Invisibility and Hypervisibility: Rabindranath Tagore and His Self-Translated English Works in the Western World

1 Introduction

Translation inevitably involves issues of culture, power, and knowledge. On the one hand, those who are in control of translation often hold influence over how ideas are conveyed and understood. On the other hand, translators and translation choices can shape the perception of cultures, peoples, and texts, impacting power dynamics and intercultural relationships. Translation can empower marginalized voices by providing them access to global audiences, but it can also reinforce existing power imbalances by favoring dominant languages and cultures. Thus, translation serves as a significant instrument in shaping, reflecting, and challenging power dynamics on the global scale. This issue becomes especially prominent in colonial contexts.

In his examination of Frantz Fanon’s works on African colonial subjects, Robert Young sees translation as a multifaceted process that involves both colonial imposition and psychological shifts. Black Skin, White Masks sheds light on two crucial aspects of this translation process. Firstly, French imperialism translates black men and women into colonial subjects. Secondly, on a psychological level, the desires of the black population are translated into a yearning for whiteness “through a kind of metempsychosis” (Young 2003, 144). Young also delves into the epistemological dimension, noting that translation plays a role in representing native cultures to the colonizers and the broader world. He suggests that “lying natives” craft false translations to conform to the stereotypes expected by the colonizers (Young 2003, 141). As illustrated by Young and Fanon, this extensive process of translation contributes to the loss of true identity of the colonized people.

In The Poetics of Imperialism, Eric Cheyfitz explores the role of translation within British imperialism and colonization. Cheyfitz discusses how translation serves to legitimize colonial dominance by intertwining with metaphor, literal and figurative translation, as well as the concepts of proper and property. Summarized by Douglas Robinson, the “translatio studii et imperii” is the battleground itself, where a dual movement of incorporation and rejection unfolds: everyone must become exactly like the colonizers, and those who are not already like them must be converted or “translated” into their likeness (Robinson 2011, 77).

Tejaswini Niranjana emphasizes the link between translation, knowledge, and presentation, arguing that translation often functions to crystalize the colonized cultures, portraying them as static entities rather than products of historical evolution. Essentially, the colonized culture is depicted through the lens of the colonizer. In Contracting Colonialism, Vicente Rafael, explores the interplay of translation and conversion in Spain’s colonization of Tagalog in the late 16th and the early 18th century. For the Spaniards, colonialism and evangelization were intricately linked, with translation serving as a means to subject Tagalog to Catholicism. Conversely for the locals, translation became a means to both appropriate and deflect the impact of colonial rule.

In situations of imbalanced power, how can translators of minority languages and cultures respond? Lawrence Venuti advocates for foreignizing translation to counteract the hegemony of Anglo-American culture. While domestication aligns with the culture of the target language, foreignization aims to preserve the linguistic and cultural characteristics of the source culture. Venuti sees foreignization as a way to resist the linguistic, cultural, and social norms of Anglo-American dominance, as opposed to the ethnocentric approach of domesticating translation strategy (Venuti 1995). Venuti’s theory carries ethical and political implications, challenging the undervaluation of translators and opposing the dominance of Anglo-American power over other cultures. However, it has limitations and faces criticism, such as Douglas Robinson’s contention that it relies on leftist justification, operates within narrow academic confines, and caters predominately to a small group of cosmopolitan intelligentsia (Robinson 1997, 99–101). Moreover, the theory’s distinct binary oppositions between domestic and foreign, fluent and archaic, visibility and invisibility result in an oversimplification of the intricate nature of translation. This oversimplification fosters a perspective that associates domestication with convention, preservation, and acquiescence to Anglo-American influence, and foreignization with political resistance, rebellion, and awareness of reform and revolution. Such a binary opposition fails to account for the cultural and social intricacies inherent in the linguistic and cultural transmission.

Venuti further refines his theory by incorporating Gilles Deleuz and Pierre-Félix Guattari’s poststructuralist perspective on language and textuality. He suggests that minorities, acting as collective assemblages, not only assert political immediacy to their desires, languages, and literatures but also consistently challenge and surpass the constraints of the majoritarian standards. This perspective is exemplified in the special issue of Translator, titled Translation and Minority, published in 1998, in which Venuti curated essays addressing translation from minor languages and cultures to major ones (Venuti 1998). These essays illustrate a range of strategies employed by minor languages or cultures, whether working directly or indirectly, to navigate major or dominant languages and cultures.

Within the framework of power, culture, and translation, with a specific focus on translation in colonial contexts and translation in minority contexts, this study explores Rabindranath Tagore’s self-translation of his Bengali literary works into English, notably exemplified by his Nobel Prize-winning masterpiece, Gitanjali. The goal is to examine how the complex interplay between translation and power unfolds in the context of Tagore and his works in the Western world. Tagore and his literary contributions underwent a striking trajectory, oscillating from relative obscurity to hypervisibility and then back to obscurity over a span of approximately two decades during the first half of the twentieth century in the Western literary landscape. This transformation cannot be attributed to a single strategy or solely to the efforts of the translator. Instead, it emerges from the convergence of various social forces, primarily embodied in the target system and by the translator, each influenced by their unique social power and positioning. Tagore’s case challenges not only Venuti’s concept of foreignizing translation but also the very idea that visibility, as advocated by Venuti, is always a desirable goal. As Tagore’s experience demonstrates, the pursuit of visibility in translation can sometimes yield unintended consequences and even lead to counterproductive outcomes.

Prior to 1912, Rabindranath Tagore’s name remained relatively obscure in the West. However, a pivotal translation work altered the course of events. During his third trip to Britain in 1912, Tagore brought along a slender notebook containing self-translated poems originally written in Bengali. He first shared these poems with William Rothenstein, his contact in Britain, who was immediately captivated by their beauty. Rothenstein introduced Tagore to W.B. Yeats and other renowned writers. At several dinner banquets held in Tagore’s honor, he charmed celebrated Western intellectuals. Rothenstein remarked, “I have I think never been present at a dinner where the minds of the diners were less bent on a thousand things & more centred upon the object and subject of the occasion” (as cited in Dutta and Robinson 1995, 165). Yeats promptly took on the task of selecting and arranging the poems and wrote an appreciative introduction. At Rothenstein’s insistence, the India Society in London published Tagore’s poems with Yeats’ preface in 1912. The following year, the commercial edition was published by the Macmillan and Company in London. In the same year, Tagore won the Nobel Prize in literature, primarily due to the impact of Gitanjali. Within about a year, Tagore transformed from an unknown figure in the West to a significant and internationally recognized literary icon.

If this segment of the narrative depicts Tagore’s transition from invisibility to hypervisibility, then within less than two decades, he experienced a reversal, fading back into obscurity as his Western readers largely overlooked him after the 1930s. As a writer and translator who simultaneously experienced both visibility and hypervisibility, Tagore’s experience exposes the power dynamics at play and also complicates Venuti’s simplistic binary strategies of domestication and foreignization while challenging the aim of achieving visibility as a translator.

The very concept of visibility itself warrants a reexamination. Does it simply equate to publicity, or is there more nuance to it? While invisibility may be linked to powerlessness, visibility or publicity does not necessarily denote empowerment. In Tagore’s case, various facets of subjugation come to light. Moreover, within the context of colonialism, Tagore’s resistance against colonial power is inevitably circumscribed by his identity as a colonial subject. Thus, even though it may seem that Tagore experienced a chronicle of transitioning from invisibility to hypervisibility and back to invisibility again, at its core, power struggles persist, albeit manifesting in different forms.

2 From Invisibility to Visibility

The evolution of Rabindranath Tagore from relative obscurity in the West to a globally acclaimed literary figure can be attributed to a combination of his personal efforts and the influence of the societal context of the target system. On Tagore’s part, this metamorphosis was a result of a complex interplay between Tagore’s deep connection to Indian culture, his assimilation of colonial culture and values, and his resistance against their dominance. Concurrently, the dynamics within the target system were complex, involving various stakeholders such as literary elites, common readers, media, publishers, all contributing to strategies used in translation on both ends.

As a colonial subject, Tagore straddled two distinct cultures—English and Indian — both of which profoundly influenced him. His exposure to English culture was inevitable due to colonial rule. As Yu-Ting Lee points out, “Tagore’s observation of the West was largely shaped by his intimacy with English culture through colonial rule” (Lee 2013, xii). This influence is further accentuated by the Tagore family’s high middle-class, benefitting from its close association with the British colonial government.

The Tagore family resided in the heart of the Bengali section of Calcutta, serving as the headquarter of East Indian company and also the capital of British-held territories in India until 1911. The family’s ascent to wealth and prestige was chiefly attributed to Dwarkanath Tagore, Tagore’s grandfather, recognized as the leading businessman and philanthropist, was hailed as one of Indian’s first industrial entrepreneur. Regarded as “the Oriental Croesus” (Dutta and Robinson 1995, 24) in Europe, Dwarkanath enjoyed recognition by Queen Victoria, King Louis-Philippe, and Charles Dickens, and was granted the Freedom of the City of Edinburgh.

Tagore’s upbringing fostered familiarity with European literature. From a young age, he read Bryon’s Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, Moore’s Irish Melodies, and Shakespeare’s Macbeth and The Tempest. He also translated some of these works into Bengali (Dutta and Robinson 1995, 59). Tagore admired Shelley and Keats, and he delved into Anglo-Saxon literature, late Victorian poets, Petrarch and Laura, Dante, and Goethe. American transcendental writers, Ralph Waldo Emerson and Walt Whitman also significantly influenced him (Lewisohn 2017, 5). This early exposure to Western literature had a profound impact on him.

Simultaneously, Tagore maintained a deep connection to Indian traditional culture, influenced by his father Debendranath’s affiliation with Brahmo Samaj. Tagore’s earliest lessons began with Bengali primer, Varna Parichaya, and spending most of his childhood life in the servants’ quarters exposed him to age-old folk stories. His family, especially his brother Jyotirindranath and his close-in-age sister-in-law, played crucial roles in encouraging Tagore’s interest in Bengali literature. The Indian writers Tagore admired, as well as Tagore himself, were all steeped in Sanskrit. Consequently, in Tagore’s memoirs of his early life, Sanskrit literature held a prominent place (Dutta and Robinson 1995, 40).

In matters of faith, Tagore’s family was intimately connected with the Brahmo Movement. He inherited their principles while crafting his own unique perspective, notably embracing the concept of “concrete monism.” This philosophy centers on the idea of a single ultimate reality and aims to foster unity between diverse cultures and peoples. Tagore was a proponent of mutual understanding and respect between India and the West, highlighting the need for both cultures to forge a harmonious connection. Throughout his life, he advocated for a harmonious coexistence of diverse religious and cultural traditions to foster a spirit of universalism and humanism.

However, Tagore faced a struggle navigating the tension between these two value systems, as his family’s rise to power and prestige was intertwined with the colonial enterprise, resulting in a complex formation of his identity. Edward Said’s argument that culture is not immune from imperialism, but rather functions as a tool for it, finds resonance in Tagore’s case. Unwittingly, he became integrated into the imperial system through English literature and culture. Despite his critical perspectives, Tagore found himself assimilated into imperial culture. This led to a nuanced view of the West, where he made his distinction between the “cultured” (“great”) and the “uncultured” (“petty”) English (Sengupta 1990, 60).

English served as the language of the colonizers during the colonial era in India. As Paul St-Pierre notes that “English was introduced as the language of admission, law and higher education, which had the effect of limiting access to positions of power and influence to Indians who developed a vested interest in ensuring the continuation of colonial rule” (St-Pierre 2000, 263). Consequently, colonial rule in India imposed the notion of the superiority of the English language, a burden that Tagore keenly felt. He openly expressed his discomfort and lack of confidence in using English on various occasions. Despite his unease, he felt compelled to use English. In one of his letters, he candidly admitted, “That I cannot write English is such a patent fact that I never had even the vanity to feel ashamed of it. If anybody wrote an English note asking me to tea, I never felt equal to answering it. Perhaps you think that by now I have got over that delusion. By no means” (Dutta and Robinson 1995, 117). Research by Mary Lago further confirmed Tagore’s doubts about his command of English. She noted that during the summer of 1913, he vacillated between editorial suggestions made by Yeats and those made by Thomas Sturge Moore. Later he engaged in a long and frustrating exchange with Robert Bridges, the London Macmillans, and Longman over changes to his poems. Lago found that he oscillated between the two poles, “when disturbed by criticism of his translated poems, he would resolve to work strictly alone, taking whatever praise or blame might come. Yet in a short time he would seek advice and assistance from the West” (Lago 1976, 62). Since Tagore turned down Bridges’ suggestion of alteration, Lago thinks that Tagore lost an opportunity to expand himself, “for Western critics had begun to ask whether Tagore wrote on themes other than the mystical and devotional, and whether he could command English of a less Victorian flavor” (Lago 1976, 63). Nevertheless, Tagore’s uncertainty with English writing or changes does not indicate that Tagore did not take his Western readers into consideration. In fact, he was highly conscious of them.

Tagore was acutely aware of the gap between his understanding and use of English and that of his English readers. Victoria Ocampo of Argentina recalled in her reminiscences that Tagore verbally described one of his poems to her and then translated it for her the next day. However, upon reading it, she could not conceal her disappointment and questioned Tagore about certain omitted elements, which she believed constituted the essence and core elements of the poem. Tagore explained that he had left them out, assuming that they would not interest Western readers (as cited in Machwe 1976, 81–82). In a letter to Rosenstein, Tagore expressed his concern about his English readers’ reaction to his writing, saying that “I am all the more helpless in deciding whether certain alterations add to the value of a poem with which my readers’ minds have already become familiar” (as cited in Lago 1972a, 212). Tagore’s diffidence in English reflects his sense of inferiority as both a colonial subject and a translator. The preferences of his English readers significantly influenced his choice to employ a domesticating strategy in his translation.

However, Tagore did not passively submit to colonial power. As Michael Collins argues, Tagore’s resistance to colonial rule took a distinct form, one of active engagement rather than non-cooperation. His approach aimed to convey a set of intellectual and cultural principles rooted in India’s rich religious and philosophical traditions. Additionally, it involved an appeal to Europe to rediscover elements of its own identity, urging Europe to break free from the shackles of nationalism and colonialism, which had ensnared not only Europe but also other parts of the world (Collins 2012, 20). Tanzeem Ahmed shares a similar perspective, noting that Tagore held a conflicted attitude towards the West. On the one hand, he detested imperialism and guarded against nationalism, which he believed was another form of imperialism. On the other hand, Tagore believed colonialism presented India with a chance to learn from and exchange with the West (Ahmed 2020).

In contrast to the prevailing path chosen by many of his compatriots, who embraced nationalist sentiments and often endorsed Gandhi’s non-cooperative campaign, Tagore adopted a distinctive stance, guided by his belief in universalism. He advocated for the convergence of Eastern and Western ideas and thoughts. In an essay discussing Visva-Bharati, Tagore wrote: “There is no difference in the eternal truths of the East and the West. We will have to cultivate that truth in Visva-Bharati” (as cited in Sengupta 1990, 102). In his letter to his friend in England, he further expressed his belief that through genuine intellectual cooperation, a deeper understanding of the human world could be achieved. This approach facilitated a realization of India’s position within the global context and fostered faith in the potential for strengthening connections (as cited in Sengupta 1990, 102–103). Tagore’s unwavering conviction is eloquently encapsulated in the motto of the university he established: “Where the world makes its nest.” Through reciprocal communication, Tagore envisioned a scenario where the East, particularly India, had much to offer to the West, especially in addressing the societal challenges resulting from Western industrialization. Simultaneously, he aimed to help the West shed the vestiges of colonialism, contributing to a more harmonious and balanced exchange of ideas and values between East and West.

Tagore’s journey to Britain in 1912 encapsulates the intricate motivations previously discussed. This trip had a religious dimension, as he often referred to it as a “pilgrimage,” reflecting his aspiration to introduce Indian religion and culture to the Western world while fostering a more balanced East–West relationship. Concurrently, it bore a personal and pragmatic aspect as he aimed to engage with Western artists and intellectuals, driven by his genuine admiration for English literature and culture. Unsurprisingly, this period marked the beginning of his prolific English writings across a wide array of subjects, marking his transition into an English language theorist and critic (Collins 2012, 49). With these objectives in mind, Tagore regarded his third trip to Britain as a “spiritual service” (cited in Sengupta 1990, 107). Michael Collins suggests that Tagore perceived himself as the spokesperson for Eastern wisdom, striving to foreground the concept of the “Universal Man” (Collins 2012, 20). Thus, while Collins considers it a decolonial act, Sengupta sees it as aligning with Tagore’s acquiescence to Western Orientalist discourse.

Collins argues that Tagore’s concerns extended to both the colonizer and the colonized. He contends that colonialism, according to Tagore, not only subjugated colonized peoples but also led Western civilization away from its highest ideals (Collins 2012, 66). Tagore envisioned the unity of the East and the West, positioning India as a central figure in a concept that challenged Hegel’s Eurocentric philosophy of history (Collins 2012, 156). Tagore saw himself as the conduit through which Indian and Eastern culture could be effectively communicated to the Western world. Instead of considering the East as inferior or subordinate, Tagore believed that the values and traditions he associated with India required re-articulation. He emphasized the “Unity of Man,” the legacy of the Upanishads, and the primacy of the social-religious sphere over politics and the state (Collins 2012, 14). His vision aimed to liberate both India and Britain from their colonial roles. In his idealist vision of the cultural exchange, he took both India and Britain out of its colonial position. Notably, however, Collins also observes that “Tagore did not develop any substantive critique of capitalism, nor did he seem to recognize liberal bourgeois politics as essentially ideological” (Collins 2012, 15).

Sengupta provides insight into Tagore’s mission in the West, framing it as a “spiritual service” and a deliberate undertaking akin to religious or mystical experiences. Throughout this period, Tagore consistently identified himself as a prophet or poet–prophet, actively engaging in worldly affairs and movements (Sengupta 1990, 103–6). Sengupta attributes Tagore’s mindset to his alignment with early Orientalists and the British colonial administration (Sengupta 1990, 106). She observes that Tagore’s identity, as constructed through his English translations, was shaped by the Other’s discourse regarding the Self of the Indian or Eastern poet (Sengupta 1990, 106–8). Collins and Sengupta, as Western and Indian scholars respectively, present two facets of Tagore, and their seemingly contradictory aspects coexist within him.

This intricate position makes Tagore grapple with conflicting desires as a translator. On the one hand, he aimed to introduce Indian and Eastern civilization to the Western world; on the other, he felt insecure and inferior concerning his English proficiency and his colonial identity. This complexity presents a challenge to simplistic analyses of Tagore’s translations. Therefore, Tagore’s self-translation becomes a multifaceted endeavor encapsulating both foreignizing and domesticating purposes. He sought to promote himself, Indian literature, and culture to the Western world while aspiring for a more equitable relationship. This reflects his foreignizing endeavor. However, as Sengupta points out, the exaltation of Eastern culture, especially that of its illustrious past and religious quest for transcendence, also aligns with the Western Orientalism, signifying an element of domestication.

Among all of Tagore’s works, his poetry collection, Gitanjali, stands out as the piece that not only surprised Westerners but also contributed significantly to his fame in the West. Kashyap Deepak aptly comments that “Tagore’s Gitanjali spread his fame across Western life like a rainbow” (Deepak 2012). When initially introduced to a select group of Western literary intellectuals, Gitanjali immediately captured their hearts. Yeats, who discovered in Gitanjali “a world I have dreamed of all my life long,” is often credited as one of its most ardent admirers and had written a laudatory introduction for the collection (Yeats [1912] 1997, 10). Adam Kirsch notes that “Yeats’ introduction to Gitanjali was the booster rocket that launched Tagore’s name into worldwide orbit” (Kirsch 2011).

This acclaim from literary elites soon reached the general public. Gitanjali went through nine reprints, with approximately 15,000 English copies published by Macmillan & Co. between 1912 and 1920. Primarily due to this work and others, Tagore was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1913, rendering him the first non-European to receive such recognition. Subsequently, more of his works were published, and he became a prominent figure, delivering talks and lectures, staging plays, associating with cultural celebrities, and traveling around the world. His activities were closely followed by the media, establishing him as a true celebrity.

The success of Gitanjali is not just a coincidence. It stems from both Tagore’s role as a translator and the reception of his target system. I see translation operate on both metaphysical and literal levels in this context. Metaphorically, Tagore engages in a form of self-translation, introducing himself and his works to the Western world. Reciprocally, the West undergoes a translation process in their reading, comprehension, and acceptance of Tagore. On a literal level, Tagore actively translates his own works, as exemplified by Gitanjali, into English. This act of linguistic translation serves as a conduit for the cross-cultural dissemination of his ideas and expressions. In these translation endeavors, both metaphorical and literal, I observe the utilization of domestication and foreignization as translation strategies.

In his self-translation of Gitanjali, Tagore employed a multifaceted approach that integrated both foreignization and domestication. These strategies, rather than being clearly delineated, were intricately interwoven within the text. While elements of domestication are evident in the language and structure used, foreignization is discernible in the expression of thought and culture. Similarly, in their reading and interpretation of Tagore, the Western readers employed domestication to assimilate his works into Western literary and cultural tradition, while simultaneously foreignizing Tagore (his physical features in particular) and his writings to exoticize the poet and the culture that he and his works represented.

3 Gitanjali

Gitanjali: Song Offerings, a collection of devotional songs, encapsulates Tagore’s profound spiritual convictions and his immersion in the religious tradition of India. Tagore was motivated by a desire to introduce Indian culture to the West, as he expressed in a letter to C.F. Andrews:

I know that there is a call for me to work towards the true union of East and West. I have unconsciously been getting ready for this mission … The accident which made me translate Gitanjali and the sudden and unaccountable longing which took me over to Europe at the beginning of my 50th year — all had combined to push me forward to a path whose destination I did not clearly know when I first took it (as cited in Sengupta 1990, 103).

In transforming Gitanjali from Bengali into English, Tagore deviated substantially from a literal translation. Of the 103 poems in the English version, only 53 directly correspond to the Bengali original, the rest was sourced from various collections, with two poems condensed into one from a single source.

Tagore’s domesticating strategy is particularly evident in the form of the poems. He combined two or more poems into one, deleted or added lines, and changed the order of the stanzas. The stanza structure also differs. The Bengali Gitanjali poems consists of many small stanzas, which makes them lively and vivacious. This feature becomes less pronounced in the English version. Additionally, Tagore arranged the sequence of the poems differently from Bengali ones, thereby investing new meanings with this adjustment.

In the English version, punctuation underwent significant alterations. Samina Nausheen Shammee notes that the original Bangla versions are integrated with many commas and hyphens whereas the English translation missed these punctuations (Shammee 2012, 7). As the commas serve as “breath groups in Bangla,” their absence in the English version alters the overall energy (Shammee 2012, 7). On a different note, with the change of the length of the lines and the number of stanzas, Tagore transformed the original, which also can be sung as songs, into English that reads more like prose. While this change caters to Western reading habits, it also alters the mood and the cadence of the poems.

The rhythm, another distinctive feature, is diminished compared to the Bengali original. Martin Kämpchen notes that “[i]n terms of poetic technique, Gitanjali and its two successors brought a complete intermingling of poetry and song. Even those poems for which Tagore did not compose melodies are song-like in their structure and rhythm, and they are full of the imagery of music” (Kämpchen 2018, 61). Nabaneeta Sen also finds that “the metrical novelties and complexities, the musical qualities, and the conscious subtlety in the use of words, which compose the greater of its [Gitanjali’s] attraction, suffer most in translation” (Sen 1966b, 276). The original poems were primarily intended to be sung; this important and distinctive feature, however, is mostly lost in the English version. The translation loses the tune, the rhythm, and other musical qualities.

The contrast in language use between Bengali and English is striking. According to Nabaneeta Sen, in Bengali, “he [Tagore] gave the language its present form and modernized it greatly by completely new and daring adventures in coining new words and forming unconventional syntax that changed the face of nineteenth century Bengali language” (Sen 1966b, 279). In English, however, Tagore inadvertently employed cliches, described by Leonard Woolf as “thin weakliness” (as cited in Sen 1966b, 277). Part of the reason for this discrepancy is Tagore’s use of archaic English words. For example, the Bangla word “karagar,” easily translated as prison, was rendered as “dungeon.” Sengupta comments that this choice “is a deliberate attempt to place the poem within the Western cultural paradigm” (Sengupta 2016, 77). Similarly, Ceng Qiong notices that the frequent occurrence of the image of “harp” in Tagore’s English poems comes from different Bengali words, such as “viina” or “baanshri,” two different kinds of Indian musical instruments (Ceng 2014, 37–38). This change not only creates a monotonous image but also evokes different feelings in Bengali and English readers. Mary Lago finds that the English version of “Separation” is made by compressing six metrical Bengali lines into one English sentence (Lago 1972b, 418). As a result, the beautiful images, along with all the long-drawn vowels of two doves coo “all day long” and the restlessness of bees, as well as the implication of the long dry season indicating a long separation of lovers, are all lost (Lago 1972b, 418). Thus, overall, the vitality and nuanced word choices, which represents Tagore’s personality and style, and also give his Bengali poetry a magical power over its readers, are replaced with either more standard, archaic, or concise English vocabulary.

The devotional theme undergoes significant changes, too, especially in how Tagore draws inspiration from the Upanishads and the traditions of Bengal Vaishnava themes, as suggested by Shammee (Shammee 2012, 10). This inspiration is more apparent in the Bengali original poems. One of the most visible changes is Tagore’s shift from an informal tone in Bengali to adopting archaic dictions and forms of addresses such as “thou,” “thee,” “dost,” etc., in the English version. Urmi Sengupta observes that this shift introduces an element of lofty grandeur, disrupting the intimate tone encapsulated by the Bengali pronoun “tumi,” used to refer to the personal god in Bengali poems (Sengupta 2016, 74). Shammee particularly notices Tagore’s emphasis on the word “thou” in his English translation, contrasting with its unassuming or silent use in Bengali (Shammee 2012, 22). This linguistic difference leads to different philosophical implications.

The word “se” in Bangla is a third-person singular form that does not denote a particular gender. Its vagueness and mysteriousness are considered “an important and integral aspect of Rabindra-Sahitya” (Sengupta 2016, 76). However, the English culture calls for gender clarification. Tagore thus changes it to “He” when he refers to God and “she” when he refers to being part of the self waiting to be recognized by God (Sengupta 2016: 76). This change separates and distinguishes the integration of the personal God with individuals in English. Similarly, since English lacks the idea of Jivan-devata, who can be “a lover, a friend who recomplicates the love of the bhakta … This relationship has its roots in the rich legacy of bhakti poetry in India that dates back to 5th century AD” (Sengupta 2016: 74), Tagore opts for the phrase “journey of love” instead of using its closer rendition, “tryst” when rendering the Bangla word “abhisar.” This change clearly alters the emotional connotation. Ceng also notices that the line of “in the perfect union of two” in poem 56 in English sounds abstract and philosophical and loses the intimacy and aesthetic harmony between the lovers in Indian culture (Ceng 2014, 38–39). All these examples suggest that while the Bengali version emits stronger emotional feelings and emphasizes the multi-dimensional unity to the point of intimacy between the finite and infinite through the integration between human beings and the divine, the English version implies the hierarchy and worship of Christian God.

Tagore’s translation of Gitanjali demonstrates his use of domesticating strategies, aligning with Venuti’s theory. He intentionally modified linguistic elements and selected specific aspects of Indian culture to make his work more accessible to his intended audience. Contemporary translation critics nowadays are more critical of this translation strategy. For instance, Jan Walsh Hokenson and Marcella Munson find the poems to read like “plodding love lyrics, more awash in Victorian rose-water than in visionary seas,” becoming “staid, even stale Edwardian verse … recalling Walter de la Mare more than Tagore in Bengali” (Hokenson and Munson 2006, 772–73). This critique, though harsh, recognizes Tagore’s domesticating motivation at work.

During a time when Indian or Eastern poems were still uncommon, Tagore’s translation garnered enthusiastic responses upon its public release. May Sinclair was awed by its simplicity, restraint, austerity, musicality, and mysticism (Sinclair 1913, 660–665). Mary Lago notes that these gentle and meditative poems stirred comparisons between East and West without requiring readers to grapple with explicit philosophical themes, serving as private balm for the restless soul (Lago 1989, 14). The impact on his Western readers can be best summarized by Verner von Heidenstam, Swedish poet and Nobel Committee member, who stated that “[t]he intense and loving poetry that permeates his every thought and feeling, the purity of heart, the noble and natural sublimity of his style, all combine to create a whole that has a deep and rare spiritual beauty” (as cited in Radice 2003, 209). The positive responses of his contemporary readers testify to the efficacy of Tagore’s strategy.

Tagore tailored his poems to align with the preferences of his Western readers, ensuring a smooth introduction into the Western literary sphere and sidestepping potential conflicts. Gitanjali played a pivotal role as his gateway to the Western audience. Along with the literary work, he portrayed an image of himself that fits the expectation of the West. As Nabaneeta Sen rightfully remarks, “Tagore liked to think of his contributions to the literature of the West as his ‘foreign reincarnation.’ Indeed, Tagore appeared in the Western literary scene in a form completely different from the one he held in his native literature” (Sen 1966b: 275).

Adam Kirsch suggests that Tagore was aware that the role he played in the West did not reflect his true self. Tagore admitted to his friend and biographer, Edward Thompson, that in his translations he intentionally avoided difficulties to create a smooth and thin effect. He was conscious that he misrepresented himself as a poet to the Western readers (cited in Kirsch 2011). From a cultural standpoint, Yu-Ting Lee suggests that Tagore actively participated in shaping a biased image of himself, acknowledging his partial acceptance of the niche that the West created for him (Lee 2013, 229). While Tagore held the belief that his action was not for his personal benefit but to represent the East to rescue the unhappy West, Lee contends that portraying Tagore in a more diverse light outside India would be challenging without his primary identity as an Eastern messenger (Lee 2013, 229). Harish Trivedi goes even further, thinking that “[i]f it was not a direct affair of imperialism, it was at least a high degree of voluntary assimilation, facilitated by that notably anglophile and anglicized dimension of Tagore’s personality” (as cited in Sengupta 2016, 71).

Shortly thereafter, Tagore gained public recognition. In early 1913, he embarked on a journey to America and was invited to deliver talks by churches and universities. His second poem collection, The Gardener, was published in Britain in the same year and was dedicated to Yeats. Unlike his earlier religious-themed work, this collection delves into romantic love and other human emotions. It is noted that Tagore abridged and paraphrased the original poems in his translation (Radice 2003). In the same year, Macmillan in London published his work Sadhana: The Realisation of Life, a compilation of eight lectures he delivered in America, exploring philosophical and religious issues of individuals and the universe. The book received warm acclaim, witnessing eight reprints within one year of its publication. Fakrul Alam notes, “They thus contributed to Tagore’s image in the West as a prophet and mystic who combined love of God with a belief in the essential divinity of humanity” (Radice 2003). In addition, Tagore also published The Crescent Moon: Child Poems and the play, Chitra: A Play in One Act in 1913. Two more poem collections, Fruit-Gathering and Stray Birds followed in 1916, further enhancing his fame as an Eastern poet and prophet. In 1915, Tagore was awarded Knighthood for Services to Literature by King George V, a title he renounced after 1919 Jallianwala Bagh Massacre.

Mary Lago observes that among all of Tagore’s translated poem collections in English, only one volume can directly trace back its Bengali source. The others have undergone alterations, changes, or condensation to find their origins. Lago uses two poems in two collections as examples to illustrate how Tagore omitted details or aspects of his Bengali origins. She concludes that “[r]eaders who know only the English prose version are touched by, and respond to, only the atmosphere and the idea conveyed by the prose” (Lago 1976, 59). Lago attributes it to Tagore’s uncertainty in using English. Ana Jelnikar suggests that “Tagore, to some extent, played the part of a willing accomplice in acquiescing to the false mask imposed by the Occident. He understood that he needed Western recognition in order to secure a better standing for himself and to achieve his goals in Bengal and India” (Jelnikar 2008, 1008–9). In his efforts to navigate the Western world, Tagore catered to his target readers, molding his works to meet their expectations. The initial success established an image that the West embraced and anticipated. Tagore complied with this image through his lectures and the publication of works during his early stay in Britain and America.

4 Western Elite Readers

Reader-response theory posits that readers actively contribute to the construction of meaning, approaching a text with preconceived ideas influenced by their background knowledge, values, beliefs, and biases. Western readers, in particular, play a significant role in shaping Tagore’s Western image. As emphasized by Imre Bangha, “All receiving communities construct their own ‘Tagore’ through their perception” (Bangha 2017, ix–x). In contrast to Venuti’s focus on target readership in general, this perspective highlights the active role of readers, distinguishing between elite and common readers.

Tagore’s strategies of foreignization and domestication, aimed at enhancing visibility, find reciprocation in the role of his Western readers. Tagore’s translation journey began with an encounter with an elite readership, including influential figures like Sir William Rothenstein, who shared his aesthetic beliefs. This elite circle, including William Butler Yeats, Ezra Pound, Robert Bridges, André Gide, and others, warmly received Gitanjali, leading to a limited edition with Yeats’ introduction that quickly sold out. This elite recognition catalyzed a top-down movement, propelling Tagore to mainstream success, marked by a best-selling edition from Macmillan Publishers and the subsequent Nobel Prize.

Venuti’s theory does not fully address the top-down movement and the influence of elites on the common readership. I argue that both elite and common British readers employed simultaneous domesticating and foreignizing strategies when engaging with Tagore’s Gitanjali and his other works, as well as with Tagore himself. This nuanced interaction shaped the multifaceted reception and interpretation of Tagore’s work in the Western literary landscape.

The initial group of elite readers who gained early access to Tagore’s works comprised enthusiasts of Eastern and Indian literature and culture. Sir William Rothenstein, for instance, undertook a “pilgrimage” to India, exploring ancient temples and evolving urban areas. Yeats, seeking “light from the East,” drew inspiration from Upanishads philosophy, a connection established through his involvement with The Theosophical Society (as cited in Hurwitz 1964b, 59). Ezra Pound had a strong interest in Chinese and Japanese characters and poetry. Similarly, Charles Freer Andrews and Sir Thomas Sturge Moore were both deeply engaged with Indian language and culture. Given their cultural inclinations, Tagore and his poetry found a warm reception and appreciation among these English elites upon their introduction to the Western literary landscape.

However, beyond figures like William Rothenstein, Charles Freer Andrews, and Sir Thomas Sturge Moore, only a selected few had knowledge of the Bengali language. Consequently, the understanding of Tagore, Indian literature, and culture among Western elite intellectuals was hindered by their linguistic limitations. Additionally, the backdrop of the colonizer-colonized relationship between Britain and India influenced Tagore’s interactions with his Western intellectual acquaintances. Collins argues that Raymond Williams’ concept of the Bloomsbury circle, “carrying [forward] the classical values of bourgeois enlightenment,” is applicable to Tagore’s engagement with his Western friends and interlocutors (Collins 2012, 17).

Tagore’s initial encounter with the British metropolitan intellectual occurred in 1912 with Rothenstein. While Rothenstein claimed that Tagore “begged” him to accept his manuscript, Tagore’s recollection differs: “I handed him my manuscript with some diffidence. I could hardly believe the opinion he expressed after going through it. He then made over the manuscript to Yeats” (Collins 2012, 51). Despite the differing accounts, Rothenstein played a pivotal role in shaping Tagore’s career in the West. Collins characterizes Rothenstein as a genuine “Indianist” who “took a genuine and active part in aiming to secure what he saw as a better future for India” (Collins 2012, 51).

Rothenstein’s artistic and aesthetic approach, which involves compartmentalizing art within ideal, transcendental, or universal spheres in prestigious positions, resonates with Tagore’s own views (Sengupta 1990, 90). However, it is important to note that Rothenstein’s aesthetic admiration for Tagore did not translate into a shift in his social and political stance. Despite efforts to improve Britain’s relationship with India, as seen in projects like the India Society, Rothenstein did not intend to challenge or fundamentally question British political rule. As Collins points out, Rothenstein remained a “liberal imperialist,” adhering to the philosophy of the India Society, which aimed for “less friction between rulers and ruled” (Collins 2012, 51). In other words, his foreignization strategy served the purpose of domestication.

The same can be said for Yeats and Pound. While both initially admired Tagore, viewing him and Indian culture as offering solutions to their disillusionment with Western modernity, they eventually instrumentalized Tagore for their own purposes. Collins astutely notes, “For Yeats, the ‘discovery’ of Tagore — and of India more generally—was a stimulus to the re-awakening of Celtic mysticism that would invigorate Irish nationalism and its bid for independence from British rule” (Collins 2012, 52). Yeats, with prior familiarity with Theosophy and Indian philosophy, was drawn to the East, yet his limited understanding hindered genuine appreciation. As noted by Joseph Lennon: “Yeats’s admiration for and promotion of Tagore was tinged with the patronizing attitude of European imperialists and Orientalists” (Lennon 2003, 227). This condescension is exemplified in Yeats’s letter to Edmund Gosse in November 1912 regarding Tagore’s proposed election to the committee of the India Society. Yeats wrote: “From the English point of view it would be a fine thing to do, a piece of wise imperialism, for he is worshipped as no poet of Europe is … I believe that if we pay him honour, it will be understood that we honour India also for he is its most famous man today” (Longenbach 1988, 25). This approach explains why Yeats’s interest in Tagore waned, leading to harsh criticism in the 1930s.

For Pound, Tagore symbolized a connection to the Western tradition of Greece. Pound found in Tagore’s poems a reminder of essential aspects often lost in the chaos of Western life. Initially, Pound was one of Tagore’s most ardent admirers, likening his genius to that of Dante’s and publishing six of Tagore’s poems in Poetry, a journal for which he served as its foreign correspondent (Hurwitz 1964b, 56). However, within five years, Pound’s initial enthusiasm turned into bitter criticism and cynicism. Setting aside temperament and personality, this shift also reflects the limitations of Western intellectuals, as highlighted by Collins: “Yet for both Yeats and Pound, issues of colonialism were clearly of secondary importance, and there was seemingly no clear link established in their minds between the Irish and Indian predicaments” (Collins 2012, 52). Essentially, their admiration for Tagore was rooted in the exoticism they perceived in his literary, cultural, and religious aspects, which could be assimilated into their own worldview or the broader Western context without genuine concern for India’s social or political situation.

Joseph Lennon argues that Yeats, along with other Western writers, treated the Orient as a source of traditions to parody and from which to borrow (Lennon 2003, 213). Despite their liberal and sympathetic facades, these British and American intellectuals, as Williams argues, “carr[y] the classical values of bourgeois enlightenment” (Williams 1992, 141). Williams elucidates that this ideology lies at the core of bourgeois thought, encompassing the public ideals of a broad spectrum of orthodox political viewpoints, ranging from modern conservatives through liberals to the most representative social democrats. It represents a philosophy centered on the sovereignty of the civilized individual, not only against all the dark forces of the past but also against all other forces in conflict of interest, alternative claims, or other differing societal and relational definitions, all of which are swiftly categorized as enemies and relegated to the far side of the border marked by its own definition of “civilized” (Williams 1992, 141).

Yeats, Pound, and their Anglo-American counterparts did not deviate from this standpoint. Consequently, as Homi K. Bhabha argued, is that they remained entrenched in “the discourse of post-Enlightenment English colonialism,” which “often speaks in a tongue that is forked, not false” (Bhabha 1994, 121). Jelnikar further elaborates on Bhabha’s analysis, emphasizing the colonizer’s contradictory impulse in perceiving and constructing the colonized subject. On the one hand, the colonizer views the Oriental as a radically strange creature, both intriguing and concerning, which justifies their “civilizing mission.” On the other hand, there exists a desire to eradicate the radical “otherness” of the colonized and assimilate them into Western understanding and knowledge, thus making them comprehensible and harmless through intellectual domestication (Jelnikar 2008, 1011–12). This duality explains the seemingly conflicting viewpoints regarding Western readers’ interpretation of Gitanjali and also corresponds to the strategies of domestication and foreignization respectively.

5 Western Readers’ Domestication

Yeats commented on Gitanjali, stating that “[w]e are not moved because of its strangeness, but because we have met our own image” (Yeats [1912] 1997, 11). In Yeats’ eyes, Tagore became a glorified “Irish citizen,” earning him the title “Irishman of India” (Aronson 1943, 106–7). Collins observes that Tagore’s poetry was quickly incorporated into existing philosophical divisions between idealism and realism, characterizing Tagore as ‘highly idealistic and subjective, moody or fanciful” (Collins 2012, 52–53). Edward Thompson viewed Tagore through the lens of Victorian poets, remarking that: “I have remembered always that Tagore […] as a writer was the contemporary of the later Tennyson and Browning and Robert Bridges. In fairness, he must be judged as the Victorian poets are judged, whose world has passed away” (as cited in Lee 2013, 229). Irving Babbitt notes that Tagore has genuinely oriental traits, yet in his total outlook on life, he resembles Shelley or even of Maeterlinck more than the ancient sages of his race (as cited in Mukherjee 1964, 43–44). Sinclair thinks that Tagore recalls Walt Whitman (Sinclair 1913, 675).

Alex Aronson comments on the loss of critical standards in reviewing Gitanjali and other works by Tagore in English, where Tagore is compared to a long list of various English poets. He wrote:

The poems of Gitanjali have been compared to the work of almost all the living or dead poets on earth, from Sappho to T.S. Eliot. These comparisons are significant, for they indicate a loss of all critical standards, and an over-emphasis on the possible similarities of poets who in terms of artistic sensibility have very little in common. Thus, we find in a review of Gitanjali in The Westminster Gazette parallels established between Rabindranath and Francis Thompson, Wordsworth, Patmore, Tennyson, Walt Whitman, Traherne, and Herbert Vaughan, Robert Bridges too is mentioned more than once. “For the two men are not dissimilar in their tone and attitude. Each chooses the fallentis semita vitae, the way of quietness.” The Crescent Moon reminded many of Blake’s child-poems, and The Fugitive is, strangely enough, once compared to Shakespeare’s Sonnets and to Ossian... (Aronson 1943, 107–108)

Edward Said explicates that figures like Spenser, Shakespeare, Defoe, and Austen are deeply intertwined with Britain’s cultural identity. He articulates: “That identity imagines itself in a geographically conceived world …. It fixes socially desirable, empowered space in metropolitan England or Europe and connects it by design, motive, and development to distinct or peripheral worlds (Ireland, Venice, Africa, Jamaica), conceived of as desirable but subordinate” (Said 1994, 52). In essence, these eminent writers have been assimilated into the empire, serving as cultural instruments in the desire for and domination of the cultures of Others.

The Western literary circle domesticated Tagore’s Gitanjali by assimilating it into Anglophone literature as an integral part of the English-speaking world, rather than recognizing it as a translation. Moreover, it is perceived as a representation of English-speaking culture and literary tradition rather than an expression of Indian heritage. Aronson highlights that even the least sensitive critics of Rabindranath in England praised him for bringing honor to “Anglo-Indian” poetry, assigning new significance to English culture in India. Tagore is often regarded as the continuation or fusion of Kipling and Rabindranath. The link seen by Mary Ellis Gibson is that “Tagore’s volume was published just five years after Rudyard Kipling had received his own Nobel Prize and after Kipling had come to represent, for better or worse, the voice of empire” (Gibson 2011, 255). Empire is the key word in this discourse. Aronson quotes one remark that encapsulates this view:

The chief significance of Mr. Tagore’s triumph is that it marks the culmination of the development of an offshoot of English literature, the importance of which has not been sufficiently recognized. Indian-English poetry cannot well be ignored henceforward seeing that two of its representatives have been the only English authors who have won the annual Nobel Prize for literature. (cited in Aronson 1943, 108)

Indeed, many of Tagore’s contemporary readers considered his work as part of Indian English literature. This perspective finds support in the Nobel Prize award ceremony speech delivered by Harald Hjärne, Chairman of the Nobel Prize Committee of the Swedish Academy. Hjärne made a distinct classification of Tagore and his literary contributions. While acknowledging the divergence in Tagore’s background and living environment from his English readers, Hjärne simultaneously assimilated Tagore’s works into English literature and civilization. He explicitly stated:

Since last year the book, in a real and full sense, has belonged to English literature … Tagore has been hailed from various quarters as a new and admirable master of that poetic art which has been a never-failing concomitant of the expansion of British civilization ever since the days of Queen Elizabeth. (Hjärne 1913)

From a cultural standpoint, Tagore’s works are often interpreted through the lens of Christianity. A review in The Times Literary Supplement encapsulates this perspective, stating, “As we read his pieces, we seem to be reading the Psalms of a David of our own time who addresses a God realized by his own act of faith and conceived according to his own experience of life …” (as cited in Dutta and Robinson 1995, 167). Dutta and Robinson, the biographers of Tagore, observe that “Tagore’s Western admirers saw the humane spirit of Christianity, venerated in theory but ignored in practice, reflected back at them from Gitanjali in a pure form. Jesus Christ was an Oriental, Tagore emphasized; and his own idea of Indian spirituality had a strong affinity with that of the New Testament” (Dutta and Robinson 1995, 169). This sentiment is echoed in the reaction of Charles Darwin’s granddaughter, Frances Cornford, who, after meeting Tagore in Cambridge in July 1912, expressed, “I can now imagine a powerful and gentle Christ, which I never could before,” a feeling shared by Rothenstein through his initial drawings of Tagore (Dutta and Robinson 1995,169).

Similarly, in his Nobel Prize award ceremony speech, Hjärne attributed the rejuvenation of Indian literature to Christianity and underscored Tagore’s universalism as result of Christian missions in India. Hjärne remarked, “The true inwardness of this work is most clearly and purely revealed in the efforts exerted in the Christian mission-field throughout the world … But the influence of the Christian mission has extended far beyond the range of the actually registered proselytizing work” (Hjärne 1913). In this manner, despite Tagore being recognized as an Indian writer, his works, in form and spirit, were still perceived as belonging to the West.

6 Western Media

The Western media echoed the sentiments of Western intellectuals, often portraying Tagore as a mediator between the East and the West, aiding “the latter to recover its lost soul, a pristine Christian humanistic soul’” (Kundu, Bhattacharya, and Sircar 2000, xviii). In this interpretation, Kalyan Kundu et al. observe a set of political, moral, and literary preconceptions where Europe and Christianity assume the center stage, denying the existence of a separate history and culture distinct from their own — a novel entity they do not possess (Kundu, Bhattacharya, and Sircar 2000: xv). This inclination toward domesticating Tagore is exemplified by a New York Times anecdote. The newspaper initially wrote Tagore’s name as “Babindranath.” In an attempt to rectify the error the next day, it asserted, “Babindranath Tagore, if no exactly one of use, is, as an Aryan, a distant relation to all white folk” (Mukherjee 1964, 29). The domestication is both literal and metaphorical.

Similar to the literary elites, the media’s literary discourse positioned Tagore’s works within the framework of the Western literary tradition, with critics seeking to identify its connection with European writers. The Manchester Guardian, in a publication on January 14, 1913, contended:

In fact, there is no radical difference between his lyrical art and that of Europe … In a work, Rabindranath seems to be an Oriental profoundly influenced by European thought, but not in the least disoriented by the influence; we should rather say that the European influence has been completely orientalised in him. (as cited in Kundu, Bhattacharya, and Sircar 2000, 17)

In the Westminster Gazette published on December 7, 1912, Tagore was likened to figures such as St. Francis, Thomas à Kempis, St. John of the Cross, Blake, as well as Walt Whitman, Traherne, Herbert, and Vaughan (Kundu, Bhattacharya, and Sircar 2000, 13–14). The Northern Echo on December 12, 1913, commented that Tagore’s The Crescent Moon “is often as solemn and lofty as Shelley, at the same time that it is as plain as Blake, and as familiar as Jane Taylor,” while The Glasgow Herald on December 25, 1913 thought that The Crescent Moon was “like some of best Stevenson” (cited in Kundu, Bhattacharya, and Sircar 2000, xxii). Kalyan Kundu et al. aptly remark that “The incessant urge to compare his genius with famous as well as little known European writers, to find him a place beneath them, reveals a mind that is arrogant and Eurocentric … The press writers’ attempt at comparison is often marked by a facile caricature and cultural stereotype” (Kundu, Bhattacharya, and Sircar 2000, xxii).

Echoing the perspective of literary elites, the Western media depicted Tagore as deeply immersed in the Western Christian tradition and subject to its imperial influence. Works like Gitanjali, along with others like The Gardener and The Crescent Moon, was consistently viewed through the lens of Christianity. Sujit Mukherjee astutely observes that these works “only helped to reinforce the overriding impression of Tagore as an essentially religious poet, devoted to a personal and anthropomorphic God … a poet who expressed himself strangely but effectively in English that frequently recalled the language of the Bible” (Mukherjee 1964, 37). In America, a review in The Spectator (February 14, 1914) claimed that “the doctrine propounded by Tagore [was] much influenced by Christian teaching” (as cited in Kundu, Bhattacharya, and Sircar 2000, xxiii). The reviewer lamented that Tagore did not explicitly or implicitly acknowledge the debt that Bengal owed to Christian teaching, criticizing his work for “a fatal flaw of insincerity in its most seemingly elevated utterances. It claims to be the unaided product of Vedic inspiration. It veils a hostility and inexcusable ingratitude to Western teaching (Kundu, Bhattacharya, and Sircar 2000, 157).

The notion that Tagore owed his accomplishments to the West is mostly clearly articulated by R. Ellis Roberts in his review of The Gardener for The Daily News and the Leader (October 27, 1913). Roberts claimed the mysticism credited to Tagore ultimately came from the West, asserting that “there is nothing in any Eastern nation to correspond with the depth and intensity of the body of Christian mysticism” (cited in Kundu, Bhattacharya, and Sircar 2000, xx). According to Roberts, not only did Indian art and letters not “differ essentially from Europe” but also, “neither in art nor letters, has it [India] ever reached the perfection which Europe attained” (cited in Kundu, Bhattacharya, and Sircar 2000, xx). Roberts even suggested that Tagore’s inspiration of Gitanjali derived more from the West than the East, thereby diminishing both Tagore’s greatness and his Eastern origin.

In his review of The Gardener in The Daily Mail on 29 October 1913, F. Ashworth Briggs emphasized the imperial relationship between Britain and India in his compliments of Tagore’s literary accomplishments. Briggs regarded Tagore’s English translation as “something new in our imperial history to get literature in our own tongue from the East” (Briggs [1913] 2000, 73). He delineated two contrasting images of India in the Western mind. One is influenced by Kipling and the Indian mutiny, leaving “in the English mind a strange impression of India—an effect of harsh, bright colours, vast spaces, hardness and treachery, suttee, bombs and plague. The Englishman travelling in India feels a vast gulf between white and brown” (Briggs [1913] 2000, 73). The other image, created by Tagore, “sets them to the measure of our harmony. They are simply, exalted, fragrant—episodes and incidents of every day transported to fairy” (Briggs [1913] 2000, 73). Whether Tagore’s portrayal is a result of whitewashing or imaginative interpretation of India, Briggs, representing the Western perspective, attributes Tagore’s success to his depiction of this idealized image of India, thereby solidifying his status and influence in the Western literary field.

7 Western Readers’ Foreignization

In the opening paragraph of “Introduction” to his book, Rabindranath through Western Eyes, Alex Aronson writes:

When an Eastern poet goes to the West he carries with him a tradition that is foreign to most Europeans. The greater his fame in the West the more will he be conscious of the differences in sensibility and cultural heritage that separate the East from the West. This consciousness will create a message, and the West will respond to it according to its own beliefs and attitudes. (Aronson 1943, xi)

While Tagore brought his own beliefs and values with him to the West, the Western readers approached him through their ideological framework. However, these approaches are not equal. The concept of cultural hegemony, as explained by Italian philosopher Antonio Gramsci, reveals that the state and the ruling capitalist class shape society through cultural institutions, governing its ideology through norms, values, and beliefs propagated by institutions such as schools, churches, and the media. In the colonial context, as seen in India, Tejaswini Niranjana notes that British hegemony established a duality, portraying themselves as adult, rational, and civilized whereas the Indians as childish, irrational, and uncultivated (Niranjana 1992, 21–24).

This perspective helps elucidate the mindset of British audiences, including the intellectuals of Yeats and Pound, who initially admired Tagore but gradually revealed condescending attitude later. The admiration stemmed from Tagore’s perceived exoticism, reinforcing the Orientalist ideology in the West’s reception of Tagore. An excerpt from a review of Miss Gwendoline Goodwine’s Anthology of Modern Indian Poetry in Liverpool Post illustrates this mindset:

We of the West do not want from the East poetic edifices built upon a foundation of Yeats and Shelley and Walt Whitman. “We want to hear the flute of Krishna as Radha heard it, to fall under the spell of the blue god in the lotus-heart of dream.” This is, of course, those of us interested enough in Indian poetry not to be disgusted by its disparagement of Self-hood. (cited in Aronson 1943, 18)

This partly explains the enthusiastic reception of Tagore’s Gitanjali upon its publication. Ellis Mary Gibson posits that “Tagore could represent ‘authenticity’ and he assimilated, whether or not by his own desire, into a late romantic orientalism” (Gibson 2011, 257).

In this context, Western readers tend to exoticize Tagore and Gitanjali, resulting in a foreignizing interpretation. Tagore is perceived as an enigmatic figure with an Eastern vision, and Gitanjali is seen as unconventional and outlandish. One review characterizes Gitanjali as possessing “trance-like beauty; their negation of movement and colour, and the deliberate flavorlessness of their simplicity are appropriate to the vein essentially Oriental mysticism which supplies throughout the poet’s inspiration’” (Kundu, Bhattacharya, and Sircar 2000, 10). This viewpoint is shared by many Western readers, including Yeats, who identifies in Tagore and his works the familiar and unfamiliar exotic subtlety and beauty that restores the meaning of mysticism. Although mysticism exists as a genre in the West, it is amplified as a typical feature of Tagore. Nabaneeta Sen states that “Mystery was the first thing that the West found in Tagore, in his eyes, and in his vision as a poet … Unhappily therefore, mysticism was not only the first thing to be expected in an Eastern poet, but more often than not, it was also the last thing” (Sen 1966a, 9). It emphasizes the Orientalist reading of the East, which is ahistorically mystical, reducing Tagore and the Indian culture to stereotypical and backward positions.

Aronson believes that “when reviewing Rabindranath’s books critics were frequently handicapped by this traditional conception of the East, instead of constructive criticism they offered their own irrelevant stock-responses” (Aronson 1943, 18). This interpretation reinforces a binary mentality that characterizes the East as mystical and the West as scientific and progressive. Consequently, Mary Lago observes that “[t]he most persistent myth, which began to adhere from the very beginning of his Western career and has done lingering harm, is that of Tagore as latter-day Wise Man from the East” (as cited in Lee 2013, viii). By relegating Tagore and his culture to mystical and appealing space, Western readers perpetuate a colonial mindset that undermines the richness and diversity of Indian culture.

8 Hypervisibility

Hypervisibility is a concept denoting the excessive visibility or scrutiny that certain individuals or groups may endure, often leading to their marginalization or oppression. In the context of postcolonial studies, hypervisibility has been used to describe a situation where the colonizer becomes hypervisible while the colonized becomes marginalized and invisible. However, the reverse can also occur. Hypervisibility can involve certain bodies or identities being overpresented or hypervisible in media, while others are underrepresented or invisible. The consequences of hypervisibility can be negative or detrimental, as it can result in the objectification, fetishization, and stigmatization of those who are hypervisible, thus perpetuating harmful stereotypes and oppressive power structures. Tagore’s case aligns with the latter scenario.

As an author and translator, Tagore soon became visible. Upon his arrival in London, Rothenstein, his admirer and intermediator to the West, introduced him to various literary celebrities. The first of these encounters took place at a soiree at hosted by Rothenstein, where Yeats recited some poems from Gitanjali. Following this event, Rothenstein organized a dinner in Tagore’s honor at the Trocadero Restaurant, attended by 70 people, including Maud Gonne, Cecil Sharp, Ralph Vaughan Williams and H. G. Wells, where Yeats proposed a toast and presented three poems (Dutta and Robinson 1995, 165).

During his stay in the West, Tagore actively engaged in numerous literary events and gatherings, which helped facilitate the publication of his works in the English-speaking world. He was frequently invited to deliver talks and speeches at universities, churches, and other public venues. Several of his plays were successfully staged. Additionally, he was involved in various political events and conferences, advocating issues such as world peace and Indian independence. His contributions were acknowledged with the prestigious Noble Prize in literature, and he was also the first Indian to receive a knighthood from the British government, a distinction he later chose to renounce.

The Nobel Prize stands as a singular honor among the many accolades bestowed upon Rabindranath Tagore, representing the pinnacle that significantly altered the trajectory of his life. Undoubtedly, it marks the highest point of fame in Tagore’s literary career, capturing the attention of readers worldwide, albeit with reactions ranging from adoration, curiosity to resentment. Sujit Mukherjee recounts the impact of the award in America, noting “The publicity value of the award may easily be imagined, but much more than the world curiosity was aroused. In America, it was chiefly puzzlement which gave rise to a wide spectrum of attitudes varying from resentment at one extreme, to rationalization at the other” (Mukherjee 1964, 27–28).

Julia Lovell argues that Nobel Prize in Literature “played a crucial role in promoting … the prize’s modern universalistic ideal” and at the same time highlights a contradiction in the “entrapment of artistic idealism in distinctly materialistic rewards” (Lovell 2006, 53). As a Nobel Prize Laureate, Tagore epitomized the contradiction, being lauded for the idealistic beauty in its literary prowess, philosophical insights, and poetic brilliance, while also gaining unparalleled global recognition and profiting its material benefits. The immediate effect, as Mukherjee notes, is that “If the Nobel award unloosed a flood of critical attention upon Tagore, it also stimulated a spate of publication of his work in English. By the end of 1914, two more volumes of verse, three plays and a book of essays were on the market” (Mukherjee 1964, 35). Aronson makes a similar observation that “During the second half of February 1913 almost all the leading newspapers in England, on the Continent, and in America, published editorial dealing with Rabindranath and the Nobel Prize” (Aronson 1943, 3). This surge in publications, accompanied by translations of his poetry into various languages, broadened the readership, enabling a more extensive audience to engage with his literary and philosophical thoughts.

Meanwhile, Tagore was transformed into a cultural ambassador for India and the East. He was highly sought after as a speaker and lecturer, receiving invitations to deliver talks at esteemed universities. His lectures and public readings of poetry garnered widespread acclaim, resonating with audiences in Britain, the United States, and beyond. The president of Yale University presented him with the Yale Bicentennial medal and remarked: “We welcome you as one of the great brotherhood of seekers for light and truth, we honor you as one to whom it has been given to help thousands — yea, millions — in that search” (as cited in Hay 1962, 447). Stephan Hay captures the fervor surrounding Tagore’s public engagements, noting that “Audiences filled to overflowing the halls and theatres where he spoke against the evils of nationalism, ‘at about seven hundred dollars per scold’” (Hay 1962, 447). Tagore’s impact was not confined to the literary sphere; his words resonated powerfully in the realms of politics, philosophy, and the quest for universal truths.

Publishers exhibited a strong preference for Tagore’s literary works, notably exemplified by the success of his poetry collection, Gitanjali. Published by Macmillan & Co., the collection experienced remarkable popularity, undergoing nine reprints and reaching a substantial circulation of approximately 15,000 copies in English between 1912 and 1920. The company extended its commitment to Tagore by publishing English versions of his other poetry collections, essays, and plays. Tagore’s literary endeavors were not only embraced by publishers but also garnered consistent attention from newspapers and magazines, which regularly featured reviews of his books and updates on his activities.

Tagore’s play, “The Post Office,” achieved critical acclaim during its performance in London in 1913, adding another dimension to his literary success. His association with the renowned British and American intellectuals, including the likes of writer and philosopher Bertrand Russell, further elevated his profile. Tagore’s visit to the United States in 1916 was a significant event, marked by extensive media coverage, invitation to speak in various cities, and encountered with notable figures such as Albert Einstein, Charlie Chaplin, and Helen Keller. The exposure propelled Tagore into the realm of celebrity, with his image gracing books and public places.

Mary Lago provides insights into the extent of Tagore’s visibility during his American tour, describing how he navigated “the strains of a four-month cross-country series of lectures-cum-entertainment at the hands of American civic organizations, ladies’ clubs, church, and academic audiences. He was spared the radio and television talk-show, but he was subjected to almost every other form of high-pressure advertising” (Lago 1989, 16). Far from being invisible, Tagore emerged as hypervisible, actively engaging with diverse audiences and leaving an indelible mark on the cultural landscape.

Tagore’s physical presence captivated both the media and prominent intellectuals during his visits to the U.S. and Europe. Tagore was often described as possessing a spiritual or ethereal quality. His tall stature, long white beard, and deep-set eyes imparted a striking, almost mystical aura. Tagore’s appearance and demeanor played a significant role in shaping his public persona, reinforcing the perception of him as a wise and enlightened figure in the eyes of many in the West. The media, particularly The American Review of Reviews, attached great importance to his image as a poet, offering a detailed portrayal of his physical features:

The Hindu poet’s flowing hair, his broad, unfurrowed forehead, his bright, black, magnetic eyes, chiselled nose, firm but gentle chin, delicate sensitive hands, his sweet voice, pleasant smile, keen sense of humor, and his innate refinement makes him a man of rare and charming personality. To look at him, is to notice the true embodiment of the artist. (as cited in Dees 1961, 13)

This depiction reflects the West’s keen observation of Tagore. Lago notes that “publicity and news reports stressed Tagore’s exotic appearance: ‘The poet who looked like a poet’” (Lago 1989, 16). Even intellectuals such as Thomas Sturge Moore, involved in translating Tagore’s work into English and recommending him to the Nobel Prize Committee, depicted his encounter with Tagore as “The poet himself is a sweet creature beautiful to the eye in a silk turban” (cited in O’Brien 2019, 122).

Mary Lago attributes this image of Tagore to the role of “Tagore-the-Prophet” assigned to him by the West. She interprets the Western perception of him as a reflection of their cultural symbols, particularly Christianity, stating “He looked the part: his grave and handsome features, long robes and grey beard seemed in prophetic accord with the Western iconography of soft-focus Bible illustrations and stained-glass windows” (Lago 1989, 5–6). She further explains, “To many, he was a Christ-figure turned Jeremiah” (Lago 1989, 16). This perspective aligns with the portrayal of Tagore by poet Frances Cornford, who remarked, “He is like a saint, and the beauty [and] dignity of his whole being is wonderful to remember … I can now imagine a powerful and gentle Christ, which I could never before” (cited in Jelnikar 2008, 1006). While these descriptions are complimentary, they reflect the Western gaze that tends to exoticize and imagine Tagore rather than truly see him for who he is.

In his work, Rabindranath through Western Eyes, Aronson attributes the mysterious aura assigned to Tagore by the West. He contends:

Tagore, the man, was a mystery to many. Most of the articles dealing with him, significantly enough, end with a question-mark. Some of his most sincere admirers, perhaps, admired him precisely for this element of mystery and oriental ambiguity. And his personality seemed to them ambiguous, not because he was a poet, but because he was an Indian. Both Schopenhauer and Omar Khayyam, and not very long ago Kipling, had taught them that the very essence of all things Eastern is some kind of super-personal and undefinable mystery. Therefore, when they met Rabindranath face to face, instead of looking upon him as a man among men, they elevated him to the level of a saint and a seer. They did so unconsciously, for it was part of their efforts at adjustment. And with an almost childish eagerness, they observed Rabindranath wherever he showed himself in public. (Aronson 1943, 14)

Aronson’s depiction underscores Collins’ assertion that “Tagore has ever been a prisoner of those who claimed to represent him” (Collins 2011).

As a subject and recipient of hypervisibility, Tagore keenly felt the weight. In a letter to Harriet Monroe, he expressed his sentiments, “I am like a show lion in a circus now … However, I shall try to look cheerful and go on dancing to the tune of your American dollar” (Mukherjee 1964, 83). Tagore was subject to intense scrutiny by the Western media and society, fascinated by his exoticness and perceived differences, while also appropriating his thought and culture. This dynamic reveals a power imbalance. While invisibility erases differences for the sake of control, hypervisibility exaggerates difference for the sake of curiosity, functioning as a different form of control. It reduces Tagore to a mere spectacle, and his actions and behaviors are interpreted based on his perceived identity or social role. Essentially, Tagore’s image was constructed by the media and society, with hypervisibility amplifying specific portrayals of him and curiosity of those observing. However, this curiosity proves to be fleeting, as Tagore’s fame was short-lived, demonstrating the transitory nature of the stage-like hypervisibility imposed upon him.

Hypervisibility is not a common occurrence in the realm of translators. The exceptional hypervisibility of Tagore can be attributed to several factors. Firstly, Tagore was not merely a translator; he embodied multiple roles as a writer, painter, artist, and educator. Consequently, his English translations were perceived as “original” rather than “derivative,” thus sparing him from being relegated to a secondary position or excluded altogether. However, the West still filtered their interpretation of Tagore by its own cultural perspectives, preconceived notions about the East, and the enduring influence of colonialism.

Secondly, Tagore’s hypervisibility can be attributed to Orientalist curiosity. The Western world found him intriguing and often categorized his works as belonging to the realm of “mysticism.” He was seen as an exotic, wise, peaceful, and charming figure, offering a remedy to their own cultural malaise and appeased their curiosity. The intensity of this curiosity, particularly in Germany, articulated by Aronson:

In Germany this feeling of frustration was quite naturally pronounced than anywhere else … Here the ‘the decline of the West’ was indeed a decline of the middle-classes and all they stand for. Ideals had to be supplied at short notice; for Germany realised that “the traditional European mental equipment will not be able to stop the decline of the West.” Rabindranath came like a deus ex machina when he was most needed. And Germany took hold of him with all her usual thoroughness and a good deal of pedantic scholasticism and considered him henceforth as a kind of glorified ‘leader’ of the German ‘soul’. (Aronson 1943, 35)

The Western audience fervently embraced and hailed him as an exceptional representative of the East. However, this hypervisibility often remained confined to a narrow and exoticized interpretation. Furthermore, this fascination with the “other” proved to be short-lived, as evidenced by Tagore’s swift ascent to fame follwed by his meteoritic decline.

Thirdly, Tagore’s hypervisibility stemmed from his cultural and social capital. Tagore’s cultural achievements, educational background, and social status endowed him with significant social and cultural capital, fostering fame and success not only inside India but also internationally. As an established writer, Tagore possessed a level of cultural and social capital that most translators lacked. This afforded him privileges otherwise unavailable or inaccessible to them. This advantage allowed him to enjoy publicity and other benefits to which ordinary translators could not access.

Furthermore, hypervisibility can also be viewed as a form of foreignization, involving exploitation on both economic and cultural fronts. From an economic perspective, publishers and the media organizations capitalized on the people’s fascination with differences, reaping profits from it. Culturally, this practice reinforces binary thinking, further segregating “us” from “them.” As the “other” appears more distinct, they become increasingly alien and distant, deepening the cultural divide. Hypervisibility accentuates differences, emphasizing the “otherness” of a culture in contrast to one’s own, perpetuating this divide.

9 Back to Invisibility

Amartya Sen succinctly depicts the reception of Tagore in the West during the first half of the twentieth century, with the observation:

For many years Tagore was the rage in many European countries. His public appearances were always packed with people wanting to hear him. But then the Tagore tide ebbed, and by the 1930s the huge excitement was all over. Indeed, by 1937, Graham Greene was able to remark, “As for Rabindranath Tagore, I cannot believe that anyone but Mr. Yeats can still take his poems very seriously.” (Sen 2011)

Sen. adeptly captures the dichotomy between Tagore’s initial popularity and subsequent obscurity, a stark contrast that has been a focal point of discussions surrounding Tagore’s fluctuating popularity. Sen primarily attributes the phenomenon to language barriers. He argues that translating poetry, especially the unique nuances of Bengali, is an arduous task bordering on impossible. Sen summarizes by stating, “Anyone who knows Tagore’s poems in Bengali would typically find it difficult to be really satisfied with any translation, no matter how good” (Sen 2011). Compounding this challenge is Tagore’s penchant for transforming Bengali through his innovative lyrical singing style known as Rabindrasangeet. Sen adds that Tagore’s poetry, often taking the form of songs, has revolutionized popular Bengali music with its distinctive combination of reflective language and harmonious tunes (Sen 2011). Sen considers Tagore’s groundbreaking reconstruction of modern Bengali comparable in significance to the achievements of Buddhist literary masters from a millennium ago. This recognition underscores Tagore’s “gigantic and epoch-making” influence on Bengali writing (Sen 2011). As language is intrinsic to identity, Western readers not only struggle to appreciate the recreated linguistic features in translation but also find it challenging to establish the same cultural connection as Tagore’s native audience. Sen acknowledges that few Western intellectuals, such as Pound and E. M. Forster, recognized the limitations of translation’s impact, yet even they lacked proficiency in Bengali. Only a rare few Westerners who could read Bengali and could truly appreciate Tagore in his original writing; the rest often perceived him as a fleeting “fad.”

The Western enchantment with Tagore often simplified him, pigeonholing him as “only as a romantic and a spiritualist” (Sen 2011). Ana Jelnikar observes that the Anglo-American literary elite played a significant role in shaping the Western adulation of Tagore, setting a tone that was often narrow and biased (Jelnikar 2008, 1006). Influential figures like Yeats and Pound contributed to this skewed portrayal, driven by a mix of intentional instrumentalization and a certain level of ignorance. Sen highlights that Yeats’ influence, noting how, in his introduction of Tagore, Yeats added explanatory remarks to underscore the religious aspect of Tagore’s poems, thereby diluting the rich ambiguity present in Tagore’s original language (Sen 2011). Yeats’ Anglocentric bias became evident when comparing his initial admiration of Tagore in 1912 to his later dismissal in 1935, where he disparagingly declared, “Damn Tagore […] Tagore does not know English, no Indian knows English … he brought out sentimental rubbish and wrecked his reputation” (cited in Hurwitz 1964a, 63).

Critics, including Joyce Kilmer, questioned Yeats’ credibility as a critic, highlighting his inconsistent appreciation for Tagore’s works, which often failed to capture their true essence (Mukherjee 1964, 19). William Radice, a seasoned Tagore scholar, laments that the co-option of Gitanjali by Western admirers, including Yeats, which he argues diluted and disguised its deeply personal aspects. Radice contends that these admirers, in Yeats’ words, viewed the poems as the “work of a supreme culture” rather than the expression of a reflective, suffering individual (Radice 2017, 20). Aronson also observed that the pervasive ignorance about Tagore’s Indian literary tradition, with many Europeans mistakenly believing he was the first poet from India. It was for this reason that they bestowed so much honor on him. Aronson also noted, “the fact that they did hear of him at all, convinced them more and more that Rabindranath’s literary antecedents could only be found in the West” (Aronson 1943, 108–9; italics original).

While recognizing the Western misinterpretations, it is crucial to acknowledge Tagore’s own role in shaping his image in the West. Adam Kirsch suggests that Tagore deliberately crafted an image of himself, both through his writing and physical appearance, as a holy man communing with nature and God, catering to Western expectations (Kirsch 2011). In Gitanjali, Kirsch identifies Tagore as portraying “a holy man living in a timeless world, communing ecstatically with nature and God” (Kirsch 2011). Kirsch thinks that Tagore tranforms his image from one of “regally masculine” in India to that of a “insignia of a guru” with a flowing mustache and beard, combined with a benevolent expression and a dhoti when he started to travel to Britain in 1912 (Kirsch 2011). In his Nobel Prize acceptance speech, Tagore expressed his conviction in the potential of Eastern wisdom to uplift the West, a mission he assigned to himself for his journey to the West.

In the Western milieu, Tagore’s arrival proved timely, as Sen elucidates, “The slaughter in that war made many intellectuals and literary figures in Europe turn to insights coming from elsewhere, and Tagore’s voice seemed to many, at the time, to fit the need splendidly” (Sen 2011). Consequently, Sen observes that “Tagore soon became identified in Europe as a sage with a teaching — a teaching that could, quite possibly, save Europe from the dire predicament of war and disaffection in which it recurrently found itself in the early twentieth century” (Sen 2011). In his initial foray into the West, Tagore seemed to fulfill these expectations to some extent. However, as Kirsch notes, “But Tagore knew that the role he was playing in the West was not his real self — just as the prose translations he made in “Gitanjali,” with their old-fashioned diction and Biblical echoes, were not much like the original Bengali verse” (Kirsch 2011). Thus, the depiction of Tagore as a mystic or emissary from the East was a collaborative construct, shaped both by his Western audience and Tagore himself.

After the initial acclaim, enthusiasm for Tagore’s work began to dwindle, giving away to skepticism and doubt, fueled by a sense of defeat and spiritual disillusionment. Aronson suggests that in the aftermath of the war, the West, perhaps grappling with feelings of shame beyond the circle of defeat, sought reasons to discredit Indian literature, epitomized by Tagore. Aronson reflects the prevailing mindset of the Western readers at the time:

Perhaps, our worship and admiration for Rabindranath was, after all, a mistake, a misunderstanding excusable only because of the utter intellectual collapse after the war! And since India, according to them, has never produced a literature of her own, Rabindranath can hardly be considered an Indian poet at all. (Aronson 1943, 119)

Behind the negation was a reaffirmation of the Western supremacy, with the idea that

Tagore … is a product, not of India, but of Anglo-India. It is, indeed, a strange thought that, had Macaulay never planned Indian education, this mystic might never have written. All his works show traces of Western and Christian influences, as well as of his own India which predominates but his India is that of the English Raj, just as his thought is that of an Indian educated by European methods. (cited in Aronson 1943: 120)

The decline in Tagore’s renown was exacerbated by a lack of comprehension and appreciation for his literary style in the West. Aronson notes that the Western readers often perceived Tagore’s literary style as either too distant, abstract, or too antiquated for them to establish an intimate connection with (Aronson 1943, 120).

During its time, one noteworthy facet of Tagore’s Bengali Gitanjali, its rich musicality, is often underappreciated or even ignored by Western readers. This lack of appreciation can be attributed, in part, to Tagore’ own adaptations and, equally so, to the Western audience’s unfamiliarity with Tagore’s writings and Indian literature as a whole. Lago laments this oversight, stating, “Unfortunately for both the West and for Tagore, many of his readers never knew — still do not know — that so many of his poems were written as words for music, with musical and verbal imagery and rhythms designed to support and enhance each other” (Lago 1976, 41).

The reluctance to embrace simplicity and the failure to appreciate mystical poetry further contributed to the decline in Tagore’s reputation, as Aronson insightfully points out:

This constant fear of committing oneself, of being ‘too simple,’ indicates the ever-deepening crisis of the Western sensibility. Indeed, it appears as though the decline of Rabindranath’s fame in the literary West was due to a general decline of all positive beliefs, to a lowering of the level of experience and, therefore, of criticism. (Aronson 1943, 121)

Aronson critiques the Western response, suggesting that the diminishing renown of Tagore might mark the beginning of his “true” fame, liberated from the hysterical acclamations of frustrated masses and destined to mature in the quiet passage of centuries. The weariness can be felt by Tagore himself too, as he said: “Only I feel like a departing guest at a weary ceremony of farewell when the railway train, which is to take him away, makes an unaccountable delay in spite of repeated whistles” (as cited in Aronson 1943, 123).

Other critics point out additional reasons for Tagore’s diminishing popularity. Mary Lago attributes the decline to “Western preconceptions and misconceptions, facile romanticizing, the intractable British-Indian conflict, and general change in literary taste all contributed” (Lago 1989, 5). Gibson suggests that “Tagore’s initial reception in London exemplifies the limits of the discourse of authenticity, its potential for imprisoning poets and their poetry and for rendering illegible the simultaneous uncontemporaneities of modernisms” (Gibson 2011, 267). Yu-ting Lee believes that the Western audiences soon outgrew the cultural orientalism and began seeking new perspectives (Lee 2013, 229). Nevertheless, I contend political factors outweigh others in significance.

Politics stands out as a pivotal factor that punctured the carefully constructed image of Tagore in the West. Initially, Tagore’s composite portrayal predominantly emphasized his literary, religious, and educational dimensions, deliberately sidelining his political facets during the early stages of his introduction to the Western audience. Kalyan Kundu et al. observe that the British press rarely mentioned the political side of Tagore prior to 1916. They note:

That Tagore, from an early age, was involved in the nationalist movement was not conveyed to the British public by the press. There were many articles ‘introducing’ him to the West routinely itemizing his aristocratic background, his grounding in English literature, his journeys to the West, his refined, almost Christian mystic spirituality. There was total silence on his leading role in the Swadeshi an anti-partition movement of 1905, his patriotic writings, his views against British imperialism. Indeed, Rhys, the first English biographer of Tagore, was praised for not discussing Tagore’s politics in his book. (Kundu, Bhattacharya, and Sircar 2000, xxxiv)

However, as Tagore’s popularity and publicity grew, maintaining the suspension of his political side became untenable. Kalyan Kundu et al. note that by 1921, The Times (January 6, 1921) reported Tagore’s views on the League of Nations, derisively labeling it both the ‘League of Vagabonds’ and ‘League of Robbers’” (Kundu, Bhattacharya, and Sircar 2000, xlii). The Morning Post, on April 9, 1921, quoted Tagore as saying that ‘Western civilization was of no benefit to native states’ (Kundu, Bhattacharya, and Sircar 2000, xlii). According to The Christian World on April 27, 1922, Tagore seemed to deviate from his previous role as a faithful mediator between the East and the West, expressing concern that “The political events of the last few years, however, seem to have been too much for him. The Western spirit, he fears, with its mechanical and material collectivism, is killing the free impulse of individualism and humanity” (Kundu, Bhattacharya, and Sircar 2000, xliii). On Tagore’s side, his publications shifted away from devotional or love-themed poetry, as he actively articulated his social and political stands on nationalism, colonialism, and modern nation-state through his speeches and writings. Notably these works were often directly composed in English rather than being translated, reflecting Tagore intention to present his comprehensive thoughts directly to his Western audience (Collins 2012, 14).

However, the Western audience, entrenched in long-standing colonial perspectives, largely framed Tagore within familiar tropes. As Collins notes, “The discursive construction of Tagore was frequently centered around the common themes that Western audiences had used to frame colonial subjects throughout the nineteenth century: the image of Tagore as a ‘soft, gentle Christ,’ the echoes of Christianity in his poetry” (Collins 2012, 64). Pound’s words encapsulate the sentiment of the Western audience, “Rabindranath Tagore as a mystic poet, as a seer from the East was welcome in Britain, but not a political Rabindranath” (cited in Collins 2012, 53). Lago notices that the publication of Nationalism, which criticizes Western-originated nationalism, in 1917 marked a change in the general public’s reception of Tagore (Lago 1989, 15). With “the political Tagore gained ascendency over the poetical Tagore” in the 1920s, Kalyan Kundu et al. note a decline in interest in Tagore, stating that “interest in Tagore had touched low web, in spite of the sudden warming up of the Press in 1926” (Kundu, Bhattacharya, and Sircar 2000, xlviii). Tagore’s politics and social engagement turned away the media, and gradually, news and reviews about Tagore faded away.

The average readers in the West, accustomed to the “tradition” of the Eastern literature “invented” by Western Orientalists, found it disappointing that Tagore did not conform to this established lineage. As Aronson remarks, “Rabindranath, however, is not exotic writer—in the sense in which Omar Khayyam or even Kipling appealed to the European public. Therefore, it is not surprising to find that many readers turned away from Rabindranath disappointed, because they did not find in his books the necessary exotic outlet for their Western inhibitions” (Aronson 1943, 17). This long-standing perception of an imagined East not only hindered Western readers from embracing Tagore in his true essence but also posed an obstacle for Tagore to overcome.

The Western perception of Tagore was confined within their political, social, and economic frameworks, as Collins notes, Tagore, representing a historically subordinate cultural tradition, challenged these boundaries, embodying a resistance to both cultural differences and cultural power (Collins 2012, 18). Initially intrigued by Tagore’s Eastern message and their own crises, the West, upon reflection, began to question and defend their own civilization. Aronson observes that the success of this Eastern poet led to doubts and misgivings among both the average Westerners and intellectuals. Concerns arose about preserving what they deemed worthy in Western civilization, especially as Tagore’s influence seemed to encroach and pose a threat (Aronson 1943, 43–44). This realization led Western defenders to take measures to “preserve the integrity of European tradition at a time when this integrity was gravely endangered by events of a political and social nature” (Aronson 1943, 44).

It is evident that Tagore’s endeavors toward foreignization and Western readers’ foreignization eventually collided. While Tagore’s foreignization aimed to authentically represent his true self, culture, and genuine fusion of East and West, Western readers’ foreignization tended to exoticize him and his works, aligning with preconceived notions and the tradition of Orientalism. The irony lies in the fact that domestication allowed Tagore to gain visibility, whereas foreignization contributed to his descent into obscurity. Even the earlier visibility warrants consideration, as it was achieved by his partially relinquishing his Bengali literary styles and culture. Essentially, Tagore’s visibility as a translator and an author was constructed upon another form of invisibility. Thus, the crucial consideration is not merely visibility or invisibility but rather how the dynamics of foreignizing and domesticating strategies operate within and against the power dynamics. Translation, in this context, both functions within this power relationship and acts against it.

10 Conclusion

Translation, as argued by Venuti, carries inherently political dimensions. Through the differentiation of domesticating and foreignizing translation strategies, Venuti seeks to unveil the hegemonic power of the Anglo-American cultures in assimilating other cultures into English language and culture during the translation process. He characterizes domestication as a strategy aligned with this assimilative objective, advocating for foreignization as a countermeasure. However, critics have noted that this binary thinking has limitations, and relying solely on foreignization may not offer a conclusive solution.

Tagore’s venture into self-translation into English unfolded within a colonial context, intensifying the challenges elucidated by Venuti. Sherry Simon points out that “‘translation’ refers not only to the transfer of specific texts into European languages, but to all the practices whose aim was to compact and reduce an alien reality into the terms imposed by a triumphant Western culture” (Simon 2000). Tagore’s act of translation thus represents not only himself as an individual but also symbolizes a colonized nation and culture in general. As a prominent author from a colonized nation, Tagore’s situation introduces more complexities than those faced by an ordinary or a minority translator in postcolonial or contemporary contexts, as per Venuti’s theory.

Rabindranath Tagore’s case provides a nuanced illustration of the complex interplay between domestication and foreignization strategies, challenging the simplicity of Venuti’s dichotomy. Confronted with colonial and cultural hegemony, Tagore navigated a paradoxical situation where he needed to render certain aspects of his literature and culture invisible to become visible himself. To gain acknowledgement and publication in the English world, he resorted to assimilation, employing domestication as a strategy. This is evident in both the genre of the texts he chose to translate and the specific translation strategies he adopted. Concurrently, British and American readers, utilizing both domesticating and foreignizing strategies, assimilated Tagore into their cultural and literary expectations while also exoticizing him as an Indian mystic guru or prophet for their own purposes. These dual translation strategies, despite their distinct aims, converged, propelling Tagore to an unprecedented status, making him not only visible but hypervisible during World War I in the West.

Tagore employed both domestication and foreignization in his translations, and, in return, the English-speaking world reciprocally domesticated and foreignized him. These strategies were intertwined within the same power dynamics, where foreignization, while challenging Anglo-American cultural dominance, could also be employed as a tool of control. Similarly, domestication had the potential to function as a means of cultural domination while laying the groundwork for the introduction of foreign culture and its message.

However, as time progressed, disparities or misinterpretations surfaced. Tagore was not content with being perceived as the poet of ancient India, a role often imagined by Western audiences. When his lectures and political thoughts emerged as a form of foreignizing translation, Western audiences, already feeling somewhat alienated, became disinterested and some even felt threatened. The unbalanced power structure hindered Tagore from wholly expressing himself, and Western readers were not captivated by his authentic self.

Tagore’s case sheds light on the intricacies surrounding the visibility of non-Western culture in the Western world. While supporting Venuti’s political stance against Anglo-American hegemony, it is crucial to recognize the power dynamics inherent in foreignizing strategies. The global dissemination of Tagore’s English translations, within the context of English as the universal language, attests to its pervasive power, presenting an Anglo-Americanized version of himself and his works to a global audience. The subtleties of the domesticating and foreignizing strategies that rendered Tagore both invisible and hypervisible often escape notice in the mediation process. Readers in English-speaking countries, and elsewhere, seldom grasp the full extent of this cultural manipulation.

Therefore, Tagore’s experience serves as a reminder that a sole focus on visibility or an exclusive reliance on foreignizing translation strategies may not effectively challenge or resist Western hegemonic power. Instead, efforts should be directed towards safeguarding against the pervasive influence of imperial power in exchanges between minority and dominant nations, languages, and cultures.