18 February,2023 06:11 PM IST | Mumbai | Sammohinee Ghosh
Representation pic
I grew up amidst many languages. My mother was an avid reader of Hindi literature and my father of Urdu poetry. Our dadi spoke to us only in Punjabi. I think of Hindi as my mother tongue primarily because I can read and write in the language. My love for Hindi was kindled through school textbooks. Short stories such as Premchand's Idgah, Buddhi Kaaki and Badde Bhai Sahib; Yashpal's Purdah; and Chandradhar Sharma Guleri's Usne Kaha Tha are deeply ingrained in my psyche. And so are the dohas of Kabir, Rahim and Surdas, and the poetry of Maithili Sharan Gupt, Nirala and Dinkar. I explored Punjabi much later in life, and it was largely through music, which led me to the poetry of Shiv Kumar Batalvi, Bulleh Shah and Waris Shah - all of whom I adore.
I was introduced to Gujarati literature - and the pursuit of writing - through pappa's [novelist Gunvantrai Acharya's] words. It was like riyaaz; he would sit at his writing desk and jot down stories or prepare for lectures and newspaper articles every day. It would be hard to pick one book from his vast body of work. Yet if I have to, I'd choose Dariyalal - an adventure novel about the seafarers of Gujarat and their settlements in East Africa [written from oral history], and a play called Allabeli.
Having been born in the climate of Marathi has greatly contributed to the kind of work I do as a writer-illustrator. The journey of falling in love with the language was so organic that it's hard to pinpoint a time - in relation to books I have read and cherished. The language continues to reveal itself to me in new ways even today. However, Savitri by PS Rege and Bangarwadi by Vyankatesh Madgulkar will always hold a special place in my heart.
My admiration for the language was initiated through authors like Sukumar Ray. I have spent my growing-up years reading his work by the window and laughing my heart out. I realised much later that his humour was social satire, and that understanding made his creations hard-hitting. I owe my love for literature to the three generations of storytellers from that family [Upendrakishore Ray Chowdhury, Sukumar Ray and Satyajit Ray].
As a child, my mother's magazines drew me into the language. However, Yakshi by Malayattoor Ramakrishnan first inspired me for its treatment of modern horror. I love how Ramakrishnan begins the story - âI am writing from the ward of a mental hospital'. It is perhaps one of the earliest efforts to blend the supernatural with the psychological. Since we Malayalis have been brought up on tales of Yakshis, the title itself pulled me in.
As a school-going child, Burhi Aair Sadhu - a book by Lakshminath Bezbarua - left an indelible mark on my mind. The collections of poems by poets such as Raghunath Choudhury, Chandrakumar Agarwala and Nalinibala Devi also stirred my imagination for the language. I do revisit their work from one time to another. Two years ago, I bought a copy of Burhi Aair Sadhu at the Guwahati Book Fair to replace the age-old edition on my shelves. One book which is always by my side is the over 100-year-old Assamese dictionary, Hemakosha, by Hemchandra Barua. It is an indispensable part of my study table. Every time I sift through its pages, I keep realising the beauty of my mother tongue, and my sense of the language improves.
Find them here
You can visit these shops and websites to lay your hands on multilingual books:
>> akshardahra.com
>> katha.org
>> Vasundhara, Powai- 2225705291
>> Kitab Khana, Fort- 2261702277
