Poetry Analysis: Dui Bigha Jomi by Tagore

“Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history.” ~ Plato

This poem is one of my all time favorites. It has been taken from the novel “Chitra” and had been first published in “Kotha o Kahini”. Haven’t yet found a good enough English translated version of this! I have attached here the pictures of the Bengali version of the poem.

The following analysis of the literal meaning of the poem “Dui Bigha Jomi” (My Little Piece Of Land) by Rabindranath Tagore, is my own work and I seek your apologies in case of any mistakes.

The background of the poem is the oppression of the rich over the poor. There has been this constant imbalance between the two sections of the society since time immemorial. This poem is also based on the exploitation of the poor farmers by the then rich landlords.

This is a poem where the 1st person is a poor farmer, named Upen.

First paragraph:

It was just a small piece of land that all I (the poor farmer) had, rest all are lost to pay for the loans I had. Sir (the landlord) told me, “Do you get it Upen? I’ll buy your piece of land.

I replied, “You are the lord of the land. Countless are your lands. Look at mine, I hardly have a plot to burry myself when I die.”

On this the King (the landlord) says, “Bapu, you know that I have this yard created; if I add your plot into mine, it will become even in its length and breadth. You’ll have to give that to me.”

With teary eyes and hands on my chest I did say, “Save the plot of the poor. That land of my ancestors is equivalent to a plot of gold for me. Am I so useless that I’ll sell my mother when fallen by poverty?”

The King had his eyes turn red with anger at this and kept quiet for a while. At last, he cruelly grinned and said, “Okay! Let’s see!”

Second paragraph:

After a month and a half, I had to be homeless as I was falsely accused of defaulting a loan-decree. Alas in this world, it is the one who has a lot, wants it even more! It is the hands of the King that steals the wealth of the poor!

I thought to my mind, God doesn’t want me to thrive in that pit of attachment and so He destined me with this wide open blue sky instead of that plot of land.

In the attire of a sage, I roam around at places as a disciple of a saint. So, did I visit, so many shrines and see beautiful sights! Be it on the land or the waters, in solitude or in the city mutters, wherever I roam, do I never forget, that plot of land, day in and day out.

Spread all over the marketplace, on the banks and in the fields, so did I spend years — fifteen or sixteen. One day at last, to return to my mother land, I was longing a lot.

Third paragraph:

Namaskar to the beautiful motherland of Bengal! Banks of the Ganges, pure wind, you fill up my life. The free landscape and the horizon kissing the dust of your feet. In the shades, the dwellings of peace, those tiny villages in it!

Those dense mango orchard, the playhouse of the shepherds, silent is the deep black waters of the water bodies there.

The sight of the Bengali housewives, carrying waters to their homes, my mind rushes with the thoughts of my mother, tears fill up my eyes.

After two more days, in the second half of the day, I reached my own village. Leaving the potter’s house in the south, past the field in the left, crossing the market-place and leaving behind the temple, here I reach at last, near my home, tired and haggard.

Fourth paragraph:

Shame, shame, oh shame! My shameless plot of land! You belong to the one, whoever you are with! Such is the sort of mother you are!

Do you not remember the times when you were the mother of a poor farmer? You used to keep us full with your fruits, flowers, plants and leaves! Today in what grief, to erase whose memory, do you assume this glamourous look? Multi-colors are the leaves now woven in your veil, flowers decorate your hair-band!

I have for you roamed around like a divorcee, homeless and sad. You are here meanwhile, hey monstrous, enjoying your days in smiles?!

Adulated by the rich, you are so proud that you have changed so much! Nowhere can I find that remains, even a sign of what I had left you like, in those days behind!

You were gracious then, a source of purity. However wide your smiles today might be, however well you may deck up, you were then a Goddess, now a slave you have become!

Fifth paragraph:

With a grieving heart, I roam all around and look all around, by the side of the high-rise, still stands that mango tree! What is it!

I sat down under the tree and the rolling tears calmed down all my pain; one-by-one sprung the memories of my childhood days!

I remember the storms in the summer, kept us up all night! We would wake up too early in the next mornings, with the motive to quickly pluck all the injured fallen mangoes!

In those sweet silent afternoons, that we used to flee classrooms, was thinking, alas, will I ever again get this life back anywhere?

Sixth paragraph:

All of a sudden, as if the wind exhaled and shook the twigs of the tree, two ripe fruits dropped on the ground, just nearby my lap.

I thought in my mind, so after so long, my mother has recognized me! That she was kind enough to give these two fruits to me, I bowed my head down to her in honor for quite a few times!

Seventh paragraph:

Alas! Right at that moment, like a messenger of death, comes the gardener. He started screaming at me at the highest pitch of his voice.

Then did I say, “I had given up all my property silently years back. These two fruits that I claim, is this uproar for that?”

The gardener didn’t recognize me and dragged me to the landlord.

The landlord was busy fishing with his fishing rod and his cronies. As soon as he heard the event description, he lashed out in rage, “Will thrash him to death!” As much as the landlord said this, his cronies amplified it to hundred folds. I said, “It is only these two mangoes, I beg of you Mister!”

The landlord says laughing, “The rascal is saintly in appearance, but is an expert thief of-course!

Hearing it I laugh, tears roll down my cheeks, this was what was in my store? You the King, is the saint today, I am today a thief of-course.

My take on the inner meaning of the poem:

• n the first paragraph, we get to see the strength of character of the poor farmer. He has nothing to back his opposition, yet he opposes to sell off his land to the landlord. He is neither won over by fear, nor by greed, he holds his flag high in the admiration he has for the land of his forefathers.
• In the second paragraph, we see the cruelty of the oppressive landlord. He throws away the poor farmer homeless by falsely accusing him in a loan-decree. Again, we see here the strength of character of the farmer, he consoles himself with the thought that God wants him to be free from the pit of attachment and hence has made the wide blue sky his roof. Also, we find here that despite all the struggles he was having with his emotions and situations, he was still having an attachment with his motherland. It was absolutely nothing that could detach him from the fond memories of his land, not even a span of 15–16 long years of separation.
• In the third paragraph, we get to see the description of the scenic beauty addressed to the mother earth when he decides to walk back to his motherland in Bengal. Here, we also find how the farmer clearly remembers all the landmarks on the way to his home, even after 16 long years. This also shows that the sweet, little, poor but fond things remain unchanged for longer periods of time, while the riches change the entire look of a place.
• In fourth paragraph, the poet beautifully imagines and captures the reaction of a bereaved loyal son when he finds that the motherland doesn’t anymore bear any signs of his memories. This hits hard. In reality too, the look of the mother earth keeps changing over time with the arrival and departure of lives. Civilizations build, civilizations get destroyed, but the land stays there all along, belonging to every civilization!
• In the fifth paragraph, we get a glimpse of his past life — poor though, yet rich with life.
• In the sixth paragraph, we again get to see how beautifully the poet depicts the beauty of the farmer’s character. The fruits did not fall on his lap, but fell nearby his lap. This opens up an opportunity for the person in the situation, how he interprets and we can see how beautifully the farmer had received this as a blessing of his motherland.
• In the seventh paragraph, we again get to see the cruelty, even in the workers of the landlord. There is a mention that the gardener did not recognize the farmer, even after he said that he had given away his piece of land long back, it is just these two fruits that he claimed. Next, we see even more cruelty. How the landlord reacts and how his accomplices amplify that reaction. There is no mention by the poet if the farmer was killed at last or if he managed to survive. This was left open for the readers to imagine. The poet also did not mention if the landlord recognized the farmer or not, it seems that he did not recognize and even if he would, it’s very unlikely that he would have treated the farmer any different.
• The last line is so powerful; it steals the show. I paste it here again — You the King, is the saint today, I am today a thief of-course.

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