Daughters

The rich souls

Encased

In tender forms

Brimming with

Silent love,

And gentle care;

Daughters

Are that lonely

Slender tree blooming

In a vast plain

Providing cooling wind

And tiny but welcome shade

On a blazing afternoon;

They are an

Oasis in a scorching desert,

For the lost wayfarers

And exhausted caravans;

The daughters are

The Immortal

Ophelia,

Miranda,

Portia

And

Cordelia

To their fathers

Coming with

Various shades of gray;

Daughters

Are the unseen

Fragrant flowers,

Champa, Golden Champa

Or Magnolia

That bring alive

Dead hearts

And dead homes

With lingering scent!

Daughters

Sadly

Are most endangered species

In a feudal sub-continent

And elsewhere,

Treated as chattel,

Murdered in wombs,

Raped in homes or streets

By their own or the goons.

The innocents

Still considered as the

 Devi-incarnates,

These hapless

Little Goddesses

Need to be fiercely

Protected and guarded

By all of us!

(On Daughters’ Day: A tribute)

Stars

On dark nights

Lost in alien

Lands,

In the midst of

Hugging shadows

And mysterious howls

Coming from desolate

Wilds,

The brave adventurer plods on,

Under a star-lit sky;

You,

 The glittering

Heavenly bodies

Guide the wayfarers

Both on the hill

Or in the vale

To their destinations sought;

The twinkling stars

Merrily

Spread cheers

Among lonely hearts,

Tossing on cold beds,

Their bright lights in a

Vast infinity called a sky,

Tucked with a bright disc

Humans call the moon,

Create a marvelous scene:

Diamonds in the sky,

Illuminating space,

And a waxing/waning moon

Produce nightly

Multi-hued light-patterns,

Laser, low-intensity

Or a stellar haze

Emitted by the clusters

Glowing in the sky,

A stunning visual show

Not replicated anywhere on the

Earth, by human hands,

The tender milky light

Dispersed,

Balms the fevered

Urban minds,

Obsessed with Sensex

And stock exchange.

When Silent Days Communicate

Silent Days. Jaydeep Sarangi. Allahabad: Cyberwit.Net. 2013. ISBN: 978-81-8253-396-7. Pp68. Price: Rs. 200/-. Print.

Reviewed by Sunil Sharma

There are times when days fall silent and they speak through a vibrating silence---like a cell-phone kept on silent mode but vibrating at the incoming calls. It is up to the receiver to accept the call/s or reject them, depending on the context and the caller ID. In case of a poet---especially versatile Jaydeep sarangi with increasing global visibility and credibility as a thinker-poet and critic---the temptation to let go by such silent alerts is difficult and despite being busy with a thousand of mundane jobs that we all are condemned to execute Sisyphus-like in our post-modern, one-dimensional, everyday existence on a degrading planet, we latch on to such fleeting moments and snatches of conversations. Jaydeep Sarangi ---JS to close friends---does that precisely. Working multiple roles as an essayist, critic, editor, traveller, writer, poet, reviewer, interviewer, teacher, mentor and friend, the man from Dublong to Beas does another literary feat at a high-altitude and conducts us to a rarefied field---perhaps at 50, 000-feet above earth-level where sound-barriers are breached by a soaring mind of a poet in a trance and entering a different realm visited by the early Greeks and Shakespeare, among a notable number of astral visitors from the terra firma---of communing with life! His slim collection called teasingly Silent days captures the days falling silent and interacting with a hungry poetic soul in a gentle absence---the verbal lack. The clarifying non-verbal spaces were/ are glimpsed by the meditating monks. He plumbs and probes those inner depths of everyday realities, the angst of our middle-class urban existence, the value of non-verbal communication, delight of pursuing arts and the overall meaning of being alive in a stressful moment of history searching for ideals, and brings up pearls from such expeditions to those dim regions.

His messianic role of a reader/poet is summed up in these elegant lines:

 My Dream

It is my dream,

My hungry heart can swallow

The whole world

Of poems and rhymes.

I can arrange the dreams

Of Indian youth

In indigenous ink,

A narrative that lay bare to readers,

I do not know how what you feel

And what makes you weep.

I only reconstruct your stories

And flimsy history. (P. 18)

Here you can hear a post-colonial critic of repute translating the dynamics of that complex of ideas into a flow simple, yet powerful, like the waves of the Beas. The role of a poet is also carefully undermined by claiming the inability/unwillingness to know the reasons for the alienation of Indian youth and a claim to represent their pain/angst/anger causing tears from a cultivated distance through re-constructions of flimsy history. The coinage of the term indigenous ink is striking---IWE (Indian Writing in English) ---is doing that only: Crafting, re-creating, re-imagining/re-presenting Indian experience in an alien medium, a colonial language lovingly preserved and promoted in a big way in a free country, as a heirloom. This kind of subtle de-construction and critique can come from a powerful mind engaged with theory at the highest plane only and you get reminded of Eliot as a poet-critic.

Look at these lines:

I Am

It is the old attire, I touch with a pen.

Sweet song enthralls

My flesh.

And the seed speaks through the iron gates. (P. 19)

Here, the native/alien binary is hinted and re-formulated expertly in a new combination, recalling the famous Barthesian assertion that all writing ultimately becomes a rich tissue of quotations, a thing that refers back to others in a kind of intertextuality, in an age of intersecting intellectual grids and borderless conversations and exchange of trans-national ideas. Writing in another language is an eclectic act in itself and very delicate one. Native experiences and heritage get expressed in anther idiom and JS, an expert craftsman, does that act with the élan of a connoisseur.

This poignant line from Silent Days again mirrors the mood of the poet in a poise of mental alertness, trying to catch the weightless atoms/impressions falling on his lyrical Richter scale and the writer faithfully recording them for posterity:  

‘You are passing through a phase; silent days.’ (P. 26)

While reading these poems, I felt like travelling back to a country road that I often take to my office in suburban Mumbai. It is a long winding road nestling among trees and cutting through a small river gurgling its way to sea. It lies stretched between two national highways and is a short-cut. While travelling through this green zone I understand the meaning of inner/outer solitude for a fevered urban mind. For the ‘natives’ living there in the little villages in the shadows of hills, it is a natural state of being. For an ‘alien/outsider’, it is a transient state of rare silence that soothes so much---like the aanchal of an old mother. JS is successful in re-creating that elusive mood, that mysterious moment, that strange tranquility you feel while going on a country road or watching a sun-up or a Gauguin, up close. He catches the strains that can be heard only when days suddenly become quiet and one goes inside one’s personality to fathom the inner riches stored for us all. His poems inaugurate a New Movement in IWE.

A major poet is born!

Silent Days vociferously proclaim the arrival of a genius!

The incredible sky

The blue vault

Holds many

Secrets and

Realms not seen

By the ordinary eyes;

There are many

Long islands,

Hills,

Rivers and

Oceans white,

All tinged with gold

In an orange sky,

For the orphan child

Peeping out

Of the barred window

Of the dismal shelter,

A rabbit tall

With bright eyes,

Winks at him

At nights,

And makes

The tear-stained

Pale face smile;

And on dark

Lonely nights,

His mum-dad

Appear in the

Empyrean heights,

Trailing as angels,

Waving, comforting

The scared child.

(Published by Brian Wrixon in his latest anthology: Heavens above, poetry below) 

A supermarket in Mumbai suburb

People walk silently

Along the well-lit isles

In a crowded supermarket,

Chatting on cell phones,

Picking up sexy items from

Shelves groaning with

 Various products well-packaged,

And neatly labeled;

Each one

Shrinking from the other;

Waiting in the long Queues,

Trolleys stuffed with assorted goods,

Groceries, fruits, veggies, toothpastes and brushes

All poured into the cavernous belly of the trolley by

Hungry hands groping the backs of the

Branded products, slim or fat, all

To be loaded onto the idling cars outside

By the families aroused by the displayed items

On open long shelves,

 All the guys

---And I see Allen Ginsberg, bespectacled, bearded and fierce among the silent shoppers for a second and then his unkempt figure disappears in the Sunday-evening crowds milling everywhere---

Waiting quietly before the till

And a grim dumb cashier

That never smiles;

II

Down the riverside,

A frail woman sells the ladyfingers

Green and fresh

Kissed by the breeze from the placid river,

A man climbs down and asks,

How much, dear aunt, is the ladyfinger?

She quotes,

He haggles,

The woman says finally,

Smiling, her face veined,

Take it son, at your price

It is closing time,

And I have a long way

To my village home.

An interview with Bapsi Sidhwa: Published in Wealth of Ideas: USA: 2010

Sunil Sharma Interviews Pakistani-American Novelist Bapsi Sidhwa

Today we are featuring a literary interview Sunil Sharma [right] did with the celebrated Pakistani-Parsi-American writer Bapsi Sidhwa [left] about culture, society, art and the craft of fiction-writing. In the words of Sunil Sharma, "The brilliant mind of the writer is summed up in this long dialogue, just beautiful, perceptive and crystal-clear." Sharma is an Indian associate-professor, freelance journalist and writer. Here he is in conversation with a senior author whose works have been made into cinema by the internationally-known Indian director Deepa Mehta.

[Please note that the series of 2010 readings lists and interviews is still going on, but while waiting for interview response, I thought you may enjoy this interview of an inspiring writer].

The Interview: Sunil Sharma and Bapsi Sidhwa

Sharma: What does it mean to be Bapsi Sidhwa in a globalized and de-radicalized world of 2010, a world where literature, like culture, has been grossly commercialized?

Sidhwa: Globalization has its advantages. To be translated and read in several countries is immensely satisfying; after all a writer - this writer at least - is driven by the impulse to communicate. Conversely, globalization exposes one to wonderful writers from diverse cultures. I am wary of best-sellers though – they are often predictable and padded with clichés and tawdry writing and don’t credit their readers with intelligence. Though in the age of twitter and texting the novel might shrink or evolve in unpredictable ways.

Sh: Who do you think you are finally? A Punjabi-Parsi –Pakistani? Or, a successful woman novelist from South-Asia, settled in America with a businessman husband?

S: In America I am a South Asian woman novelist. My other identities are of little consequence to anyone but me.

Sh: Are identities based on geography, religion, language and gender relevant in a post-modern world of micro-narratives and commoditized world of instant gratification?

S: Identities based on geography, religion, language and gender are as relevant in the post modern world as in the past or in the foreseeable future.

Sh: What is the role of a writer in such a culture of forgetfulness? Where brands compete and replace each other? Everything is instant and replaceable? Does word have any sanctity?

S: Writer’s narratives are woven into the fabric of life and history – it makes people aware of where they stand in relation to each other and the rest of the world. The word, as we understand it, may mutate, but it will always count.

Sh: Do you see any improvement in the situation for the female writers of English in Muslim – dominated Pakistan?

S: There is a tendency to marginalize female writers everywhere; although this tendency has become alarmingly noticeable in Pakistan of late.

Sh: Has the condition of the Pakistani Bride changed over the last few decades there?

S: The condition of the Pakistani Bride and of the tribal culture, in which her story unfolds in the novel, remains much the same in the remote mountain regions.

Sh: You said once that you felt limited in the Pakistani milieu and to overcome the restricted environment, decided to write. Settled in America for more than two decades, do you feel the same?

S:There are so many reasons why I took to writing. Ironically, the restrictive environment created a tension that was conducive to writing - but mostly I wrote to fill the silences in my earlier life. There can be too many distractions in the US.

Sh: Any homology between the trend-setter Crow Eaters and Mistry’s Such a Long Journey? A possible influence of your book and style over the latter’s novel?

S:There was a small outcrop of Parsi writers about 10 years after I wrote the Crow Eaters. A couple of them told me they had not thought Parsis could be written about in fiction until they read the Crow Eaters.

Sh: Are there better opportunities available for the South-Asian Writers now?

S: There certainly are – There are more publishing houses in SA and SA writing has become much more salable in the west as well. Our books are taught in universities and high schools in America and England and elsewhere.

Sh: Urdu has produced a long line of marvellous female writers but very few are there in English. Reasons?

S: There are quite a few good women writers who don’t get the break male writers writing in English get. I’m thinking of Bina Shah in particular – a prolific and excellent writer who does not have the recognition she deserves. There are many more critics and commentators where Urdu writing is concerned and they give women writers their due. Of course the pool of English writers is miniscule comparatively.

Sh: Your take on Pakistan’s writing in English?

S: It has made fair strides of late and Pakistani writers are becoming more confident.

Sh: Is writer relevant today?

S: Yes, writers are still popularly read because they reflect their societies and humans remain curious about other people and the drama of their lives. Writers are this era’ myth makers.

Sh: Pakistan is in flux. Religious fervor and Islamist forces are back. Have you any plans to document this socio-cultural upheaval, turmoil?

S: I have written about it in some essays. If it comes about naturally, I will write about it. So far I’ve been content to read journalistic accounts about the subject and they are having a field day with it.

Sh: Advice to a young writer? Do you mentor young voices as a senior writer?

S:I taught creative writing in several Universities in the US and have recommended promising manuscripts to publishers and agents. My advice to anyone who wishes to write, regardless of age, is to plunge into it. The more you think about it the less you will write. Degrees in English Lit inhibit one’s own writing. A lot depends on how driven a person is and the innate gift one has.

Sh: Most of the South Asian writing is clichéd and stereotyped. It is pandering to the persistent Western perceptions only. Regional- language literatures are more authentic. Do you agree?

S: I’m afraid much of Western writing is also clichéd and stereotyped. You are right though; some SA writers tend to make their work exotic to fit the preconceived notions the West has about us. In that respect Regional language work is more authentic – they don’t have to impress outsiders. They wouldn’t get away with distortions and false notes about their milieu.

Sh: After Pakistani Bride, larger women’s issues got neglected in your works. Their silence could not be kindly articulated as it was done in your first novel. Your Comment?

S: If I have a story to tell, I tell it as it comes naturally. My sympathy for women’s issues is deeply embedded in all my work – as much in An American Brat as it is in Cracking India/Ice-candy-man.

Sh: Why do Asian, African and Latin-American authors focus on backwardness of their societies in their English works for the purely Western and white- only audiences?

S: Stereotyping and reinforcing preconceived ideas about these countries makes the Western reader feel they are being fed the authentic stuff.

Sh: Any new work coming up for your fans?

S: A collection of short stories and essays is with my agent.

Sh: Your take on the film-literature interface? Is it a satisfying experience for the writer? Is it a bilateral creative process? Are film and literary idioms identical? Are you happy with the film version of your novel?

S: I found it satisfying – I was delighted and grateful that Deepa Mehta wanted to turn my book Cracking India into a film. It was a bilateral creative process for both of us and I’m happy with the result.

Sh: Can arts and literatures bridge political and religious divides of minds, especially in South Asia and Middle East?

S: They have done so in several instances and many valiant writers strive to do so despite the deepening animosities.

Bapsi Sidhwa is an award winning Pakistani novelist striving above all to bring women's issues of the Indian subcontinent into public discussion.
Internationally acclaimed author Bapsi Sidhwa was raised in Lahore, Pakistan. She now lives in Houston, Texas. She graduated from Kinnaird College for Women, Lahore. Her 5 novels: Cracking India, The Pakistani Bride, The Crow Eaters, An American Brat, and Water, have been translated and published in several languages. Her anthology City of Sin and Splendour: Writings on Lahore was published in 2006.Among her many honors Sidhwa received the Bunting Fellowship at Radcliffe/Harvard, the Lila Wallace-Reader's Digest Writer's Award, the Sitara-i-Imtiaz, Pakistan's highest national honor in the arts, and the LiBeraturepreis in Germany and the 2007 Primo Mondello Award in Italy.
Sidhwa, who was on the advisory committee to Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto on Women's Development has taught at Columbia U, University of Houston, Mount Holyoke College, Southampton University and Brandeis. Cracking India (a New York Times Notable Book of the Year and a Quality Paperback Book Club selection), was made into the film Earth by Canadian director Deepa Mehta. Her novel Water is based on Mehta’s film of the same name. Sidhwa’s play, An American Brat, was produced by Stages Repertory Theater in Houston March 2007. It played to full houses and received critical acclaim. Her play, Sock ’em With Honey, played in London in 2003.

Sunil Sharma is associate professor, vice-principal and head of department of English, Model College, which is affiliated to the University of Mumbai, India. He is a bilingual critic, poet, literary interviewer, editor, translator, essayist and fiction writer. Some of his short stories and poems have already appeared, among others, in prestigious journals like: Hudson View (South Africa), Munyori, The Plebian Rag and the Bicycle Review (all three USA e-zines), New Woman (Mumbai); Creative Saplings, Muse India and Kritya (both Indian e-zines); the Seva Bharati Journal of English Studies(West Bengal), Indian Literature (of Sahitya Akademy, New Delhi), Laybrinth (Gwalior), Indian Literary Panorama (Mumbai), Contemporary Vibes (Chandigarh), Indian Journal of Post-colonial Literatures(Kerala), Poets International and Prosopisia (Ajmer). Some of his poems and shorts have been anthologized in national and international collections. Besides that, he is a freelance journalist in English. His areas of strength are Marxism, Literary Theory and Cultural Studies. His book on the Philosophy of the Novel—a Marxist Critique is already published and got a good response. His debut novel—The Minotaur—dealing with dominant ideologies and sociopolitical realities of the 20th century was also published from Jaipur (India) in 2009. The novel has been favourably received and reviewed. He has also edited, along with Dr Jaydeep Sarangi, an anthology of shorts, The Editors’ Chioce: Contemporary Short Stories in Indian English, published by Gnosis Publications, New Delhi, 2010. He is one of the editors for the NFJ (New Fiction Journal), an international journal devoted to the short stories. Also, joint secretary of GIEWEC (Guild of Indian English Writers, Editors and Critics). He serves on many advisory boards of quality international literary and online journals.

Posted 21st December 2010 by Emmanuel Sigauke

Labels: pakistani literature sunil sharma bapsi sidhwa

Protesting through words

 I protest

When I see:

An innocent young bride

Burnt for inadequate dowry

Anywhere in my India.

I protest

When I see:

Children sweating

Like the young Dickens

In dark factories

For few rupees

And

Forgetting their happy childhood

Within the stone walls

Of those dark halls

Of hell.

I protest

When I see:

Dissidents getting

Bumped off in the nations

Nearby or far-off

Or,

The Bamyan Buddhas

Being razed to ground

By the Taliban

Or,

When a woman journalist Lubna Hussein

To be lashed for wearing pants

In Sudan.

But---

I protest

With words only

Because strikes are

Banned here

In my country.

Words become my weapons

Potent

They question

Every misdeed

Of the elites powerful

And

Blind.

When that no longer

Works,

I stand at the famous

Tiananmen Square,

Stretching out my arms

In the charged air,

All alone---

A pathetic

Frail human figure---

Against the gleaming white

Vastness of the solid square,

Holding alone

The great might

Of the Rolling tanks,

My thin arms,

And my puny figure

Stopping the armoured column

Of the State

Via one, single human gesture

Caught on the celluloid

For others to see---

And inspire.

At that dramatic moment

Words become me

And I become

A concrete

Example of the

Unfailing

Human

PROTEST

Against everything

Unjust and vicious.

Words that carry their own

Charge and can do much harm

To status Quo

Than the conventional

Cannons.