Jibananda Das Details

Jibananda Das

Type of Publisher : Books

Total Book Published : 6


Jibanananda Das (Jibonanondo Dash) (17 February 1899 – 22 October 1954) was a noted Bengali poet. He is considered one of the precursors who introduced modernist poetry to Bengali Literature, at a period when it was influenced by Rabindranath Tagore's Romantic poetry.[1]

Born in 1899, Jibanananda Das started writing and publishing in the 1920s. During his lifetime he published only 269 poems in different journals and magazines of which 162 were collected in 7 anthologies, from Jhara Palak to Bela Obela Kalbela.[4] However, since his expiry in 1954, many of his unpublished poems have been discovered and published, thanks to the dedicated initiative of his brother Asokananda Das, encouragement by his sister Sucharita Das and nephew Amitananda Das, and, above all, tireless efforts of Dr. Bhumendra Guha, who spent decades in copying from worn out published and unpublished manuscripts. By 2008, the total number of published and unpublished poems stood at more than 788. In addition, a huge number of novels and short-stories were discovered and published about the same time.

Jibanananda scholar Clinton B. Seely has termed Jibanananda Das (JD) "Bengal's most cherished poet since Rabindranath Tagore".[5] On the other hand, to many, reading the poetry of JD is like stumbling upon a labyrinth of mind similar to the kind one imagines Camus's 'absurd' man toils through. Indeed JD's poetry is sometimes an outcome of very profound feeling that is painted with imagery of a type not readily understandable. Sometimes, the connection between the sequential lines is not obvious. In fact, JD broke the traditional circular structure of poetry (intro-middle-end) and the pattern of logical sequence of words, lines and stanzas. Consequently, the thematic connotation is often hidden under a rhythmic narrative that requires careful reading between the lines. The following excerpt will bear the point out :

Lepers open the hydrant and lap some water.
Or may be that hydrant was already broken.
Now at midnight they descend upon the city in droves.
Scattering sloshing petrol. Though ever careful,
Someone seems to have taken a serious spill in the water.
Three rickshaws trot off, fading into the last gaslight,
I turn off, leave Phear Lane, defiantly
Walk for miles, stop beside a wall
On Bentinck Street, at Territti Bazar,
There in the air dry as roasted peanuts.
(Night - a poem on night in Calcutta city, translated by Clinton B. Seely)

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