The Picture of Dorian Gray | Progressively Translated Hindi B2 Books

The Picture of Dorian Gray | Progressively Translated Hindi B2 Books

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THEPREFACE
Theartististhecreatorofbeautifulthings.
To
प्रकट
reveal
artandconcealtheartistisart’saim.
The
आलोचक
critic
ishewhocan
अनुवाद
translate
intoanothermanneroranewmaterialhis
धारणा
impression
ofbeautifulthings.
Thehighestasthe
निम्नतम
lowest
formofcriticismisamodeofautobiography.
Thosewhofinduglymeaningsinbeautifulthingsare
भ्रष्ट
corrupt
withoutbeingcharming.
Thisisafault.
Thosewhofindbeautifulmeaningsinbeautifulthingsarethecultivated.
Forthesethereishope.
Theyaretheelecttowhombeautifulthingsmeanonlybeauty.
Thereisnosuchthingasa
नैतिक
moral
oranimmoralbook.
Booksarewellwritten,orbadlywritten.
Thatisall.
Thenineteenthcenturydislikeofrealismisthe
क्रोध
rage
ofCalibanseeinghisownfaceinaglass.
Thenineteenthcentury
नापसंद
dislike
ofromanticismisthe
क्रोध
rage
ofCalibannotseeinghisownfaceinaglass.
Themorallifeofmanformspartofthesubject-matteroftheartist,butthemoralityofartconsistsintheperfectuseofan
अपूर्ण
imperfect
medium.
Noartistdesirestoproveanything.
Eventhingsthataretruecanbeproved.
Noartisthas
नैतिक
ethical
sympathies.
Anethicalsympathyinanartistisanunpardonablemannerismofstyle.
Noartistisevermorbid.
Theartistcanexpresseverything.
Thoughtandlanguagearetotheartistinstrumentsofanart.
Viceandvirtuearetotheartistmaterialsforanart.
Fromthepointofviewofform,thetypeofalltheartsistheartofthe
संगीतकार
musician
.
Fromthepointofviewoffeeling,theactor’s
शिल्प
craft
isthetype.
Allartisatoncesurfaceand
प्रतीक
symbol
.
Thosewhogobeneaththesurfacedosoattheirperil.
Thosewhoreadthe
प्रतीक
symbol
dosoattheirperil.
Itisthe
दर्शक
spectator
,andnotlife,thatartreallymirrors.
विविधता
Diversity
ofopinionaboutaworkofartshowsthattheworkisnew,
जटिल
complex
,andvital.
Whencritics
असहमत
disagree
,theartistisinaccordwithhimself.
Wecanforgiveamanformakingausefulthingaslongashedoesnot
प्रशंसा
admire
it.
Theonlyexcuseformakingauselessthingisthatoneadmiresitintensely.
Allartisquiteuseless.
अध्याय
CHAPTER
I.
Thestudiowasfilledwiththerichodourofroses,andwhenthelightsummerwindstirredamidstthetreesofthegarden,therecamethroughtheopendoortheheavy
गंध
scent
ofthelilac,orthemore
नाजुक
delicate
perfumeofthepink-floweringthorn.
FromthecornerofthedivanofPersiansaddle-bagsonwhichhewaslying,smoking,aswashiscustom,innumerablecigarettes,LordHenryWottoncouldjustcatchthegleamofthehoney-sweetandhoney-colouredblossomsofalaburnum,whosetremulousbranchesseemedhardlyabletobearthe
बोझ
burden
ofabeautysoflamelikeastheirs;
andnowandthenthefantasticshadowsofbirdsinflightflittedacrossthelongtussore-silkcurtainsthatwerestretchedinfrontofthehugewindow,producingakindofmomentaryJapaneseeffect,andmakinghimthinkofthosepallid,jade-facedpaintersofTokyowho,throughthemediumofanartthatisnecessarilyimmobile,seekto
व्यक्त
convey
thesenseofswiftnessand
गति
motion
.
Thesullenmurmurofthebeesshoulderingtheirwaythroughthelongunmowngrass,orcirclingwithmonotonousinsistenceroundthe
धूल
dusty
gilthornsofthestragglingwoodbine,seemedtomakethestillnessmore
दमनकारी
oppressive
.
ThedimroarofLondonwaslikethebourdonnoteofa
दूर
distant
organ.
Inthecentreoftheroom,clampedtoan
सीधा
upright
easel,stoodthefull-length
चित्र
portrait
ofayoungmanofextraordinarypersonalbeauty,andinfrontofit,somelittledistanceaway,wassittingtheartisthimself,BasilHallward,whosesudden
गायब
disappearance
someyearsagocaused,atthetime,suchpublic
उत्तेजना
excitement
andgaverisetosomanystrangeconjectures.
Asthe
चित्रकार
painter
lookedatthegraciousandcomelyformhehadsoskilfullymirroredinhisart,asmileofpleasurepassedacrosshisface,andseemedabouttolingerthere.
Buthesuddenlystartedup,andclosinghiseyes,placedhisfingersuponthelids,asthoughhesoughtto
कैद
imprison
withinhisbrainsomecuriousdreamfromwhichhefearedhemightawake.
“Itisyourbestwork,
बेसिल
Basil
,thebestthingyouhaveeverdone,”saidLordHenrylanguidly.
“YoumustcertainlysenditnextyeartotheGrosvenor.
The
अकादमी
Academy
istoolargeandtoovulgar.
WheneverIhavegonethere,therehavebeeneithersomanypeoplethatIhavenotbeenabletoseethepictures,whichwas
भयानक
dreadful
,orsomanypicturesthatIhavenotbeenabletoseethepeople,whichwasworse.
TheGrosvenorisreallytheonlyplace.”
“Idon’tthinkIshallsenditanywhere,”heanswered,tossinghisheadbackinthatoddwaythatusedtomakehisfriendslaughathimatOxford.
“No,Iwon’tsenditanywhere.”
LordHenryelevatedhiseyebrowsandlookedathiminamazementthroughthethinbluewreathsofsmokethatcurledupinsuchfancifulwhorlsfromhisheavy,opium-taintedcigarette.
“Notsenditanywhere?
Mydearfellow,why?
Haveyouanyreason?
Whatoddchapsyoupaintersare!
Youdoanythingintheworldto
प्राप्त
gain
areputation.
Assoonasyouhaveone,youseemtowanttothrowitaway.
Itissillyofyou,forthereisonlyonethingintheworldworsethanbeingtalkedabout,andthatisnotbeingtalkedabout.
A
चित्र
portrait
likethiswouldsetyoufarabovealltheyoungmeninEngland,andmaketheoldmenquitejealous,ifoldmenareevercapableofanyemotion.”
“Iknowyouwilllaughatme,”hereplied,“butIreallycan’texhibitit.
Ihaveputtoomuchofmyselfintoit.”
LordHenrystretchedhimselfoutonthedivanandlaughed.
“Yes,Iknewyouwould;
butitisquitetrue,allthesame.”
“Toomuchofyourselfinit!
Uponmyword,
बेसिल
Basil
,Ididn’tknowyouweresovain;
andIreallycan’tseeany
समानता
resemblance
betweenyou,withyourruggedstrongfaceandyourcoal-blackhair,andthisyoungAdonis,wholooksasifhewasmadeoutofivoryandrose-leaves.
Why,mydear
बेसिल
Basil
,heisaNarcissus,andyou—well,ofcourseyouhavean
बौद्धिक
intellectual
expressionandallthat.
Butbeauty,realbeauty,endswherean
बौद्धिक
intellectual
expressionbegins.
Intellectisinitselfamodeof
अतिशयोक्ति
exaggeration
,anddestroystheharmonyofanyface.
Themomentonesitsdowntothink,onebecomesallnose,orall
माथे
forehead
,orsomethinghorrid.
Lookatthesuccessfulmeninanyofthelearnedprofessions.
Howperfectly
घृणित
hideous
theyare!
Except,ofcourse,intheChurch.
ButthenintheChurchtheydon’tthink.
A
बिशप
bishop
keepsonsayingattheageofeightywhathewastoldtosaywhenhewasaboyofeighteen,andasanatural
परिणाम
consequence
healwayslooksabsolutelydelightful.
Your
रहस्यमय
mysterious
youngfriend,whosenameyouhavenevertoldme,butwhosepicturereallyfascinatesme,neverthinks.
Ifeelquitesureofthat.
Heissomebrainlessbeautifulcreaturewhoshouldbealwayshereinwinterwhenwehavenoflowerstolookat,andalwayshereinsummerwhenwewantsomethingtochillourintelligence.
Don’t
चापलूसी
flatter
yourself,Basil:
youarenotintheleastlikehim.”
“Youdon’tunderstandme,Harry,”answeredtheartist.
“OfcourseIamnotlikehim.
Iknowthatperfectlywell.
Indeed,Ishouldbesorrytolooklikehim.
Youshrugyourshoulders?
Iamtellingyouthetruth.
Thereisafatalityaboutallphysicaland
बौद्धिक
intellectual
distinction,thesortoffatalitythatseemstodogthroughhistorythefalteringstepsofkings.
Itisbetternottobedifferentfromone’sfellows.
Theuglyandthestupidhavethebestofitinthisworld.
Theycansitattheireaseandgapeattheplay.
Iftheyknownothingofvictory,theyareatleastsparedtheknowledgeofdefeat.
Theyliveasweallshouldlive—undisturbed,
उदासीन
indifferent
,andwithoutdisquiet.
Theyneitherbringruinuponothers,noreverreceiveitfromalienhands.
Your
रैंक
rank
andwealth,Harry;
mybrains,suchastheyare—myart,whateveritmaybeworth;
DorianGray’sgoodlooks—weshallallsufferforwhatthegodshavegivenus,sufferterribly.”
“Dorian
ग्रे
Gray
?
Isthathisname?”
askedLordHenry,walkingacrossthestudiotowards
बेसिल
Basil
Hallward.
“Yes,thatishisname.
Ididn’t
इरादा
intend
totellittoyou.”
“Butwhynot?”
“Oh,Ican’texplain.
WhenIlikepeopleimmensely,Inevertelltheirnamestoanyone.
Itislikesurrenderingapartofthem.
Ihavegrowntolovesecrecy.
Itseemstobetheonethingthatcanmakemodernlife
रहस्यमय
mysterious
ormarvelloustous.
Thecommonestthingisdelightfulifoneonlyhidesit.
WhenIleavetownnowInevertellmypeoplewhereIamgoing.
IfIdid,Iwouldloseallmypleasure.
Itisasilly
आदत
habit
,Idaresay,butsomehowitseemstobringagreatdealof
रोमांस
romance
intoone’slife.
Isupposeyouthinkmeawfullyfoolishaboutit?”
“Notatall,”answeredLordHenry,“notatall,mydearBasil.
YouseemtoforgetthatIammarried,andtheone
आकर्षण
charm
ofmarriageisthatitmakesalifeofdeceptionabsolutelynecessaryforbothparties.
Ineverknowwheremywifeis,andmywifeneverknowswhatIamdoing.
Whenwemeet—wedomeetoccasionally,whenwedineouttogether,orgodowntotheDuke’s—wetelleachotherthemostabsurdstorieswiththemostseriousfaces.
Mywifeisverygoodatit—muchbetter,infact,thanIam.
Shenevergetsconfusedoverherdates,andIalwaysdo.
Butwhenshedoesfindmeout,shemakesnorowatall.
Isometimeswishshewould;
butshe
केवल
merely
laughsatme.”
“Ihatethewayyoutalkaboutyourmarriedlife,Harry,”said
बेसिल
Basil
Hallward,strollingtowardsthedoorthatledintothegarden.
“Ibelievethatyouarereallyaverygoodhusband,butthatyouarethoroughlyashamedofyourownvirtues.
Youareanextraordinaryfellow.
Youneversaya
नैतिक
moral
thing,andyouneverdoawrongthing.
Yourcynicismissimplyapose.”
“Beingnaturalissimplya
मुद्रा
pose
,andthemostirritating
मुद्रा
pose
Iknow,”criedLordHenry,laughing;
andthetwoyoungmenwentoutintothegardentogetherandensconcedthemselvesonalong
बांस
bamboo
seatthatstoodinthe
छाया
shade
ofatalllaurelbush.
The
धूप
sunlight
slippedoverthepolishedleaves.
Inthegrass,whitedaisiesweretremulous.
Afterapause,LordHenrypulledouthiswatch.
“IamafraidImustbegoing,Basil,”hemurmured,“andbeforeIgo,I
जोर
insist
onyouransweringaquestionIputtoyousometimeago.”
“Whatisthat?”
saidthe
चित्रकार
painter
,keepinghiseyesfixedontheground.
“Youknowquitewell.”
“Idonot,Harry.”
“Well,Iwilltellyouwhatitis.
Iwantyoutoexplaintomewhyyouwon’texhibitDorianGray’spicture.
Iwanttherealreason.”
“Itoldyoutherealreason.”
“No,youdidnot.
Yousaiditwasbecausetherewastoomuchofyourselfinit.
Now,thatischildish.”
“Harry,”said
बेसिल
Basil
Hallward,lookinghimstraightintheface,“every
चित्र
portrait
thatispaintedwithfeelingisa
चित्र
portrait
oftheartist,notofthesitter.
Thesitteris
केवल
merely
theaccident,theoccasion.
Itisnothewhoisrevealedbythe
चित्रकार
painter
;
itisratherthe
चित्रकार
painter
who,onthecoloured
कैनवास
canvas
,revealshimself.
ThereasonIwillnotexhibitthispictureisthatIamafraidthatIhaveshowninitthesecretofmyownsoul.”
LordHenrylaughed.
“Andwhatisthat?”
heasked.
“Iwilltellyou,”saidHallward;
butanexpressionofperplexitycameoverhisface.
“Iamall
उम्मीद
expectation
,Basil,”continuedhiscompanion,glancingathim.
“Oh,thereisreallyverylittletotell,Harry,”answeredthe
चित्रकार
painter
;
“andIamafraidyouwillhardlyunderstandit.
Perhapsyouwillhardlybelieveit.”
LordHenrysmiled,andleaningdown,pluckedapink-petalled
डेज़ी
daisy
fromthegrassandexaminedit.
“IamquitesureIshallunderstandit,”hereplied,gazingintentlyatthelittlegolden,white-feathered
डिस्क
disk
,“andasforbelievingthings,Icanbelieveanything,providedthatitisquiteincredible.”
Thewindshooksomeblossomsfromthetrees,andtheheavylilac-blooms,withtheirclusteringstars,movedtoandfrointhelanguidair.
Agrasshopperbegantochirrupbythewall,andlikeabluethreadalongthindragon-flyfloatedpastonitsbrowngauzewings.
LordHenryfeltasifhecouldhear
बेसिल
Basil
Hallward’sheartbeating,andwonderedwhatwascoming.
“Thestoryissimplythis,”saidthe
चित्रकार
painter
aftersometime.
“TwomonthsagoIwenttoa
क्रश
crush
atLadyBrandon’s.
Youknowwepoorartistshavetoshowourselvesinsocietyfromtimetotime,justtoremindthepublicthatwearenotsavages.
Withaneveningcoatandawhitetie,asyoutoldmeonce,anybody,evenastock-broker,can
प्राप्त
gain
areputationforbeing
सभ्य
civilized
.
Well,afterIhadbeenintheroomabouttenminutes,talkingtohugeoverdresseddowagersandtediousacademicians,Isuddenlybecameconsciousthatsomeonewaslookingatme.
Iturned
आधे रास्ते
half-way
roundandsawDorian
ग्रे
Gray
forthefirsttime.
Whenoureyesmet,IfeltthatIwasgrowing
पीला
pale
.
Acurioussensationofterrorcameoverme.
IknewthatIhadcomefacetofacewithsomeonewhosemere
व्यक्तित्व
personality
wassofascinatingthat,ifIallowedittodoso,itwould
अवशोषित
absorb
mywholenature,mywholesoul,myveryartitself.
Ididnotwantany
बाहरी
external
influenceinmylife.
Youknowyourself,Harry,how
स्वतंत्र
independent
Iambynature.
Ihavealwaysbeenmyownmaster;
hadatleastalwaysbeenso,tillImetDorian
ग्रे
Gray
.
Then—butIdon’tknowhowtoexplainittoyou.
SomethingseemedtotellmethatIwasonthe
कगार
verge
ofaterriblecrisisinmylife.
Ihadastrangefeelingthatfatehadinstoreformeexquisitejoysandexquisitesorrows.
Igrewafraidandturnedtoquittheroom.
Itwasnot
विवेक
conscience
thatmademedoso:
itwasasortof
कायरता
cowardice
.
Itakenocredittomyselffortryingtoescape.”
“Conscienceand
कायरता
cowardice
arereallythesamethings,
बेसिल
Basil
.
Conscienceisthetrade-nameofthefirm.
Thatisall.”
“Idon’tbelievethat,Harry,andIdon’tbelieveyoudoeither.
However,whateverwasmymotive—anditmayhavebeenpride,forIusedtobeveryproud—Icertainlystruggledtothedoor.
There,ofcourse,IstumbledagainstLadyBrandon.
‘Youarenotgoingtorunawaysosoon,Mr.Hallward?’shescreamedout.
Youknowhercuriouslyshrillvoice?”
“Yes;
sheisa
मोर
peacock
ineverythingbutbeauty,”saidLordHenry,pullingthedaisytobitswithhislongnervousfingers.
“Icouldnotgetridofher.
Shebroughtmeuptoroyalties,andpeoplewithstarsandgarters,andelderlyladieswithgigantictiarasandparrotnoses.
Shespokeofmeasherdearestfriend.
Ihadonlymetheroncebefore,butshetookitintoherheadtolionizeme.
Ibelievesomepictureofminehadmadeagreatsuccessatthetime,atleasthadbeenchatteredaboutinthepennynewspapers,whichisthenineteenth-century
मानक
standard
ofimmortality.
SuddenlyIfoundmyselffacetofacewiththeyoungmanwhose
व्यक्तित्व
personality
hadsostrangelystirredme.