Anisul Hoque draws you into post-revolution Bangladesh from the very first page. The khaki uniforms of soldiers match the colour of wheat-laden fields; letters cosily “nestle” in their envelopes; boiled aush rice resembles a shroud in its russet hue. Predatory eagles circling the skies draw parallels with the state.
Although the novel brims over with political reminiscences and scathing commentary, it is at its core the story of a wife.
Not just a woman but a wife. Because The Ballad of Ayesha revolves, for the most part, around the trials of Ayesha as the wife of a missing husband, a persecuted daughter-in-law, a long-suffering mother, who holds her head high through it all. It fits right in with the Bengali folktale of Behula — yet another woman who goes to great lengths to reclaim her lost husband.
But the writing begins to lose its touch almost as soon as it manages to capture its reader. It is difficult to say whether this is a fault of the author — a recipient of the Bangla Academy Literary Award — or the translator Inam Ahmed. It is also difficult to say whether the quips and antics of Ayesha’s beloved husband Joynal are meant to be simple and endearing, or just plain idiotic. The way the narrative is lovingly woven around the man seems to suggest the former. But every joke made by this light-hearted soldier — who tries to remain laughing and unshaken in the midst of political turmoil – falls flat.
It makes one want to reach out for the Bengali version just to see if this oscillation between inanity and poignancy is the result of an inept translation or a feature of the original.
Joynal’s sudden transformations into a buffoon are not the only thing that interrupts the flow. Generic observations are made in the author’s voice in the middle of a third-person narrative. This technique is not alien to the form of the novel and shouldn’t jar as much as it does. Does the fault lie with the translation again?
The Ballad of Ayesha;
