This is a Part 2 of my interview with Nahar Trina.
EN: You translated Toni Morrison’s novel Sula into Bengali. What drew you to this particular book, and what challenges did you face in carrying Morrison’s rich, poetic language, cultural nuances, and emotional depth from English into Bengali? How did the process of translating her work influence your own writing, especially in terms of voice, rhythm, or exploring themes like friendship, grief, and Black womanhood?
Nahar Trina: Before translating Toni Morrison’s Sula, I was a devoted reader of her work, and I still am. By the time I began translating Sula , I had already published four translated books. Among them were two collections of children's stories featuring tales from home and abroad, and a translation of a short story collection for adults comprising works by some of the most celebrated authors in world literature. Another significant project was translating ‘Death to Life, Bangladesh’, a book by Jim McKinley based on the 1971 Liberation War of my motherland. The modest confidence I gained from translating these diverse books largely gave me the audacity to take on this particular novel by Toni Morrison.
Truth be told, I encountered obstacles at almost every turn while translating Sula. It is a reality that proficiency in the English language alone does not guarantee a successful literary translation. This is because language is intrinsically bound to culture. While it might be possible to break down linguistic barriers, scaling cultural walls often proves to be far more daunting. Added to this was Morrison's highly distinctive and peculiar prose style.
In any translation, I generally strive to prioritize the contextual essence first and then focus on the literal words. I strictly adhered to this approach for this novel as well. To readers of world literature, Toni Morrison is a deeply revered figure. She possesses a narrative style entirely her own—one that is simultaneously intricate and mesmerizing. The more adept a translator is at dissecting the spellbinding nature of Morrison's language, the more lucid the core narrative becomes in translation. Personally, I believe attempting to translate her work is an act of sheer audacity, as her writing demands immense effort. When dealing with such challenging texts, a piece of advice from Gabriel García Márquez serves as a brilliant strategy: he noted that the easiest way to truly understand a foreign book is to translate it. My desire to comprehend Morrison's writing on a deeper level, combined with my growing fascination with her work, encouraged me to display this audacity. Furthermore, I felt that introducing the readers of my native language to the creation of such a rare and monumental literary figure would be immensely enriching. This thought also fueled my courage to translate Sula.
Moreover, as a translator, I felt that Sula had the power to create a profound impact on Bengali readers in various ways. Although published around 1973, its appeal remains timeless —especially for women in a society like ours, where women are still compelled to live within patriarchal structures. Here, a woman's personal freedom is often subjected to ridicule, and speaking of sexual autonomy is considered almost sacrilegious. Among the four central women in Sula, except for Nel Wright, the other three were remarkably advanced in terms of personal independence—especially Sula herself. The way Sula voiced her longing to live as an independent entity in such a hostile, prejudice-ridden era decades ago makes her journey even more deserving of recognition today. Through Sula, perhaps the seeds can be sown for readers to aspire to—not lawlessness—but a truthful, independent existence. This vision heavily influenced my decision to translate the book.
Another compelling reason was the novel's depiction of good versus evil. The tension between these two elements revolves around the core narrative. Yet, there is no overt attempt to explicitly label what is good or what is bad. None of the major characters bother to justify their actions or engage in rigorous self-defense. Their lives simply unfold like flowing water or the passage of time. Morrison leaves the judgment of good and evil, sin and virtue, entirely to the readers. Furthermore, it is impossible not to fall in love with the profound friendship between two individuals evolving from girlhood to womanhood that lies at the very heart of the book. The temptation to share my own profound admiration for this work with Bengali-speaking readers played a definitive role in translating Sula. Ultimately, as to how much her work has influenced me as an author, I believe that is for my readers to judge.
Your English-Language Debut
EN: Your recent English-language debut, Fleeting Impressions, is a collection of flash fiction exploring grief, belonging, and the quiet power of language. What inspired you to move into flash fiction for this book, and how does it connect to or differ from the stories in your Bengali collections like Studio Apartment (which won the Ekushey Book Fair award)?
Nahar Trina: The biggest inspiration behind writing the flash fiction pieces in Fleeting Impressions was the desire to capture the profound depth hidden within transient, momentary emotions. In this genre, the unwritten rule of “show, don't tell” deeply attracts me. This form allows the narrative of an entire lifetime to be distilled into just a few lines. A fleeting image, a sudden silence, or an unfinished sentence—each becomes as powerful as a full-length story. Due to displacement and geographical relocation, the fragmentation that seeps into life, the sudden stirrings of memory, or the soft shadows of grief—these emotions often materialize more vividly through brief, sharp, and silent prose rather than lengthy descriptions. Flash fiction has taught me to harness the power of that silence. This minimalist form has instilled a sense of discipline in me; here, the weight of every single word and the quietness of every pause matters. It feels like a distillation of emotions through language.
There is both a bridge and a distinction between this work and my Bengali stories. The stories in ‘Studio Apartment’, which was selected as the best short story collection in the Pencil Publications Talent Hunt Competition at the Ekushey Book Fair in 2020, are comparatively longer, character-driven, and allowed me the time to carefully craft the atmosphere. (On a side note regarding my other works, the children's story collection ‘Vindeshi Goppo’ (2023) was published after winning an award in the Ekushey Book Fair manuscript competition, and my first prose book, ‘GoddoCollage’ (2026), was published after being selected in a manuscript competition organized by Kitab-e Publications of West Bengal, India). In my Bengali books, I could seamlessly utilize the intimacy and comfort that our mother tongue naturally provides.
On the other hand, since English is an acquired language for me—a process that is still very much ongoing—writing in it requires a high degree of conscious effort and caution, which is never the case with Bengali. Spontaneity possesses a unique strength of its own, which is quite evident in my Bengali stories, and I am consistently striving to bring that same fluidity into my English writing. I hope readers will notice that very effort to find a rhythm within the English language in Fleeting Impressions.
Yet, a deep thread connects both books—they both attempt to explore the quiet, internal landscapes of human beings. Grief, loneliness, the tug-of-war of memories, and the experience of changing homes—all of these themes return in both languages, albeit in different forms. Alongside presenting narratives in elaborate detail, flash fiction has taught me that not all stories need to be spoken aloud; many stories can be whispered. And sometimes, it is within those whispers that the truest emotions are captured.
On Legacy, Bridges, and the Future
EN: Looking at your journey—from editing Golpopath to publishing in both Bengal and international platforms—what do you hope your body of work contributes to Bengali literature and to the broader South Asian diasporic conversation? What are you working on or dreaming about next?
Nahar Trina: My journey from editing to my own creative writing—has been a continuous process of learning and exploration. My involvement in the Bengali literary world is not just as an author; for a long time, I served as both an editor and a writer for three literary webzines: Porua, Shishukagoj, and Golpopath, (though the publications for Porua and Shishukagoj have now ceased). This experience taught me that editing is not merely about selecting texts or proofreading spellings; it is about carefully nurturing a writer's voice, clarifying their vision, and building a bridge of dialogue with the reader.
Conversely, my role in the English medium is different—there, I am primarily an author. When writing in English, I find that the language provides a certain necessary distance, opening up opportunities for analysis, structure, and connection with a global audience. Furthermore, working in English allows me to regularly learn from international editors. They evaluate a piece of writing based strictly on its literary merit rather than personal acquaintance, which I find immensely inspiring. When an article or story requires edits prior to publication, the warmth, sincerity, and professionalism they display not only help me grow but also leave me deeply impressed. The experience in the Bengali literary circle is often quite different, where a writer’s familiarity or personal network sometimes takes precedence over the actual quality of the text. This occasionally confronts me with ethical questions as a writer. Nevertheless, both contrasting environments have taught me invaluable lessons and have positively shaped my literary journey.
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Currently, I am working on a few short stories, translations, and long-form essays where the boundaries of language, memory, and identity blur into one another. My dream is to create a body of work in both Bengali and English that offers readers not just a narrative, but an immersive experience—where roots and displacement, home and exile, memory and the present moment coexist. Additionally, one of my primary goals next is to translate my debut Bengali novel, which is set against a historical backdrop, into English. There are still so many stories waiting to be penned; writing is an endless, continuous journey. My only wish is to remain on this path as long as it brings me joy.
EN: May it ever be so. Thank you, Nahar, for sharing your story.
Read Nahar Trina's A Shoreless Abyss.
