How Women Become Poems in Malabar, Smitha Sehgal, Red River, New Delhi, ISBN 978-93-92494-48-2, Rs. 349/-
-Reviewed by Jaydeep Sarangi
How Women Become Poems in
Malabar ferrets around
women’s space, travels, engagements with within and the outside world and
empowerment. Written with extreme intensity, poems in the trendsetting
collection are not merely a footnote to equality, or a tick in the diversity
box. Smitha Sehgal’s collection explores the feminine experiences in her social
role relationships, transformative zeal and the unique setting of the coast of
Malabar. The milieu and its rich tapestry emerge as a vivid character in
Smitha’s poems. The dedication says, “I dedicate this book with a silent prayer
to the ruins of century-old mango trees planted in my ancestors by the Arabian
Sea.” It prepares the readers to experience a different collection of poems in
the midst of cacophony of poems written these days.
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Jaydeep Sarangi |
In ‘What Poetry Means to Me’ the versatile poetess
says,
“... to discover truth
to sleep in peace
to die in deep meditation.”
The poetess is not bounded by any political map; she
travels and travels with poetry from Malabar to Guyana and Kabul to Port of
Spain in a splendid vessel to pour gold. In the process, she gets the shop and
the shutter:
“When I wake up, this is not what I am
In the brief history of our love,
I am not your coy Radha or devoted Meera,
I am but words.” (‘The Brief History of Love’)
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Smitha Sehgal |
The Arabian Sea is a vibrant character in Smitha’s poems. Precision is the vital dose of many of her powerful poems. More words create more business in poems which are a handicap in the rhythmic flow the poems. Smitha is aware of her artistry. She takes control of her cadence.
Some poems take us to a rainforest basin where
incessant rain welcome dreams of pristine maps snapping inside the cloudlets of
her poetic thoughts. In some poems, El Dorado myth opens to a ‘supine strip of
road’ within. Poets have a different order of faith. Smitha says,
Music becomes a paradisal river
gathering our betrayals.” (‘El Dorado Inn’)
One of the salient features of these well structured poems
is that even the emotionally intelligent ones raise deeper questions,
“call her by my name—
Arabian, Andaman, Mediterranean
she whispers in my conch shell ear (.)” (‘Song of
Sea’)
Here doors of promises have no hinges. What else is
poetry?
Poems in this collection come after some years of
silence. The poet has talent and zeal for sustenance. Some poems link every
worldly collapse to the faith in poetic wisdom as the poet puts them out in the
tropical sun:
“come back to salt
come to read
come to gather pine cones(.)”
There is desire for currency of beauty everywhere in the collection, and the poetess explores her cultural roots and home photographically. Some poems in this collection of royally variegated poems reflect her preoccupation with sweetness of love, love’s languishment, loneliness and deep death of objects and subjects. The glass shines and we are never lost in the game called love. The poem ‘Rain Man’ describes how someone becomes ‘the flooding Yamuna’ when rain whispers nightlong. Into the mysteries all images are drawn, between light and dark. The tone of the poems is simple, but moving. Her material is varied and at times, sensuous. It is here that the poet's unique gift is revealed through a set of sparkling metaphors and images drawn from Indian sensibilities and value systems. Rain is a trope for many subtle things. The tropical sun smiles with plenty of sun/rain/monsoon metaphors in How Women Become Poems in Malabar. The production of the book by the Red River is out of the box, amazingly satisfying which vividly matches with Smitha’s subjective parameters in the collection. Smitha is above all, an ardent seeker. Poems of this polymeric oeuvre remind us how literature is a special mode of knowing of the world of Truths.
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