Translation has always been a tantalizing literary activity. It has been observed by
Allen Tate that, "Translation is for ever impossible and for ever necessary". There
is a term in the Italian language, traducer, which means both a translator and
a traitor, and the activity is often considered the great betrayal. But for the
much-needed cultural and emotional synthesis in a country like India torn by linguistic and
regional fissiparous pulls, translation assumes paramount significance. Among the three
streams/waves of Indian writingthe Anglo Indian, the Indo-Anglian (or `Indian Writing in
English': Prof. K R Srinivasa Iyengar's preferred terminology) and Indo-English Literature
(Prof. V K Gokak's term)the last one seems to be gaining ascendancy in the literary
hierarchy in recent times. The only Nobel Prize to be won by an `Indian' writer happens to relate
to this wave: Tagore's Gitanjali, which is a translation into English from the original
Bengali. Without exaggeration, it can be stated that it is in the rich and vibrant literatures of
the regional languages of India that one can find the real soul of the country. And to
discover or unravel that soul translation is a necessary activity.
The term translation is derived from the Latin term translatio (to carry across). It is kin to the Greek terms`Metaphrase' and `Paraphrase'which indicate the
major problems a translator faces. `Metaphrase' refers to literal, verbatim
(verbum pro verbo: word-to-word) translation, while `Paraphrase' (later used by Dryden) refers to "saying
in other words." The need for equivalence between the text in the Source Language
(SL) and the final version in the Target Language (TL) is admitted but the problematic,
should it be merely `formal equivalence' or `dynamic equivalence', the terms used by
Eugene Nida, has been debated for long. For long there has been an implicit view of
master-servant relationship between the writer and the translator, who cannot afford to be
creative. The 19th century British poet D G Rossetti observed that the work of a translator
involved "self-denial and repression of his own creative impulses" (Newmark, 1995). But it
has not been so with gifted translators. Edward Fitzgerald, who gave us the immortal
rendering of The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayam, was among the first who took liberties with
the original in his creative translation. He declared, "It is an amusement to me to take
what liberties I like with the Persians, who, I think, were not poets enough to frighten me
from such excursions" (Newmark, 1995). And the end product is an eminently readable
fluent rendering. But one wonders still, is it a translation from the Persian original or
what Dryden called a `Parallel Text'. |