Lost & found in translation

There's a paradox that lies in the art of translation. To translate well is to walk an invisible tightrope: you must offer a new voice to the existing idea but also vanish behind it. Imagine, in a winter courtyard of Moscow, an ordinary sentence read in Hindi — in Pushkin's rhythm or Dostoevsky's confessional tone. Years ago, this dynamic interplay of languages & cultures must have felt foreign, until Madan Lal Madhu breathed its very soul into existence.Born in 1925, his journey towards literary transformation began in quiet classrooms of Punjab. His PhD thesis — comparing Gorky and Premchand — alluded at a vision he had early on, literature was not confined by geography; rather, it was bound by invisible threads of shared human experience.A skilled poet and translator, he opened up a treasure trove of Russian classics to Indian readers and vice-versa. In 1957, he took a significant leap. Despite not knowing Russian, he was invited to Moscow to translate Marx and Lenin from English. He then immersed himself in Marxist texts, intent on bringing these to Hindi readers. Later, he began translating directly from Russian — no longer a mediator.He spun Tolstoy's grand epics, Chekhov's quiet sorrows, the lyrical ache of Pushkin's verse, Gogol's satire and Dostoyevsky's shadowy depths into Hindi. But these were not mere conversions. His translations struck a chord, echoing as cultural refrains: they read like poetry, alive with the warmth of Hindi and the subtlety of Russian. His other creative ventures include several plays, essays, two memoirs — Yadoon ke Dhundle Ujale Chehre being one of them — and two poetry collections — Ek Do Teen and Aise Ladke Bhi Hote Hain.Co-founder of Hindustani Samaj — a community that aimed to promote Indian culture in Russia — he organised readings and gatherings. Think Tagore's poetry read alongside Lermontov's verse — bridging differences through ideas. His awards came deservedly: India's Padma Shri, Russia's Pushkin Medal, and the Order of Friendship. Critics often spoke of his translations with reverence; his peers saw in him an alchemist of language. Yet beyond honours, his quiet legacy persists and he continues to inspire new translators.After his death, on July 7, 2014, Moscow fell silent. The Hindustani Samaj created a translation award in his name while the Indian Embassy library in Moscow dedicated a reading corner to honour his memory.He once said translating poetry demanded capturing not only meaning but also melody. He displayed how by carefully curating words, one could shape literature’s trajectory — behind the scenes. It's how meaning breathes or breaks — and where everything can easily be “lost in translation”.Translators possess the power to transcend boundaries — literal & metaphorical. So, when you open a Hindi War and Peace, pause and appreciate the weight of his labour. The bridge he built connects us — laid in ink, but standing firm as generations take steps.

Lost & found in translation

Devsi Sharma

Tribune News Service

Lost & found in translation

Devsi Sharma

Tribune News Service

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