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Collection of Chaos, Poems of Tikuli

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I have been reading Tikuli’s book of poems, Collection of Chaos. I shall start by saying, these poems are staccato of images, shot repeatedly at close quarters, they penetrate and reemerge in hue of words and distances. I take it to the hospital and pick up a few poems after having repaired gunshot wounds. They talk to me in different times among many differences. I believe, her poems didn’t need a foreword, or a mentor as she explains in the development of her poems. If contemporary Indo-English poetry scene needs to be realized and felt, there was never any need for an evolution; poetry exists sublimely in the sociopolitical environs of India.

I love the book, its untitled poems and imagery distinct of an Indian aroma within a life and a city living within itself. Tikuli’s poems are crafted for an immediate resonance. She builds up words on images and its these images tumbles down in ripples or an unknown rain happening on a cloudburst afternoon at Delhi.

One of her long poems reminded me of the British Anthology of Poetry of the Tube Train- Poems on the Underground. Tikuli has written on the Delhi metro. I do wish that I could have Delhi poets celebrating the underground metro.

On the far side,
Alone on her seat
In the fast moving metro
He spots her….

Her short poems are like a swish of a brush, a streak of a color on a blank canvas

Canvas of snow
A raven adds color
Yin and Yang

But then again remaining incomplete, replete with minimal words is what I believe life and poetry is

Poems dwell in
The possibilities
And
The impossibilities
Of the mind

Thinking of Ayn Rand, I ask, where does the mind dwell

I remember Pritish Nandy in one of Tikuli’s poem

incessant rain
a poetic hybridity
of thoughts

Nandy’s 1979 published book, ‘A Stranger called I’, he too writes

It has been raining since morning and
Carol King is blowing my mind since then….

Another beautiful poem conjuring the old Delhi skies that I love so much in hesitant images, hesitant recollection….

Yet another citrus night.
Moon
A sliced lemon garnish
In the tequila sky.

Tikuli ‘s book Collection of Chaos is color crowded in stillness, these are poems merging in absolute reverberating horizons. At a day’s end, they talk of belief, each of them creating numerous skies.

Amitabh Mitra is a poet, artist and a medical doctor based at East London, South Africa. Extensively published, Amitabh continues living in corridors and spaces irretrievably from his home town of Gwalior.

Tikuli
Brought up in Delhi in a family of liberal educationists Tikuli is a mother of two sons. She is also a blogger and author. Some of her short stories and poems have appeared in print and in online journals and literary magazines including Le Zaparougue, MiCROW 8, Troubadour21, The Smoking Book (Poets Wear Prada Press, US), The Enchanting Verses Literary Review, Mnemosyne Literary Journal, Women’s Web. Some of her print publications include poems in Guntur National Poetry Festival Anthology and much acclaimed Chicken Soup For The Indian Romantic Soul (Westland). Her work has also been featured on websites related to gender issues and child sexual abuse. Her debut poetry book Collection of Chaos can be bought from all online book sellers.

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