‘Rumi: A New Selection’ by Farrukh Dhondy: Ruminations, pure, proper

This is Farrukh Dhondy’s third book of translations of Rumi. The first two are ‘Rumi: A New Translation’ and ‘Rumi: A New Collection’. When we add to this collection this third book, there is a rhythmic, musical tone to the three titles. This musicality is what primarily qualifies Dhondy’s translations.

This beautifully designed book opens with an introduction to Rumi. His journey from Jalal-al-Din to the Mowlana, loved by his disciples, is beautifully documented. The turning point in Jalal’s life, meeting Tabrez-al-Shams, his spiritual guide, has been narrated multiple times, taking care to include the various versions of the lore.

Dhondy reminds us of the fact that Rumi is the bestselling poet in the US. The figures surpass those of the sales of Shakespeare, Keats, Whitman and Eliot, among others. This popularity, he reveals, is the result of the translation of his verses into American free verse by Coleman Barks. These translations transformed the American cultural landscape, though the translator could not read Persian or Arabic.

Dhondy, when handed a copy of Barks’ translation, was puzzled by it, and his uncle, appalled by it. Having spent the better part of the night translating it with his uncle, he was intrigued. This interest is what has sparked these three books.

This latest collection, like its predecessors, tries to imbibe the spirit of the times that the poet wrote in. The book is divided into four sections. The ‘Rubaiyat’ has selections of four-line verse written in iambic pentameter that was used 300 years before Shakespeare popularised it. The second section is ghazals from the ‘Diwan-e-Shams’, poems that have come about as a result of his communion with Shams. The third section, also the largest, comes from the ‘Masnavi’, Rumi’s epic in six volumes. These are mostly parables where there are extensive mentions of Jesus and his disciples such as Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. The last section contains aphorisms — pithy thoughts that carry depths and multiple meanings.

These sections can be read separately, or together, to understand the sort of spirituality that Rumi was aiming to evoke. Reading these verses brings one to the doorstep of wisdom and an understanding of the universe that will be unique to each reader. In ‘Sound of a Slap’, a man who was making place for another on a small bench is slapped on the neck by the one standing. Astounded, the sitter turns around, only to be met by the following words:

‘I really have to know/If my palm gave off the sound of the blow/Or was it the skin of your neck that screamed?’

The sitter angrily departs. The verse concludes:

What moral from this tale must we infer?/He’d left the bench to the philosopher.

Dhondy’s translation is delightful. It carries the lightness of tone that helps understand the questions that Rumi raised through his works. It is a book for the everyday reader. Dhondy has ensured a fidelity to poetic form and brings an earnestness to the task at hand that is deeply respectful of the poetic and philosophical legacy of Rumi.

The journeys the 13th century philosopher has undertaken are many — from Jalal to Rumi, from teacher to seeker, from heavy, clunky verse to puffed-up American free verse. There are other fellow-companions too — Persian scholars and historians who translate and provide footnotes.

But this journey that he undertakes alongside Dhondy, who brings out the whimsy of a conversation, the occasional jokes of a man who is a serious student of the universe, and who questions the Divine while bowing down to it, this is a journey that we all should be a part of.

— The writer teaches at All Saints’ College, Thiruvananthapuram