My mother, M.K. Binodini Devi, who wrote under the single name of Binodini, had thought about writing her autobiography for many years. I remember her saying when she visited me in New York in the summer of 1992, that she would not be able to embark on such a major undertaking. As it turned out she was entering one of the bleakest, isolated periods of her life. We talked about perhaps approaching her autobiography a little differently. Why not write personal memoir essays, a genre that she was celebrated for in Manipur, and publish them in the newspapers? Then perhaps they could be gathered and published as a book later?
The idea of translating Churachand Maharajgi Imung (The Maharaja’s Household) emerged from my correspondence with Dr. R.C. Jamieson of the Cambridge University Library, even before the publication of the book in 2008. Our correspondence and subsequent conversation in Cambridge over lunch, suggested that The Maharaja’s Household, exceptional in that it is an insider’s intimate view of royalty from a recognized writer, might serve as a good introduction for the Western scholar to contemporary Manipur’s literature, court-life, society, culture, and history. It would also of interest to readers in the West as it essentially covers the modern period of the British Raj in Manipur, from its induction into the British Indian Empire in 1891 until World War II. The initial plan was for a dual language publication, with the English translation facing the original Manipuri written in Meitei Mayek, the old script used in the puyas. The dual text could help the Western or non-Manipuri scholars learn the cadences, usage and syntax of the Manipuri language.
The translation of The Maharaja’s Household began in 2007 when I asked Sunita Akoijam and Chitra Ahanthem to make the first rough drafts of the essays and for this I owe them great gratitude. As I read Manipuri but painfully and feared my command of the language had rusted in the 20 years I had spent away from India and Manipur, their freeform translations guided me as I worked on them back in New York to keep the structure of the essay, sentence by sentence in keeping with the dual language approach, rather than taking a more free-flowing literary approach. Though ultimately abandoned over many drafts, traces of this approach may perhaps be still discernible when a Meitei Mayek edition comes out one day.
For me, the most rewarding part of the translation process was that I was able to work with my mother before she died. Growing up, I had heard every story in this book, as my mother loved to tell stories. Working with her was like going over my past, my own childhood, and our own family history, with her, but in her own words. After the original Manipuri edition of The Maharaja’s Household came out in November 2008, my mother helped us translate the first 22 chapters of the book before she went into her long, painful decline.
During my stays in Imphal, Chongtham Kamala, whom I call Cheche Mani, my childhood friend Aribam Shantimo Sharma, and I sat with my mother and went over my draft together. In the process, we further cleaned up editing lapses and minor typographical errors. But more importantly, we got a unique insight into the work with the help of the writer herself, savouring her delicacy of nuance and tone. ‘“Nonchalant’ is too fancy; I mean something simpler, like careless”,’ she would say. She loved to sit out in her garden in the weak winter sun as we gathered around her, Cheche Mani and Shantimo with the book, and I on my laptop. She would sit in her cane chair, listening with her eyes closed, loving the sounds of her words around her, images from her life surely passing before her closed eyes. And so, with deep fondness I thank my Cheche Mani and Shantimo who were there to share those special moments with my mother in the last days of her life. For my mother knew this would be her last book.
Unlike the Manipuri original, the translation required explanatory and historical footnotes for the non-Manipuri reader. For their willing and knowledgeable help with these, I am grateful to Eigya Aribam Syam Sharma, Tamo Ratan Thiyam and Tamo Gangmumei Kamei. My cousin Yambung Dr. Raj Kumar Nimai Singh, who shares a love of flowers and gardens with his aunt, my mother, helped me with the names of local flowers and plants that sprout within these pages. Only tingoi grass stumped him for, as I solemnly learnt from him, little is still known about Manipur’s monocotyledons. It was he who also suggested that Dr. Sheela Ramani Chungkham of Dhanamanjuri College of Arts look over my draft, and she along with Dr. Aruna Nahakpam of Manipur University, and Dr. Bishnulatpam Tarunkumari, made many useful comments. But any errors in these notes are solely mine and I request the reader’s indulgence should they come across any.
I want to express my deep appreciation to Belinda Morse who made wonderfully perceptive and useful suggestions and edits. She helped iron out Americanisms that had crept in and, especially, some of the rigidity from my initial sentence-by-sentence structure. Lady Morse also suggested the genealogical and inter-relationship charts in the book to help the non-Manipuri reader navigate through the maze of names and relationships. Interestingly enough, the first combined chart I made ran off the page horizontally, rather than vertically down the page, owing to the large number of women – mothers, step wives, and sisters - in my mother’s narrative. Tellingly, the one person that exasperatingly kept crossing my neat genealogical lines, however I graphically positioned the families and descendants, was Princess Sanatombi, daughter of Maharaja Surchandra and my mother’s great-aunt. This will not come as a surprise to readers of my mother’s novel Boro Saheb Ongbi Sanatombi (The Princess and the Political Agent, 1976), as the ostracized, scandalous heroine of this historical work crossed many lines in her life and in her world. The charts represent only a part of our large extended family and I beg the forgiveness of the many Respected Aunts, Uncles and Cousins whose names I have had to leave out, as I have had to confine myself, with a very few exceptions, to only those names mentioned in the book.
In helping me fill in the missing names, and getting the genealogies straight, I am grateful to a host of cousins and family friends from my mother’s side of the family: my respected Aunt Ningthemmayum Ongbi Manao Ibemma Mangi of the House of Koijam; Maharaja Pradyot Manikya Deb Burman of Tripura; Professor Gangmumei Kamei; Huidrom Anuradha and her husband, Sougaijam Satyabrata; Sougaijam Ongbi Waikhom Pramodini; my local physician and family friend, Dr. Ningthoujam Sadhana; Angom Bijayarani; the diligent young historian, Raj Kumar Somorjit Sana; and the daughters of Konthoujam Paramananda, my mother’s local guardian during her student days in Shillong, Tonambam Ongbi Usha Devi and Yumnam Ongbi Bijaya Devi and his grand-daughter Priya Konthoujam.
When my mother and I were planning the book in the spring of 2008, designing the cover, grouping the photographs, captioning them, she often said how much she wanted to put in as many photographs of the people and period as possible. Who knows when we can produce this book again, she said. The opportunity arose rather more quickly than I had thought with the publication of this translation, albeit with fewer photographs. For making it possible to add these photographs, I am grateful to Tonambam Ongbi Usha Devi, Yumnam Ongbi Bijaya Devi, Priya Konthoujam, Sougaijam Satyabrata, Dr. Laisram Dhanabati of the Manipur State Museum, Laisram Biren of Tamphasana Girls High School, Laimayum Gourchandra Sharma and his colleagues Radhamani and Rajen of Cinestills.
I am very grateful to Professor Nahakpam Aruna for cheerfully writing the informed and perceptive introduction to this edition, all for a few tree-ripened mangoes from my mother’s garden. Eigya Syam, Cheche Kamala, Iche Yengkhom Roma and Tarunkumari were invaluable in this, providing insight and information based on their long association and friendship with my mother. Thanks again to Shantimo for his cheerful yeoman service in helping piecing all the research together and copying them out as he had on numerous occasions for my mother when she was alive.
And lastly, I wish to express my deep appreciation to Urvashi Butalia and Preeti Gill at Zubaan Books for their commitment, abiding interest and enlightened support in making it possible to bring this volume to you.
I trust that our collective effort has resulted in a book that the reader will find interesting and useful, perhaps even enjoyable. And I hope that the love and understanding of M. K. Binodini Devi and her work that I encountered time and time again in everyone who worked on this volume, all come together to give voice, once again, to my mother, the author.
L. SOMI ROY
Imphal
December 2014