Archive for the ‘Twitter’ Category
Geeta Chhabra’s poetry book ‘No Journey Ends’ is being launched on Tuesday, 26th March 2013, 5.30 pm, Arabian Gallery, 34th Floor, Media One Tower, Media City, Dubai, U.A.E.
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Geeta Chhabra is the winner of the Poets Printery International Best Poetry Web Site Award for Creativity and New Age Poetry. The award is given annually, judged by a panel of international poets and website developers.
Poets Printery is pleased with our cooperation, in Geeta’s words, No Journey Ends is the proof of our comradeship.
Stuck on 1/Forty, Poems by Pritish Nandy, Published 2012
Madness is the Second Stroke, Poems of Pritish Nandy, Published 1971
A 1970 Newspaper Cutting
Stuck on 1 by forty, Pritish Nandy’s latest poetry book is with me in the hospital. Between treating assaults and trauma, I peep into his book every day. I read his poems almost like I was treating an emergency protocol. Emergency Medicine is not flexible, but his poems are, and I long for that day when I can virtually fuse Medicine and Poetry so that each one can relate to the other.
If I need to write on his poems in Stuck on 1 by forty, I need to write about Pritish Nandy himself. Actually I have been writing about his works since 1979. We have two Nandys: the one who was the poet at Calcutta (I prefer referring to it as Calcutta) and the other one who lives in Mumbai (not Bombay). The Poet Nandy believes that after leaving Calcutta, he became a prose writer and has been achieving laurels in many other genres other than poetry. But to my way of thinking both the Nandys are one and the same and Pritish never left Calcutta inasmuch as I never left Gwalior. Pritish in his foreword writes about his leaving Calcutta, never to return. Mumbai is his new life, the glitz and glamour sometimes overshadowing the days as a struggling poet: he wrote poetry at a pace few could. Calcutta gave him poetry in streets and lanes, he in turn gave Calcutta the gift of Indo English Poetry, the first of its kind that many never believed in, yet it was poetry of many surfaces in arrogant sunsets.
While launching his glossy book ‘Again’, he said, he stopped writing poetry because poetry doesn’t sell. He turned to writing prose, and I have been following his work surreptitiously. Nandy indeed is a prolific writer of prose as well, though most of it is so poetic that they come across as prose-poems, Nandy was the editor of The Illustrated Weekly, in which he wrote about quite a few people, bringing out certain interesting aspects of their personality. He wrote about Osho -
“Few people have understood India like Osho. It was an understanding at many levels. The philosophical, the historic, the purely emotional – and even the political and the literary, the wanton and the spiritual. His was a holistic understanding. An understanding that went beyond words, into the uncharted terrain of true love. For love was at the core of everything that Osho believed in. It was the ultimate message he left for us. To discover, experience, savor life through love.”
Nobody has ever over stepped in mystifying the beauty of Rekha the way Pritish did. I must have read that article in the Illustrated Weekly a hundred times. Pritish, in many off his books, correlated with the beautiful photography of his friend, Dhunji Rana. This brought out the magnificence of his poetry, which managed to stay in the hearts and minds of the younger generation of India the way it did in me.
I remember it clearly. There were two Calcuttas during that period. The Calcutta of the Elitist who met at the Saturday Club and for balls at the Swimming Club and then the one that was the middle class who wished the destruction of anything and everything that the mind believed in, both were tired of living a boring apolitical death. And then there were Babas who understood both these groups and exploited them. I also remember Desmond Doig, the charismatic editor of JS asking fervently to interview a Naxalite just to understand their philosophy. He never got one. Till this day, the Naxalites are the most misunderstood group because there is simply no political agenda that can be put within a frame or the covers of a book. If the exploited in the then Calcutta and now in Chhattisgarh and Jharkhand are termed as ‘Naxalites’ then I must be one Naxalite too.
Pritish Nandy burst into the poetry scene during that period with many books, and one of them was a book titled Madness is the Second Stroke. The book which was published by Dialogue Publications also got a place in a JS Blueprint issue. Calcutta was moving fast in involuntary spasms and Pritish just needed to pick on some of these. This book is in a soft cover with a jacket similar to Stuck on 1 by forty. Measuring 22 cm / 13.5 cms., this book is slightly bigger than Stuck on 1 by Forty. It has a soft cover continuing as a jacket just like Stuck on however it doesn’t have the gloss paper print and the UV gloss cover. There are three important happenings that have made me relate the book to Stuck on. This book is living proof that Pritish Nandy’s attachment to Calcutta continues.
Pritish was fast becoming an icon with his poetry that asked everybody reading his works to throw out the grammar book of Wren and Martin. He clasped and re-clasped his words and sentences creating a form of English language poetry that is truly his own. Questioning poetry, he built his own relevance. Relating his life and living, he brought the multitude of Indian culture and thinking to a resemblance that people in India finally understood. In an India during that time when Internet never existed, he believed in writing poetry and publishing them through the small press.
During the same time, another poet had become instantly popular. He too did not pay much attention to grammar. He too, like Pritish, wrote about the common man’s anguish and love. Yevgeny Yevtushenko is an international icon not only in the world of poetry but among the common men of the former Soviet republic. The Soviet bureaucracy once frowned on him simply because they couldn’t place Yevgeny’s work in a single distinct file. Tired of the existing literature, he started writing in spurts of everyday life that everybody understood.
The remarkable impact that Yevtushenko made sprang more than anything else from his being the representative of quite a new generation, seeing old truths through fresh eyes as each new generation must. By consistently refusing to compromise his regard for truth or his concept of good poetry he became this new generation’s unchallenged literary spokesman, and opened a way for the host of talented young poets that has emerged in the last decades. Peter Levi.
Pritish Nandy no doubt became the Yevtushenko of the seventies and continues to be so. He hustled in a new form of pop culture hitherto unknown to the Indo English Poetry Movement. Calcutta was his life and continues to be so. While people like Braz Gonsalves and Pam Crain were breaking into newer forms of music and Ananda Shankar had grasped the grammar of Western music and successfully implemented it in his newer form of music, Pritish Nandy just did the same with his poetry, he brought society, politics and love together in a heady mixture of suspended words crafted out of remembering the smell of a city and his love for love itself.
Let me now try fusing both these books together. Its all about memory that seems to cling even after one has written a book. He quoted in the beginning pages of Madness is the Second Stroke –
Who can say where memory begins
Who can say where the present ends
Where the past becomes a sentimental ballad
And sorrow a paper yellowed with age
In his poem, What shall we do with these memories, he has experimented with italics and removing commas and full stops. This would continue in his poetry of 2012 where a poem can end abruptly in a single line or there would be double space after each line
this is my country
the smell of blood that I have known
and the silence that I would have recognised
and yet they have sentenced me to death
a silent wordless execution on the nineteenth hill of fury
a death even memory cannot disown without hate
In his poem, Down the ruined staircase of the sun –
remember Anamika madness returns at the stroke of
exactly at twelve we shall both die
Calcutta if you must exile is considered Pritish Nandy’s best poem ever written by an Indian. Pritish has added this poem to many of his collections and many of his close friends including Shashi Tharoor remember this poem from a volatile era in Calcutta.
And I will show the hawker who died with Calcutta in his eyes
Calcutta if you must exile me destroy my sanity before I go
In his poem, Though I have never seen the mountains of Colombia –
Though I have never seen the mountains of
Columbia your name Camilio Torres the storm
has whispered in my blood
straggling group of guerrillas have gathered near
the frontiers and in the foxholes the soldiers wait
In his poem, Wandering in this strange continent of the Asphodel –
there are moments when to accept peace is to line
up your friends blindfold against the wall and gun
them down there are moments when the only
honest thing left to do is to fight and die
and till then peace-mongers poets and pimps can
carry on this trade in human frailties
when the time to die comes friend we are all men
guerrilla into the night raise your rusted bayonet
the time has come to fight
Love, Violence, Protest and Living, were part of our lives especially if one stayed in Calcutta during the seventies. Madness is the Second Stroke is all about that. During the same period Yevgeny shunned Byron and wrote poetry. In his celebrated poem Zima Junction, he writes
As we get older we get honester
And these objective changes correspond
Like a language to me and my mutations
If the way I see you now is not the way
In which we saw you once, if in you
What I see now is new
It was by self-discovery I found it.
I realize that my twenty years might be
Less than mature: but for a reassessment:
What I said and ought not to have said,
And ought to have said and was silent
In his poem, Epistle to Neruda –
Like a seasoned lion,
Neruda buys bread in the shop.
He asks for it to be wrapped in paper
And solemly puts it under his arm:
“Let someone at least think
that at some time
I bought a book…”
In his poem, Memento –
You entered – neither too late nor too early -
at exactly the right time, as my very own,
and with a smile, uprooted me
from memories, as from a grave.
And I, once again whirling among
the painted horses, gladly exchange,
for one reminder of life,
all its memories.
Stuck on 1/Forty is Pritish Nandy’s latest collection of poems. Published by Amaryllis in 2012, Nandy brings forth poetry within the one hundred forty characters allowed in Twitter, a widely used social networking site. Its revolutionary, its colourful, it has the familiar smell of Nandy and its obviously beautiful. Being an old Nandy gazer among many others, Gulzar being a well-known one, I beg to disagree with Pritish when he says -
So, I am back to poetry. Its different from what I have written before
When did Pritish leave poetry? The magic of gauging immortality with words still continues in the same way as it did in the seventies.
Chetan Bhagat writes, It’s rare to have poetry from someone who has fought injustice all his life with prose.
It would seem that Chetan has possibly not read Nandy’s poetry from 1969 onwards, which forms the bulk of the work, as much, if not more than his prose. Noteworthy among these is Nandy’s poetry on Bangladesh and his translations of noted Bangladeshi poets in his book Poems from Bangladesh, Voice of a New Nation published in 1971. Nandy is also the youngest recipient of the Padma Shri for his poetry
Stuck on 1/forty has poems in fonts of different size and in different colours, matching the mood of the poem.
On Twitter he writes -
Why am I on twitter?
Do I need friends all over again?
Or am I hunting down
My solitudes one by one?
His poems on Kolkata (not Calcutta)
The tramcar hurtles
Through the night,
As I walk alone
Alone in the dark, through
To where I want to be
The blue bus stumbled down
The broken roads of Howrah
Till I reached the factory
And found that nothing really
Mattered but you.
Cities come and go.
Bombay is Mumbai now,
Where will I hide from you
Or for that matter
From myself? I write me
A passport to hell.
This poem on Darbari Kannada reminds me of his book Lonesong Street where he had mentioned about it, his fondness grows
The darbari kannada
Contexts the moment:
The gull swoops down
To pick its prey.
To end this review, would be the most difficult task for me, because realizing the brittleness of a sunset trauma from Nandy’s poetry is far more relevant to me than performing craniotomies in makeshift camps in Eastern Congo behind a setting sun, some years back. Ishita spent hours designing poems in this book and then redesigning them again, somewhere at some place, within this book, colors just changed and so did the fonts. Poetry bloomed because of her excellent graphic designing.
I seem to have rambled on while writing this review on Stuck on 1/forty. It always happens. Nandy cant be captured in a review nor in a Ph.D thesis. He just happens, a happening in a brilliant galaxy where mass and matter merge, words simply explode.
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“Unbreaking the Rainbow – Voices of Protest from New South Africa”,
The Poets Printery, South Africa, 2012, ISBN 978-0-620-52212-0.
Unbreaking the Rainbow – Voices of Protest from the New South Africa,
includes poetry by thirty-seven talented and accomplished poets (many of
whom are well-known in South Africa’s literary circles). This handsome
paperback edition of ninety-four pages, seventeen and a-half by twenty-
five centimeters in size is edited by Dr. Amitabh Mitra, who is also a
contributing poet, illustrator of the book covers, and the publisher
(The Poets Printery, East London, South Africa), and the book’s forward
was written by Ela Gandhi (granddaughter of Mahatma Gandhi).
This anthology has many strengths. The selection of contributing
poets is quite impressive, including: Naomi Nkealah, Sarita Mathur,
Anna Hamlin, Sarah Rowland Jones, Fiona Khan, croc E moses, Betty
Govinden, Vivagalatchmie Ananthavallie Naicker, Deena Padayachee,
Jean Marie Spitaels, Hugh Hodge, Tauriq Jenkins, Molefi Vincent Kau,
Jennifer Ann Lean, Khadija Tracey Heeger, Patrick Tarumbwa, Kobus
Moolman, Raphael d’Abdon, Graham Vivian Lancaster, Brett Beiles,
Sonwabo Meyi, Gillian Schutte, Pratish Mistry, Shabbir Banoobhai,
Gona Pragasen Kathan Naicker, Harry Owen, Stephen Marcus Finn,
Kogi Singh, Sue Conradie, Geoffrey Haresnape, Irene Emanuel, Karen
Lazar, Ravi Naicker, Peter Horn, Gary Cummiskey, Amitabh Mitra,
and Arja Salafranca. The quality of the poems included in this anthology
reflects positively upon the overall product, as do the variety of styles
which includes all from the elegiac to Beat-inspired prose poetry.
There is some excellent imagery included in the book, some of which is
“academic poetic” and other more “street poetry” in demeanor. Many of
the poems in this edition would easily lend themselves to public performance,
as they beg encouragement and participation by the reader/listener.
The overall message of the book would seem to be that
revolution is a process without beginning or end, and perhaps never
fully-attainable as while “oppressors” may change names and even skin-color,
the underlying state-of-humanity and cultural values often remain the same,
forever controlled by systems of thought, systems of avarice, power and
control, and which are ultimately undemocratic because they perpetuate inequality
and injustice despite the veneer of rhetoric and so-called new freedoms of
expression which are both limited and limiting.
It is difficult for the reader/listener not to reflect upon and consider the
commentaries and images presented against his/her own ideas and
experiences – no matter where in the world he/she resides. In this sense,
the sentiments in this book are both universal and timely, whether one
is in South Africa, Egypt, Libya, Tunisia, Europe, Asia, South America or
North America. Many voices from Egypt, Libya, Tunisia, Occupy etc. echo the
same refrain “What the hell happened to our Revolution?!!”
And yet the very strengths of this anthology might point as well to a few
limitations, both as a surviving literary work and as an important historical
document. Such is often the delicate balance of political poetry: inspiring,
provoking, ranting, and inciting reaction and change but at the same time
providing a sense of hope to temper the outrage and disillusionment with
the current status quo. The inclusion of so many contributing poets with
so few works each is understandable from many perspectives but – on the
other hand – could also be seen as a weakening factor. The impassioned
works in the anthology have a relentless quality in totality, which hammer
and build throughout the entire book and fill both the mind and stomach
so fully that I – as an interested reader – found myself exclaiming “Okay, I
get it!” … as well as feeling a bit depressed by the messages of hopelessness
and disillusionment. Had the book included half as many contributing
authors and given each more space to show a bit more breadth in sentiment
through several poems then the anthology might have been more
inspirational. The process of revolution is – after all – a lifestyle, which
requires a myriad of experiences, perceptions and emotions in order
for society members to endure over time.
That being said, this is a remarkable literary and historical document, which
says as much about the spiritual state of humanity in general as it does about
post-revolution South Africa. While all of the poems are well-written, I would
like to mention a handful that particularly moved me as a poet, activist and
literary critic: “A poet’s dilemma” and “My president” by Naomi Nkealah set
the tone for the book quite well, “Fire is our favourite colour” by croc E moses
is excellent active poetry that is colorful and engaging in language, style and
imagery, “Show me the Rainbow” by Vivagalatchmie Ananthavallie Naicker is
a vibrant political essay that dazzles in its “tell it like it is” approach, “Holy war”
by Hugh Hodge is simply brilliant in its undressing of the cause behind the cause,
“In the house of exile” by Molefi Vincent Kau is sobering and beautiful, “Loxion
workers” by Raphael d’Abdon – which is dedicated to the miners murdered in
the eland shaft – is a haunting work which deserves several readings, and the
beautiful, violent, disturbing images presented by Gary Cummiskey in his poems
“Today”, “And we watch”, “What’s on today’s menu”, and “Never forget” are
riveting and unforgettable for those bold enough to face the realities portrayed.
Perhaps one of the most satisfying works for me is Amitabh Mitra’s “Mdantsane”,
due both to its quiet poetic reflection and the remarkable poetic imagery created.
All readers of this book will find his/her personal favorites, as the overall selection of
poetry is quite good. This is an ambitious project which works very well. See the
publishing company’s website: www. poetsprintery.co.za for more information about
the book, the publishing company, and how to order this and other publications.
- Adam Donaldson Powell, Norway, 2013.
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The best of South African Poetry is now in A Hudson View
Cover and Back Art by Amitabh Mitra
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and let this sun
shatter in our thoughts
shards, lets pick up again
in shapeless rivers
Poem and Ink Drawing by Amitabh Mitra
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Poems for Haiti, A South African Anthology was launched on the 13 October 2010 5.30 pm at the Point Yacht Club, Durban
Poets and Poetry Lovers described it as an unforgettable experience.
Some photos of the launch
The Haiti Anthology
The splendour of an evening outside
Yachts riding the sea and a familiar sky
A Slow Train to Gwalior, Music and the Book, Framed Watercolors, Hudson Views and Zulu Zappy
Irene checking out the book with others
Sarita Mathur and Sharm Govender organising the food, the best of wines and the best of food, poetry couldnt have been better.
Gillian van der Heijden, the hostess of the programme
Danny Naicker, Programme Facilitator, Brother and a Great Poet
Amitabh Mitra introduces the book, talks on the concept of publishing poetry in South Africa
Brett Beiles who came so near to the Dalro Award
Prithraj Dullay, Firebrand ANC Activist and Guest Speaker addresses the audience
The Poets themselves
Me with Vivek and Sarita Mathur
Ravi Naicker reciting his poem
Kogi Singh discussing on Haiti
The entire group of LIPS poets
Another picture, Kakoli Ghosh is at the far right
Some more art
East London, Grahamstown, Johannesburg, here we come…..
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Our next anthology is on the Protest Poetry of Post Democratic South Africa
Poems for Haiti, A South African Anthology is to be launched by firebrand ANC activist Prithraj Dullay at the Point Yacht Club 13 October 2010 5.30 pm onwards. Prithraj Dullay is the author of Salt Water Runs In My Veins
Ela Gandhi has kindly consented to grace the occasion.
Please do come.
Sunil Sharma, Associate Professor of English Literature at Mumbai says
On Wednesday evening, October 13, history is going to be made at the famous Point Yacht Club, Beachfront, Durban, SA. On this day and appointed hour, the assembly of the best poets will witness the launch of: Poems for Haiti, A South African Anthology by the Live Poets Society. “Poetry as Activism” is going to be on a wide-screen display from 5:30 pm onwards: For a change, the finest creative minds— instead of contemplating the world and its myriad recurring crises as is the general wont and pose of alienated souls—will be listening to and discussing the natural tragedy that affected a small but resilient island nation, and, what is more important, its recovery through solidarity and community efforts of little men and women, the marginalized of the local and global histories in every age. The poets featured in the collection talk of real problems of gigantic scales and address an entire nation in the aftermath of a severe quake that flattened the rich and poor houses alike, as nature is, mercifully, not hierarchical and pro-rich like human societies.
Professor Peter Horn in his forward -
A group of concerned poets rallied and expressed their shock and their support for the victims in their poems. While poems cannot rebuild destroyed houses, they can reaffirm the unity of humanity across the entire globe. The pain of our friends in Haiti was our pain as well.
While food, water, shelter, medical care are, of course, prime necessities in a disaster like this, it would be a misunderstanding, to believe that beyond the material needs there are no psychological, religious and cultural needs. People who survive man-made or natural disasters are in need of more than the bare necessities of survival. They need to come to terms with the destruction of their lives, the loss of their friends and relatives, the shaking of their most fundamental beliefs.
In my editorial –
This anthology not only verifies the extreme torture a single nation, a single environment and a single feeling went through that day but also unveils dehumanization of victims, death couldn’t have erased such stretched pain, such agonizing screams till this day.
The poets included here are, some as young as seventeen and others who are recognized voices of the South African poetry movement but many others who came out to share their sorrows and be a part of this minor collection, Poems for Haiti.
The contributors to this anthology are
Phillippa Yaa de Villiers
Amy von Witt
Gona Pragasen Kathan (Danny) Naicker
Vivagalatchmie Ananthavallie Naicker
Khumbudzo Daniel Masutha
Douglas Ntando Gumbo
Tendai R. Mwanaka
Marelise van der Merwe
Publisher – Poets Printery, South Africa
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ISBN 13 -9780620464734
Price – Rand 100
the road to mdantsane
jumps of arrhythmia
twists in contortion
of an impending stroke
nobody here watches
the shacks rasping
sells us still
layers of elements and
a river of so many people
touched the sun
Poem and Drawing by Amitabh Mitra
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noorganj is stuck to the side of the fort
tiny eruptions of many colours grew steadfastly up
in muharram we chanted ya hussain together
and tried to change the bland stone skin
and a rain
nobody sees us here, you said
clouds collaborate with time
a salamander grows wild sometimes
touching bats of an evening sky
and even in
not so far away
my great grand ma
ganna begum languishes
in a ruin, another grave
they killed her
she had known the sun and serpents
and about us
yet you whisper of the
tell me then why do you come back again.
Poem and Pastel Drawing by Amitabh Mitra
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