Tagore: An Introduction in the West

(May 9 this year marks Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore’s 149th birth anniversary—on that day will commence the yearlong celebrations to commemorate the poet’s 150th birth anniversary in 2011. On this occasion we are publishing the following articles to remember him and offer our sincere homage to his abiding memory.)

Rabindranath Tagore’s name is synonymous with Bengali culture. His prolific outpouring of poems, songs, novels, plays, short stories and essays are golden threads woven into the very fabric of this country. The power of his presence endures even in the exquisitely poetic and soulful national anthem of modern Bangladesh: “Amar Sonar Bangla (My Golden Bengal)†. In 1950, nine years after his death, his “Jana-Gana-Mana (Thou Art the Ruler of All Minds)†was adopted as the national anthem of India.

His poetic genius was recognised long before he left the world though. Tagore’s was an open, cosmopolitan mind. He described his own family as “a confluence of three cultures: Hindu, Mohammedan, and British†. The sincerity and depth of his works, based on a sincere and
joyful devotion to God, blossomed at just the right time for England. His expressions and experiences survived translation and preserved their lustre for the eager Western audience. The post-Victorian thirst for truth and simplicity welcomed his words with open arms and generous heart.

Tagore’s wealthy and educated background prompted him to seek a career as a barrister. His quest brought him on a brief visit to England in 1878, which did not bear the fruit that he desired. He instead went back to his home in Calcutta where he started to make a name for himself locally through his writings. He returned to England at the age of 51, and began translating his latest work: a garland of devotional poetry called Gitanjali.

English painter William Rothenstein heard of this translation and asked to see it, but Tagore kept his modest hold on it until pressed much further. The beauty of the poems transfixed Rothenstein when they were at last released, and insisted they be shown to his friend, the Irish poet, W.B. Yeats.

Yeats was overwhelmed by the subtlety and depth of Gitanjali, and had it printed in 1912, with his own lengthy and sensitive introduction:

I have carried the manuscript of these translations about with me for days, reading it in railway trains, or on the top of omnibuses and in restaurants, and I have often had to close it lest some stranger would see how much it moved me.

Within a year, Tagore had received the Nobel Prize for Literature—the first person from the East to receive the honour—which launched a series of international lectures. King George V knighted him in 1915, but he renounced the title four years later, following the British massacre of 400 Indian civilians at Amritsar’s Jallianwala Bagh.

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Those suffering the hardships and losses of the First World War treasured Tagore’s work in Europe. Wilfred Owen was among those who found solace in the spirituality of Tagore’s words. After his death, his mother wrote to Tagore to express her gratitude. His parting words to her on his final journey were:

Those wonderful words of yours—beginning with “When I go from hence, let this be my parting word†.

When his pocket book was returned to her, she saw:

“These words written in his dear writing—with your name beneath them.â€

Indian scholars and devotees have dubbed the Western perception of Tagore’s work as narrow. Western interest in his work has also seemed to dwindle in recent years. He is seen simply as a mystical poet rather than the great cultural figure known in the East, as that aspect was most marketable in his lifetime. This could be perceived as a great loss, but even if the West only knows him for his Gitanjali, that bounty has fed many hearts, although it is a fraction of his total genius.