were
those critics carping about because I had a neighbour who used to do just
that! Except she held an umbrella over her head, and Pippi didn’t. Gita
Mahadevan, who facilitates the wildlife club at our bookstore, once
reprimanded her six-year-old and his friends for being too noisy. And for
the rest of the day she had to contend with deciphering his notes because he
simply wouldn’t talk. Are you hungry? Y-E-S. What homework do you have?
W-R-I-T-I-N-G A-N-D S-u-b-t-r-a-c-t-I-o-n
and so on and on. She asked for it, like many of the characters in Pippi
Longstrump do!
Translation is big in
the world today. I wish it would become as big in the world of children’s
literature in India. And I look forward to the day the Indo-Swedish
Translation Project will translate an Indian children’s book into Swedish.
And we look forward to more books by Astrid in more Indian languages.
In this context, I
have to point out that her books are just not available in India, except, of
course, this Hindi edition. There must be some way of addressing this lacuna
so that more children in India have access to Astrid’s world.
I’d like to conclude by quoting the 8-year-old
daughter of a friend. Ann was reading aloud The Bible, and little Sana was
terribly upset by some passages in the Old Testament. She declared to her
mother: I don’t believe in God. But I believe in Astrid Lindgren!
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