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Saratchandra Chattopadhyay’s Devdas was published in Bengali in 1917.
The ‘Devdas metaphor’, a time-honoured, enduring tragic symbol of unfulfilled love, has captivated readers and film-going audiences for the better part of a century now. But interest in the original Devdas, Saratchandra Chattopadhyay’s piece de resistance, has been rekindled recently in the wake of the Sanjay Leela Bhansali film, which is and adaptation of the Bengali novel. This is good time to take a fresh look at the novel in translation, and to look at the specific ways in which the Devdas metaphor has engaged our imagination over several generations.
huvan Chowdhry managed the affairs of the estate himself. The rest of his days, until about eleven at night, were filled with al kinds of charity work, looking after his guests (mostly hermits and saints), keeping a fast and performing the household diety’s puja with his own hands, and so on. His new marriage did not bring about much of a change in his daily routine. Some nights he came indoor and on other nights he was unable to come. Even when he did come in, there was very little conversation to be had. He’d lie down pull the long bolsters close to him, shut his eyes and say, So, you are now the mistress of the house. Look upon everything as your own; you must know how to find your way around the place…”
Parvati would nod and say, “All right.”
Thus it went on. One night Bhvan-babu said, “Um…. the children… well, they are all yours from now on—”
Parvati’s eyes crinkled in amusement at this display of nervousness from her husband. He laughed a little and went on, “Yes, and Mahen, your eldest son, he’s just passed his BA—such a good boy, such a kind heart—you know, take good care of him”
Parvati held her laughter in check and said, “Yes, I know, he is my eldest…”
Of course you know that. Such a boy is a rare sight indeed. And my daughter, Yashoda, she is pretty as a picture. She’ll come, sure she will. She has to come and see her old father—so when she comes, just…”
Parvati went close and laid her soft palms on his balding pate. Softly, she murmured, “Don’t you worry, I’ll send someone to fetch Yasho, or Mahen will go himself.”
“He will, he will. It’s been so long since I saw her. Will you really send for her?”
“Certainly. She is my daughter. Why shouldn’t I send for her?”
At this the old man sat up in excitement. Forgetting the relationship between them, he placed his hand on her head and blessed her, “You will fare well. I give you my blessings—you’ll be happy—may God bless you with a long life.”
Suddenly, many memories thronged his mind. He lay down again and mumbled to himself, “My eldest daughter, my only daughter, -she loved me a lot—” A single tear rolled down to his salt and pepper moustache; Parvati gently wiped his cheek with her anchal.
He said in a dreamy whisper, “Oh, they will come the whole household will be bustling…that’s how it used to be earlier, you know. Oh for those days: the children, the wife, all the people, the fun and laughter ringing in the house. Then one day it was all gone. The sons went away to Calcutta Yasho’s in-laws took her away and then it was just lonely graveyard—” The tears began to roll again, soaking the pillows now. Parvati wiped them tenderly and asked, “Why didn’t you get Mahen married?”
The old man said, “Oh, that was my dream, that’s what I wanted. But God knows what he has on mind, he just refuses to get married. That’s why at this age..the house seemed so empty, devoid of a woman’s touch…. The spark was gone. That is why---”
Parvati felt sad. She tried to force a laugh to her lips as she said “If you are old, I’ll age quickly too. It doesn’t take long for a woman to grow old.”
Bhuvan Chowdhry sat up, took her face in his hands and gazed into it for a long time. He felt like the craftsman who, after finishing the perfect idol, tilts it this way and that and gazes on with pride and a respectful affection. Unknown to himself, a sigh escaped his lips, “Oh, you don’t deserve this…”
What didn’t I deserve?”
“I just thought --- you don’t belong here—”
Parvati laughed and said, “Ofcourse I do. What else could I have hoped for?”
Bhuvan-babu lay back and said, “I know, I know. But, you will be happy. God will look out for you.”
A whole month went by. In the meantime. Nilkantha-babu had come to take his daughter home once. Parvati sent him away. She told her father,”Baba the house is a mess. I’ll come home later.”
He smiled to himself. Such was a woman’s heart, he thought. Once he left, Parvati called Mahendra and said, “ Son, go and fetch my eldest daughter.”
Mahendra hesitated. He knew Yashoda would refuse to come. He said, It’ll be better if Father went.”
“For shame—how would that look?” Instead, let us. Mother and son, go and fetch her.”
Mahendra was surprised, “You will go?”
