Actor-writer-child rights activist Nandana Sen has translated 25 of her mother writer-poet Nabaneeta Dev Sen’s Bengali poems into English. Titled Make Up Your Mind, the bilingual anthology has been published under iUniverse (Rs 250). Ahead of the book’s launch on April 16, the mother-daughter chatted with t2 about, well, being mother and daughter! 

Statutory warning: Reading this might cause you to get up and give your mother or daughter (or both) a tight hug! 

Let’s start with why you decided to translate your mother’s poems…
Ma has over 80 books in print, but few of them have been translated into English. Also, as prolific and popular as she is in every genre, this is a tribute to the fact that her first book, Pratham Pratyay, published in her student days, was poetry. As Bengalis we have a strong and visceral connection to poetry, don’t we? 
 
You had mentioned it was your birthday gift to her...
Yes. I wanted to give her a very special birthday surprise (January 13). There’s great demand for translations of her work, in India and abroad. It was wonderful to see the overwhelming response to this book at the Jaipur Literature Festival this year, which programmed sessions for Make Up Your Mind as well as my children’s book, Mambi and the Forest Fire. And both books sold equally well there, even though poetry is never an easy sell, which was a testament to the power of Ma’s poetry.
Nabaneeta: Toompa (Nandana) loves to give presents. I always get bags full of thoughtful gifts from her, from perfumes to monogrammed shawls to iPads, but this was beyond my imagination! 
 
Nabaneetadi, we daughters find our moms are our greatest champions but often also our biggest critics. What did you feel when you read Nandana’s translation?
It was an absolute and glorious surprise. I had no idea she was doing this behind my back (laughs)! I was thrilled, because Toompa translates with the greatest sensitivity and creativity. Many years ago, she translated some of my earlier poems, published with Carolyne Wright in international journals and anthologies. This year, several of Toompa’s translations from this book are being published by Yale University Press, in an anthology titled Name Me a Word, edited by Meena Alexander of Columbia University. Toompa takes immense care to choose each word, being true not only to the soul of the poem, but also to the rhyming pattern and rhythm — no mean feat — something that neither Carolyne nor I had attempted to do in our translations. In fact, my daughter is much more meticulous than I am about selecting the word that’s “just right”, paying attention to every nuance.
 
Nandana, were you nervous? 
Yes, of course I was — and I missed Ma very much, as I was translating the book secretly in New York, London, and Spain! I was so far away from her, yet so close. Reading her poems all together again was almost like reading her journal, like discovering many short histories that were so pure, so intense.
 
 

Your foreword mentions a beautiful story about finding your mother’s teep in your dorm shower room… what sights and sounds and smells mean Ma to you? 
Ma loves changing her perfume, but no matter which one she wears, she always has her own distinctive Ma-Ma-smell — I don’t know if it smells the same to anyone else, and I don’t think I can describe it. But it’s something like a mix of her hair, her sari, books, tea, and jui-phool-bel-phool. Even the smell of the monsoon, of wet earth and grass, always reminds me of her, because we used to dance in the rain when we were little. Whenever I hear Rabindrasangeet or Billie Holiday or Bob Dylan, I think of her.  Also, I miss her whenever I travel, because we’ve gone all over the world together on some very special trips. Besides, she has accompanied me to my screenings in many film festivals, be it London, Cannes, New York, Toronto — and to my theatre premieres too, whether in New York or in Prithvi (Mumbai). My poet mum has come with me to film shoots too, from Cape Town to Khajuraho! Poetry means Ma to me. We’ve had lovely readings of her poetry together, including a superb session in the Bookworm bookstore of Beijing.
 
Nabaneetadi, what do you cherish about her? What sights and sounds and smells mean Toompa to you?
Toompa has a very caring nature towards all, be it strangers, family, children, or animals. I’ve always been proud that she is totally sincere in everything she does. As for sights and smells, whenever I see ads for Pampers on TV, or smell baby powder and milk, I think of my little daughter. Or if I see a curly-haired little girl anywhere, she reminds me of Toompa, who is still a child at heart. My granddaughter Hiya is not only pretty but also a funny little child, mischievous and loving in the same way as Toompa — and I keep calling her Toompa, as does her mother Antara! 
When Toompa was in Class XI, I got affectionate “complaints” about her riding bikes and climbing trees during class (in Lady Brabourne) — reminding me of my own youth there, and in Presidency, which she attended too. When the drums start rolling during Pujo, I miss her. I used to make calls to Harvard so she could hear the dhakis, when it was very expensive to do so! The truth is, every slender young girl on the street or on TV, who has a big smile, makes me think — is this Toompa?
  
Nandana, how did you choose 25 among all your mother’s poetry? The title, Make Up Your Mind, is taken from one of the poems. Is that your favourite?
I love all the poems here, most of which are from her book, Tumi Monosthir Koro, or Make Up Your Mind — a strong title for a book that’s as moving as it is at times disturbing. I chose a few of her earlier poems as well, which show other facets of her sensitivity and brilliance, poems I know are her favourites too. I wanted to make a bilingual edition as I grew up devouring the Penguin Modern Poets series. It doesn’t exist any more, but that’s how I read poets from all over the world — Neruda, Pessoa, Yevtushenko, Lorca. In fact, I started learning Spanish from Ma’s bilingual edition of Neruda’s Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair.
 
You have described these as “25 poems about choice”. Do you feel women need to be prodded to exercise their choice more often? 
Yes, and so many of Ma’s works — whether in fiction, poetry, humour, or academic essays — are about the difficult choices a woman has to make. Ma has made many fearless choices throughout her life, and I’m so proud of her for that.

Your son-in-law, John Makinson (chairman, Penguin Random House, and Nandana’s husband) had rued during a t2 interview that there aren’t enough good translations from Indian languages into English. Do you feel that too, Nabaneetadi?
He is absolutely right. We don’t have good translators, because any writer confident in English wants to write his own book. Besides, translation is a unique and creative skill, in some ways harder than original writing — most translations here are too literal, flowery, or summarised. Since both of us are now inundated with writing projects, we are hoping to find some talented translators for my prose as well!
 
Tell us your favourite mother-daughter activity....
Nandana: Talk for hours, see movies and plays, travel, take cruises...
Nabaneeta: Yes, we love travelling together. Though I’ve always been a world traveller, I’d missed out on a few places which I’d lament about, but Toompa took me to these countries — South Africa (twice), Egypt, China — which led to not only wonderful trips but many travelogues. She has taken me back to my favourite places in England and America too, including most recently Stratford-upon-Avon, a recurring pilgrimage for any poet!
Nandana: It was great to see Othello there, wasn’t it? And we love to go out in the evenings together....
Nabaneeta: Even in places I shouldn’t be discovered. Toompa has taken me dancing a few times — to a reggae bar where we danced up the night in Boston!
Nandana: And not too many years ago, to Tantra (at The Park), where Ma’s energy was not diminished by her walking stick (laughs)! We went to Someplace Else (also at The Park) once straight from a Bangla wedding, where our jhumkos and Baluchoris did not curb our partying enthusiasm. In fact, we were both awarded T-shirts because Ma had just got the Padma Shri!
  
Nandana, were you clear that you’d set up a home in Calcutta very close to your mother? 
Yes, I’d been looking for a home near her for a long time, and found the perfect place, with marble floors, old-fashioned grills, and high ceilings, just like Bhalo-Basha, where Ma and my Didi (Antara) and I grew up in. And I’ve tried to furnish it in the same way as Bhalo-Basha as well.
 
And Nabaneetadi, how is it to have a daughter as a neighbour?
Ideal! Now that the original Bhalo-Basha is getting renovated, we are living together in Bhalo-Basha 2!

What do you miss about Nandana the most when she is away?
Nabaneeta: Everything. 
Nandana: Ma, you’re being lazy now!
Nabaneeta: No, I’m just being honest. I miss her voice, though I speak to my daughters every day, no matter where we are. I miss Toompa’s eyes, her laughter, her warm hugs, her noisy steps running up the stairs, her absent-mindedness, and her kindness. She is the hugging kind — always all over me, being my youngest born. I miss my huggy-kissy Toompush.

Samhita Chakraborty
What means ‘Mom’ to you? Tell us within 20 words at t2@abp.in