With the November breeze came a little astonishment from an unusual quarter. Literary works of Tagore and the bard’s perception of colour were to be discussed by the Ophthalmologists at their annual conference. Ketaki Kushari Dyson, the well known litterateur but an odd man out amongst the medical professionals was invited to deliver Major S.C. Dutt Memorial oration making it obvious of a unicameral origin of human knowledge. That he was a colour blind more specifically a protanope, was known to Tagore himself. He discussed at length with Indira Debi, Roman Rolland and Rani Chanda how disturbing it was. But those around him who made him into an institution tried hard to keep it a secret. Rarely would you find Viswa-Bharati publishing books on poet’s colour vision. In the last decade of Nineteenth century, Tagore discussed his problem with eminent scientist friend J.C.Bose. Dr. Jyotirmoy Bose, another eye surgeon and R.W Pickford jointly published an article in British Journal of Aesthetics (Volume 27, No 1, winter 1987) about Tagore’s colour perception. But it was Ketaki Dyson who opened the doors into the inner world of Tagore’s psyche. Colours have so many things to say, so many things to do. Much of our thinking and a large part of the human soul is dependant upon it. When one does not perceive colour in its full spectrum he is ought to sustain breaking down his peaceful behaviour. How distressful it was when Tagore was at loss in describing the colour ‘red’ and its nearer spectrum. You can’t write about colours without seeing them. While Tagore came up with innumerable unusual words like ‘ranga’ (eng. Deep colour), ‘shyamal’ (eng. Cloudy greenish yellow) to describe primary colours like red, green etc, alliterations sprung in abundance evolving the Bengali language into an ornamental one. He was so helpless in appreciating sunsets (to Tagore it was yellow or orange like yellow) and sunrises (helplessly describing it as golden) that such colours like ‘red’ brought different meanings to his life. He thought ‘red’ to be darkness, painful, death, hidden, sadness and he was hurt by this colour. ‘Red’ to him was elusive and invincible or an absence of colour. Blood became a phobia or near black. And from it arose plays like ‘Raktakarabi’ (red oleander). Next time when you read this play, appreciate it in this unusual angle. ‘Red’ to him was of two types, good red or bad red and with it alliterations emerged in vivid sound patterns as ‘ranga hashi rashi rashi’. In Purabi she said, “You will find the mournful sound of colour of sindur or red vermillion worn by married women on their forehead as a mark of respect to their married life.” Colour vision decides so much about one’s writings that Tagore gave birth to unimaginable usage of varied words in his published works you would never have dreamt of. Tagore is likely the end of Bengali language and it will take years to come up with some thing new. Ketaki said that Tagore would rarely write explicitly about colours. Tagore talked about colourful garlands, colourful clouds without describing the colours individually. With this came the glorification of the unseen. From not seeing, came touching. Colours turned out to be haunting and inflicting pain and then slowly turning into monochromatic ones. Tonal variations became rarer and Tagore started brushing layers after layers in search of the true colour. Paints took longer to dry. It took longer and longer, as the days passed by. Blue was seldom used. European skin became difficult to distinguish and the bard compared it with the colour of the grapes. There was immense problem with the green and red and as a result there was no green-red contrast. Tagore turned to primitive art like African wood cut masks, wood cut prints and expressionism. Usage of brown emerged in abundance while details in paintings lost its importance. It was only the lines and boundaries and shapes that mattered.
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| Rabindranath Tagore (Photo wikimedia commons) |
This oration by Mrs Dyson was preceded by a series of scientific papers on eye surgery, presented to the august gathering in form of a cricket match like platform in which each team scored runs to ultimately win a trophy. It was a packed house witnessing ear bursting applause. What came as a surprise was the thinning out of the crowd with the beginning of Dyson’s oration reminding me that hardly a few are interested in serious interdisciplinary discussions. Where there is fun, more is the number of audience. This is not only true for the illiterate and poorly groomed community but also for the elite educated class too. It is one who has an inclination towards extracurricular reading and matured thoughts, actually wins the trophy. My hat goes off to Dr. Jajneswar Bhunia, the dynamic eye surgeon, who dreamt of this oration and finally put it to shape. Many a surgeon may not pat your back Dr Bhunia, but one is crowd here.
For those who are not comfortable with Bengali literature may know, Tagore is often referred to as ‘Kabiguru’ which means, poet of poets.
