Book Review- Crime and Punishment

Title               Crime and Punishment

Author           Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Translator     Constance Garnett

Pages              584

ISBN              978-93-8653-805-5

MRP              Rs 250

Publisher       F!ngerprint!  Classics

Rating            4/5 Stars

Exactly a month back when I started reading this intense psychological thriller by the famous Russian writer Fyodor Dostoyevsky (1821-1881) little did I know that this work will recast my notions about crime as well as punishment. As the name suggests, the novel revolves around the very concept of crime and the consequent punishment imparted for it. Without superfluous tracks in typical Dostoyevskian style, it questions a very basic thing- if one kills an epitome of the evil, a vile vermin to save hundreds of innocents, how can it be called a crime and who can decide the befitting punishment for the same?

The protagonist Rodion Romanovitch Raskolnikov is a tall and handsome 23 year old former university student who lives in a suffocating cupboard-like rented room in St. Petersberg, Russia. He publishes an article describing his theory on crime along with a hypothesis relating crime and a high fever. Months later, he shockingly finds himself compelled to brutally murder an old pawnbroker who he considers to be a den of iniquity and a venomous insect. Despite poverty, fever and dilemmas, he comes out unscathed and manages to duck everyone. From police to his intellectual best friend, Razhumihin and from his shrewd landlady to his over-analytical doctor, everyone believes him to be innocent. However, it is his own conscience that he relentlessly grapples with. One day at a cheap tavern, his path entwines with that of a bankrupt alcoholic clerk Marmeladov and later with his dignified but consumptive second wife Katrina Ivanovna (she has three children from a previous defunct marriage) and his religious and timid twenty year old daughter Sonia from his late first wife. When Sonia destroys herself in providing for her starving step-siblings, he bows at her feet, much to the shock of everyone.

The novel also has other important characters like Svidrigailov, a 50 year old pedophile all set to marry a 15 year old, Luzhin, a devious narcissist and Dounia, the erudite and charming older sister of the protagonist, fighting her own demons. Raskiolnikov, till the end stays clear and unsuspected yet it is his inner voice that constantly bothers him and he ends up taking odd decisions in order to run away from his own crumbling self. His way of perceiving things is complex yet he manages to convince the reader into agreeing with him. Twists and turns keep the reader on the edge and the ending gives a nice closure to this powerful work. This novel also throws much light on the then Russian society and culture.

Not just another run-of-the-mill fiction, ‘Crime and Punishment’ requires contemplation on the reader’s part. It takes one inside the frenzied but brilliant mind of Raskolnikov and argues upon the fundamentals such as of crime, what defines it, who can be called a criminal, what the meaning of punishment is, who actually deserves how much of it in any society, in an era and who deserves to rule the masses. This book breaks old moulds of notions and makes one reflect, that too profoundly. It undoubtedly is a timeless classic.

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

PS-

*I found this translation to be a bit confusing and messed up at many places hence it is better to get another one from the many available ones.

*The scene of Katrina Ivanovna’s depressing death later in the story, literally shook me up and made me cry.

Book Review- The Diwan of Zeb-Un-Nissa

Book Review -          The Diwan of Zeb-Un-Nissa (1913)

Author-                      Princess Zebunnissa 

Translation-               Magan lal and Jessie Duncan Westbrook

My last read was definitely a memorable one, for it was authored by none other than princess Zebunnissa, the erudite but hapless daughter of Mughal ruler Aurangzeb. This book, a collection of 50 selected poems, was translated from Persian into English in 1913. The translation itself is in verse and is quite good. Given her father’s disgust with arts and poetry, she acquired a pen name ‘Makhfi’ that means ‘hidden’ in Persian. The original book, ‘Diwan-e-Makhfi’ was an anthology of 400 of her poems which came to light 50 years after her demise.

Princess Zebunnissa was born in 1637 to King Aurangzeb and his intellectual Persian queen Dilras Bano. However, she was exactly opposite to him in nature and temperament. While the princess was well versed in various languages, astronomy, mathematics and was an ardent lover of art and poetry, her tyrannical father had a deep disdain for such things. He famously remarked once ‘mousiqui ke murde to itna gehra gaadh do ki phir kabhi ser na utha sake’ (the corpse of music be buried so deep that it may not raise its evil hood again). How ironical! This disparity only gave her a slow and lonely death, but also some really memorable poems to the world to read and wonder about the poetic prowess of the princess for centuries to come.

She did assist her father in decisions regarding state and politics but her dark period began when her brother Akbar rebelled against Aurangzeb in 1681. Aurangzeb here played a true male-chauvinist and hypocrite; he forgave the his rebel son but jailed Zebunnissa for keeping in touch with Akbar during that period, for he considered this as a betrayal on her part. The princess was imprisoned in a Delhi fort where she spent the last years of her single life in painful solitude.

Not much is known about her romantic life but she was said to be very fond of a maid named ‘Miyan Bai’ to whom she even gifted the ‘Chauburji Gardens’, now situated in Lahore. This relationship was not only a subject of gossip but in her poems too, that affection peeps through in some verses. Sample this one:

The love of Thee the bulbul sings,

The moth that burns its silken wings

Thy love has drawn into the fire

And, see, the wine of Thy desire—

On every goblet's lip it clings.

Another paragraph of the same poem:

Thou, Makhfi, in the burning fire

Of love and unassuaged desire

Tossing in wild remorse, shalt dwell;

Love's secrets weakly didst thou tell,

So thou shalt pay with penance dire.

And see this one from another poem:

Long is my bitter tale of grief, of separation
    from my Friend,
Unfinished is it even yet, although my life has
    reached its end.

Rest of the poems, I feel, are completely devoted to Sufism and spiritual concepts like the Day- Of- Judgement, liberation, sins and repentance. Most of the verses are laden with remorse, pain and lonesomeness. Sample these (random) –

Here she accepts her pain and becomes stronger from within-

We, by our pain made brave,
Seek not despair nor hope; neither outlast
Their little day. We take but what Fate gave,
Not as Zuleikha, brooding o’er the past.

Here she talks of philosophy-

Mortals we are, and, fashioned thus of earth,
Vain, Makhfi, is this world in which we trust,
Dust is the rank of kings, the pride of birth,
    Yea, thou thyself art dust.

And yet, O Makhfi, if with eyes made clear,
    Freed from the world's illusion, thou shalt see,
Lo, the faquir's torn garments shall appear
    More regal than the robes of majesty.

Here she talks of a complete submission to God-

But here before the garden door I wait;
Why should I deem myself unfortunate?
For by Thy holy threshold shall I stay,
And with my lashes sweep its dust away.

Haply indeed, O Judge, wilt thou be kind,
    And pity in thy heart for sinners find.

So were we not, O Master, led by thee
Vain were our struggles, scant our victory!

A wilderness this lonely heart of mine
Till love transformed it to another guise,
And now it shines as fair as the divine
      Gardens of Paradise.

Here she talks of the relief prayer gives her-

Dawn comes, and despair
Has vanished before the miraculous arrows of prayer.

Though evil days are mine, of joy bereft,
    With pain that never ends,
Fate, do with me your worst, there still is left
    The Friend beyond all friends. (GOD)

Her verses also reflect a pride for her religion-

The world through Islam light in darkness saw
   And walked safe guided by thy Scroll of Law,
      Bowing to God in hope and holy awe

 O Prophet, o’er the world
Thy soul-compelling banner is unfurled:
    See how thy faith hath spread
Till Iran and Arabia are led.
    Thy lips unclose
Like petals of a newly-budded rose,
    And from them flow
Thy words of wisdom, till not only know

To Thee, first,
From the clouds of Whose mercy is born
The rose of my garden, I look!
Let the praise of Thy love the beginning adorns
    Of the verse of my book.

Most verses are colored with pain and hopelessness-

Unto the fields like pecking birds I go
To gather up the ears of golden grain,
But only tears, not corn, I gather—lo,
      They fall in floods like rain.

   Behold my luckless heart,
    So broken, so dissolved by pain,
It even flows in tears between my lashes;
      And yet how can I part
    With it, while still to me remain
Its shards—I wait till it is burnt to ashes.

 And in my desolation tears of blood
Gushed from my stricken, widowed heart in
      never-ending flood

The wine of my delight has lost its taste;
The earth of my existence turns a waste,
No wholesome grass grows there, but only weed;
My flaming spring of life has passed indeed.
I searched for joy, but never found the end;
My empty hands, outstretched, can greet no friend.

O, I have drunk my cup of cherished grief,
    And love the torment of my wounded heart;
    As the scars heal I tear their lips apart,
And in my pain find rapturous relief.

The verses are beautiful, profound and tell us about the futility of transitory human life. The life of the princess was more of a tragic tale and her poems will always remind us of two things- first, of a double-faced and cruel attitude towards women, and second, that by believing in and submitting to God, we can tackle our inevitable pains.

You can check out the book here

Note:

·  The term ‘Sufi’ comes from ‘Suf’ the Persian word for ‘wool’ as those spiritual dervishes (later called Sufis) used to wear garments made only of pure wool.

·   In Sufism, God is perceived as a romantic partner but in a very pure and platonic way.

Dast-Daraazi

दस्त-दराज़ी

खौफज़दा दिलों या ज़ख़्मी सीनों से आयें

आहों को मज़हब न सरहद रोक पाएं

अपनी या ग़ैर की, तेरी हों या मेरी

अंगारे तो हर सीने में जला जायेंगी.

उन मैली सफ़ेद परतों से झाकेंगे 

स्याह रिसते नासूर यूँ बेपर्दा हो कर

कफ़न अपने पर हो या किसी ग़ैर पर

हर ख़ामोश गवाही एक नई आग लगाएगी.

देख! जाल सी फैलती ये सुर्ख नदियाँ

तेरे और मेरे घरों को निगले जाती हैं

ले बहें अश्क-ओ-लहू अपना या ग़ैर का

फिर एक दफ़ा ख़ुदा का सर झुकायेंगी.

The Translation:

Violence

From fearful hearts or wounded bodies, they may come

Neither any religion nor borders can stop these sighs

Be our own or someone else’s, yours or mine;

They’ll surely leave burning embers in every heart

From those soiled white layers, will peep

Black open wounds shamelessly unveiled

A shroud may be on one’s kin or else’s

But each shroud will lead to more violence

See! Those red rivers distending like a net

They are swallowing our homes, yours and mine

Be the tears and blood flowing our own or else’s

Such violence will once again hang God’s head in shame

  

This poem was written originally in Urdu after I read about violence at many places. Just the very news of such bloodshed is enough to disturb us; we cannot even imagine the plight of the people involved. Such wars effect their generations to come, leaving their children ill-fed and uneducated. Families of armed forces officers suffer too, for their kin face painful deaths in such useless mayhems.

The tree of violence bears only poison thorns that vex generations to arrive. There is no winner in a war; both the sides involved suffer more or less equally. A peace loving attitude and a stance of non-violence is the best gift we can give others but most importantly to ourselves. 

                                                                                  

To quote Gautam Buddha.

‘If you throw a burning coal at someone, your fingers get burnt first’

How true!

Images from: http://z6.co.uk/e1cb1863 and http://z6.co.uk/089fda62