IN HIS INTRODUCTION TO ASIT HALDAR’S BOOK Ajanta, Abanindranath Tagore (1871–1951) referred to the Ajanta Caves as the last dazzling light of Indian art — and eulogized the journey of the young artistes of Bengal to those caves as a pilgrimage.¹ In his later-day memoir, Abanindranath gave a clear picture of who had been instrumental in sending the young artists on their pilgrimage to Ajanta Caves:

“Nivedita comes first among the Westerners who loved India. She lived in a small room at Baghbazaar (Calcutta), where we used to go now and then. She dearly loved Nandalal and others and inspired them much. It had been Nivedita who sent Nandalal to Ajanta. One day, she said: ‘Mrs Herringham has come to Ajanta; send your students to help her — both will benefit. I am arranging everything through my letter.’

I said: ‘Okay, I’ll.’

She then wrote a letter to Mrs Herringham. In her reply, Mrs Herringham wrote that she already had artists from Bombay to help in her work. Now our artists were all new, and she knew no one, etc., etc.

Nivedita was not the kind to leave things that way. She knew it would do good to Nandalal and his companions, so she again wrote to Mrs Herringham — and said to me: ‘Send them to Ajanta with all costs. We should not miss such an opportunity.’ Since Nivedita had judged that this would benefit Nandalal, I too agreed and sent them to Ajanta with all expenses.”²

Much latter, in a letter to one of his close admirers, Nandalal Bose narrated the crucial role played by Sister Nivedita:

“The Sister had once sent Asit Haldar and me with Lady Herringham to copy frescoes at the Ajanta Caves. I was quite surprised at the time because, without asking if we were ready to go, she had set the date, booked our journey tickets, and sent them to us along with some money through another person. This was typical of her directives; it was impossible to disobey her orders…”³

This betrays the Sister’s close attachment, love and concern for the young artists. How this assignment had helped Nandalal Bose, and through him, many of his disciples afterwards, is narrated by Dinkar Kowsik⁴:

“Nandalal was overwhelmed at the very first sight by the profound beauty of these murals. Nothing he had seen earlier was comparable to these waves of visual form that appeared to emerge and recede on the dim walls of the deep resonating caves. In the still silence of the interiors a profound drama, an intensely unique experience was unfolded, spreading from corner to corner, on the ceilings and over the pillars in colours, in sculpted forms and it flowered designs. In the first shock of excitement Nandalal did not know where or how to begin. But the methodical and practical mind of Lady Herringham found for the painters some selected parts of the murals to copy. Here Nandalal’s sessions of learning from the original springs of Indian art were resumed with vigour. … Here at Ajanta the figures were released from the grossness of stone, they were lithe, and mobile and filled with movement — walking, dancing, conversing, flying, and praying, in meditation and in every conceivable attitude. The total life-experience seemed to have been condensed in episodes from the life of the Buddha. The paintings appeared as if the words from Bana’s Kadambari were transformed into pictures.”⁵

But sending the aspiring artists to work with Lady Herringham hardly finished Nivedita’s concern for them. Nandalal Bose offers an example of her role in this regard:

“After we reached Ajanta, one day, the Sister went there with Dr J C Bose, Lady (Abala) Bose, and Gonen Maharaj. We were surprised that while alighting from the Tanga (Horse-driven carriage), the Sister murmured: ‘Durga, Durga! She was dressed in a white silk gown with a necklace of Rudraksha and crystal — hairs in a bun at the top of her head, face aglow with inspiration and joy. … She left the place after arranging our food and shelter during our stay. She was always worried about what may bring good to the Indian artists.”⁶

Abanindranath’s memoir, though with some variations, also has a picture of Nivedita’s visit to Ajanta. According to him, Nivedita carried with her necessary cereals and pulses besides other essential cooking items for the boys and left Gonen Maharaj⁷ there to look after them.⁸ The impact of the assignment on Nandala Bose is narrated here by the online portal of Asia Society Triennial:

“Nandalal Bose was one of the leading figures of the Neo-Bengal school in India, which sought a new pictorial language in response to early twentieth-century nationalist agitation. The school developed an indigenous and national visual aesthetic, separate from the prevailing British colonial academic painting style. A student of Abanindranath Tagore, Bose was adept at synthesizing diverse art traditions, including folk art, Mogul and Pahari miniatures, Ajanta murals, and East Asian sumi-e (ink wash) paintings.”⁹

In her letters, Nivedita has noted inspiring moments of her experience during this visit to the Ajanta Caves. On 6 January 1910, she writes to her younger sister:

“I forgot to tell you that all night long on Christmas Eve, we rattled over the broad roads to Ajanta and just as dawn broke, and the wonderful moon was one hour gone down, we came upon the snow white tents of Mrs. Herringham’s Camp, and wished her ‘Marry Xmas!’ Then we spent 3 delightful days of art and history and books and walks and caves.”¹⁰

About three months later, Nivedita’s letter to S K Ratcliffe¹¹ on 31 March 1910 revealed again her unlimited admiration for Ajanta: ‘I did not tell you about Ajanta, because at the time I did not suspect you of wanting to know. Now I am sorry. It was lovely, a grey old abbey-university in a ravine over-hanging a mountain stream. A row of arches and colonnades in grey-blue stone. That was the first impression, for us as for Hieuen Tsang doubtless. On examination, it proves to be sustainedly Buddhist, and in this respect unlike Ellora, which is a great transition-series. Therefore, it is more like some wonderous old Oxford, of a strange type. I loved it. Then there is the history of painting which it illustrates. Mrs. H. [Herringham] is so splendid on this that I leave you to her …’ (ibid. 402).

And then Nivedita adds something more, which shows how her untimely death might have deprived us of a much-prized text:

“… But 1 will say that before the great period which claims her interest, there is an old Fra Angelico School, in the older buildings, which is most beautiful and touching. The whole thing forms a Convent of San Marco for India. Perhaps Mrs. H. may publish a new illustrated book of Ajanta and if she really asks me to write the historical part for her as she plans, I shall be truly pleased” (ibid).

Nonetheless, Nivedita’s passionate concern for Indian art did not begin or end at the copying of the Ajanta frescos — a retelling of that history may be of interest to many. (to be cont’d in Sister Nivedita and The Modern Review: An Uncharted History)

References and Notes

1. About Abanindranath Tagore, the portal of Visva-Bharati, a central university and an institution of national importance in India, writes: ‘It was Abanindranath who ushered in the modem art movement in Bengal. It was his brush, which first gave convincing proof that the Indian artist had his own contribution to make to the world of painting. … E.B.Havell, Principal, Calcutta School of Art, on seeing … [his] paintings was impressed and offered Abanindranath the post of Vice-principal of the School.’ (https://www.visvabharati.ac.in/AbanindranathTagore.html> accessed February 27, 2025.

2. Abanindranath Tagore, Jora Sankor Dhare (Calcutta, Viswabharati Granthalaya, Beng. 1351)107 (Translated from Bengali).

3. Barendranath Niyogi, Shilpa-Jigyasay Shilpi-Dipankar Nandalal (Calcutta, Bharatbani Prokashani, 1368 [Beng.]), 27 (translated from Bengali).

4. Dinkar Kowsik (1918–2011), one of the early-days students of Nandalal Bose at Tagore’s Santiniketan. He later became the Principal of the Kala Bhavan (Santiniketan) in the late 1970s. According to his obituary in the TOI on February 14, 2011, he “…reinvented Kala Bhavan (Santiniketan) in 1970s and reshaped it for contemporary art practices …,” when “… the golden era gave way to a fallow period when all of them (the legends who had initiated and shaped the institution) left the Abode of Peace… .” (http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/7490716.cms?utm_source=contentofinterest&utm_medium=text&utm_campaign=cppst> accessed February 27, 2025)

5. Dinkar Kausik, Nandalal Bose: the Doyen of Indian Art (New Delhi, National Book Trust, India, 1985), 26–27.

6. Shilpa-Jigyasay Shilpi-Dipankar Nandalal, 27.

7. Childhood hardship had brought Ganendranath Bandopadhyay, later more known as Ganen Maharaj, under the love and shelter of the Holy Mother Sarada Devi, the spiritual consort of Sri Ramakrishna, at Baghbazar (Calcutta). His close association with Sister Nivedita has this story in the background: ‘One day Sister Nivedita was walking with Dinesh Chandra Sen and Ganendranath. Suddenly a holy bull came to attack Nivedita. Ganen took a bamboo in his hand, struck the bull and led it to flee from the spot. Ganen’s [readi]ness and courage saved Sister Nivedita that day. Sarat Maharaj (Swami Saradananda) appointed Ganen as Nivedita’s all-time guard after that. (https://cmsadmin.amritmahotsav.nic.in/district-reopsitory-detail.htm?14581> accessed February 27, 2025). It was Gonen Maharaj who lit Nivedita’s funeral pyre at Darjeeling and performed all the needed rites according to Hindu custom.

8. Jora Sankor Dhare,108.

9. https://asiasociety.org/triennial/artist/nandalal-bose> accessed February 27, 2025.

10. Letters of Sister Nivedita, ed. Sankari Prasad Basu (Calcutta, Advaita Ashrama, in 2 volumes, 2017), 2.367.

11. S. K. Ratcliffe (1868–1958), ‘British journalist and lecturer,’ according to the Wisconsin Historical Society, ‘was well known to American audiences throughout the first half of the twentieth century. … In his late twenties he became a regular contributor to The Echo, a London evening paper, and eventually its editor. In 1902 he went to India where he was editor of The Statesman in Calcutta during the opening years of the Indian Nationalist Movement. He returned to England in 1907 to write and lecture authoritatively on conditions in India, working at first for the Daily News and then for the Manchester Guardian. Between 1910 and 1917 he also edited the Sociological Review.’ (see: https://digicoll.library.wisc.edu/cgi/f/findaid/findaid-idx?c=wiarchives;cc=wiarchives;q1=S.%20K.%20Ratcliffe;rgn=main;view=text;didno=uw-whs-eng00e> accessed February 27, 2025)

IN THE RECENT BOOKS ON INDIAN ART, the name of Sister Nivedita mostly appears while dealing with the replication of Ajanta frescoes in the early twentieth century. In a few of them, comments are also seen about how she linked the revival of Indian art with nationalistic movements. But those citations are more or less fleeting with no apparent attention to the depth of her contributions to Indian art. To do justice to her role in this regard, we would also gain a comprehensive picture of how some people could reverse colonial chauvinism in the early part of the last century when the West denied any recognition of Indian art. We may begin our story with an English lady — Christiana J Herringham (1852–1929)¹, and see what first brought her to India.

In a book akin to a biography, Mary Lago writes about how the Herringham couple first arrived in India, “In November 1906 Wilmot and Christiana set out as tourists to see India for themselves. At first, her interest in India was general and romantic. ‘You know it has been a dream of many years with me to see the middle of Asia, and all those old cities,’ she wrote to [William] Rothenstein. ‘I should really like to be away a year — and see much more than is possible in one winter.”’²

As it happened, Robert Laurence Binyon (1869–1943) played a significant role in turning the mere family trip into something highly remarkable. Binyon was an English poet, dramatist, and art historian with expertise in the study of Far Eastern painting in Europe. In 1893, he began working at the British Museum in London, where he later became responsible for Oriental prints and drawings. His first book on Oriental art, Painting in the Far East, published in 1908, is still considered a classic. At this time, according to Mary Lago, Binyon was working on his Painting in the Far East, and he requested Mrs Herringham that if they would ever be near the Ajanta Caves, they “could bring back some report of the quality and condition of the Ajanta frescoes” (ibid. 164).

Mrs Herringham later recorded what followed: “I first visited Ajanta in 1906, and brought back a small watercolor sketch of some colossal figures. Mr Binyon, to whom I showed this, was so much impressed that I was encouraged in the notion of returning and making some careful specimen copies, in the hope that this might lead to a more fully organized expedition which could undertake a complete record.”³

Before Christiana Herringham visited the Ajanta Caves, according to John Keay,⁴ Major Robert Gill (1804–1879) had been there in 1844 to draw the cave paintings. He had the recommendation of James Fergusson (1808–1886), the Scottish architect and historian of undying fame as responsible for the first comprehensive history of architecture in India. Fergusson visited Ajanta in about 1839. Gill’s oil paintings of Ajanta murals, made during his entire stay there for twenty-seven years, were kept on display at the Crystal Palace, London. In December 1866, as ill luck would have it, they all were consumed by fire. Though Gill returned to resume his work at Ajanta again, he died on site after a year.

In 1872, John Griffiths (1837–1918) of the Bombay School of Art (later becoming the J J School of Art) took up the task again. He worked for thirteen years every winter with seven of his students and painted three hundred copies of the murals. The entire work went to London and remained displayed at the Victoria and Albert Museum until misfortune struck again — a fire destroyed them like before. Perhaps taking a lesson from what had happened to Robert Gill’s work, the paintings were this time photographed for preservation. Thus, in 1897, almost fifty years after the discovery of the Ajanta Caves, its paintings were published for the world to see and form opinions on them.⁵

At the behest of the British Museum, efforts began again for copying the frescoes at the Ajanta Caves during the early nineteenth century; Sir Wilmot Herringham writes about what happened next:

“The interest of Mr Binyon in the sketch and in her [Mrs Herringham] account of the paintings still visible on the walls … led her to make a second visit in the winter of 1909–10 and a third in 1910–11. In the course of the former she spent about six weeks, and in the latter more than three months, at Ajanta in a camp equipped for her by the generosity by the Nizam of Hyderabad, in whose territory Ajanta lies. On both occasions she had the help of Indian students, Syad Ahmad and Muhammad Fazl ud Din of Hyderabad, Nanda Lal Bose, Asit Kumar Haldar and Samarendranath Gupta, from the Calcutta School of Art, who were sent at the expense of Mr Abanindranath Tagore, and worked with her and under her direction…”⁶

Mrs Herringham, referring to her small band of entourage, writes: “This [Hyderabad] government also provided me with two young men, trained in the school of art in Bombay, and several young Indian artists from Calcutta joined us. Thus, it seemed best to consider that we were ourselves at work on that record which I had only thought of as a later possibility. I hope we may continue the work next winter.”

This was how, in a nutshell, art camps first began under Mrs Herringham at the Ajanta caves. Asit Kumar Haldar, one of the Bengal artists sent to work with Mrs Herringham, later wrote⁷ that in December 1909, when CJ Herringham came to Ajanta, he and Nandalal Bose joined her for assistance. Later on, when Dr J C Bose, his wife and Sister Nivedita visited the caves during Christmas and requested Mrs Herringham to take more artists from Bengal for assistance, K Venkatappa and Samarendranath Gupta went to work with her. This time, the team worked for three months. According to Mr Haldar, Mrs Herringham revisited the Ajanta Caves in December 1910, when only Samarendranath Gupta and Asit Kumar Haldar from Bengal were sent for her assistance. (Cont.d in Sister Nivedita and Indian Art: The Pioneering Guidance)

References And Notes

1. According to the Royal Historical Society’s Web portal, “Christiana Herringham was a significant figure in the British art world at the turn of twentieth century. In addition to being an artist, she co-founded the Art Fund, wrote articles for the newly established The Burlington Magazine, headed up the tempera revival and championed Indian art, and campaigned for women’s suffrage.” (https://royalhistsoc.org/calendar/christiana-herringham-and-her-circle/> accessed February 21 2025). She married Wilmot Herringham (1855–1936), a doctor by profession, in 1880; he was knighted in 1914. Since the title was conferred after the period covered in this writing, we did not use it with the names of the couple. Mary Lago, her biographer, writes this about Mrs Herringham: “I learned that Christian Herringham was an expert copyist of quattrocento tempera paintings, that she visited India three times, and that two of those visits were for the purpose of copying the deteriorating wall paintings in the Buddhist caves at Ajanta.” (Mary Lago, Christiana Herringham and the Edwardian Art Scene (Columbia, University of Missouri Press, 1996), see Preface, p. xi)
2. Asit Kumar Haldar, Ajanta (Calcutta, Bhattacharya & Sons, 1920), see Introduction and Prelude.
3. ‘Lady Herringham with Essays of Various Members of the India Society, Ajanta Frescoes: Being Reproductions in Colour and Monochrome of Frescoes in Some of the Caves at Ajanta After Copies Taken in the Years 1909–1911’ By Lady Herringham and Her Assistants (London, Humphrey Milford, OUP, 1915), p.16.
4. https://royalasiaticsociety.org/john-griffiths-and-the-caves-at-ajanta/> accessed February 21, 2025; and John Keay, India Discovered, p. 154.
5. John Keay, India Discovered (London, HarperCollins Publishers, 1981), pp. 153–54.
6. Christiana J. Herringham, The Frescos of Ajantà, The Burlington Magazine for Connoisseurs, Vol. 17, №87 (Jun., 1910), pp. 134+136–139) , p.136: https://www.jstor.org/stable/858243> accessed February 21, 2025.
7. Mary Lago, Christiana Herringham and the Edwardian Art Scene (Columbia, University of Missouri Press, 1996), pp.146–47.

WHEN SWAMI VIVEKANANDA FIRST STOOD BEFORE THE AGGREGATE INTELLECTUALITY OF THE ENLIGHTENED WEST AT THE CHICAGO RELIGIOUS PARLIAMENT, things began to show how lofty ideas and ideals travel to distant lands regardless of geographic, racial, societal, and religious disparities. And a little over two years later, when Margaret Elizabeth Noble first sat before him in a London drawing room, it revealed how a brilliant and receptive mind slowly began to grasp the sublime message of a far-off land. Four years following this meeting, Margaret Noble, then known as Sister Nivedita, laments in a lecture: “I regret so deeply that I was born in another country.”¹ But no matter where she was born, Nivedita gave her best to India. On a day in the early twentieth century in Madras, she was asked: “What will be your future work in India?” In a flash came her reply: “My life is given to India. In it I shall live and die” (ibid. 5.246).

Nivedita did two things during the thirteen years she was on earth after coming to India. First, she tried heart and soul to know India and absorb what was best in the vast country. And secondly, utilizing her intellect and growing wisdom, she put into words her wealth of insights to make the Indians aware of their ancient noble legacy. Today, when we look at her writings, the depth and timelessness instantly captivate our minds. They inspire us to relook at many things we normally overlook or take for granted. But behind her said ability, Swami Vivekananda had played a noble role.

Vivekananda moved across the world with unstinted eyes — his experience and insight gave him an unrestrained broadness. Those who read his Travel Memoir² will never escape this fact. The influence of British education had its traces in him, for it was inescapable during his time — but that never kept him confined to it. His relentless quest inspired him to look for newer aspects in everything he encountered. His spiritual genius empowered him to judge the world from a realistic standpoint — none was alien to him in this world. He tried to instil this empiric outlook in Nivedita, his daughter-disciple. We may instance an occasion to understand this.

The Blooming of A Great Soul

When a little before the middle of May in 1898, a few Western admirers and Nivedita accompanied the Swami on a Northern India tour, her personality had three inseparable qualities — an almost inflexible mind, an unlimited intellect, and a dazzling brilliance. Her judgments and perspectives were more or less akin to her fellow Englishmen. Vivekananda was aware of this and knew that without a change of such trait, Nivedita would fail to accomplish the mission which brought her to India. Before then, Swamiji had initiated her in Belur on 25 March 1898 with no prior idea of how staunch a bias she had been nurturing as regards the idealism of race, deeds, and history of her own country. But a little after the initiation, he knew that the English Flag still had an overpowering impact on her, almost matching a worshipping mindset. Nivedita later disclosed that even when he had learned this, Swamiji betrayed no more than a startled expression — no matter what went inside him.³

Swamiji knew that in her adopted task, Nivedita needed total renunciation, which alone could ensure equal love and feeling towards all despite countless social disparities. Her obsessive infatuation with her country would, therefore, act as a hindrance to her work.

But as long as he remained in the plains, Swamiji showed no change in his behavior towards Nivedita. At Almora, he took up the task to coach his disciple. This phase. according to Nivedita, was as though “a going-to-school” had begun, and “just as schooling is often disagreeable to the taught, so here, though it cost infinite pain, the blindness of a half-view must be done away. A mind must be brought to change its centre of gravity”(ibid).

In narrating her experience at Almora, Nivedita later wrote:

“… ‘Really, patriotism like yours is sin!’ he (Swamiji) exclaimed once, many weeks later, when the process of obtaining an uncoloured judgment on some incident had been more than commonly exasperating.” Nivedita then adds what the Swami said next: ‘All that I want you to see is that most people’s actions are the expression of self-interest, and you constantly oppose to this the idea that a certain race are all angels. Ignorance so determined is wickedness’ (ibid. 287–88).

In those days, Nivedita believed in the Western estimation of women. How she afterwards judged these things in retrospect is here in her later-day estimation about herself:

“…These limitations of her sympathy look petty and vulgar enough to her now, as compared with the open and disinterested attitude of the mind that welcomes truth” (ibid. 288).

But the transformation was not easy — pointing out the magnitude of her inner battle, Nivedita equated the obstacle with a “veritable lion in the path”. But her devotion to Guru led her to winning over everything, and, eventually, she “grasped the folly of allowing anything whatever to obscure to her the personality that was here revealing itself” (ibid.). She even acknowledged later that, “These morning talks at Almora then, took the form of assaults upon deep-rooted preconceptions, social, literary, and artistic, or of long comparison of Indian and European history and sentiments, often containing extended observations of very great value” (ibid. 288).

And when her limiting ideas and beliefs gradually faded away, Nivedita found a new dimension in Swamiji’s discourses, here she tells this to us:

“One characteristic of the Swami was the habit of attacking the abuses of a country or society openly and vigorously when he was in its midst, whereas after he had left it, would often seem as if nothing but its virtues were remembered by him”(ibid.). Nivedita could well guess why the Swami had been doing so, she writes: “… The manner of these particular discourses was probably adopted in order to put to the proof the courage and sincerity of one who was both woman and European” (ibid.).

Though at Almora Swamiji could make his disciple look at everything from a newer standpoint — a far more meaningful tutelage waited until she accompanied him on a 42-day sea voyage to London in the middle of 1899. After this final mentoring of enormous depth and scope, she became the chalice of the life and message of Swami Vivekananda. After this voyage, Nivedita remained in the West for about three years before returning to India in early 1902. During the next nine years she lived, all her efforts had only two purposes — to bring sustained benefits to India and her people and, second, to make the Indians aware of their wealth of timeless inheritance. There’s no denying that her life is her greatest gift to India; even so, it has always been her writings wherein she left her best for us.

References

1. The Complete Works of Sister Nivedita, 5 vols. (Calcutta: Advaita Ashrama, 1982, Originally 1 to 4, 1967; 5, 1975), 1.382.

2. Memoirs of European Travel, see The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda (Calcutta, Advaita Ashrama, 9 volumes, 1 to 8, 1989; 9, 1997) 7.297–404.

3. The Complete Works of Sister Nivedita, 1.287 (see ‘Notes of Some Wanderings with the Swami Vivekananda’)

RABINDRANATH TAGORE WAS ABOUT TO go for an evening stroll when the news of his Nobel Prize came to Santiniketan on 15 November 1913. Three days later, he wrote this to William Rothenstein in England:

“The very first moment I received the message of the great honour conferred on me by the award of the Nobel Prize my heart turned towards you with love and gratitude. I felt certain that of all my friends none would be more glad at this news than you. Honour’s crown of honour is to know that it will rejoice the hearts of those whom we hold the most dear.”¹

The unmistakable warmth of a mutual friendship is still evident in these words. Contrary to a notion among many that Irish poet William Butler Yeats (1865–1939) played the crucial role behind Tagore’s Nobel Prize, it was in fact William Rothenstein (1872–1945) who had inspired the process. When Tagore visited London in 1912, Rothenstein introduced him to many distinguished artists and litterateurs and eventually arranged for the printing of the former’s Gitanjali from India House.² To know what led him to do all these, we must go back to when Rothenstein met Tagore in his ancestral house in Calcutta. The former’s memoir has a record of the meeting:

“I was attracted, each time I went to Jorasanko, by their uncle, a strikingly handsome figure, dressed in a white dhoti and chaddur, who sat silently listening as we talked. I felt an immediate attraction, and asked whether I might draw him, for I discerned an inner charm as well as great physical beauty, which I tried to set down with my pencil. That this uncle was one of the remarkable men of his time no one gave me a hint” (ibid. 249).

This was in 1910 when Rothenstein visited India with Christiana Herringham, known for her assignments of copying Ajanta frescoes. During this time, Rothenstein’s acquaintance with Abanidranath and Gaganedranth Tagores took him to their residence at Jorasanko in northern Calcutta, where he met Rabindranath Tagore. Almost before leaving for England, Rothenstein had an invitation from Rabindranath to visit Bolpur, which he could not accept as his ‘passage was booked…’ (ibid. 254). According to his memoir, Rothenstein had no idea at this time about the creative genius of Rabindranath Tagore.

Later, in England, Rothenstein became instantly drawn to a story of Tagore, he writes::

“I happened, in The Modern Review, upon a translation of a story signed Rabindranath Tagore, which charmed me; I wrote to Jorasanko — were other such stories to be had? Some time afterwards came an exercise book containing translations of poems by Rabindranath, made by Ajit Chakravarty, a schoolmaster on the staff at Bolpur. The poems, of a highly mystical character, struck me as being still more remarkable than the story, though but rough translations” (ibid. 262).

Rothestein’s sudden interest in his writing took little time to reach Tagore, whose close acquaintances also urged him to visit the West right then. According to Rothenstein: ‘… News came that Rabindranath was on his way. I eagerly awaited his visit. At last he arrived, accompanied by two friends, and by his son. As he entered the room he handed me a note-book in which, since I wished to know more of his poetry, he had made some translations during his passage from India. He begged that I would accept them’ (ibid. 262). Rothenstein’s memoir tells the rest of the story:

“That evening I read the poems. Here was poetry of a new order which seemed to me on a level with that of the great mystics. … I sent word to Yeats, who failed to reply; but when I wrote again he asked me to send him the poems, and when he had read them his enthusiasm equalled mine. He came to London and went carefully through the poems, making here and there a suggestion, but leaving the original little changed. For a long time Yeats was occupied with Tagore: ‘I have been writing lyric poetry in Normandy. I wish I could have got down to you for I find Tagore and you are a great inspiration in my own art. Thank you for asking me,’ he said in a letter” (ibid. 262–63).

Based on suggestion made by Rothenstein, the India Society published a collection of translated poems by Tagore for its members. Yeats generously offered to write an introduction to it. In clarifying Yeats’ role in the translations of Tagore, Rothenstein wrote:

“He [Yeats] had previously gone carefully through the translations, respecting Tagore’s expressive English too much to do more than make slight changes here and there. Indeed, Yeats was as keen over the issue of the book of poems as he would have been over a selection of his own lovely verses” (ibid. 266).

According to his memoir, Rothenstein took another well-thought decision before the Nobel Prize was awarded to Rabindranath; he writes: ‘Since only a limited edition of Gitanjali had been printed I wrote to George Macmillan, with a view to his publishing a popular edition of Gitanjali, as well as other translations which Tagore had made; MacMillan, after some hesitation, finally published all Tagore’s books, to his profit, and their own’ (ibid. 268). Finally, during the summer of 1913 came the news of awarding the Nobel Prize to Rabindranath Tagore for his Gitanjali.

Today, as it seems, people in general are unaware of the catalytic role of Sister Nivedita, which led to such a great honour to both the poet and his country. Referring to William Rothenstein, one of the poet’s Bengali biographers writes: ‘He was first charmed with the genius of Rabindranath after reading Sister Nivedita’s translation of Cabuliwallah story in the Modern Review magazine (January 1912). To know whether more of such stories of Rabindranath are available or not, he wrote to Jorasanko in Calcutta; he knew Abanindranath. In reply, Rabindranath sent him translations of some poems. These poems were translated by Ajitkumar Chakraborty, a professor at Santiniketan and a connoisseur-critic of Rabindra-literature.’³

Later, Prasanta Kumar Pal, another Bengali biographer of the poet, stated that besides the ‘Cabuliwallah,’ Nivedita had translated two more of Tagore’s stories, which remained untraceable afterwards. According to Sri Pal, it is a ‘historical fact’ that Nivedita deserves the honour as the first translator of Tagore’s short stories.⁴ Elsewhere in the same biography,⁵ we read that the missing translations were the stories titled ‘Chhuti’ [The Leave of Absence], and ‘Daan Pratidaan’ [Giving and Giving in Return].

In Nivedita’s letters, we know about when she translated the stories. For example, she writes to Mrs Ole Bull on 22 November 1900: ‘… I have finished the Cabuliwallah and must have the introduction ready tonight.’⁶ Barely a week later, on 29 November 1900, she again informs Mrs Bull, ‘The Cabuliwallah and Leave of Absence are both Englished now, and I have “Giving and Giving in Return” ready for the last finish. So we are doing something’ (ibid. 351). Thus, the ‘Cabuliwala’ took almost twelve years to appear in the Modern Review. Nivedita left no clue about what inspired her to translate Tagore’s stories and even finished them within a week despite her other preoccupations. But a hint is here in the biography of Dr JC Bose, which reads: ‘[Rabindranath] Tagore, though occupying the foremost literary position in India, was not at that time known in Europe, and [Dr JC] Bose felt keenly that the West had not the opportunity of realising his friend’s greatness. So during his second visit to England, in 1900, he had one of his stories, ‘The Kabuliwalla,’ translated into English. … Bose submitted it to Harper’s Magazine. It was declined, because the West was not sufficiently interested in Oriental life! The time had not yet come …’⁷

Incidentally, Rabindranath Tagore has left ample proof of a mutually admiring acquaintance with Sister Nivedita. Therefore, her efforts in presenting him to the bigger world could hardly be the inspiration of Dr JC Bose alone. Besides, those who know what Nivedita did to support Dr Bose in his quest for experimental Science will understand the depth and sincerity of Nivedita’s urge to present Tagore to the world stage.

Epilogue

According to one Bengali biography⁸ of Tagore, following rejection by the Harper Magazine the translation of Cabuliwala got lost due to neglect. After the Sister’s death, it was found in her papers. This led Rabindranath to write Ramananda Chatterjee,⁹ the editor of the Modern Review, on 4 Nov [1911]: ‘The manuscript of the English translation that Nivedita did to my ‘Cabuliwala’ is now located.’ When Ramananda collected the translation from Jagadischandra and sent that to him, Tagore acknowledged its receipt in his letter to Ramananda on 9 November [1911].

(Revised and abridged from An Unsung Act of Sister Nivedita, published in the Prabuddha Bharata of July 2024)

References and Notes

1. Men And Memories: Recollections of William Rothenstein — 1900–1922 (London, Faber & Faber, 1934), 282.

2. About the India House and Rothenstein’s foremost role in its inception, see EB Havell and His Crusade for Indian Art: A Closer Look in the Indica Today.

3. Prabhat Kumar Mukhopadhyay, Rabindrajiban Katha (Santiniketan, Viswabharati, Beng. year 1343), vol.2, 1–2. Translated from Bengali)

4. Prashanta Kumar Pal, Rabijibani, volume 4 (Kolkata, Ananda Publishers, Bengali1395 [1988]), 298.

5. Ibid., volume 6 (Bengali1399 [1993]), 197.

6. Letters of Sister Nivedita, ed., Sankari Prasad Basu, 2 volumes (Kolkata, Advaita Ashrama, 2017), 1.350.

7. Patrick Geddes, The Life And Work of Sir Jagadis C. Bose (New York, Longmans, Green, And Co, 1920), 223. However, in his letter to Rabindranath Tagore on 22 May 1901, Jagadis Chandra Bose wrote that the magazine had declined as they accept only originals, and not the translations (see Rabijibani, Prashanta Kumar Pal, 6. 298)

8. Rabijibani, volume 6.245–46.

9. In a recent publication with selected writings from the Modern Review, Ramachandra Guha wrote this in his introductory words: ‘Founded in 1907 by Ramananda Chatterjee, The Modern Review quickly emerged as a vital forum for the nationalist intelligentsia. It carried essays on politics, economics and society, but also … poems, stories, travelogues and sketches. … As a platform for debate and discussion among India’s finest minds and its most public figures, The Modern Review played a major part in the process of national awakening. (See Patriots, Poets and Prisoners, eds. Anikendra Sen and Others [Gurugram, HarperCollins Publishers, 2016, pp. xi and xiv]).