Showing posts with label 202504E. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 202504E. Show all posts

Abha Das Sarma (Diaspora Dual Identities)

Abha Das Sarma
3am in Los Altos hills

 

trimmed silence

of a nightly yard-

shy stillness of pool

and sauna bath.

mother-child deer under apple laden tree,

voices of my neighborhood I fear I bring,

buzzing Nagashetty Halli to Los Altos Hills.

 

water pouring into plastic drums,

washing of clothes on pavements-

hallooing hawkers ‘methi, dhania, neembu’*

pushing green goodness to doors.

stoves in readiness

of chopped onions and beaten eggs,

making of roadside omelets.

 

wind chimes entering the temple bells,

jet-lagged dreams breaking the day-

delightful walks at noon

and pink magnolia warming the heart.

filter coffee among the choices

of medium and large,

a breadth of dark draught.

 

a passage of weekly skypes,

a community raised child

driving home through the garage door.

little times between great moments

of respect and deeds running into a blur.

at the end

the shattered silence closing around us.

 

* In India, hawkers sell fresh greens on carts going from door to door calling out loudly the names of vegetables like *fenugreek, coriander and lemon.

An engineer and management consultant by profession, Abha Das Sarma enjoys writing. Besides having a blog of over 200 poems (http://dassarmafamily.blogspot.com), her poems have appeared in Muddy River Poetry Review, The Ekphrastic Review, Spillwords, Verse-Virtual, Visual Verse, Sparks of Calliope, Trouvaille Review, Silver Birch Press and Blue Heron Review among others. Her poem 'Do Not Go Just Yet' was nominated for Best of the Net 2024. Having spent her growing up years in small towns of northern India, she currently balances her time between Bengaluru and the Bay area.


On Shifting Identities, Migrations, Visibility and Invisibility

Sunil Sharma

“I am invisible, understand, simply because people refuse to see me. Like the bodiless heads you see sometimes in circus sideshows, it is as though I have been surrounded by mirrors of hard, distorting glass. When they approach me they see only my surroundings, themselves or figments of their imagination, indeed, everything and anything except me.”

― Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

“Who knows but that, on the lower frequencies, I speak for you?”
― Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man

This month, a collaboration with Matwaala---a USA-based literary platform promoting diasporic writings from South Asia and recently, welcoming from other ethnicities---focuses on identities that entail any migration, local, inside or outside the country of one's origins.

Matwaala completes a decade of fruitful engagement with varied poetic voices. Led by celebrated poets, Usha Akella, Pramila Venkateswaran, and her team, it makes visible the contribution of poets who chose to share their experiences of living in a new country.

When Matwaala showed interest in a joint project with Setu, we readily agreed.

Anita Nahal, one of our eminent guest editors and a close collaborator, agreed to guest edit the special edition titled: "Dual Identities".

A total of 32 poets were selected to represent this experience, lived/imagined.

That is migration from both perspectives---embedded and a distant view of these complex realities and adopting a lifestyle in sync with the customs of the chosen land---fraught with multiple challenges and full of joy and pain in democracies where top professionals still continue to be seen from the lens of skin colour, sometimes subtle, sometimes explicit!

It comes with the territory.

Whether internal or external displacement, the movement comes with its own package of biases, prejudices, and, a determined sense of overcoming these overall arbitrary labels, and, surviving the odds, fuelled by a deep existential desire of integrating into the system.

First-generation immigrants face toughest battles. They clear the ground for the next generation who speak "propah" English---native-like---but still face many levels of discrimination.

The DNA continues to evolve in such scenarios everywhere and every generation has to overcome these false barriers created by the elites of a particular colour.

Of late, the whiteness of Oscars has been increasingly interrogated and Black Lives Matter (BLM) as a movement mobilised the public opinion around issues of racism and violence in America; the twin movements went mainstream globally, resulting in remedial actions.

Black music and Lit have been exploring these themes over the decades.

Ralph Ellison is an enduring example.

Toni Morrison and Maya Angelou are still relevant.

Dreaming of a better life and more equitable cultures, artists, poets and writers keep on writing, painting, and singing of a society of equals.

Of desiring visibility.

Striving towards that---being seen.

That is the realm of serious art, not kitsch, or commercial art.

Does migration involve nostalgia? Long term? A crippling state of recall?

Talking of these imposed identities, Anita Nahal writes in her guest editorial:

Some would label me as having “dual identities.” Personally, I think I have multiple layers that lap and overlap as in a Venn diagram---human, woman, single mother, professional, writer, and so forth. And therefore, the notion of a dual hyphenated identity, such as Indian-American doesn’t garner my interest. What is the need of a hyphen between those words? And neither does nostalgia bother me nor find its way in any distinct fashion into my writings. I didn’t realize that till readers pointed that out to me.

How true! Anita is spot on!

So here we have this joint project that is going to unveil the meaning of living abroad or not living there, of the dualism, hyphenated identities---and looking at those gilded houses from far-off native shores by those who elected to remain rooted in the home soils.

A section deals with critical analysis and readings of some important texts.

And the usual fare of fine writings!

Please enjoy!

Thanks to our guest editor, Matwaala and other literary friends for their kind support.

Sunil Sharma,

Managing Editor, Setu (English)

Setu, April 2025


Setu

Volume 9; Issue 11; April 2025


Setu PDF Archives

Editorial

Poetry

Collaborative Tan-renga

Translation: Zimira Poran Zion

Special: Critical Essay/Analysis

Author of the Month

Short Fiction

Translation: Telugu to English (Fiction)

Verse Novel: Chapter Two

Book Review

    Setu Special Edition: Anita Nahal

    Setu Video Series of Literary and Critical Conversations/ Poetry

    Setu Initiative: Setu Series of Virtual Readings (Facebook Page)


    Kashiana Singh (Diaspora Dual Identities)

    Kashiana Singh

    How Families Remember

     

    Like a spider weaving its web,
    focused on the white humility
    of silken strands, each thread
    unbreakable, yet extraordinary.

     

    Like the old letter found,
    its words curled in the cursive of love,
    or a slip of grief braided in audacious
    expectations, brittle leaves forgotten.

     

    Like the game of hide and seek—
    the thrill of being found, unfound,
    devouring the last apricot behind
    a hinged door, plenitude in nothing.

     

    Like the language of a bespoke snake,
    its tongue forked with the unspoken,
    its venom eager as a lover’s sigh,
    the calm ache of a reptile's embrace.

     

    Like the wound that outlasts pain

    throbbing around the skin so red

    that blood itself seems pale, as if

    ignoring disease will make it leave.

     

    Like we live, in a constant swerve

    none of us home, forever unsure

    of whether we were coming, going

    or had already been done, undone.

     

     

    Fursat: What Happens When Time Is the Space Between Words?

     

    Spend the day with instructions for coffee—
    let coarseness seep into the percolator sieve,
    perking its presence with a whistled signal,
    brewing genetic memories, totems of place,
    drip by drip from the spout, just as potent.

     

    All I smell some days is a candle in a glass jar,
    on the carved Kashmiri walnut chest,
    its flickering light casting folds in the air,
    my mother’s home etched in the creases of time,
    waiting like pressed flowers, curling at the edges.

     

    infinite possibilities

    and then the first gadget

    arrives

     

    Pre-stories

    the ink of ancestors

    rises through newborn skins.

     

     

    When Kashiana is not writing, she lives to embody her TEDx talk theme of Work as Worship into her every day. Her second full-length collection, Woman by the Door was released in 2022 with Apprentice House Press. Her newest full-length collection, Witching Hour was released in December 2024 with Glass Lyre Press. She lives in North Carolina and serves as Managing Editor for Poets Reading the News as well as President of the North Carolina Poetry Society. Besides being a poet practitioner, Kashiana serves as vice president of the healthcare services industry.
     

    K. Purna Padmaja (Diaspora Dual Identities)

    K. Purna Padmaja

    On The Run

    Not by choice, nor in pursuit of dreams...
    Amidst unrest and uncertainty
    They flee their homelands in fear
    Their eyes streaming with tears
    Leaving behind all that they had ever known
    and all that they once called their own
    With just the clothes on their backs
    and a few things in a bag
    they run off to foreign lands
    In search of a safe place
    to live with dignity, security,
    and simply just to stay alive.
    They inch ahead with heavy hearts
    laden with prints from the past,
    They stand exposed as they stray
    far away from the lands they stay

    Walking on borrowed land
    beneath a foreign sun
    Hearts thudding, dreading detention
    and vulnerable to exploitation,
    They survive in morbid trepidation
    in fear of deportation.
    Facing anti-refugee xenophobia
    They struggle and battle
    a lot of apprehensions.
    In shared silence they face
    widespread human rights abuses and violations

    With determination they
    slowly begin to sow their dreams
    and build new live styles.
    Their accented voices
    and words of their native tongue
    slowly infused with trends
    from this foreign land
    Holding steadfast to the roots of their origins
    they reach out to claim a future bright
    Piecing together a patchwork
    A quilt of joy and aching loss
    in colors of hope bright
    changing the landscape
    of the land they now tread on.

    As traditions mix, they build new lives,
    Memories of childhood lands,
    and customs left behind
    they lovingly weave into stories lore
    fondly handing them to future generations
    to keep alive the love and bond

    of all the lovely things of their past with these stories galore.

     

     

    K Purna Padmaja is currently pursuing a PhD in Psychology. She has been engaged in literary pursuits through participation in plays, debates, extempore speaking and poetry reading since her school days. Her poems have been published in various print and online magazines and anthologies. She has initiated book reading and poetry reading clubs in her neighbourhood, thereby enriching the lives of the people around her. Purna Padmaja is passionate about helping people in need especially children, and she does this in myriad ways. Married to an Indian Forest Service Officer, she often travels with him, exploring the flora and fauna.

    Jayshree Misra Tripathi (Diaspora Dual Identities)

    Jayshree Misra Tripathi

    I

    Ushered gently towards a sacred space,

    jasmine and sandalwood assail my senses

    as I kneel on a colourful mat,

    palms folded in reverence. Musical notes

    from a well-loved harmonium

    strike familiar chords in my heart,

    as those around me begin to sway.

    Where am I?

    Sudden despair pricks my eyelids,

    my lowered gaze shields me from

    eyebrows raised in concern.

    Here on this island, on distant shores,

    a temporary resident, far from my Homeland

    that I continue to be homesick for, truth dawns.

    In my mind’s eye, I see Him and Her -Their

    hands raised in blessings for the motley crowd.

    Harmony in diversity, bonded by Prayer.

     

     

    II

     

    That October morning we left Kampala at dawn,

    to arrive in Jinja, well in time, to commemorate

     a ‘universal apostle of peace and non-violence’

    the plaque states - beloved Bapu ji, Mahatma Gandhi.

    He had wished for some of his ashes to be scattered

    in great rivers across the world, it is said, and here,

    in the waters of the source of the Nile in Africa.

    Every year, his statue is garlanded, his life celebrated.

    We observe moments of silence. Peaceful moments.

    Together. Strangers from different cultures.

    Standing here, on the northern shores of Lake Victoria,

    the White Nile flows so serene, I reflect ……till the rapids

    further down; Words have raged between countries

    over water rights at journey’s end, the Blue Nile. Life flows on.

     

     

    Jayshree Misra Tripathi's writing focuses on the human experience, especially the silenced voices of women. She draws on over six decades of global experiences–as a child from Odisha to England, then as an adult to six countries. Jayshree worked briefly in print media in the 1980’s. She travelled with her husband, an Indian diplomat, to diverse cultures and taught English, where permissible. She has been an examiner in English, for the IB Diploma and an International Education Consultant. Her poems and short stories have been published in global anthologies and reviewed in the Sahiyta Akademi's Journal of Indian Literature.

    Gayatri Lakhiani Chawla (Diaspora Dual Identities)

    Gayatri Lakhiani Chawla

    Paper Tiger

     

    Don’t hug me too tight saudade                               

    you dance to the aromas of the mango chutney,

    like a gypsy woman

    sangria-coloured salvation.

    It has taken me half a lifetime

    to accept the truth,

    a home abridged with bereft voices

    solemn as if it never existed.

    How does one make believe history?

    when it sits like a mynah,

    every day on your window sill

    singing songs of yore.

    In another life I will be a bird

    a one-legged crane,

    flying across man-made borders

    to my village of Manjhu.

    I have blood on my hands saudade                                                                                  

    crimson stains on my restless soul

    crucifying the cursed fate

    You the dervish

    spinning like a wooden top

    I the seeker taming the inner paper tiger.

     

    Unifier

     

    Somewhere far over the gleaming horizon

    a star is pinned in the clouds above

    where earth and skies merge as one

    carrying reflections of each other.

     

    Who paints the dividing line in charcoal grey?

    the one who gives wings to birds flying home.

    The songs of the boatman

    echoes with the radiance of waters of the Ganga

    breaking the silence of early dusk.

    He sings in a language I cannot decipher,

    my migrant heart is brimming over

    it speaks of a love that is rancid

    those supposed spring times withered into winter

    like leaf-shedding of our bodies,

    leaf by leaf,

    little by little

    memories disown you

    or you them.

     

    Who guides the Aghori up the steep slopes of Panchgani?

    the one who gives us the breath of life

    I stop to process the beauty around me

    its efficacy crystallizes

    in the crescent of the moon.

     

    Love Spell

     

    Burn brightly,

    Upend your fragile heart’s contents,

    run far away into jade wilderness

    tatoo your lover’s name in Kreol or Korean if you please,

    someone once told me

    if you ever fall in transcendent love

    you must be fierce,

    feisty,

    fawn, like the trusting shade of brown

    of the love that makes you weep

    not languish in vain

    for the risk of love is loss.

     

    Gayatri Lakhiani Chawla is an award-winning poet, translator, healer and French teacher from Mumbai. Her poems are featured in the anthology Modern English Poetry by Younger Indians published by Sahitya Akademi, Yearbook of Indian Poetry in English and The Kali Project. She is the author of three poetry collections – Borders and Broken Hearts, shortlisted for the PVLF Author Excellence Awards 2023 . Invisible Eye longlisted for Cochin Lit Fest Poetry Prize 2018, and The Empress winner of the 2018 US National Poetry Contest by R├жd Leaf Foundation for Poetry & Allied Arts. She is the author of ‘Healing Elixir’ The Hawakal Handbook of Angel Therapy, Numerology & Remedies. She is recipient of the Rahi Kadam Inspiration Award 2021.

    Cyril Dabydeen (Diaspora Dual Identities)

    Cyril Dabydeen

    Spilt Dreams

                                        


    Everything requires for its existence its own

    opposite, or else it fades into nothingness.

    --Carl Jung

                            1                     

    Almost languorous you tell me

    about dreams you’ve been having,

    grown-up as you are.

     

    The same dream over and over,

    what you remember most—

    two faces, two heads.

     

    And one talking on the phone

    with the other, unheard voices,

    like a mute tongue’s rasp.

                                       

                            2

    Your mother now asking

    Am I becoming Caucasian?

    Who’s turning black? Not white!

     

    A dating scene, images compelling

    as life mustn’t pass us by,

    I let you know.

     

    A refrain, like doing a makeover--

    Michael Jackson dancing

    to “Victory,” believe me.

     

                            3

    A moonwalk I tell my daughter,

    about the man in the mirror

    wanting to become a fashion model

     

    making faces when you’re asleep

     as I listen to you like no other,

    solid dreams coming my way.


    Loveless

               

    The man who’s loveless desires an old pain--

    mediocrity lies in what he will say next

     

    close to a trinity-peaked mountain

    where a hummingbird flaps its wings

     

    being never at rest as he considers himself

    only in an island & travelling again

     

    to other places like Florida, then to

    Louisiana, boundaries bringing us closer--

     

    where we haven’t been before, but

    wanting to be in one place only as

     

    his lyrics are like a dreamful song, if only

    in America where all things are best,

     

    he tells me, but now here in Canada

    where he will make his mark though

     

    people are sometimes prickly at best,

    with one territory only in his mind--

     

    the landscape reshaping itself as I

    contemplate it the more he talks about

     

    himself & looking up at the mountains

    because of where he will live longest.

     


    Distancing

                Like wasted prodigals,

                happy to be home again.

                                        -Will Durant  

     

                With new shirt on--

                            not bedraggled-looking

                but come from America

    with a stranger’s smile

                unlike his parting ways.

     

                Being back in the village

                            he has bolstered a nerve

                to say who he isn’t anymore,

    nothing of past years as

    he longs for perfection

     

                Murmuring to himself

    about wanting to remain

    in one place only all his life

    in his individual style

                being a stranger always.

     

     

    Cyril Dabydeen is “a noted Canadian poet” (House of Commons, Ottawa). Recent books of fiction are Forgotten Exiles and My Undiscovered Country. Previous titles include: God’s Spider, My Multi-Ethnic Friends, Jogging in Havana, Black Jesus and Other Stories, My Brahmin Days, North of the Equator, and Imaginary Origins: Selected Poems (Peepal Tree Press, UK). His novel, Drums of My Flesh (Mawenzie House), is an IMPAC/Dublin Prize nominee and Guyana Prize winner. Cyril’s work has appeared in the Oxford, Penguin, and Heinemann anthologies, and in Poetry (Chicago), The Critical Quarterly (UK), Prairie Schooner (US), The Fiddlehead, Prism International, and Canadian Literature, etc. Ottawa Poet Laureate Emeritus, he taught Writing at the University of Ottawa. 

    Bina (Diaspora Dual Identities)

    Bina
    1. A Wild Wind

     

    a wild

    wind flew

    through the

    forest

    of words

    singing

    in my head

    sweeping

    syllables

    into the

    spring air

    for nomad

    birds

    to catch

    and conjure

    into liminal notes

    that float

    with wayward

    clouds

    to fall

    in a drizzle

    of rain

    on the

    arid plain

    of my skin.

     

    2. War 

    raw is war

    drumming

    in my head

    a fury of words

    that speak

    to the dead.


    3. Archipelago Of Alphabets

    in the vast ocean 

    of meanderings

    i found

    an archipelago 

    of alphabets

    waiting to be strung

    into words

    that would echo

    allegories 

    of the impossible

    with the possible

    of comradely 

    conversations

    between Michelangelo 

    and Banksy

    between Hitler 

    and Buddha

    between Christ 

    and Kafka

    between hatemongers

    and pilgrims of peace

    between the inhuman

    and the humane.

    an archipelago

    of alphabets

    stringing songs of war

    into hymns of peace.

     

    Bina (Sarkar Ellias. b. 1949) is poet, writer, art curator and editor-designer-publisher of Int. Gallerie, the award-winning global arts and ideas journal she founded 1997. Her eight books of poems include Fuse (taught at the Towson University, USA), ‘Ukiyo-e Days... Haiku Moments’ and the current Chapbook ‘If Stones Could Speak’. Her poems have been translated into Arabic, French, Greek, Mandarin, Spanish , Urdu, Telugu and Tagalog. She authored the acclaimed “Big Book of Indian Art” in 2024, and has received several awards, including ‘The Women to Watch, 2024, Award’ for excellence in her work. Bina resides in Mumbai, India.