Realism in Bengali Literature

The question of idealism and realism in literature is being hotly debated in connection with the manifestations of recent Bengali literature, but unfortunately, a good deal of the discussion is rendered meaningless by the arbitrary and sometimes inappropriate usage of the terms. Instead of trying to define the meaning of the terms as applied to literature, people have been content to employ them in the classification of writers into opposed schools and mete out praise or blame according to personal preferences. The result is that the discussions degenerate from an attempt to judge betweeen different outlooks in literature into a squabble about the relative importance or unimportance of some pet novelist or poet.

At the very outset it may be said that the opposition between the two is largely an unreal one. Any literature worthy of the name must reflect the spirit of man–his aspirations and his achievements. Art and literature are the creations or man; they embody the inspiration that is in him and express the reality which constitutes his truest self. Their realm is that of his thought and feelings, and their highest purpose is to give these a permanent form. In the scheme of our life we can allow only that which has some function to fulfill. It is meaningless to speak of "Art for Art's sake," for art has no meaning except in reference to the values of human life. If we remember this, we also see that there must be the reflection of life in all art and literature. A close contact with reality is an absolutely indispensable condition of their growth, for once this contact is lost, they lose their relation to life and become merely idle phantasies. Dreams and phantasies also have their place in the scheme of things, but those who exalt them at the expense of the reality of life, are not artists but lunatics. Any literature which neglects this vital reference to life, does so at its own risk, for in becoming unreal it also ceases to be literature.

Realism or fidelity to nature is therefore an essential condition for literature that wants to live, but this realism is not necessarily antagonistic to the highest type of idealism. Idealism in literature does not mean that the facts of life are denied to proclaim the value and glory of some faith or hope: it means that life is seen in all its magnitude and value discovered in its infinite complexity. To see life whole is to see it steadily, and in this serenity of vision, which can see the storm and wait for the calm to follow, lies the secret of idealism.

From this point of view, it is not only possible but also necessary to reconcile idealism and realism. For the value of any literature depends on the depth of its meaning and this can be gained only by the inclusion in it of life in its manifold manifestations. We may perhaps put it in another way by saying that realism is a question of the technique of literary art, while idealism refers to the end for which this technique is used. It may be difficult to separate technique from purpose in every case, but we recognize the broad distinction implied by the terms, while their inseparability only proves that they are involved in each other's being.

We must, however, admit that realism and idealism have not often been understood in this sense. Realism has been taken to mean, not fidelity to human life and nature, but only to a certain section or fragment of it, while the term idealism has been used to indicate fidelity to other equally vital aspects of life. This, however, is obviously arbitrary and unjustifiable, for there is no reason why we should call by different names what is at bottom the same attitude. Undue emphasis on some particular aspect of life to the neglect of all its other manifestations is certainly not realism, and it is difficult to see why it should either be a necessary element of idealism in literature.

The attitude of mind we have been trying to describe, can perhaps be best expressed by calling it Romanticism. Without entering into any discussion about the relative merits and demerits of Romanticism and other "isms," it might perhaps be said that one of the characteristic features of Romanticism lies in its total absorption in some idea or ideal to the total exclusion of everything else in the universe. The intense and passionate quality of romantic writing is a result of such wide-hearted devotion, for, to the romantic, the meaning of the universe is concentrated in the object of his immediate consciousness. Balance and proportion, and a proper distribution of emphasis on the different components of our experience are qualities that we miss in most romantic literature, but it often gains in depth and inwardness what it loses in extent and width of appeal.

There is no doubt the inevitable reaction. From the exaltation of the spirit and intoxication in the value of some particular aspect of life, romantic literature passes by a natural transition to the glorification of opposed elements of our experience. The devi1s of to-day are the gods of yesterday, only because these gods in the days of their prime sought to occupy the entire universe and crush out of existence anything that refused homage to them, but any such attempt to reduce the complexity of life to any one uniform pattern is bound to fail. The neglected elements revolt against their banishment, and clamour for full recognition, till with the strength born of the opposition and the struggle, they in turn become supreme, and seek to suppress the rivals who had so long kept them out of the picture.

This is what is happening in Bengali literature to-day. The undue emphasis and unhealthy absorption in all matters relating to sex, specially in its abnormal and subnormal sides, are merely natural reactions against the taboo which has so long dominated over our lives. Nobody can deny that sex is an integral part of our lives, but to make it the only, or even the most important fact of our life is essentially to falsify the picture. Men and women love one another and physical union of the sexes is an element in this love, but is not the whole of it. Similarly, love itself is one of the most important factors of our life, but cannot be regarded as the only factor. Love and hunger are both fundamental traits, and we can perhaps argue as to which is the more basic in the economy of life, but any literature which recognises only the one or the other is doomed to unreality and failure.

Recent Bengali literature cannot, therefore, be regarded as realistic in its technique or its aim. Those who have hailed as anti-romanticism its absorption in the questions of sex have failed to see that what we have here is merely the substitution of one romanticism for another. Instead of the soft and sweet things of life holding the centre of the picture, we have today minute studies of ugliness and evil. But if life is not all soft or sweet, neither is it merely evil and ugly. An undue preoccupation with either aspect alters the complex and delicate organisation of life in its contrast of light and shade, and gives us a picture which is essentially romantic.

This fact can be seen in another way. We have referred to the unhealthy interest in all matters sexual, but we have before our eyes the day-to-day struggle of common men to eke out a bare existence. The poverty and squalor, the lack of education and hope, the absence of health and happiness in which our peoples live have found little or no reflection in the literature of the day. The political subjugation of the country does not come with humiliation to the hearts of our litterateurs, and the movement for emancipation that is sweeping through the country today finds no echo in their writings. The merely political aspects of the movement may have little to do with art, but the urge of life that rises from the depths of the nation's soul should have its reflection in the literature of the day. We expect in the artist an acute sensitiveness and power of response to his environment, but what are we to think of his passion and imagination if he remains dead to currents that stir the ordinary man from the routine of his daily life?

The Romanticism inherent in us has many forms. It is in its essence an escape from life and may largely be attributed to the fact of our political slavery. We are not proud of what we are, and therefore we seek to compensate in dreams for the deficiencies of our actual lives. That is again why we are so impatient of criticism, for we lack sufficient confidence in ourselves to accept criticism for whatever it might be worth. We boast of our past and dream of future glories, but in this constant attempt at self-delusion we forget that the present with all its harshness cannot be imagined away. The result is that our literature is shot through and through with unreality, and nowhere is this unreality more marked than in our drama. False in emotion and in the conception of character, our drama exhibits extravagance masquerading as heroism, and sickly sentimentality playing the role of deep and strong emotions. But then we can say of this drama that it has, at any rate, no pretensions to realism.

What then we need in Bengali literature–and without much acquaintance I am still inclined to think that this holds true of other provincial literatures also–is a recognition of the fact that life is not a simple thing and can be expressed by no single formula. In its rich complexity and manifoldness, it has room for many and apparently incompatible factors, and undue exaggeration or neglect of any element falsifies our picture of life. All slavery–whether political, economic, or social–has a narrowing influence on the mind, and it is only the free and open spirit that can successfully fulfill the high and arduous task demanded of a real artist. A Shakespeare is born perhaps only once in a thousand years, but the tragic balance which is the secret of his greatness, ought to be the principle informing all our literary endeavours.