Creativity, faithfulness and originality

Words for translation reveal ideas about it: 'carrying across' (from Latin), Sanskrit 'bhasantarakari' (other-language maker), 'chayanuharanam' (reflection) and 'anuvadah' (saying after); a Finnish slang sense is 'to steal', and Hermes was god of both translators and thieves.

Translating means decoding a text and recoding it as a new, complete text; Walter Benjamin called translation an 'afterlife'. Something is lost and something gained, so the translator becomes a cultural mediator, and literary translation is an art, not a servant of the original.

The ideal is a balance of accuracy and creativity — readable yet faithful. Too much freedom risks 'traduttori traditori' (the translator a traitor), so research the source first; it is like walking a tightrope. Two versions of Sukrita's 'Voyaging at Ten' show this: Savita Singh close to the lines, Gulzar freer and richer in images.

Indian tradition does not over-stress originality: Tulsidas, Ezhuthacchan, Krittivas, Kambar and Pampa each retold the Ramayana; Teejan Bai's Pandavani reinterprets the Mahabharata; Godavarish Mishra turned 'A Tale of Two Cities' into an Odia story of the 1817 uprising; Agha Hashr Kashmiri made 'King Lear' into the Urdu 'Safed Khoon'.

Translation changes the language; transliteration only changes the script (Bharati's Tamil 'Achchamillai' in Roman letters). Raja Rao's 'Kanthapura' was written in English but sounds translated, because it carries Kannada rhythm — the line between creative writing and translation blurs.