Project Gutenberg · 59, free ebooks · 33 by Rabindranath Tagore. Stories from Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore. Book Cover. Download. Stories from Tagore. English. In categories: Indian literature, Rabindranath Tagore collection. Book ID: Stories from Tagore. Book cover may not be. (Galpaguccha ) Rabindranath Tagore's Short Stories: An The the stark Thompson, who translated some of Rabindranath's stories into English, reality of .
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Selected Short Stories of Rabindranath Tagore is a collection of thirty stories . stories in English entitled Glimpses of Bengal translated by Rajani Ranjan Sen. Rabindranath Tagore. 4. (2 Reviews). Stories from Tagore by Rabindranath Tagore for free download in a number of formats - including epub, pdf, azw, mobi and more. children out of books that are specially intended for use in English schools. Popular books in Short Story Collection, Fiction and Literature , Language. Aparichita. Rabindranath Tagore, Translated by. Meenakshi Mukherjee, Translated into English for the first time. SHORT STORY. I am twenty-seven .
I am somewhat slipshod by nature, having no grip over things, while my wife has a tenacity of mind which never allows her to let go the thing which it has in its clutches.
This very dissimilarity helps to preserve peace in our household. But there is one point of difference between us, regarding which no adjustment has yet become possible. Kalika believes that I am unpatriotic.
This is very disconcerting, because according to her, truth is what she proclaims to be true.
She has numerous internal evidences of my love for my country; but as it disdains to don the livery of the brand of nationalism, professed by her own party, she fiercely refuses to acknowledge it. From my younger days, I have continued to be a confirmed book-lover: indeed, I am hopelessly addicted to downloading books.
Even my enemies would not dare to deny that I read them; and my friends know only too well how fond I am of discussing their contents.
This had the effect of eliminating most of my friends, till I have left to me Banbihari, the sole companion of my lonely debates. We have just passed through a period, when our police authorities, on the one hand, have associated the worst form of sedition with the presence of the Gita in our possession; and our patriots, on their side, have found it impossible to reconcile appreciation of foreign literature with devotion to one's Motherland.
Our traditional Goddess of culture, Saraswati, because of her white complexion, has come to be regarded with-suspicion by our young nationalists.
It was openly declared, when the students shunned their College lectures, that the water of the divine lake, on which Saraswati had her white lotus seat, had no efficacy in extinguishing the fire of ill-fortune that has been raging for centuries round the throne of our Mother, Bharat-Lakshmi.
In any case, intellectual culture was considered to be a superfluity in the proper growth of our political life. In spite of my wife's excellent example and powerful urgings I do not wear Khaddar,—not because there is anything wrong in it, nor because I am too fastidious in the choice of my wardrobe. On the contrary, among those of my traits, which are not in perfect consonance with our own national habits, I cannot include a scrupulous care as to how I dress.
Once upon a time, before Kalika had her modern transformation, I used to wear broad-toed shoes from Chinese shops and forgot to have them polished. I had a dread of putting on socks: I preferred Punjabis to English shirts, and overlooked their accidental deficiency in buttons.
These habits of mine constantly produced domestic cataclysms, threatening our permanent separation. Kalika declared that she felt ashamed to appear before the public in my company.
I readily absolved her from the wifely duty of accompanying me to those parties where my presence would be discordant. The times have changed, but my evil fortune persists.
The fault lies deep in my own nature. I shrink from all conscious display of sectarian marks about my person. This shyness on my part leads to incessant verbal explosions in our domestic world, because of the inherent incapacity of Kalika to accept as final any natural difference, which her partner in life may possess.
Her mind is like a mountain stream, that boisterously goes round and round a rock, pushing against it in a vain effort to make it flow with its own current. Her contact with a different point of view from her own seems to exercise an irresistible reflex action upon her nerves, throwing her into involuntary convulsions.
While getting ready to go out yesterday, the tone with which Kalika protested against my non-Khaddar dress was anything but sweet. Unfortunately, I had my inveterate pride of intellect, that forced me into a discussion with my wife. It was unpleasant, and what more, futile.
They feel safe when they deprive their thoughts of all freedom, and confine them in the strict Zenana of conformity. Our ladies today have easily developed their devotion to Khaddar, because it has added to the over-burdened list of our outward criterion's of propriety, which seem to comfort them.
Reason crystallised becomes custom. Free thoughts are like ghosts, which find their bodies in convention. Then alone they have their solid work, and no longer float about in a thin atmosphere of vacillation. The man who invented the proverb, 'The silent silence all antagonist', must have been unmarried. It made my wife all the more furious, when I offered her no answer. We, on the contrary, carry it out in practice by imposing a uniformly white cover over all colour distinctions.
Karthik RM has mentioned: The beauty of Tagores writing lies in its simplicity. In fact it is so simple that it is complex. His short stories are a reflection of socio-political life in colonial Bengal, the complex realities of identity, class, caste, gender and colonialism.
Society and Culture. June 10, Many Bengali scholars have the view that the short story came of age in Bengali Literature with the writings of Rabindranath Tagore. Sreekumar Banerjee states that it was Tagore among Bengali writers who first discovered the form of the short story its unprefaced opening, its quick movement and its suggestive culmination.
These excerpts give one a fair beginning to a study of Tagores short stories.
Translations almost half a century later have been included in Collected Stories from Rabindranath Tagore and Collected Stories Postmaster, Kabulliwalla, The Home-coming and The Return of Khokababu, are some of the finest examples of short stories revealing human psychology in its innocent simplicity and in most touching terms. These short stories are seemingly simple but endowed with deep complexities delving deep into the intricacies of human mind.
These short stories reveal the Primitive Man, living a happy life and making no complaints. In other words these characters have practiced taking life as it has been given to them or as it comes to them and thereby blessed with peace of mind. The Hungry Stones, Living or Dead and The Skeleton are short stories with elements of supernaturalism, eerie and weird. An attempt has been made here to study some of these short stories of Tagore and present them in their critical perspective within the limits of space provided by the organizers.
These short stories have been dealt with in different sections for cognitive convenience.
Stories with an element of supernaturalism: Critics differ in their opinion on the supernaturalism in Tagores stories. Dominic K V has stated, Tagore did not allow supernatural powers any role in his stories. In this context he also quotes K. Ramaswami Sastri: We must also bear in mind that Tagore has been a loving student of the best literatures of the West and that hence his art has acquired a new grace and power by such study, which has enabled him to take up life as it is around us and bring out its heights and depths before our eyes without that over-idealising tendency and obtrusion of the supernatural elements which were the chief defects of Indian fiction in the past.
Sastri, Many critics also have the view that some of Tagores stories having elements of supernaturalism add a variety and among the best of Tagores stories.
Hungry Stones: The story is a strangers narration of his experiences as a collector of cotton duties at Barich on the banks of river Susta. The stranger, a co-passenger in a journey happens to wait for sometime at a railway junction and he tells a strange story. Even at the beginning one of the listeners probably a skeptic feels the extraordinary person deliberately set about spinning the following yarn.
According to the narrator, he had been visited by ghosts who belong to a distant past and as he nears the completion of his narration he tells his listeners that he was asked to tell the story of the strange beauty of his apparition; He is made an Ancient Mariner by Tagore.
The narration ends at this point, the stranger leaves abruptly to accompany an English gentleman beckoning him from the First Class compartment of the train. At the end of the story the readers also have similar feelings, those of one of the listeners.
The man evidently took us for fools and imposed upon us out of fun. The story is pure fabrication from start to finish.
The listener who had such a feeling adds The discussion that followed ended in a lifelong rupture between my theosophist kinsman and myself. A close scrutiny reveals that there is no supernaturalism in this story though it appears to have it at first sight. Once there was a King: This is another story attempting to make one believe in the unbelievable. But the author makes his intentions very clear even at the beginning: Ah! How we all love to be deluded!
We have a secret dread of being thought ignorant. And we end by being ignorant after all, only we have done it in a long and roundabout way. The story is about a young boy getting married to a pretty Princess before he realizes what has happened. He only knows that he is looked after well by a beautiful girl. As he grows older one day he has been asked to wait for the girl for that day she will reveal her true identity.
He waits; the beautiful girl approaches to tell him that she is the Princess married to him, but finds him dead bitten by a serpent. The story ends abruptly leaving the reader in wonder. Tagores stories exemplify the fact that he had analysed the feelings of women. On Tagores women Srinivasa Iyengar has stated, The women in his stories, of course, are splendidly womanly, frail and fair, yet wise and strong always or almost always more sinned against than sinning.
Tagore plumbs the depths of the womanly heart, and behind the seeming wiles and helpless gestures he sees reserves of devotion and sacrifice. One finds that this is true of even the characters in stories such as The Home-coming and The Cabuliwallah even though they have only minor roles.
Tagore had been at Shelidaha to manage his fathers estates giving Tagore an opportunity to tour the villages, travelling in houseboats enjoying the expanse of waters, admiring nature and meeting with numberless unknown people, unique in their own right. Tagore gave names to these anonymous villagers He could see them as his neighbours could sympathise with them in their little joys and sorrows; he could reveal the petty selfishness, which dominates human life, and admire that best portion of a good mans life.
Dominic K V.
Tagore created his characters from his close observation of people, ordinary, innocent and unknown yet transformed into extraordinary, bold and making their presence felt by their superb sacrifice but never caring for recognition. Tagores Kabuliwallah and The Home-coming are just two of the examples cited and can serve the purpose.
Suketu Mehta states the following on his rereading Kabuliwallah: I recently reread Kabuliwallah, his short story about an Afghan merchants friendship with a little girl. It is a sentimental tale, though not melodramatic.
Toward the end, the upperclass Bengali narrator discovers, through a small picture a little girls handprint, carried across borders as a memento what he has in common with a murderous Afghan, something that spans the huge distance between them. I understood then that he was as I am, that he was a father just as I am a father. This what the best of Tagores stories do erase distinctions between the self and the other. The excerpt quoted, though long, gives one a good idea on what to expect from Tagores stories concerned with the people one can meet with in life.
In The Cabuliwallah Tagore has created just a handful of characters Mini a girl shown as a tiny tot at the beginning to a bride toward the end of the story, her father, the narrator of the story and Rahmun, the Cabuliwallah.
Minis father belongs to the upper classes and he is a non-intruding observer for most part of the story. The Cabuliwallah, amerchant from across the border, is a merchant selling his wares at the streets of Calcutta. He and Mini develop a deep affection for each other, though Mini as a timid and tiny child is afraid of the Cabuliwallah, a huge man. They share a joke on the term father-in-law, though Mini cannot understand who is a father-in-law or the significance of the term.
On a charge of murderous assault Rahmun gets sentenced to some years imprisonment. Years pass by. Rehmun is forgotten to return all on a sudden on the day of the marriage of Mini. What follows is interesting as the final part of the story unfolds: When did you come, Rahmun? I asked him. Last evening, he said, I was released from jail.