3 Review(s)

Anjali Purohitâs lovingly crafted translations of Bahinabai Choudhariâs poetry bring into English both the cadence and the ethos of this remarkable womanâs oeuvre. Bahinabai (1880â1951) was named after a 17th century saint who composed devotional abhanga poetry. Born into one farming family in northwestern Maharashtra, she was married, at an early age as was customary in her generation, into another. Her everyday life revolved around the activities of running a household in a demanding rural economy and attending to the fields. Along the way, Bahinabai began to compose ovisâa form of poetry that has been sung by women in Maharashtra for centuries, and is closely related to the rhythm of grindstone and well windlassâin a regional variant of Marathi known as Ahirani. Unlettered, she wrote nothing down. Her ovis might have been passed down orally after her death; but equally, they might have vanished from memory. Fortunately, they were transcribed and committed to print by her son, Sopandev Choudhari, in 1952. Through print, recordings, the radio and academic syllabi, they have since passed into Maharashtrian culture at large. In Bahinabaiâs poetry, womenâs labour receives long overdue acknowledgement, as do seemingly quotidian subjects that vanish below the radar of literary modernism: family relationships, financial difficulties, the vegetation and landscapes of the countryside, the Divine, and the challenge of leading a life of wisdom and prayer in the face of the worldâs capacity for mischief. Anjali Purohit engages closely and deftly with the texture and resonances of Bahinabaiâs poetry, her English shot through with Marathi as she attempts to convey as much of the oral tonality and lifeworld of the original as possible. Through this, she seems to argue that English in India cannot remain aloof from the subcontinentâs other languages, but must expand itself to include and be enriched by them. âRanjit Hoskote