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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.
Chandramukhi paused, cleared her throat and went on, “I have traded in love many times in my life, but only once have I truly loved. It is very precious thing. I have learnt a lot from it. Do you know that love is one thing and desire another? The two are often confused- and it’s men who confuse them the most. I believe women are less inclined to be blinded by looks and hence we don’t get carried away as easily as you do. When you come and tell us of your love, in so many ways, means, words and gestures, we are silent. Sometimes we don’t wish to hurt you, or we are unsure. Even when we hate the very sight of your face, we are perhaps too shy to say it. Then there starts an act—a pretence at loving. One day, when the performance ends, men are furious and they say, “treachery.” Everyone listens to them, pays them heed—and we still hold our tongue. There’s so much hurt, such misery, but who cares about all that?”
Devdas was silent.
Chandramukhi looked at him long and hard before going on, “Sometimes a woman takes pity on a man, and, mistakenly, feels that is love. She goes about her duties, supports you staunchly in times of trouble—and you praise her to the skies. But perhaps she is still a novice at the game of love. Then, it at an unfortunate moment her heart shatters and she bares her feelings to you in unbearable pain, then,” she glanced at Devdas and said, “then you all call her a faithless creature.”
Suddenly Devdas placed is fingers against her lips and said, “Chandramukhi, what…”
Chandramukhi moved his hands away from her mouth slowly and said, “Don’t worry Devdas, I wasn’t talking of your Parvati.” She fell silent.
Devdas was lost in thought for some time. Then he said, “But there are customs, there are social norms.”
Chandramukhi said, “Of course they are there. And that is why Devdas, whoever is truly in love, simply bears his pain. If one can feel the satisfaction of just loving someone deep in his heart, then he wouldn’t want to disrupt the rhythm of society and its rules. But where was I … for sure, I feel that Parvati hasn’t cheated you one bit and you have done it all by yourself; I know you do not have the capacity to understand this today. But if the time ever comes, you will know that I spoke the truth.”
Devdas’s eyes brimmed with tears. For some strange reason, today he began to feel Chanadramukhi was right. She saw his tears, but didn’t try to wipe them away. She said to herself, “I have seen you often in many different moods. I know you well. You would never be able to offer your heart the way ordinary men do. But beauty—ah well, everyone falls for beauty. But could you sacrifice all your pride just for the sake of beauty? No. Parvati may be very beautiful, but even so, I believe she loved you first she spoke of it first. I can feel it.”
As she talked to herself, she spoke aloud the last sentence, “I can tell from myself how much she must love you.”
Devdas sat up on the bed, “What did you say?”
Chandramukhi said, “Nothing I was just saying that she couldn’t have fallen for your looks. You may be handsome, but that wouldn’t make her fall for you. Not everyone can appreciate this aggressive, brash charm of yours. Those who do, of course, can never call their heart their own again.” She heaved a sigh and said, “Only someone who has loved you knows how charming you are .There isn’t a woman on this earth who would deny herself this heaven.” After a few minutes’ silence, she spoke softly and slowly, ‘It’s a beauty that seldom meets the eye. It casts its shadow on the very depth of the heart and then, when the day ends, it burns in the pyre and turns to ash.”
Devdas looked at Chandramukhi with a glazed expression. “What are you saying, Chandramukhi?” He said quietly.
Her slight smile held a bit of mockery. “There’s no greater predicament, Devdas,” she said, “than when the one you do not love speaks to you of love for you. But I really spoke for Parvati, not for me.”
Devdas made as if to rise. “I must go now,” he said.
“Please sit. I have never had your company when you weren’t drunk, I have never held your hands and talked out—oh, what joy.” She burst of laughing.
