book excerptise:   a book unexamined is wasting trees

We speak in changing languages: Indian women poets 1990-2007

E. V. Ramakrishnan and Anju Makhija

Ramakrishnan, E. V.; Anju Makhija;

We speak in changing languages: Indian women poets 1990-2007

Sahitya Akademi, 2009, 278 pages

ISBN 8126026731, 9788126026739

topics: |  poetry | india | english | gender | translation | anthology


The poets in this collection are very uneven; one wishes the editors would
have used a more discriminating brush - i would say that at least half the
poems in this large collection are rather pedestrian.

I started with the opening poet -  shanta acharya, whom i had not read much
of.  The giddy mannequin opens invitingly:

	A giddy mannequin discreetly naked
	I pose for you in a glass cage

but at the edge of the world is a straightforward narrative of a visit to a art gallery - i fail to find the obliqueness of poetry. thoughts don't jump far enough, the observations do not sparkle, and the language is leaden with redundancies (e.g. could "upside-down, inside out" been tighter?) In the next poem Arranged Marriage - a traditional muslim marriage for a british woman - has a lot of potential, but it fails to come off. some metaphor - (thoughts as "vagrant butterflies") seem rather trite. the ending though, is powerful - in the "union with a stranger, / Love will rise like a phoenix, they said / friendship will follow with the children of god/ But first one has to be turned inside out."

Flipping through the book, I liked many of the voices. Mamang Dai contributes the title of this volume, we speak in changing languages, in her poem voice of the mountain, which has some powerful juxtapositions:

	Because he could not speak
	he brought a gift of fish.

Sampurna Chattarji is one of the most powerful poets of this generation -
irrespective of gender, and her poetry retains its freshness, like

		 an ancient five-year old 
	 trembling to be older. 

of course, no review of an anthology is complete without a crib about
missing voices.  The absence of Anjum Hassan is quite inexplicable, hers is
one of the most powerful voices at the turn of the millenium.

On the whole, an introduction to some fresh voices, but a rather poor 
"where-the-page-falls-open" index score. 

Excerpts


Shanta Acharya: At the edge of the world p.7

	(After Anish Kapoor’s ‘Creations’ at the Hayward Gallery)
 

The queue outside stretches
like an alley cat, waiting
to enter the crowded gallery
explore the plugged-holes at the centre
of walls and ceilings. Not enough time,
space for all to experience ways of defining
It, of lending shape, colour, sound, meaning.

Once inside, the world is turned upside down,
inside out, disoriented through double mirrors,
emptied of space funnelling into arupa,
untitled, leaving us newly-born, fearful of oblivion.

In the beginning (or is it the end?)
securing myself a discrete position,
I get sucked into my mother’s womb,
peering at deep, dark shrines of
my body, her body; our bodies
moving in rhythm to creation
at the vortex, doubly-inverted images,
when I become pregnant, making the world many.

We exchange according to our measure
the open-endedness of things; configuring
a nose, a breast, a man posing in his briefs?
Or something new waiting to be seen.

Imagination turns earth and stone into sky.
In the dark, polished hollow of a marble mummy,
a fleeting spirit appears. A twisting column of light,
I flicker before giving up the ghost.


Shanta Acharya: Arranged Marriage p.8


The bridegroom’s profile
refracted through her purdah
of tears unused to the violence
of iconoclasm dressed as tradition.

That moment’s reappraisal
warned her to faithlessness;
discard old ways for new,
worship new gods and shoes.

She was the arrow then
that darted forth from
the taut bow of culture into
the flaming pyre proclaiming

Impossible union with a stranger.
Love will rise like a phoenix, they said;
friendship will follow with the children of god.
But first one has to be turned inside out.

Deepa Agarwal: Thoughts on a Ritual p.17


Tracing yellow lines
on broad banyan leaves
winding the fragile thread
round and round...
My thoughts
vagrant butterflies
take flight.

Savitri
constant wife
faithful lover
woman of power,
you conquered death
yet...
your womb was too narrow.
It could only hold
a hundred sons
not a single daughter.



Deepa agarwal: Once there was a princess p.19


Once there was a princess who wept pearls
and once there was a princess
who laughed flowers.  Both died, I am told,
one of weeping
and the other of laughter.
But not because one's eyes went dry
or the other forgot how to laugh.
One died of suffocation
entombed in pearls.  THe other choked
on a sureit of flowers.
The pearls were sold for a fortune, I am told.
But the wilted flowers brought no gain at all.

SInce then, I have heard
a woman's tears have become
more precious than her laughter.


Sampurna Chattarji: As a son, my daughter


I brought you up as a son,
my daughter
fierce and strong and free.
But now, now
that you are, you have become,
all that i am not,
you are too fierce, too strong, too free.
Your hair is too short.
Your absences too long.
You fear nothing.
You frighten me.
...


--Sampurna Chattarji: Pleasure, forbidden-- 

Night ruled
in the place 
blazing with lights 
left on long past bedtime. 
Trapped in the filigree bottle, 
the musk that 
meant forbidden. 
A whiff at the wrist 
and I saw the high red heels, 
wicked and comforting, 
the beaten filigree earrings 
with the shyest drop of pearl, 
the white hanky 
with the perfect pink rose 
too delicate to bear thinking about, 
too real for the crush 
of a perfumed faintly sweaty hand, 
the fur purse 
savage beyond desire, 
the golden clasp snapping 
its purring jaws tight 
in the crush of a golden night. 
Always the same pieces 
of an ancient five-year old 
trembling to be older. 
And always, sharpest, 
the troubled image of denial, 
all dressed up, refusing to go 
and leave the children alone, 
no matter that a neighbour will look in later, 
no matter that he has done it all for her, 
no matter that he begs, 
she will not go out tonight, 
and for the first time 
the five-year old senses 
there is more to the forbidden 
than pleasure. 


--Sampurna Chattarji: Conversation-- 

You carry his curse 
in those clouded eyes, Dhritarashtra. 
Your mother flinched 
from him that night. 
His breath smelt of roots 
and his chest was white. 
More demon than lover he seemed. 
So your mother did it blind 
and shut the darkness in on you. 
You woke seeing nothing, 
regret eternal in your howl. 
But you? 
What made you, Gandhari, 
put out the light 
that was given you, freely? 
He could have seen through you, 
the pale green of the thin-veined leaf, 
the shadow trembling on the palace wall. 
He did not ask for this companionship, 
harsh as the cloth around your eyes, 
grim as your unkissed lips. 
Instead of this implacable love, 
you should have given him sight. 

sampurna chattarji links: http://openspaceindia.org/item/sampurna-chattarji.html


Mamang Dai: The voice of the mountain p.104


From where I sit on the high platform
I can see the ferry lights crossing
criss-crossing the big river.

I know the towns, the estuary mouth.
There, beyond the last bank
where the colour drains from heaven
I can outline the chapters of the world.

The other day a young man arrived from the village.
Because he could not speak
he brought a gift of fish
from the land of rivers.
It seems such acts are repeated:
We live in territories forever ancient and new,
and as we speak in changing languages.

I, also, leave my spear leaning by the tree
and try to make a sign.

I am an old man sipping the breeze
that is forever young.
In my life I have lived many lives.
My voice is sea waves and mountain peaks,
In the transfer of symbols
I am the chance syllable that orders the world
Instructed with history and miracles.

I am the desert and the rain.
The wild bird that sits in the west.
The past that recreates itself
and particles of life that clutch and cling
For thousands of years –
I know, I know these things
as rocks know, burning in the sun’s embrace,
about clouds, and sudden rain;
as I know a cloud is a cloud is a cloud,
A cloud is this uncertain pulse
that sits over my heart.

In the end the universe yields nothing
except a dream of permanence.
Peace is a falsity.
A moment of rest comes after long combat:

From the east the warrior returns
with the blood of peonies.
I am the child who died at the edge of the world,
the distance between end and hope.
The star diagram that fell from the sky,
The summer that makes men weep.
I am the woman lost in translation
who survives, with happiness to carry on.

I am the breath that opens the mouth of the canyon,
the sunlight on the tips of trees;
There, where the narrow gorge hastens the wind
I am the place where memory escapes
the myth of time,
I am the sleep in the mind of the mountain.


Arundhathi Subramaniam 5.46 Andheri local 267


	In the women’s compartment
	of a Bombay local
	we search
	for no personal epiphanies.
	Like metal licked by relentless acetylene
	we are welded –
	dreams, disasters,
	germs, destinies,
	flesh and organza,
	odours and ovaries.
	A thousand-limbed
	million-tongued, multi-spoused
	Kali on wheels.

	When I descend
	I could choose
	to dice carrots
	or dice a lover.

	I postpone the latter.

Contents

Shanta Acharya

    A Giddy Mannequin                                  3
    The wishing tree                                   4
    Shunya                                             6
    At the edge of the world                           7
      %     Arranged marriage                                  8
    Xochipilli                                         9
    Prescription for glasses                          10
    Mrs. Kafka's dilemma                              12

Deepa Agarwal

    Thoughts on a Ritual                              17
    Anarkali                                          18
    Once there was a princess                         19
    Woman on the road to Lhasa                        20
    Do not weep, lonely mirror                        21
    Quiet Spaces                                      23
    Forgotten kaleidoscope                            24

Smita Agarwal

    Lopamudra                                         29
    An address to India                               32
    Greenhorn                                         34
    Sarojini Naidu and She                            35
    Joyride                                           36
    Richa                                             37

Jane Bhandari

    Deep Well                                         41
    Hard frost                                        42
    Beachcombers                                      43
    Hiss                                              44
    Catching crayfish                                 45
    The birds                                         47
    The new hotel                                     48
    The space beyond                                  49

Sagari Chhabra

    In Gujarat, again                                 53
    On hearing women poets                            55
    An artiste who is a woman                         56
    The saloon                                        58
    Closure                                           60
    Iraq war                                          62

Priya Sarukkai Chabria

    Dialogue-1                                        67
    The gathering of time                             73
    Flight: In silver, red and black                  76

Sampurna Chattarji

    As a son, my daughter                             81
    Going against the grain                           83
    Pleasure, forbidden                               84
    Hidden                                            86
    Obscene                                           87
    Conversation                                      88
    To Surya the SunGod                               90
    Object lesson: ten                                91
    Object lesson: eleven                             92

Mamang Dai

    The missing link                                  95
    Man and Brother                                   97
    Small towns and the river                         99
    The beginning of the world                       101
    Water and sand                                   102
    Green in the Time of Flood                       103
    The voice of the mountain                        104
    Tapu                                             106
    Remembrance                                      108

Revathy Gopal

    Balancing act                                    114
    Erode                                            116
    Yashodhara-I                                     117
    Yashodhara-II                                    119
    Picnic at the zoo                                121
    Family Secrets                                   122

Anjum Hasan

    June night in a middle class home                127
    Coming of Age In a Convent School                128
    Ordinary days                                    129
    Where I now live                                 130
    Kitchen                                          131
    A place like water                               132
    My Folks                                         133
    The pregnant woman                               134
    Afternoon in the beauty parlour                  136
    Learnt                                           138

Rachna Joshi

    Jageshwar                                        141
    Writing poetry                                   143
    The Death of my Grandmother                      145
    Periplum                                         147
    Groping for love                                 148
    Rock garden                                      149
    Durga in Alberta                                 150
    Jade Earrings                                    151

Anjum Katyal

    Cliff                                            155
    Slow dissolve                                    156
    Old Bones                                        157
    Puri                                             158
    31st December                                    149
    Waiting                                          160
    Labyrinth                                        161
    To my daughter                                   162
    Kite                                             163

Rukmini Bhaya Nair

    Gulmohar                                         167
    Feasts                                           169
    Kali                                             171
    Gargi's silence                                  173
    Computer                                         175
    Leper girl                                       176
    Making ends meet                                 177
    Assegai, Africa                                  178

Marlyn Naronha

    Our Marriage                                     181
    The Dance is over                                182
    Weaving a fabric                                 183
    Burning question                                 184
    Being woman                                      185
    Present painting                                 186
    The Difference                                   187

Seeme Qasim

    Being an Indian                                  193
    Escape                                           194
    The friend who crossed over                      195
    Indian Musli                                     196
    Fighting in the Middle East                      198
    Beyond October                                   199
    Fidelity                                         201
    Restless days                                    202

Rizio Raj

    Indian Eunuchs                                   205
    Memory kites                                     207
    Purdah                                           209
    Poem                                             212
    The legacy of the fugitive                       214
    New Testament                                    215
    Digambara                                        219

Mukta Sambrani

    The insurgence of color or Anna thinks...        223
    Name Anna forgets                                225
    from Poems for mothers who speak no English      227
    			bio

Menka Shivdasani

    Schoolgirl no more                               231
    Spring-Cleaning                                  232
    Beyond the Doorway                               233
    Why rabbits never sleep                          234
    Stet                                             235
    Schizoid                                         236
    Hinges                                           238
    At Po Lin Hong Kong                              239
    Epitaph                                          240
                     bio

Vijaya Singh

    24 Carat                                         245
    Encounter                                        246
    Reconstruction                                   247
    Poem: Edited and Unedited                        249
    On turning thirty                                250
    An Elegy for love                                251

K. Srilata

    Hurt                                             255
    Anger                                            256
    Kanyadanam                                       257
    With Every Wave                                  258
    Saree                                            259
    Stammer                                          260
    Moonstone                                        261
    What became of the fourth poem                   262

Arundhathi Subramaniam

    Heirloom                                         265
    5.46 Andheri Local                               267
    Madras                                           268
    Stains                                           270
    To the Welsh Critic Who Doesnt Find Me Identifiably Indian      271
    Sari                                             273
    For a Poem, Still Unborn                         274
    Home                                             275
    Nocturne in January                              276
    Gap                                              277
    Return                                           278


amitabha mukerjee (mukerjee [at-symbol] gmail) 2012 May 27