Amelia Bonea is a historian based at the University of Oxford and author of the book The News of Empire: Telegraphy, Journalism, and the Politics of Reporting in Colonial India, c.1830-1900 (New Delhi: Oxford University Press, 2016). Originally from Romania, she has lived and worked in Japan, Australia, Germany and the United Kingdom. When not engaged in academic research, she likes to read and translate children’s literature, most recently on StoryWeaver.   

I was flattered when I was asked to contribute a post to the StoryWeaver blog to mark International Mother Language Day, celebrated on February 21st. The day also marks the conclusion of StoryWeaver's Freedom to Read Campaign launched in September last year. I was obviously flattered by the proposal, but I couldn’t help thinking that I was the wrong person for the job, since most of my adult life has been a move away from my mother tongue. These days, when I use Romanian, it is mostly to speak with members of my family on the phone or in occasional email conversations with friends, many of whom are themselves migrants scattered around the world.

‘It’s conservator, not conservativ’, my mother offers timidly, reminding me again that at some point over the last seventeen years, some invisible mechanism caused me to start translating words and expressions from English into Romanian, rather than the other way around. The lady who translates my birth certificate into English is bolder still: ‘Got you!’, she grins with the confidence of the professional, ‘It’s to write in Romanian, not to write down.’ I mumble some feeble excuse about having lived abroad for too long and head for the door with my pride visibly hurt. I am no language purist, but I care about how I speak, especially when I have ‘important’ business to conduct in my hometown.

I was born in communist Romania, during a time when bananas, chocolate and Coca Cola were prized commodities one learned to ration wisely so that they would last until uncle’s next visit home from university in Bucharest. I say Romania, but in fact I am more comfortable telling people that I am from Transylvania (not necessarily of Dracula and Bram Stoker fame, about which I came to know much later anyway, after I began my peregrinations abroad). As a child, I suspected that people from Bucharest were different: for one, they seemed to have easier access to foods we didn’t have and they kept referring to us as ‘provincials’; they also didn’t speak Romanian with a ‘Hungarian accent’, like we did. Not to be outdone, we reciprocated by feeling a tad superior to ‘those southerners’, among other things because of the dubious distinction of having once been part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire and thus exposed to the ‘civilizing’ influence of the West.

In any case, I grew up with a clear understanding that the Romanian with which the nation-state so eagerly wanted us to identify was not the same across the length and breadth of the country: people in the eastern province of Moldova were known to speak with a ‘sweet’ accent, while those in the south seemed to be excessively fond of the perfect simple tense. The Romanian I spoke at home was not the same my grandmother spoke in her village, peppered as it was with regionalisms whose meaning I tried hard to remember. And although my grandmother, a wonderful storyteller whose memory seemed to know no bounds, often populated my childhood with characters from her eventful life—she had lived through WWII as a child—sadly I find that my own memory falters when I try to remember some of the words she was using.   

Romanian was also not the only language I grew up with. In fact, it might be fair to say that I have two mother tongues, at least as far as hearing is concerned. There are many ethnic Hungarians living in Transylvania—as there once used to be Germans, my own aunt included—and Hungarian is one of the languages which reminds me of home, despite the fact that I only have a superficial knowledge of it. When I was in primary school, I made a pact with a Hungarian friend that we would teach one another our languages. We moved away and lost contact before I managed to learn how to speak, but it was not unusual to have ‘bilingual’ conversations with neighbours or shop assistants: people would ask questions in Hungarian and I would respond in Romanian or the other way around.

That’s how I learned that language wasn’t just speech, but a tool that could be used to play power games: one could use it to other people and by doing so, to stake a claim to a territory that did in fact belong to both interlocutors, not only to one or the other. I was reminded of these power games soon after the Revolution of December 1989, when our brief encounter with the Russian language as secondary school students was abruptly brought to an end by the new experiment with democracy and our teacher was made redundant. Russian fell out of favour practically overnight and we ended up studying French and English instead. All secondary school students were required to study two foreign languages at the time and we had no say as to which those two should be. What we knew was that studying English and French was ‘desirable’ as far as our future education and career prospects were concerned.

When I finally had a say in the matter, I decided to learn Japanese and moved to Japan to study for a university degree in Asian Area Studies. Once there, I became interested in the colonial history of South Asia and began to study Hindi as well. The big difference from my previous linguistic encounters was that these languages did not use the Roman alphabet and so they completely unsettled my ideas about the world: from a relatively small pool of 26-31 letters, I found myself thrown into a seemingly endless ocean of characters which I wasn’t always sure how they differed from each other. It was easier with Hindi, but I still can’t remember the order of the Devanagari script, which makes searching a word in a dictionary a time-consuming affair (and yes, I have the same problem in Japanese, but I console myself with the knowledge that some of my Japanese colleagues have the same problem with the Roman alphabet).

 

Much later, I also came to realize that these linguistics encounters have tweaked my brain in other, more subtle ways. I often find myself listening not only to what people say, but also to how they say it. I pay attention to their use of vocabulary and grammar. I read posters and billboards not necessarily because I am interested in the ads, but because I want to know what that character or expression means. Come to think of it, living abroad feels like a continuous language learning exercise. It gets tiring at times, but it is also exciting and enriching. Languages opened doors into worlds I didn’t know or knew little about. More than anything perhaps, learning languages has taught me to listen. Yoko Tawada, herself a straddler of worlds who lives in Germany and writes in German and Japanese, wrote in her book Where Europe Begins that, ‘Perhaps the ear is the organ of storytelling, not the mouth. Why else was the poison poured into the ear of Hamlet’s father rather than his mouth? To cut off a person from the world, you must first destroy not his mouth but his ear.’ I am reaching a stage in my life where I feel that I have come full circle and can now begin to translate some of the things I heard back into Romanian. And what better place to begin than with some of the best examples of storytelling out there, children’s books?

You can read Amelia's translations to Romanian on StoryWeaver here.

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Vasrha Gajendragadkar is a creative writer and translator. She has authored and translated more than 25 books including children's  books, creative prose, fiction and non- fiction works and environment related writing. She is also the recipient of two state literary awards.

Q: Can you tell us anything about yourself and your job that would surprise us:)? 

A: Basically I am a creative writer and a translator. The number of books authored and translated by me is 25+. As a professional, I am in the field of content creation and development for last 25 years. Besides literary writing and translation I have dealt with variety of assignments like script writing for educational documentaries, storyboard writing for E learning courses, copy writing for advertisements, case study report writing, technical and scientific translations and many more.

I am glad to mention that my story book for children has received the state literary award in the children’s literature section in 2013 and my translated fiction has received the state literary award for best translation in 2014.

Q: What is your personal relationship to language and/or translation?

A:  I am blessed with a strong and rich legacy of literature. My father (Dr. R. C. Dhere) was an erudite literatieur and scholar in the field of ancient literature, culture and folklore. I am born and brought up in a house where books are regarded as a major asset. Naturally I have a closer bond with language and literature. It is not just a medium of expression for me; but language is my identity. So in spite of having a post -graduate degree in science stream, I chose to focus on writing.

As regards translation, I have an intense passion for it. At the age of 22 I dared to start translating a classic and the best seller Gone with The Wind. It was my first ever translated work (It took 11 more years to see the light. It was published in 2009.) I have been in both literary and professional translations for last two decades and madly love translating fiction, especially children stories. My science background is an added advantage for me, since I am able to translate STEM content with more ease.

 Q:  When you’ve been given a story to translate, what’s your process, and how long does it generally take?

A: I read the entire story, first as a reader, to enjoy it. Second time when I read the same, I start retelling it to myself. It helps me to avoid the literal, word to word translation. Then I begin with actual translation. Even after completing the entire story, I read and re read it loudly to bring it maximum close to the original work, still giving the flavor of Marathi language and culture.

It is really difficult to tell the time required for a translation. It can happen so that a seemingly simple and short story is too difficult to translate. In such cases it requires more than 3-4 drafts to make it final and satisfactory.

Q: What do stories in translation bring to young readers?

Similar to original works, translated stories are treasures of entertainment for children. But more than that translations abate the young readers to know different regions with different cultures. In short they introduce children to the broader world and connect them with the distant people. These bonds help for their intellectual and emotional development. Moreover, translations increase the vocabulary and linguistic skills of children, since many a times new word are either coined or used creatively by the translator to bring the exact sense of the original content.  

Q: How did you cultivate the skills needed to translate books for children?

Right from my school age, I happened to read variety of translated books. I read translations of Rabindranath Tagore, Sharadchandra Chattopadhyay, Premchand, Tolstoy, Maxim Gorky, Arthur Conan Doyle and many more. When I began with the translations it was at the back of the mind that the young readers must enjoy the translations like I did. The translated work should be as enriched and interesting as the original work so that children will be able to relate themselves with it. I consciously make it a habit to retell a story to myself, assuming that I am a child. This makes me think and select the appropriate words and phrases that would be close to the children’s world. I am always agile that my translations should help them cross socio-cultural boundaries without feeling they are doing so. I am of the opinion that translation is not entirely related to developing skills. It is related to your ability to unite with soul of the original author and what it requires is sensitivity, more than the skills.

Q: You’ve translated many stories for us. Which has been your favourite to work on?

A: I have translated more than 30 stories for Pratham Books. It is really a wonderful bouquet of variety of stories originated by writers across India. Actually it is difficult to name any one but I have enjoyed translating ‘’What Happened to the Old Shawl?”  and 'Neelumbera on a Full Moon Night”.

Q: What is the hardest thing about translating from English into Marathi? How do you navigate words or phrases that are tricky to translate?

A: There are two major challenges in translating English fiction. Socio-cultural disparities and different literary expressions create hurdles in translation process. Secondly, it is as difficult as a rope walk. On one hand you have to stick to the original work (means you have limited freedom) and on the other hand you should be careful not to create a corrupt copy.

When there are no parallel words or phrases in Marathi, I squeeze out the essence of the content and re formulate the same so as to bring an original flavor. The words I use may not be of the same meaning but they underline the same emotions.

Q: How do you feel when your story reaches the child?

A: It is an ultimate delight when your creation is the hands of those for whom it is targeted. I do feel that translation is a creation just like the original work.  In fact, it is more difficult and complex a creation since you have limited freedom.

Q: How else do you think we can join hands to take more stories to more children in more languages.

A: As far as I know, currently we are translating the stories mostly from English or Hindi. We can also do the other way. Stories from regional languages can also be translated into English and Hindi and then taking them into other regional languages.  As for expanding the reach, we can always join hands with the schools and NGOs working for children.

Q: Can you tell us a bit about the xx translation community?

A: Marathi has a long tradition of translated works. Many known authors have translated very good books from both regional and foreign languages. For last couple of decades many versatile translators have come up in Marathi and they have effectively translated both fiction and non -fiction work from variety of languages. The number of youngsters interested in translations is also on rise. Translation as a profession is also blooming with speed for last few years.

 Q:What type of person do you think makes the best translator for children’s stories? 

A: In my opinion, a sensitive and creative person having literary skills will be able to translate children’s stories.

Q: Do you have any advice for anyone interested in becoming a translator?

 A: I would like to suggest them that keep reading, keep writing and keep rehearsing until you are able to bring the intensity of the original work in the translation. Let translation become your passion, before it becomes your profession.

Q: A book you'd like to recommend to other translators?

A: Stories by Hans Chistian Anderson. He is a Danish author. And his enigmatic fairy tales are translated into English by H. P.Paull and some other writers. Some of his stories have also been translated earlier into Marathi. But there is surely much scope to retranslate those and take up some more. They are really mesmerizing.  

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Utthana Bharighat is an artist who likes to create narratives and has a deep interest in theatre, cinema and writing. He has translated books to Kannada for Pratham Books, adding translator to his accomplishments. 

Q:  What type of person do you think makes the best translator for children’s stories?

Most importantly, the person should love children. A good translator is someone who is ready to interact with children unconditionally, and thus he or she understands their lingo and temperament well.

Q: Do you have any advice for anyone interested in becoming a translator?

Do it only if you find it fun! Otherwise translation could be boring and mechanical which shows up in your work too.

Q: A book you'd like to recommend to other translators?

There is a Kannada language translation of the Japanese novel Thousand Cranes by Yasunari Kawabata, by the name Savira Pakshigalu. I would recommend people to read both these texts to see how beautiful a translation can be. The Kannada translation is as elegant as the original.

Q: What is your personal relationship to language and/or translation?

Translation at one level is like solving puzzles. But to solve this, one has to take help from wide range of knowledge systems, including literature, culture, sociology, human nature and more. Thus, translation becomes an extension of exploring my interest.

Q: When you’ve been given a story to translate, what’s your process, and how long does it generally take?

A: I  read the whole story, first. Then I think about the style in which this would sound good in Kannada. After that, I read every sentence and try to find words which suit the style. After finishing the whole story, I will read it again and make further changes. To do all this it would take 3 to 4 hours for me.



Q: What do stories in translation bring to young readers?

A: Some stories ignite children’s imagination. Some stories give them an access to a different world that they have never seen before. Along with learning new things children will learn new words and thus improve their language skills.

Q: You’ve translated stories for us. Which has been your favourite to work on?

A: I liked The Red Fairy and Stage Fright.

Q:. What is the hardest thing about translating from English into Kannada? How do you navigate words or phrases that are tricky to translate?

A:Whenever I encounter tricky phrases or sentences, I imagine myself explaining this to a child in Kannada. As I do it a few times, I will arrive at a solution. Sometime asking people around for suggestion also helps.  

Q:  How do you feel when your story reaches the child?

A: Of course, it is the most beautiful feeling. And I always hope that the child likes what he/she reads.

Q: As a Student of Performance arts, what do you think is the best approach to translate children's stories? And, do you think you have found a way in this regard?

A: I can’t say I have mastered it. But I am gaining skills as I do it more and more. I would say. Performance arts have taught me how to communicate in a simple and clear manner. I think these two qualities are important for translation too.

Q: How else do you think we can join hands to take more stories to more children in more languages?

A: I would like to see more of local stories. Though there is universality in the themes and interests, I feel that the children gain more if they are given the stories which have taken form in their own cultural space. I think there is more to gain if some decentralization happens in the creation of stories and illustrations, which are being featured here. Regardless of the competent translators, a Kannada story teller would reach a Kannada kid in a more effective way. It is as organic as it could get.

 

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