Mapping the Nation: An Anthology of Indian Poetry in English, 1870-1920

by Sheshalatha Reddy (Editor)

Overview

Focusing specifically on the poetic construction of India, ‘Mapping the Nation’ offers a broad selection of poetry written by Indians in English during the period 1870–1920. Centering upon the “mapping” of India – both as a regional location and as a poetic ideal – this unique anthology presents poetry from various geographical nodal points of the subcontinent, as well as that written in the imperial metropole of England, to illustrate how the variety of India’s poetical imagining corresponded to the diversity of her inhabitants and geography.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9781783080441
Publisher:	Anthem Press
Publication date:	10/15/2013
Series:	Anthem Nineteenth-Century Series
Pages:	520
Product dimensions:	6.00(w) x 8.90(h) x 1.50(d)

About the Author

Sheshalatha Reddy is Assistant Professor of English at Howard University in Washington, DC.

Read an Excerpt

Mapping the Nation

An Anthology of Indian Poetry in English, 1870â"1920

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By Sheshalatha Reddy

Wimbledon Publishing Company

Copyright © 2013 Sheshalatha Reddy
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-78308-075-5

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CHAPTER 1

East

Eastern India encompasses the Calcutta presidency and its various outlying districts including the modern-day states of West Bengal, Orissa, Bihar, and Assam as well as Bangladesh (once East Bengal) and Nepal. The 1905 partition of Bengal produced a corresponding psychic split that can be seen in some of the later poetry, which can also be said to have become increasingly nationalist after this point. As the center of imperial administration until 1911, when it was announced that the capital of the British Raj would be relocated to Delhi, Calcutta (now Kolkata) was home of the first English-medium college, Hindu College, established in 1817. Founded by the Bengali social reformer Ram Mohan Roy, the Scottish watchmaker and philanthropist David Hare and Radhakanta Deb, the college changed its name to Presidency College in 1855. Calcutta was also the birthplace of the "Bengali Renaissance," which began with the social reform movements of Ram Mohan Roy among others and which produced innumerable Bengali and English-language poets, novelists, dramatists, essayists and journalists during the nineteenth century. Music, dance, theater and the visual arts were also "revived" during this period. Indeed, the man usually credited as the first Indian-English poet, Henry Louis Vivian Derozio, was a product of early nineteenth-century Calcutta's intellectual and social fervor. The Dutt family, which produced generations of English-language poets, figures prominently in this section.

Shoshee Chunder Dutt

Another member of the famous Dutt family of Calcutta, Shoshee Chunder Dutt (1824–1885) attended Hindu College and worked as a civil servant, justice of the peace and writer. Like many other Indian-English writers, he worked in a variety of genres. His publications include collections of poetry such as Miscellaneous Verses (1848), A Vision of Sumeru, and other poems (1878), Works of Shoshee Chunder Dutt (1885) and Last Moments of Pratapa (1893), poems from which are included in the "North" section, as well as novels such as TheYoung Zemindár, his erratic wanderings and eventual return ... (1883) and the hodge-podge Bengaliana: A Dish of Rice and Curry, and other Indigestible Ingredients (1880), which includes an account of life as a civil servant and a tale of the 1857 Indian Uprising. His ethnographic work, A Wild Tribes of India (1882), was published under the pseudonym Horatio Bickerstaffe Rowney. Accompanying the Vision of Sumeru is a photograph of the author, who notes in an "Advertisement" to his volume: "Most of the poems in this volume were originally published in India, and have been out of print for several years. In bringing out a new edition of them the author has preferred to get the book printed in England. The course followed may not be approvable on other grounds: what was held passable in India will, perhaps, not be tolerated in Britain; but the author being solely responsible for the error, will have no one to blame for the consequences but himself."

A Vision of Sumeru, and Other Poems (Calcutta: 1878)

Address to the Ganges

I.

The waves are dashing proudly down,
Along thy sounding shore;
Lashing, will all the storm of power,
The craggy base of mountain tower,
Of mosque, and pagod hoar,
That darkly o'er thy waters frown;
As if their moody spirits' sway
Could hush thy wild and boist'rous play!

II.

But reckless yet of gloomy eye,
As heedless too of smile,
Through various climes, with regal sweep,
Rolls on thy current dark and deep;
Nor ever stoops to wile
The blooming fruits and flow'rets shy,
That lightly bend to reach thy wave,
Their beauteous breasts therein to lave.

III.

Unconscious roll the surges down,
But not unconscious thou,
Dread spirit of the roaring flood!
For ages worshipp'd as a god,
And worshipp'd even now –
Worshipp'd, and not by serf or clown;
For sages of the mightiest fame
Have paid their homage to thy name.

IV.<
Canst thou forget the glorious past?
When, might as a god,
With hands and heart unfetter'd yet,
And eyes with slavish tears unwet,
Each sable warrior trod
Thy sacred shore; before the blast
Of Moslem conquest hurried by;
Ere yet the Mogul spear was nigh.

V.

Thine was the glory's brightest ray
When the land with glory teem'd;
The fairest wreath the poet won,
The praise of every daring done,
On thee reflected beam'd:
When glory's light had pass'd away
Thine were India's wrongs and pain,
Despite that brow of proud disdain.

VI.

O'er crumbled thrones thy waters glide,
Through scenes of blood and woe;
And crown and kingdom, might and sway,
The victor's and the poet's bay,
Ignobly sweep below.
Sole remnant of our ancient pride,
Thy waves survive the wreck of time,
And wanton free, as in their prime.

VII.

Behold, alas! all round how drear,
How mangled, and how torn!
Where are the damsels proud and gay,
Where warriors in their dread array,
In freedom's temple born?
Can heroes sleep? Can patriots fear?
Or is the spark for ever gone
That lights the soul from sire to son?

VIII.

Tis gone, aye gone, for ever gone –
E'en like a midnight dream!
And with it, on the whirlwind blast,
Our fame and honour too have past,
And glory's latest beam;
But thou unheeding roll'st alone,
Still proud of thy untarnish'd name,
As if untouch'd by India's shame.

IX.

I gaze upon thy current strong
Beneath the blaze of day;
What conjured visions throng my sight,
Of war and carnage, death and flight!
Thy waters to the Bay
In purple eddies sweep along,
And Freedom shrieking leaves her shrine,
Alas! no longer now divine

X.

Twas here the savage Tártár stood,
And toss'd his brand and spear;
The ripples of thy sacred stream
Reflected back his sabre's gleam,
While quaked with ddastar fear
The children of a haughtier blood,
No longer now a haughty race,
Their own, their sires', their land's disgrace.

XI.

The Suttee's slow but willing feet
Ascended here the pyre;
Anxious for a happy lot,
Her fears, her tortures all forgot,
She clasp'd the kindling fire –
Expecting soon her lord to greet
In ether's emerald realms above,
Beneath the beams of light and love.

XII.

On yonder bank the mother stood,
Her baby on her breast!
A madd'ning horror thrill'd her frame,
Adown her cheeks the tear-drops came;
Hush, baby, hust to rest!
Sleep, baby, sleep beneath the flood!
Her pleasing burthen sinking smiled;
In vain the mother call'd her child.

XIII.

But why recount our woes and shame?
Upon thy sacred shore
Be mine to dream of glories past,
To grieve those glories could not last,
And muse on days of yore!
For ever harp on former fame,
Remembering still those spirits brave
Who sleep beneath thy boist'rous wave.

XIV.

Roll, Gungá, roll in thy pride,
Thy hallow'd groves among!
Glorious art thou in every mood,
Thou boast of India's widowhood,
Thou theme of every song!
Blent with the murmurs of thy tide
The records of far ages lie,
And live, for thou canst never die.

My Native Land

I.
My native land, I love thee still!
There's beauty yet upon thy lonely shore;
And not a tree, and not a rill,
But can my soul with rapture thrill,
Though glory dwells no more.

II.

My fallen country! on thy brow
The ruthless tyrants have engraved thy shame,
And laid thy haughty grandeur low;
Yet even thus, and even so,
I love to lisp thy name.

III.

What though those temples now are lone
Where guardian angels long did dwell;
What though from brooks that sadly run,
The naiads are for ever gone –
Gone with their sounding shell!

IV.

And haunted shades and laurel bowers
Resound not now the minstrel's fiery law,
And e'en though deck'd with orient flowers,
They ne'er recall those witching hours,
For ever past away:

V.

My heart yet may not cease to burn
For thy sweet woodlands, and thy sunny shore;
Though oft unconscious it will turn,
Unconscious sigh, unconscious yearn
For glorious days of yore!

VI.

Those days of mythic tale and song,
When dusky warriors, in their martial pride,
Strode thy sea-beat shores along,
While with their fame the valleys rung,
And turn'd the foe aside.

VII.

Then sparkled woman's brilliant eye,
And heaved her heart, and panted to enslave;
And beauteous veils and flow'rets shy,
In vain to hide those charms did try
That flash'd to woo the brave.

VIII.

My fallen country! where abide
Thy envied splendor, and thy glory now?
The Páthán's and the Mogul's pride,
Spread desolation far and wide,
And stain'd thy sinless brow.

IX.

In freedom's shrine, the slave alone
Now dwells – a lasting monument of thy shame!
The mighty and the brave are gone;
Thy hallow'd triumphs overthrown –
The trophies of their fame!

X.

But still the sun his noon-tide ray
Darts proudly on thy mountains towering round;
And heedless winds with streamlets play,
As slow they murmur on their way,
Through th' lovely, classic ground.

XI.

And human naiads love to roam
Where reckless sweep thy regal rivers bold;
By temple, and by shatter'd dome,
Of gods the consecrated home,
The hallow'd shrines of old!

XII.

And beauty's eye retains its fire,
What though its lightnings flash not for the brave;
And beauteous bosoms yet aspire,
With passion strong and warm desire,
To wake the crouching slave.

XIII.

My country! fallen as thou art,
My soul can never cease to heave for thee:
I feel the dagger's edge, the dart
That rankles in thy widow'd heart,
Thy woeful destiny!

XIV.

I cannot choose but love thee yet;
And, while I rove thy fragrant meads along,
I only wish I could forget
That thy sun hath for ever set,
Sweet land of love and song!


Sonnets — India

I.

What buried ages mingle in my dreams,
And what visions wild of dread sublimity,
While slowly pacing by thy lordly streams,
I muse, "Niobe of nations!" on thee.
The page of history unveiléd seems,
And virtue's brightest triumphs there I see;
The victor's laurel, and the patriot's crown,
And Science' trophies piled aspiring high –
Braving the tempest's darkest, gloomiest frown,
And, almost impious, reaching to the sky!
A giddy throb my wondering pulses own,
And, lost in admiration, mute I gaze
On scenes whose memory, as ages fl y,
Catch holier sympathy, and brighter blaze.

II.

My dreams dispell'd, in vain I seek around
The faintest semblance of those visions fair;
All-grasping Glory sits apart discrown'd,
Her monuments swept, or melted in the air!
Her children's hands with fetters mean are bound
And none, alas! to loose those fetters dare;
And Science, stooping from her condor flight,
Now grovels low in dark, Cimmerian gloom!
The victor's path is lost in rayless night,
The patriot's crown lies buried in the tomb.
Each nobler virtue now has found its grave,
And hideous sins thy hallow'd bosom stain;
At freedom's altar whines the recreant slave,
And servile hugs the despot's loathsome chain!

III.

And shall I to the future turn my gaze?
The future is a sealéd book to man,
And none so high presumes his sight to raise;
God's mystic secrets who shall dare to scan!
But sure it is no mighty sin to dream;
I dreamt a dream of strange and wild delight,
Freedom's pure shrine once more illumed did seem,
The clouds has pass'd beneath the morning light;
On beauty's cheek I mark'd the tear-drops dry,
And sighs and groans for ever fl ed the land;
Science again aspiréd to the sky,
And patriot valour watch'd the smiling strand:
A dream! A dream! Why should a dream it be?
Land of my fathers! canst thou ne'er be free?

Greece Chunder Dutt

A member of the famous Dutt family, Greece Chunder Dutt, brother to Govin Chunder Dutt and uncle to Toru Dutt, was an accomplished poet in his own right. His first single-author volume of poetry, Cherry Stones (1879), was followed by Cherry Blossoms (1887). (Poems from Cherry Stones are included in the "East" section.) Many of the fifty-six sonnets and "Miscellaneous Pieces" republished in Cherry Blossoms were also published in Cherry Stones although Dutt includes a number of newer poems in this second collection. One poem in particular, "In the Bush," is a fascinating and unusual piece that seems to take as its subject the experience of the Indian exile in South Africa.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Mapping the Nation by Sheshalatha Reddy. Copyright © 2013 Sheshalatha Reddy. Excerpted by permission of Wimbledon Publishing Company.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Acknowledgments; Note on Transcription and Transliteration; Note on Abbreviations; Critical Introduction; EAST: Shoshee Chunder Dutt; Greece Chunder Dutt; Joteendro Mohan Tagore; Avadh Behari Lall; Romesh Chunder Dutt; Lala Prasanna Kumar Dey; A. S. H. Hussain; Charu Chandra Bose; Nanikram Vasanmal Thadani; Ram Sharma; WEST: Behramji Merwanji Malabari; Cowasji Nowrosji Vesuvala; Aurobindo Ghose; S. D. Saklatvala; C. R. Doraswami Naidu; Jamasp Phiroze Dastur; Rustam B. Paymaster; NORTH: Babu S. C. Dutt [Shoshee Chunder Dutt]; Bipin Bihari Bose; Sir Mian Muhammad Shafi; Tej Shankar Kochak [a “Georgian Brahmin”]; Sushila Harkishen Lal; SOUTH: R. Sivasankara Pandiya; Krupabai Satthianadhan; M. V. Venkatasubba Aiyar; M. Dinakara; Chilkur C. S. Narsimha Row; C. Lakshminarayana Aiyer; P. Seshadri; Ardeshir Framji Khabardar; Rabindranath Tagore; Harindranath Chattopadhyay; Aurobindo Ghose; Nizamat Jung; ABROAD: Govin Chunder Dutt, et. al.; Toru Dutt; Hamid Ali Khan; Dejen L. Roy; Greece Chunder Dutt; T. (Pillai) Ramakrishna; Manmohan Ghose; Romesh Chunder Dutt; Hary Sing Gour; Sarojini Naidu; Roby Datta; Hasan Shahid Suhrawardy; Rabindranath Tagore; Peshoton Sarobji Goolbai Dubash; Sri Ananda Acharya; APPENDICES: Indian Poets on their Poetry; British Poets/Critics on Indian Poets; Excerpts from ‘A Garland of Ceylon Verse, 1837–1897’ (Colombo: 1897), edited and with an introduction and notes by Isaac Tambyah; Bibliography; Index of Titles; Index of Authors

What People are Saying About This

From the Publisher

“It is a truth seldom acknowledged that Indian literary history would be incomplete without some account of modern Indian poetry in English. ‘Mapping the Nation’ accomplishes a substantial service, filling a need by ranging across the diverse productions of an era crucial to the mapping not only of nation, but of secular modernity and metropolitan identity, showcasing brilliantly the unlikely materials that in some part constitute contemporary Indian discourse to this day.” —Dr Rosinka Chaudhuri, Centre for Studies in Social Sciences, Calcutta

“‘Mapping the Nation’ encompasses tumultuous change in the history of British colonialism and Indian nationalism as reflected in, and even shaped by, the poetry of the day. This anthology will prove to be invaluable as a postcolonial scholar’s guide and a university teacher’s toolkit for exploring Indian poetry under the aegis of Empire.” —Dr Alpana Sharma, Wright State University, Ohio