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| Review by P.K.N.Panicker |
Slant of Light
M Mohankumar
Slant of Light
Anthology of Poetry
Thiruvananthapuram: Folio
Publishers-Distributers. 2011
Pages: 85. Price: Rs 160
Relaxed and philosophical, Mohankumar is a familiar
name in contemporary Indian English Poetry. This is his seventh book of poems,
others being Pearl Diver (1988), Half Opened Door (2000), Nightmares
and Daydreams (2002), The Moon Has Two Faces (2004), The
Diwan’s Discomfiture and Other Poems (2007) and Late Rains (2009).
Mohankumar retired as Chief Secretary, Government of Kerala, and lives at Thiruvananthapuram.
M Mohankumar’s Slant
of Light is a collection of 77 poems, his seventh. I had occasion to place
a review on his earlier anthology Late Rains in Muse India (Vol.
No.34, Nov-Dec 2010). I am extremely happy to see that the poems in this one show
a much greater degree of maturity in thought and consequently less
sentimentality. Whereas Late Rains reflect an agony, almost of a
personal nature that could be discerned not only in the lines he wrote but also
in between, left unwritten, the poems in this collection are reflective of a
comparatively relaxed, lighter mood and more philosophical. Mohankumar is
geared up to have a relook at the world and adapt himself to the changed
realities.
Let us take these old
bells down.
They have been ringing the
same old way
for centuries, oblivious
of changed times......
Let us take these old
bells down, melt them
and mould them into new
bells, new bells
to produce music pleasing
to gods,
whom we have installed in
our hearts.
(Let
Us Take Theses Old Bells Down, p 85)
His observation in the
first poem in this book is evocative.
Life triumphs in the midst
of suffering death.
(Palimpsest,
p 11)
He is witness to the fall
of butterflies to the ground with broken wings. For him every hope about
tomorrow is a butterfly that -
soars and soars
till the cross-wind
blows it off its course.
(Hope
is a butterfly, p 12)
Mohankumar turns extremely
sarcastic when portraying certain incidents that hurt his sensitivities –
happenings in his backdoor (Thiruvananthapuram) when the famous Malayalam poet
A Ayyappan died on the footpath on October 21, 2010 and the goof-up by the
Kerala government in organising his last rites. I do not wish to go into the
details, but the following lines etch an un-erasable picture in our minds.
They have put him in cold
storage,
and have got busy with
other things.
Surely they will give him
a fitting funeral
as soon as they can spare
the time......
Peace after a long
struggle;
quiet after a frenetic life.
Silent and helpless, he
waits.
Icy fingers bite into his
flesh
(Cold
Storage, p 15)
Everything that could be
said of the poet, his admirers, nature and depth of his bonding between them
and the goof-up - everything that needs to be told, is neatly and precisely
narrated in those 22 lines. Nothing is left untold. Those icy fingers bite not
only into his flesh but also into the consciousness of the inept in the
government – sarcasm at its best. He continues:
On a flower bedecked
platform
lies the dead poet, draped
in white,
peace on his face, eyes
slightly open.
There is a touch of smile
on his lips,
As though he is watching
the whole
‘charade’ with mild
disdain.
(Death
of a Poet, p 60)
Through ‘Design’ (p 16),
‘Razing the House’ (p 17), ‘Rite of Passage’ (p 18), ‘The River’ (p 19) and
‘Cries and Rattles’ (p 20), the poet travels through the routines of life and
explores the meaning and depth of relationships, the demolished hopes and
frustrations, the ecstasy of growing up and the blossoming of life that reveals
her tender charms, shyly, to the lover’s gaze. He would not mind sparing a few
lines to look at what could happen after ‘departing from this world’. How did
everything begin with? With a bang? But why bother about all that?
Did the universe begin
with a bang? ......
Far-off events. They don’t
bother us,
earth-bound mortals that
we are.
What bothers us is closer
home:
(Cries
and Rattles, p 20)
Even as the poet turns
philosophical, he looks to the real world around him with a profound
submission:
We have come all the way.
When you lead, I cannot
resist.
(Rendezvous,
p 21)
But Mohankumar is not one
who would lean back on the chair and while away the time. His mind is full of
questions. He is not inclined to leave even the great Buddha without throwing
an inconvenient one at him – and relevant too.
the Buddha spoke of death.
The body, he said, falls
apart
like a worn-out cart.
What of the brand-new
carts,
and carts that are sturdy,
that get smashed
and fall apart?’
(Falling
Apart, p 22);
and in ‘Tremor’ (p 22) he
concludes that the way of the world is such that ‘as we rub our blurred eyes we
could see our future reduced to hazy heaps of ruins.’ Even though ‘we board
with hopes of a bon voyage, seldom are we in command’ (The Voyage, p 23). ‘The
Night Train’ (p 31) is yet another example of the sharpness with which he
approaches a subject and the force that he puts in every word that he uses.
Except for his penchant to associate the darker side of life with night, it
could equally have been a day train as well.
In the silence of the deep
night,
I often hear it hurtling
past,
faster than a bullet
train.
Sometimes, it stops by.
(I would hear the creak of
brakes.)
Then it carries a
neighbour away.
One night it will stop at
my gate.
And then I will sleep-walk
into this long-distance
train.
(The
Night Train, p 131)
His affinity and love for
nature could be measured in his nostalgic narratives of the green that was
around him in his younger days. He finds time to look back at ‘The Album’ (p 42)
and reminisce the good old days.
In those far-off days,
when I was a child,
people in the village
lived in houses
thatched annually with
palmyrah fronds.
The trees grew everywhere,
on vacant
lands, on the ridges of
the paddy fields,
straight into the sky,
dark and gaunt,......
Versatile leaves; sweet,
fleshy fruits;
refreshing toddy, the
sturdy trunk itself-
these were their generous
gifts to us...
In the dead of the night I
could hear
the whining of the
palmyrah trees-
till they disappeared one
by one.
(Palmyrah
Trees: An Old Man’s Tale, p 34)
As a child, he would often
see
flowers glimmering in the
evening sky,
strewn over Heaven’s blue,
polished floor -
mandara, parijata…
(Flowers
in the Sky, p 37)
His subtle humour is
equally pleasing.
I remember certain poets
whose imagination flies so
high,
and never touches the
earth,
not even once.
(Rare
Bird, p 63)
Modern hanging is a fine
art.
So say the experts.
They should know.’
(Modern
Hanging, p 70)
Mohankumar defines poetry
in his own way (p 26). Maturity of thought, wisdom born out of long experience,
his grip on the craft as reflected in the choice of words, control on emotions
and reigning of sentiments, subtle humour and avoidance of unnecessary
embellishments are the hall-mark of every poem in this anthology. What I have
attempted is to merely pick up a few ‘unwritten words and unspoken thoughts’
between the lines and in the space encapsulating the written ones, leaving the
rest to poetry lovers and critiques to pick up.
This space
around the poem
and between its lines
is not empty.
It is filled with
unwritten words
of unspoken thoughts.
(The
Space Around the Poem, p 26)
END
ROOMS
Emotions that emanate from deep within a person, articulated as intertwined, well arranged, structured word to word combinations, dynamic and vibrant in their content and emotive aspect forms the essence of good poetry. Emotions from deep within are often reflective of the rich, varied and vast experience of a person, acquired over a period of time and from personal involvement in some form or other. The poems of Boutha Ayyanaar are without doubt, from deep within his heart and hence on reading are able to instantaneously resonate with his fellow humans placed in near identical situations. Mansion Kavidhagal, first published in 2005 bears excellent testimony to Ayyanaar’s sensitivity to contemporary realities, expressed at times in veiled biting sarcasm.
‘The moment I stepped inside the city
the first thing that came into view
were the horns of men.’
(Horns p.16)
Living in the prison like rooms of the Mansion, loneliness, slowly and steadily eats into his very being and like most others placed in his position would, the poet tends to be philosophical.
‘Not knowing which face you like
and which one I like,
yet, we keep living
in love. Don’t we?’
(Love p.21)
The poet tries to find new dimensions to love – especially as he is burning and melting under the pangs of separation. The poet, without doubt, is in deep love with his past, his village, the village life, his home, his wife and pines to be back. The city really is not in his heart, though as he confesses elsewhere, he has nothing against it.
‘Chased by memories
pained by the sorrow of migration
The heart covers its face
in anguish untold.’
(Please Let Go My Hands p.23)
See the exactness of his analysis of the characteristics of the city.
‘In the solitary room
the fan
scatters fear
everywhere.’
(The Entire City Is Reeling Under The Grip of Fear p.24)
The city and the mansion of course do not recognize nor do get familiar with any particular face. In the dingy room of the mansion the poet is alone, except for the room as his companion in spite of the fact that he is in the very centre of the crowded city.
‘The room and myself
keep waiting
for a familiar face.’
(The Entire City Is Reeling Under The Grip of Fear p.26)
No, that is not totally true –he does have other companions to converse with. Look at his companions with who he converses – the tube-light, the fan, the pillow, the door, the worn-out mirror, dirty clothes. He comforts himself in the fact that his room is a sincere trust worthy friend, with who he can confidently share his secrets.
‘We share so many a secret
My room which has never told nothing to none
is definitely better than my friend.’
(You and I p.30)
The room is definitely better than the friends who betray.
The poet also has a definite sense of humour which surfaces occasionally, may be even without any conscious effort from him.
‘Even my daughter who is
just three years old
calls me “Mottai’
When asked to show respect
she says ‘Mottai Sir’.
(Appearance p.71)
As I jot down these lines purported to be a critical appreciation of Ayyanaar’s poems, I should confess that I am doing so without accessing and reading his original work in Tamil. No doubt that every language has its distinct unique beauty and it is rather difficult to have the beauty one transfixed into another in its totality–especially so from such a rich and vibrant language that Tamil is. As such I can only presume that the original will be much more powerful in its semantic and emotive content and reflective of the poet’s rich Tamil cultural mooring.
A word about the rendering in English is considered not out of place. Latha Ramakrishnan has more than 25 books translated and published and all are well received and appreciated by the readers. She has done full justice in this instance also. However let us not forget that an expression which is exquisitely pleasing in one language when translated into another may lose its charm. This is all the more so, as the translator herself has stated, ‘in the case of Neo-Tamil poems when the poems are rich and complex with the element of obscurity and multiple meaning’.Having said this, I cannot but observe that her attempt to be as sincere as possible to the original text, at times seems to force her to sacrifice the beauty and expressive exactitude unique to English language. I only wish that a well established translator of the caliber of Latha Ramakrishnan could take a little more liberty to deviate where found necessary and without having to jar the beauty of English.
Prabanjan’s forward is very good and brings forth the essence of Ayyanaar’s poems with all the force and vigour that it deserves.
Ayyanaar’s ‘Rooms’ is excellent reading material and is a fine example of neo-Tamil poetry of the 1990s, rich in imagery, vibrant with raw life experience at its best.
P.K.N.Panicker.
ROOMS by Boutha Ayyanar, Translated by Latha Ramakrishnan, Published by Meenal Publishing House, 3/363, Bajana Kovil Street, Chennai -603103. Published in Chennai Chronicle, Vol.1, issue 2, May 2010
Book Review
Mohan Kumar
Late RainsThiruvananthapuram : Folio Publishers-Distributors. 2009.
Pages – 88. Price - Rs.160.
Endearing anthology from a seasoned poet
Mohankumar’s ‘Late Rains’ is a collection of 63 poems, his sixth. The collection is rich in its emotive content, appealing narrative and forceful expression. Reading this anthology and may be a careful study, ‘…..sitting by the window of your book-lined study, read on, over a steaming cup of tea, now looking out on the gently falling rain, ….’ (Late Rains p.9)
will, without doubt, prove rewarding, refreshing and enjoyable. Even though Mohankumar feels that the black clouds have drifted away, throughout the entire length of this anthology, one can still discern the intense personal grief that drives the poet to move his pen. As the poet puts it,
‘Beneath the solid crust,
a seething molten core’
a seething molten core’
(This Earth p.10)
is concealed, deep within.
‘That was not to be’ (p.15) is simple in narration, but portrays a vivid
picture of an event, highly saturated with its emotive content Here is a poem
that makes the reader vibe exactly the same way as the poet would have
wanted.
‘You too thought so.
You did, I know.
But that was not to be.’
You did, I know.
But that was not to be.’
(That was not to be p.15)
These are words that
convey more than their meanings, situations that churn you, emotions that eat
away your very consciousness. ‘The Leaving’ (p.16) is again a canvas, accurate
in details, poignant in its presentation and highly charged meshing into
simple, down to earth sentimentality of the living – the overflowing pain born
out of her leaving.
‘I call to her,
‘Aye, where are you?
It’s getting late.’
No response.
I look around, see her
in the now-bare bedroom,
weeping.
Years later,
lying on the cranked-up hospital bed,
between bouts of spasms,
she said to me with a smile,
‘This morning, the doctor said,
“Don’t worry; you’ll get well soon.”
‘There was something about it,
about that smile,
something enigmatic.
Do the dying know
when death is only a few hours away?’
‘Aye, where are you?
It’s getting late.’
No response.
I look around, see her
in the now-bare bedroom,
weeping.
Years later,
lying on the cranked-up hospital bed,
between bouts of spasms,
she said to me with a smile,
‘This morning, the doctor said,
“Don’t worry; you’ll get well soon.”
‘There was something about it,
about that smile,
something enigmatic.
Do the dying know
when death is only a few hours away?’
‘The Jewels’ (p.18) is yet another one, extremely powerful both in its emotive and semantic content and profundity of expression. The poet has fully succeeded in translating the intensity of his reaction to the nostalgia that he experiences on the sight of those jewels and handing it over to his readers. In ‘Loneliness’ (p.20) he concludes:
‘and it sits heavy on your
unquiet chest
and you are short of breath.’
and you are short of breath.’
Turning a little philosophical he confesses,
‘…………………..The wise,
he knew, do not grieve; but he was not wise,
that way. Grief ate into his vitals.’
he knew, do not grieve; but he was not wise,
that way. Grief ate into his vitals.’
But as time drifted away,
‘in the morning, he stood
out in the sun, felt
the first touch of spring creep into his bones.’
the first touch of spring creep into his bones.’
(The Harbinger.p.24)
It is this realisation
that there is warm sunshine outside (p.24) and the fact of his having ‘felt a
new strength pouring in’ (p.88) that prompted him, that urged him to write many
of the poems that appear in this anthology – and it is this very process of
pain, withdrawal and coming back that make them powerful and invigorating to
read. Even so, the poet’s mind, resting beside the blooming rose-bush is still
in a state of subdued hallucination and refuses to accept the finality of the
loss.
‘For deep in my heart,
I know this for sure:
before the rains come,
you will be with me,
never to part again.’
I know this for sure:
before the rains come,
you will be with me,
never to part again.’
(Before the Rains
Come. p.30)
‘A Few Tricks of Magic’, (p.34)
speaks perhaps of an uneasy official tenure, if he had one, and of which I beg
to know nothing. ‘There was a Time’ (p.37) is a beautifully constructed poem,
rich in its semantic content and conveyed with a force that penetrates.
Beautiful (p.69) is a piece of well-crafted satire at its best. Bonsai with a Difference (p.67) again looks like a piece of fine satire aimed at our present day education system – we emphasise in plucking them young and turn them out, shrunk and diminutive, unfit even for firewood. Mohankumar is able to metaphorize simple, observed facts of life into generalities with meanings within the apparent with ease and in a beautifully appealing manner. Little Blue Flower (p.56) is a very short poem of just three lines, but highly expressive, eloquently states his approach to his fellow beings. ‘Reading Poetry with Ayyappa Paniker’ (p.22) is his personal reminiscence of the well-known Malayalam poet and an insight into what Paniker, the person was. Words seem to follow him, tag themselves behind every little movement in his mind rather than his looking for words. The morphological arrangement of words, the word to word bonding in these poems are of a superior order and place Mohankumar’s poems in this anthology on par with those of the most acknowledged, anywhere.
Mohankumar’s anthology ‘Late Rains’ is good reading material and is undoubtedly the best of all his published works. From a critical one is tempted to rate the present volume as excellent – perfect syntax, morphology, rich in semantic and emotive content, rich in picturesque canvassing and metaphorizing, all that goes to make them endearing to the reader.
M.Mohankumar is a familiar name in the world of contemporary Indian English Poetry. This is his sixth book of poems, others being ‘Pearl Diver,’ 1988, ‘Half Opened Door,’ 2000, ‘Nightmares and Daydreams,’ 2002, ‘The Moon Has Two Faces,’ 2004 and ‘The Diwan’s Discomfiture and Other Poems,’ 2007. Mr.Mohankumar retired as Chief Secretary, Govt.of Kerala and resides at Thiruvananthapuram.
Beautiful (p.69) is a piece of well-crafted satire at its best. Bonsai with a Difference (p.67) again looks like a piece of fine satire aimed at our present day education system – we emphasise in plucking them young and turn them out, shrunk and diminutive, unfit even for firewood. Mohankumar is able to metaphorize simple, observed facts of life into generalities with meanings within the apparent with ease and in a beautifully appealing manner. Little Blue Flower (p.56) is a very short poem of just three lines, but highly expressive, eloquently states his approach to his fellow beings. ‘Reading Poetry with Ayyappa Paniker’ (p.22) is his personal reminiscence of the well-known Malayalam poet and an insight into what Paniker, the person was. Words seem to follow him, tag themselves behind every little movement in his mind rather than his looking for words. The morphological arrangement of words, the word to word bonding in these poems are of a superior order and place Mohankumar’s poems in this anthology on par with those of the most acknowledged, anywhere.
Mohankumar’s anthology ‘Late Rains’ is good reading material and is undoubtedly the best of all his published works. From a critical one is tempted to rate the present volume as excellent – perfect syntax, morphology, rich in semantic and emotive content, rich in picturesque canvassing and metaphorizing, all that goes to make them endearing to the reader.
M.Mohankumar is a familiar name in the world of contemporary Indian English Poetry. This is his sixth book of poems, others being ‘Pearl Diver,’ 1988, ‘Half Opened Door,’ 2000, ‘Nightmares and Daydreams,’ 2002, ‘The Moon Has Two Faces,’ 2004 and ‘The Diwan’s Discomfiture and Other Poems,’ 2007. Mr.Mohankumar retired as Chief Secretary, Govt.of Kerala and resides at Thiruvananthapuram.
A Book Review by
P.K.N.Panicker.
Hema is undoubtedly well accomplished – her works are liked and appreciated by everyone; she has been published by Indian Literature - a very prestigious publication of the Sahithya Academy. Her translation of ‘ Krishna Gana’ of Othukkadu Venkatasubba Iyer appeared in the May –June 2008 issue – and she could maintain the emotive content of the original in total.
The prestigious Writers Workshop of Prof. Lal from Kalkotta has come with her ‘LIFE BLUES’, a collection of 54 poems that deal with as the publishers put, on various emotions felt by the poet ranging from elation to sadness. The first part of the book carrying 31 poems are mainly
centred around love while the second part placed under the caption ‘ My Fair Maid’ are on an unseen, silent companion of the poet in her fantasies – an alter ego.
Hema has a characteristic, distinct way of looking at things – a little different from others. Look at these lines
Do you know …….
…………………..
Don’t be thirsty, memories will spring
From peaks;
Golden Moments p.69
I am sure none of us ever thought of rain the way Hema does.
Throughout ‘Life Blue’ we can see her nostalgic past popping out – every where – memories springing out from all corners and at all times.
Nostalgia whiffs across
With a whip and roast – yea
Can I ever set eyes on you
My adolescent fancy-partner? …
………………….
Won’t the revolving earth bring to me
Few of the many joys of the past
Long gone and gone into the deep forever
Faces I yearn to see just a moment
Only a split second just to sense
That the buds of youth and vigour
Are still afresh inside
Nostalgia p.9 & 10
Creeping in with ‘buttered toast’, and ‘blossom friends’ she lands with her ‘adolescent fancy-partner’. This one expression would suffice to get her bracketed along with world poets of re-known. Beautifully crafted expressions, condensing or compressing meanings into delicate combination of words – well crafted word to word bonding to bring out more from every word is what poetry is all about – and Hema seems to have mastered the craft.
Look at other similar captivating expressions such as ‘First passion of pubescence’ (p.33) and ‘One smile composed thousand hints’ (p35).
She wants to be reassured, ‘that the buds of youth and vigour are still afresh inside’. After reading her poems we would have no hesitation to extend her that reassurance.
Hema is very focussed and sharp about what she wants to convey and that makes her extremely powerful.
‘Didn’t you say blue?
…………………….
She will lie in wait’
Life Blues p.11
‘A book and pen once threw She
Soaked with her Tears and Poverty’.
Altered Paths p.20
She is up in arms against all types of oppression and exploitation.
‘Hear not the……………
Rebounds with multiplied fury’
Refractions p.27
Look at the vibrant strength in those words – words that reverberate. However, just as many masters have done, she instead of inviting you to take arms prefers to place her faith in the unknown.
‘When will providence undo their shackles?
Afflictions p.32
She has a very delicate, subtle knack to handle personal emotions, particularly born out of man-woman relationship – may I say sometimes even bordering sensual.
I invite you to ‘Melodies’ p.13.
‘They sang intent, each unto other
…………………………………….
The symphony attained zenith’
Look at ‘Delusions’ (p.16). How well, just as in our acclaimed mythological literature, she pictures the stages and symptoms of blossoming love
‘I search for the face
…………………….
Childish interests long gone’
‘Delusions’ is almost an extension of ‘Faces of Yore’ – yes, those faces that come into the mind and fades away could not have been ‘you’ but in ‘Delusions’ that face does not fade away. But then it is no more time for wishful thinking and frolicking in the effervescent passion of pubescence,
and she concludes that the ‘prattling girl has matured into a woman’ ready to face contemporary realities of the world around her. She is proud of her present status - and of her third eye ‘pride’ (Mine Own Pride p.44) – or is pride itself a metaphor for something else – some one else, only she can answer.
Hema extensively relies on metaphors to construct and support her themes – this makes her really poetic in every sense of the word. In
‘The Nameless Tree’ (p.23), the proud grandsire reminds us of typical the
village elders of yester years, who did everything good for the village for the near and dear but in the end forgets even to own a name. The injured flower that ‘Internalizes its pain and Recoils with hatred’ is yet another fine example (Injured Flower. p.64). And who is her ‘Fair Maid’? I leave it to her to answer.
Hema is equally philosophical at times. Look at her question,
‘How long will it take
For love to Hate?
And she concludes,
‘It takes but a spark’s age’
Love and Hate .p.35
‘Each bud blooms today
Only to whither tomorrow’
A Bud To Boom p.65
Hema seems, though not given vent in her poems explicitly, highly religious in her mind – but has definite views of her own –her religion cannot co-exist with the materialistic – she would rather keep her religious beliefs and materialistic life on different pedestals without having to mix them together.
Hema’s poems do exhibit a distinct thought of her own; often leading to a connectivity and organic unity among them. This is something that makes them rich and inviting the reader to look for a basic trend of thought and philosophy in her poems, in every line and sometimes between the lines.
One poem that stands a little differently ‘My Secret’ (p.56) – because of the words used – words a little outside common usage such as
Hamate , hamadryads, limners, Hebrides , halations, slubber - a little difficult for average readers to understand and appreciate – Was it to camouflage the secrets? – she can be sure she has succeeded in not revealing any in this one piece – but then I am afraid that she has amply laid bare many of her secrets, as a person, as a poet, as a creative artist in her passage from Nostalgia to Golden Moments.
Life Blues - Author R.Hema.
A Writers Workshop Redbird Book -2009. For details Director P.Lal, 162/92 Lake Gardens, Kolkata 700045. Website: www.writersworkshopindia.com Pages 72. Available in Hardback Edition Rs.120/- & Flexiback Limited Edition at Rs.100/-
Hema is undoubtedly well accomplished – her works are liked and appreciated by everyone; she has been published by Indian Literature - a very prestigious publication of the Sahithya Academy. Her translation of ‘ Krishna Gana’ of Othukkadu Venkatasubba Iyer appeared in the May –June 2008 issue – and she could maintain the emotive content of the original in total.
The prestigious Writers Workshop of Prof. Lal from Kalkotta has come with her ‘LIFE BLUES’, a collection of 54 poems that deal with as the publishers put, on various emotions felt by the poet ranging from elation to sadness. The first part of the book carrying 31 poems are mainly
centred around love while the second part placed under the caption ‘ My Fair Maid’ are on an unseen, silent companion of the poet in her fantasies – an alter ego.
Hema has a characteristic, distinct way of looking at things – a little different from others. Look at these lines
Do you know …….
…………………..
Don’t be thirsty, memories will spring
From peaks;
Golden Moments p.69
I am sure none of us ever thought of rain the way Hema does.
Throughout ‘Life Blue’ we can see her nostalgic past popping out – every where – memories springing out from all corners and at all times.
Nostalgia whiffs across
With a whip and roast – yea
Can I ever set eyes on you
My adolescent fancy-partner? …
………………….
Won’t the revolving earth bring to me
Few of the many joys of the past
Long gone and gone into the deep forever
Faces I yearn to see just a moment
Only a split second just to sense
That the buds of youth and vigour
Are still afresh inside
Nostalgia p.9 & 10
Creeping in with ‘buttered toast’, and ‘blossom friends’ she lands with her ‘adolescent fancy-partner’. This one expression would suffice to get her bracketed along with world poets of re-known. Beautifully crafted expressions, condensing or compressing meanings into delicate combination of words – well crafted word to word bonding to bring out more from every word is what poetry is all about – and Hema seems to have mastered the craft.
Look at other similar captivating expressions such as ‘First passion of pubescence’ (p.33) and ‘One smile composed thousand hints’ (p35).
She wants to be reassured, ‘that the buds of youth and vigour are still afresh inside’. After reading her poems we would have no hesitation to extend her that reassurance.
Hema is very focussed and sharp about what she wants to convey and that makes her extremely powerful.
‘Didn’t you say blue?
…………………….
She will lie in wait’
Life Blues p.11
‘A book and pen once threw She
Soaked with her Tears and Poverty’.
Altered Paths p.20
She is up in arms against all types of oppression and exploitation.
‘Hear not the……………
Rebounds with multiplied fury’
Refractions p.27
Look at the vibrant strength in those words – words that reverberate. However, just as many masters have done, she instead of inviting you to take arms prefers to place her faith in the unknown.
‘When will providence undo their shackles?
Afflictions p.32
She has a very delicate, subtle knack to handle personal emotions, particularly born out of man-woman relationship – may I say sometimes even bordering sensual.
I invite you to ‘Melodies’ p.13.
‘They sang intent, each unto other
…………………………………….
The symphony attained zenith’
Look at ‘Delusions’ (p.16). How well, just as in our acclaimed mythological literature, she pictures the stages and symptoms of blossoming love
‘I search for the face
…………………….
Childish interests long gone’
‘Delusions’ is almost an extension of ‘Faces of Yore’ – yes, those faces that come into the mind and fades away could not have been ‘you’ but in ‘Delusions’ that face does not fade away. But then it is no more time for wishful thinking and frolicking in the effervescent passion of pubescence,
and she concludes that the ‘prattling girl has matured into a woman’ ready to face contemporary realities of the world around her. She is proud of her present status - and of her third eye ‘pride’ (Mine Own Pride p.44) – or is pride itself a metaphor for something else – some one else, only she can answer.
Hema extensively relies on metaphors to construct and support her themes – this makes her really poetic in every sense of the word. In
‘The Nameless Tree’ (p.23), the proud grandsire reminds us of typical the
village elders of yester years, who did everything good for the village for the near and dear but in the end forgets even to own a name. The injured flower that ‘Internalizes its pain and Recoils with hatred’ is yet another fine example (Injured Flower. p.64). And who is her ‘Fair Maid’? I leave it to her to answer.
Hema is equally philosophical at times. Look at her question,
‘How long will it take
For love to Hate?
And she concludes,
‘It takes but a spark’s age’
Love and Hate .p.35
‘Each bud blooms today
Only to whither tomorrow’
A Bud To Boom p.65
Hema seems, though not given vent in her poems explicitly, highly religious in her mind – but has definite views of her own –her religion cannot co-exist with the materialistic – she would rather keep her religious beliefs and materialistic life on different pedestals without having to mix them together.
Hema’s poems do exhibit a distinct thought of her own; often leading to a connectivity and organic unity among them. This is something that makes them rich and inviting the reader to look for a basic trend of thought and philosophy in her poems, in every line and sometimes between the lines.
One poem that stands a little differently ‘My Secret’ (p.56) – because of the words used – words a little outside common usage such as
Hamate , hamadryads, limners, Hebrides , halations, slubber - a little difficult for average readers to understand and appreciate – Was it to camouflage the secrets? – she can be sure she has succeeded in not revealing any in this one piece – but then I am afraid that she has amply laid bare many of her secrets, as a person, as a poet, as a creative artist in her passage from Nostalgia to Golden Moments.
Life Blues - Author R.Hema.
A Writers Workshop Redbird Book -2009. For details Director P.Lal, 162/92 Lake Gardens, Kolkata 700045. Website: www.writersworkshopindia.com Pages 72. Available in Hardback Edition Rs.120/- & Flexiback Limited Edition at Rs.100/-
Greetings to all friends.
I /We hope to be able to exchange and share our experiences, observations and
any other useful information that we may come across. With best wishes and
hoping that this blog-spot will eventually become useful to some of you at least
at some point of time.
With best regards,
Panicker & Leela
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