Shilaidaha
30 September 1895
I see you’re really annoyed with the writer of ‘Us and Them’ [‘Āmrā o tomrā’]. But the man is sitting there thinking, ‘What fun’. The problem is, you cannot explain rasa to a man who doesn’t understand it because the appreciation of rasa is sensory and has to be experienced. So much so, that even persons who have a sense of rasa may have differences of opinion when they evaluate good or bad. That’s why the task of reviewing seems like such a chore and the same goes for the work of writing. Still, the work of judging good or bad continues in the world, and not too badly either—although differences of opinion are not scarce, with the passing of time a certain unanimity is arrived at in public opinion. Somewhat like natural selection—variation manifests itself in many forms every day, but that which does not endure falls by the wayside for different reasons, and that which does attains a certain unity. If the seeds that we writers sow have a truly lasting worth in the minds of people, then however critical a reviewer may be, that seed will not go in vain. Actually, man’s mind is not something one can know well—I can say with some certainty what I will like or dislike for now, and can even speculate on what others will like or dislike, but the moment it becomes a little fine or complex, it’s only the most skilled or knowledgeable critic who can account for it. And even the most skilled critic can sometimes make mistakes. The mark of a good critic is that his understanding is as nuanced as his empathy is all-encompassing and his literary experience vast. He should be able to transcend his own likes and dislikes, and with the help of his powers of empathy access different tastes and different situations. That sort of person is very rare. Rather, one may find many good writers, but a real critic is very rare. But the surprising thing is—even then, it is only good writing that goes on to establish itself in the affections of the ordinary reader. So, whether there is anything like an ideal taste isn’t something one can conclude through nuanced argument; yet, ordinarily, a certain ideal of taste is constructed in human society through use and nothing that’s totally ugly ever survives as beauty—mistakes are made, and those are then corrected as well. If that were not so, the talented would not have been trying so hard through all time to achieve completeness in the creation of beauty—they cannot prove that there is an imperative ideal of taste, yet they devote their staunchest efforts to that truth.