What struck me when I first met Shri Ramakant Rath at Ravindra Mandap in Bhubaneswar during the release of my first Odia short story collection, Akashara Luha (2015), was his meticulous preparation. He had underlined lines and passages from my collection and was eager to share his thoughts on my work. Unlike many others, he focused on the stories and the storyteller, offering profound observations.
In private, he shared two key pieces of advice: that I should never doubt myself as an exceptional storyteller, and he asked whether I focus more on ‘plot’ or ‘character’ in my stories. At that moment, I didn’t have a coherent response to his question, which prompted me to reflect and clarify my thoughts. I tentatively answered, “Probably character.”
My second story collection, Chira Malata (2017), helped me find that clarity.
In my literary journey, I have encountered very few authors like Ramakant Rath, as he truly embodies his existence in his work. During our conversation, I suggested that even if he had only written Sri Radha, he would still be remembered in Indian and world literature. His response to my observation was a faint smile. I understood that he sought to give equal credit to all his works, but such is an author’s fate; sometimes, readers determine worth, and particular creations transcend their creators.
Ramakant is likely the first Odia poet of the twentieth century to experiment with a popular character to weave a long poem expressing love’s mundane and philosophical aspects in all its complexities. He demonstrates the ultimate strength of love through surrender. Written in free verse with lyrical intensity, Sri Radha epitomises mastery of the Odia language.
The more writers master their craft, the simpler the language becomes, making it more accessible to a broader audience. Through Sri Radha, he introduces a new dimension to Odia poetry at a time when global literature was liberating itself from realism and striving to express ideas through the complex forms of modernism, romanticism, and existentialism.
While attending Ravenshaw College, I read Sri Radha for the first time in the 1980s. It helped me overcome my aversion to modern Odia poetry of that time, which often featured excessive symbols, similes, and metaphors and lacked craft.
Ramakant’s portrayal of Radha was earthy, human, pristine, and feminine, and the way her story was told was uniquely mundane, day-to-day, yet metaphysical and romantic. It blended self-introspection with universal themes. The exploration of love, longing, and separation was beautifully intertwined—simple and smooth like the flow of a stream. The depiction of love, combined with surrender, transforms any reader into a Radha, regardless of their biological gender.
The beauty of Ramakant lies in making Radha the quintessential symbol of love, both ethereal and platonic, transcending space and time. I have read and re-read Sri Radha many times at different stages of my life. I have also often listened to Odia literature enthusiasts reciting this long poem.
When I read modernist poets like T.S. Eliot, Pablo Neruda, or Octavio Paz, I think of Ramakant Rath. They all blend the aesthetics of Modernismo with European modernist experimentation, suggesting a shared exploration of similar ideas across various contexts while often merging indigenous myths with cosmopolitan concepts. All of them delve into identity, history, solitude, and the simplicity of expression as the universal language of modernity.
Sri Radha inspired numerous attempts by later poets, yet none reached that height. Many may strive to achieve this in the future; however, I believe Sri Radha will remain unmatched in literature for centuries, and Ramakant Rath will live forever.
(The author is Ambassador of India to Bulgaria and North Macedonia)
