Relentless Regeneration: Poetry of Power and Reflection

Book Review by Vinita Dhondiyal Bhatnagar

Silver Years, Senior Contemporary Indian Women’s Poetry, eds. Sanjukta Dasgupta, Malashri Lal, Anita Nahal. New Delhi: Sahitya Akademi, 2025. ₹ 330. Pages 230. 

I start this review with a full disclosure. As generation next to this exciting range of women poets, awed and intimidated by their courage and their brilliance, I write as a younger sister, listening for the notes that make their poetry sing. What I hear is not just music, but memory, resistance, tenderness, and above all, survival.

Perhaps it’s the fact that they have lived their lives as “trapeze artists” balancing professional careers as academicians, journalists, bureaucrats, art designers, social workers with the traditional roles as nurturers and caregivers. Fifty senior contemporary Indian poets, residing in India and abroad, have come together to create this exceptional collection of one hundred and seventy two poems published recently by the Sahitya Akademi.

“We are the Kali women” declares Anita Nahal in one of the opening poems.
“We don’t distinguish. We seek. We learn. Comprehend. Embrace” In a mood which is resolute, resolute and triumphant this new generation of “aging” women stride to the forefront and “strut” their stuff. And girl!is it impressive!

In their introduction to the collection the editors, Sanjukta Dasgupta, Malashri Lal and Anita Nahal, point to the ways in which the women poets express, interrogate and deconstruct the double bind with power. Many of the poems included in this collection redefine and radicalize the notions of power and agency. Snigdha Agarwal’s “Gender Bias” captures the ambition and defiance of an entire generation and the hidden hostility they encountered.

“They watch her with eyes

Trained in ancient codes

Judgement curled like a fist in their minds.”

The woman’s confidence is dismissed as performance, her success as a fortunate accident, and the world waits for her to stumble and to fall. Yet out of this brave vulnerable courage to keep going women have written their own stories and destinies.

Pramila Venkateswaran’s “The Grammar of Control” points at the anomaly of power:

“Today’s right taken away at whim

By  graying supremes on ‘order’s’ side.”

Institutional and state power has been concentrated in the hands of older males in most parts of the world and through most of history. Their gaze is on women whom they police and school relentlessly. In response to this enforcement of order, older women are offering up resistance and a more collaborative, co dependent version of power. As Neera Kashyap writes:

“One speaks up….even if the voice squeaks like a rabbit’s or

Is pitched high like a witch’s”

One seeks solidarity with other women. Ranu Uniyal writes:

“A healthy camaraderie

Between us flits and warms

Me inside out.”

The mirror emerges as a trope in many poems in the collection. Chanchal Sarin’s “Many years ago”plays with the image of seeing the mother’s reflection in the mirror. Radha Chakravarty writes:

“The mirror shows a stranger.

With a penetrating gaze”

In the mirror she catches a glimpse of her other selves and other lives. Satinder Kaur calls the mirror her partner in love and secrecy, her confidant, therapist and advisor.

Portraits and paintings recur too as visual symbols of the journey that women’s lives have undertaken. Jayshree Misra Tripathi writes of charcoal sketches of adulthood. Rita Malhotra’s  “On Canvas” celebrates the image of a black canvas splashed with light.

Music plays as sitar accompaniment to the words in “The Body Has Its Own Memory”, as sonnets, odes, Farida Khanum’s throaty ghazal, or as RagaBheempalasi. Perhaps the most touching, evocative and urgent rendition of this is in Malashri Lal’s “Krishna’s Flute”. The poem is set in the context of the pandemic raging through the world. The invisible enemy brings fever and delusion, breathlessness and death. In the midst of this ominous silence, Krishna’s flute brings hope and sweet succor. The conversation between the flute and the Pilkhan tree is a tender touch and the flute’s assertion that it belongs to Radha as much as to Krishna evokes layers of meanings and mythological associations that exemplifies poetry at its best. The poem is dedicated to Pandit Hari Prasad Chaurasia and soaked in love, longing, hope and redemption.

Mothers, fathers, ex lovers flit through the pages of this outstanding collection. Wisdom is offered as deep reflective insights. Anamika’s “Knowing” reprises the mirror image: “Knowing someone is like buying another mirror for yourself”. It evokes the sound of the sad laughter of old prostitutes, the pain of separation of Bhatkoinya berries from ancestral fields, the chains of prisoners, the strains of Raga Jaijavanti on the ektara. Knowing someone is a passionate plunge first outside and then inside yourself.

The poems range over vast geographical spaces, including floating islands, fields, deserts, the roads of Lhasa, Arlington, Jaipur, Kolkata, Chandipur, Iran, Colorado. Distant rivers snowy hills, deep, dark woods are all part of the wild natural spaces that our imagination visits while reading these poems.

The poets are unrelenting in their ability to look at age and aging without needless romanticizing. Even that great taboo subject- death –is looked squarely in the face as in Sanjukta Dasgupta’s poems which display an acceptance and a befriending of the loving embrace, the gentle maternal arms that await us all and promise everlasting rest.

This volume is breathtaking in its range and its ambition. It reminds us that age is not to be feared but to be celebrated. The lived histories of our lives can become poetry and that poetry can both heal and transform- this is the final message of Silver Years.

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Prof. Vinita Dhondiyal Bhatnagar teaches a RGPV, University of Bhopal. Her novel Zaira has been widely acclaimed. With over thirty years’ experience of teaching and research in the fields of Literature and Culture, Vinita is committed to exploring the depths and preciousness of the human experience through the pages of a book or the spell binding delivery of an oral tale. 

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Setu, June 2025

Setu Special Edition: April 2025: Guest Editor's Note

Anita Nahal

Diaspora Dual Identities—lived and imagined

(Special Edition: in Collaboration with Matwaala)

It was a delight to read the variety of poetic impressions and expressions on “dual identities” by the poets who contributed to this special issue sponsored by Setu and Matwaala. Our poets in this expressly curated issue are both diaspora and non-diaspora, thereby presenting an insider-outside perspective on “dual identities.”

This year, 2025, marks the tenth anniversary of the founding of Matwaala by Usha Akella and Pramila Venkateswaran. Their primary aim has been to promote poetry by South Asian diaspora writers. They have indeed come a long way in fulfilling that mission by holding regular readings in different cities or online, by participating in literary events, and by encouraging youth poets, thereby creating a solid legacy of diasporic South Asian literary arts in the US. As Pramila says in an interview with me, “Our efforts in Matwaala have been toward building a strong community of South Asian poets in the diaspora and their visibility in American literature.” Besides this, Matwaala has expanded its outreach by including poets of color who are not South Asian. Usha points out that this provides Matwaala and its poets “…the opportunity to understand our own empathy with other ethnicities and communities… it has been a profound learning process. In some sense, there is a commonality to the immigrant experiential spectrum.”

To be the guest editor, therefore, of this distinct issue directed at showcasing an array of South Asian voices—diasporic and non-diasporic--- on the lived and imagined experiences of diaspora individuals has been a gratifying experience. And in the process bringing together Matwaala and Setu together, the latter a journal based in Pittsburgh devoted to writing--- has been an honor for me.

In 1995 Alisha Chinai released the song Made in India. It became hugely popular, selling almost 5 million copies. The singular line in the song that has remained in my memory is, “I want a heart made in India.” In the song the word “heart” is associated with “romance.” Besides that, for me it also symbolizes my own heart and feelings and the cultural attributes, including language, that I have carried with me wherever I have gone. I have sought peace and safety in another land and culture, adopting and blending in some of their aspects into a balanced, palatable drink for myself. 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.

Some diaspora people might be lonely, lost, confused, and missing their land of birth immensely, however, not everyone who emigrates is caught up in such a quagmire. Some relish and celebrate their dual or multiple identities/layers, developing a hybrid uniqueness that is enriched with myriad experiences. Says, Nikesh Shukla in The Good Immigrant, “…we are the people with an ‘other’ understanding, with an invested interest in everyone being treated equally as we have a foot and a loyalty in many camps, with all shades.”[1]

It doesn’t mean they don’t miss their homeland—it’s natural to do so. But it also doesn’t imply that nostalgia may drag them down.

Another angle to the diaspora “dual identity” notion is the views of people back in the native lands. Friends and family draw their own conclusions depending upon the nature of one’s relationship with the emigrant. They will not experience the challenges—or beauties of immigrating. Some may have a very rosy picture of their relatives floating in huge amounts of money, properties, the best of jobs etc. Or they might believe they have become heartless and don’t wish to visit them. They cannot fathom that creating new lives in a new country is not an easy or simple process. And once created, folks have no choice but to live those new/altered lives as best as they can, which can sometimes hamper their desires to go back “home.” It’s just the nature of spatial movement.

At the same time, those who emigrate will not know how it feels to be the ones remaining in the native lands. How it is to miss those who emigrated. How it is to wait endlessly for their calls and their visits. It’s a catch 22 situation.

Also. the notion of “home” isn’t monolithic. It can be a place, a person, a memory, a food item…anything that makes us feel at rest and at comfort.” As Jhumpa Lahiri says, “Home is not just a place where we reside in; it is a comfortable space where we belong.” [2] History speaks of push and pull factors of why people emigrate. These can be referred to as triggers. Depending on which was more pertinent or critical for a given individual at the time of their departure, their experience as such would be different. And one person’s trigger may not be that of another’s, thereby leading to misunderstandings between those who went away and those who were stayed/left behind.

Generalizations are not possible. It is, however, quite probable for people to be nostalgic for native lands and also revel in their new surroundings and cultures. It’s also possible that the reasons for their departure from their original homeland were traumatic, and that while they maintain their cultural identity in their new land through language, clothing, festivals, etc., they have no desire to return to their place of birth except for short visits.

There is simply no one experience that can be categorically said is the true diasporic one, and an assortment of situations can leave folks both exhausted and elated at trying to figure out the notion of “dual identity.” I hope you all will enjoy reading the wide selection of poems devoted to this topic. Please begin with two of mine.

A huge thank you to the contributing poets and to Setu! Best wishes, Anita

 

 

diaspora marigolds

from a fancy nursery near here in the west

i brought home today some marigolds

in pots small and insignificant

for planting, sniffing, and watching

their fragrance was just as I remembered

special, pure and heady

like at ceremonies of Indian weddings or birth of children

or I’m sure of numerous draped around my mother’s body

that I saw on facetime lying in New Delhi

on the family’s living room floor on a white calico cloth

just before she was taken to the cremation grounds.

Diaspora Kintsugi

i urge my body water to act as my Kintsugi. smooth rivers running alongside my blood, a few paces behind, letting the red do its magic unhindered. and where deficiencies appear, my body water wriggles and fills the gaps, tiny and large. i’m getting on in age you see, and soreness of the body is escalating. some say aging naturally amplifies diaspora dualities. neon and freedom muddle the youth, but after sixty, they say, things begin to slow down like a hyper dog maybe after nine. naturally born reminiscences and painstakingly created distant lives begin a focused tug of war. childhood visions hover like dense clouds waiting to pour heavily through dry tear glands while newly fangled portraits stand guard at freshly painted fortresses bringing smiles and peace. I step back, blending the blues of my past with the greens of my present, and let my frame and emotions shine with Kintsugi lines cast from molten glass in dispassionate waters.

*Kintsugi: Japanese art of pouring gold—or another element-- to repair broken pottery.

Anita Nahal is an Indian American professor, poet, children's books writer, recent novelist and very recent short film maker. Finalist, Tagore Literary Prize, 2023, for her poetry book, Kisses at the espresso bar, nominated twice for the Pushcart Prize (22, 23), Anita won the Nissim Prize in Literature her poetry-prose novel, drenched thoughts in 2024. Her third poetry collection, What’s wrong with us Kali women?, is mandatory reading at Utrecht University. Her first under 3 minute very short film, “Clubs my sinful dance muse,” won the best super short film at the Five Continents International Film Festival, Venezuela, 2024. A Fulbright and NEH scholar, Anita teaches at a university in Washington DC.

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[1] A quote from the good immigrant (no date) Goodreads. Available at: https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/8033962-there-is-a-dream-a-grand-idealism-that-mixed-race-people (Accessed: 11 April 2025).

[2] (No date) Jhumpa Lahiri quotes - brainyquote. Available at: https://www.brainyquote.com/authors/jhumpa-lahiri-quotes (Accessed: 11 April 2025).

Special Edition Poets: April 2025

Contributing Poets

Abha Das Sarma Anita Panda Anju Kishore Bashabi Fraser Bina Cyril Dabydeen Gayatri Lakhiani Chawla Jayshree Misra Tripathi K. Purna Padmaja Kashiana Singh Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca Lopamudra Banerjee Lopamudra Basu Malashri Lal Meena Chopra Meenakshi Mohan Megha Sood

Nandini Sahu Neelam Saxena Niharika Chibber Joe Nishi Chawla Pankajam Kottarath Pramila Venkateswaran Roopali Sircar Gaur Sanjukta Dasgupta Seema Jain Shalini Nandkeolyar Shanta Acharya Sukrita Paul Kumar Sunayna Pal Toolika Rani Usha Akella Vandana Kumar Vinita Agarwal

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Setu, April 2025

Drenched Thoughts: A Review

Review by Seema Jain

Drenched Thoughts (Novel)

Author: Anita Nahal

Publisher: Authors Press

Year of publication: 2023

ISBN No 978-93-5529-637-5

No. of pages: 214

Price: ₹ 495 INR

 

 

Drenched Thoughts, a debut novel by the well-known poet, critic, and academic Anita Nahal, is a powerful work that thoroughly engages the reader’s attention.  Written in short paragraphs, the novel epitomizes urgency and speed, and, therefore, keeps the readers engrossed. The main plot of the novel revolves around the life of a single immigrant mom and her son, who leave India “to create new, peaceful, conflict-free lives” in their new destination, the US. Priya, the protagonist of the novel, decides to walk out of a bad marriage, in which she has to confront the unpleasant reality of emotional abuse, sporadic and erratic fits of violence and a constant threat to her sense of dignity and self-respect through public insults and demeaning humiliation. Some of the themes that emerge from the novel are domestic disharmony, emotional abuse, multiculturalism, diaspora struggle, gender equality, motherhood, and human worth, with finely balanced and nuanced assertions of feminist, rather humanistic beliefs and individual liberty. 

 

Seema Jain

The novel is primarily a saga of the struggles, courage, resilience, grit and determination of a woman, a mother, in the face of many odds. Holding on to a decent upbringing and education, enabled and nurtured by her parents’ values, this woman holds her head high and fights her battles with poise and strength. Whether it is at the professional front, the familial, or the emotional, she remains unflinchingly and uncompromisingly true to her basic tenets of individual freedom, self-respect, and dignity. Nahal through the eyes of Priya, the protagonist universalizes many felt emotions and resultant actions. To give a few examples, “While most immigrants she knew were running the rat race buying properties with picket fences, she ran the other way, clasping her son’s hand teaching him to be good, always be good” (page 15). Or when she succinctly observes: “Immigrants are home nowhere. / Like a slightly torn, unsettled banknote/Accepted with suspicion here and there” (p. 29). Likewise, water and rain have been used as symbols of auspicious augury (p.17) or rejuvenation. Priya does not want to be one of the millions in this world that give up and says, “I want to be unalike, distinctive. And I want to be a role model for my son and others,” (p.109). This novel is a journey of discovering one's selfhood, one's identity and one’s freedom.

 

The novel starts at a point when Priya’s son has just got married in America and the wedding day celebrations have concluded. At this momentous occasion in her life, Priya’s mind goes back and forth between her past and present, and the story unfolds through a series of flashbacks that reveal Priya’s past life layer by layer, unraveling all her struggles and challenges alongside her little joys in life. Despite all her trials and tribulations, Priya’s eyes well up with tears of joy and a sense of purposeful triumph after she has successfully raised her son and his marriage ceremonies are accomplished. Her intrinsic belief in her capacity to be a solid single mom is a formidable message in the novel. Nahal attempts thus to break the negative paradigm about the successful raising of children in broken homes.

 

Nahal has employed the art of story-telling authentically and directly to portray with great intensity and artistic finesse a woman’s difficulties, personal or professional. When the protagonist Priya’s husband publicly denounces her with stinging abuse, she writes, “She felt disrobed like Draupadi, once again” (p. 61). When Priya loses her father in an accident, she feels completely lost and rudderless, and poignantly expresses, “No one can comprehend the emptiness one feels when parents are no more. It’s indescribable, it really aches, somewhere invisible inside where one cannot reach in and rub balm” (102). When Priya feels weak in America over the immense changes in her life, and sometimes when she is on the verge of a breakdown, she asks herself: ‘Why God, why did we come here? In my forties! I left everything and came here. Why? What if something happens to me and I’m not there for Avijeet? What if something happens to him? I would die…’ tears began to roll down her cheeks.” But the next moment, an inner voice rings, “You came for freedom. For freedom” (129-130). This duality of emotions that people universally feel, and deal with, are sensitively expressed by Nahal.

 

At the stylistic level, the novel uses an alternation of poetry and prose. Inspired by 

Vikram Seth, Anita Nahal uses the Onegin stanza form for the poetry passages. During some tense and fervent moments, the shift to poetry endows the story in the novel with a rare intensity. Anita Nahal also employs some very potent metaphors and similes that befittingly enhance the beauty of the narration. Like in her previous poetry books, in this novel as well, Nahal writes with an amalgam of realist and surrealist forms, making her words highly imaginative and visual, one with which the reader can experience a deep immersion and vivid connection.

 

To conclude, it must be re-iterated that Drenched Thoughts is a captivating saga of a single immigrant mother’s struggles and triumphs, pitted against the forces of patriarchy and society, and across geographical boundaries. It is an extremely readable and inspiring sheroic tale with a potential to enrich one’s bookshelf as well as one’s inner self.

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Seema Jain is a bilingual poet, translator and editor. Ex-HoD English at KMV Jalandhar, she has authored, edited and translated fourteen books, contributed to about 100 anthologies, as also to the Stanford University Archives on Life in Quarantine, besides working on some projects and having published two books with the Sahitya Akademi. Her poems are widely published, translated, anthologized and recited. She is a recipient of many awards. 

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Setu, July 2024

Poetry of eternal hope

Book Review by Anita Nahal

Book: Beached Driftwood

Author: Ajanta Paul
Publisher: Hawakal
Year: 2023
Pages: 139
ISBN: 978-81-19858-86-6
Price: $15.99

 

When I held Beached Driftwood in my hands, the latest book by writer and academician Ajanta Paul, I was immediately reminded of Driftwood Beach on Georgia’s Jekyll Island. On the expansive, light beaches, weathered driftwood trees are left behind, just resting in their irregular glory, presenting magical optics. Visitors move over and around the oddly shaped remnants of prior full trees in a spectacular surreal setting, experiencing the stories these washed-up natural effluvia or bounties deliver to humanity. Since the title and jacket design of any book capture my attention first, therefore, my initial understanding proved correct in finding delicate, whimsical, and resilient poetry on hope, loss, and rejuvenation in this collection. Ajanta Paul’s book is an exquisitely crafted nod to waiting, expecting, and, in most cases, fulfilling moments in our lives, thereby creating, and recreating new and better memories.

Raymond, the leading character in the American television series Everybody Loves Raymond, said in one of the episodes, “Editing…yes…only remember the good stuff…Remember what you want to remember…just the good ones…” The tan, taupe, and gray colors of natural driftwood are heightened by striking, imaginative poetry in Paul’s memorable collection, one that creates heart-touching memories, in turn bestowing on the original driftwood patina, deeper pink, brown, and sometimes dark hues.

For the first time, I came across an entire collection molded around optimism and anticipation. There are no doubt streaks of grief, pain, fear, and concern embedded in the poems, for example, the heart touching poem on parents lost during Covid-19 in the poem, Statistic: Nobody had planned it that way/he had expected to see grey hair/in the comb, more ash in the ashtray/not be the ash in the shared shelf/of the oven in the crematorium.” (p. 52) Or say, the hurt of bad mouthing as expressed in the poem, Swallowing Slights: There are those slights/that remain in the mind/and, over time, multiply/magnifying the original hurts.” (p. 88)

Paul clearly employs the dichotomy of being as a metaphoric technique to address various routine or natural happenings, sentiments, and actions. However, the placidity in one’s prayer for normalcy despite the storms within and outside is still the central thematic strain of this beautiful collection. It seems the author has carefully crafted each poem with her heart placed at the center of the jumbled, confusing life matrix.

The very first poem in the collection, Trust, talks of, “I have placed/the knotted handkerchief/of my life/in your open palms…so that your monogrammed initials/in its corner may be seen again.” (p.17) Like any piece of art, the creator leaves it to interpretation. These lines could be about a lover, about sheer existence, or, as Malashri Lal asks in her foreword referencing this poem, “…I wonder if the poet is entrusting the interpretation of her poems to each individual reader…” However, as I see it, the forte in this and numerous other poems in the book is the sequential span of time and emotions that lie between wanting and aching for something to its plausible culmination and fulfillment, or at least the signifying of some kind of realization. So, we have poems such as Rice (pp.18-19), Caesura (pp.24-25), Mirror (pp.28-29), Nocturnal Rhapsody (p.30), Eternity Unrationed (p. 32), Moon Gazing (p.32-33 or Ritual of Survival (p.82) among others. And, if not realization, there is an acceptance of the tribulations and outcomes of thoughts and decisions say in poems like Eyes (pp.20-21), Aftermath of a Riot (pp.65-66), Dead Stars (p.133) Word (pp.55-56), Pin Code of Peace (pp.63-64), or in the last poem in the book, Becoming (pp.136-138).

There is also lament in many poems, such as, Of Porcelain and Pain (pp.34-35), Felled (p.36), Hibernation (p.39-40), Inheritance (pp.42-43), Ruin (pp.59-60), The Migrants (pp.67-68), and Reading (pp.50-51) to name a few. And yet, still, I find myself sensing a phoenix like positivity despite time’s misfortunes on people’s lives. Take Reading for example, while Paul talks of, “Had I read it wrong, then/Or, were the words upside down/upending their meaning/wrong side up, confusing… Or for hopes sewn into the lining/or your coat, promising warmth/in desolation when the world/ lies changed and closes”. (pp.50-51).

Like in poems by Emily Dickinson, Maya Angelou, and others, Ajanta Paul’s poems draw forth a distinct internal energy that is inherently reflective of our daily rituals and times. In that sense, Ajanta Paul’s poetry is contemporaneous, visually impactful, and motivational in the conduct of our lives. The poem The Impossible Light is one clear example when the poet says, “The impossible light/is the untidy sun/yellow like straw…scattering the largesse of its smile/around the quiet compound/like leaves of corn on fields of blight.” (pp.123-24) The uniqueness of Paul’s poetry is epitomization of both the good and bad of life and living, quite like the poet Rumi.

Anita Nahal

Paul’s book is very much like the driftwood that washes up quietly yet assuredly, never without a narrative to share, never without revealing scars to those empathetic, perceptive, and prudent enough to grasp, and always leaving sparkles of hope gleaming like the iridescent mother of pearls.

Beached Driftwood is an endearing poetry collection to revert to in challenging times, reaffirming our faith in ourselves, others, and the natural motion of existentialist elements.

Reviewer:

Anita Nahal, Ph.D., CDP, is a two-time Pushcart Prize-nominated Indian American author. She was a finalist for the Tagore literary prize 2023, and for the 2022 Cats poetry contest and 2021 Women’s artist contest, The Ekphrastic Review. An academic and author, Anita has one novel, four poetry collections, one of flash fiction, four for children, and five edited anthologies published. Her third poetry collection, What’s wrong with us Kali women? (Kelsay, 2021) was nominated by Cyril Dabydeen as the best poetry book, 2021 for British Ars Notoria, and is mandatory reading in a multicultural society course at Utrecht University. Her just released prose-poetry genre collaborative novel, drenched thoughts is also prescribed in the same course and university. Anita is the daughter of Sahitya Akademi award-winning Indian novelist and professor, Late Dr. Chaman Nahal, and educationist Late Dr. Sudarshna Nahal. Originally from New Delhi, India, Anita Nahal resides in the US. Her family include her son, daughter-in-law, and their golden doodle. More on her at: www.anitanahal.com

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Setu, February 2024

Gandhi, Gus, and Renewal (Gandhian Philosophy)

Anita Nahal

By Anita Nahal

This poem is inspired by a 2021 American Netflix drama series, Sweet Tooth based on Jeff Lemire’s comic series. In it, hybrids of human and animals attempt to save themselves from pure humans. Gus is the main character in Sweet Tooth. The poem is also inspired by both the Walt Disney movie adaptation and the original, The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling (1894). Kaa, Baloo, Sher Khan, Bagheera and Mowgli are characters from The Jungle Book.

 

Everywhere there’s a weird artificial jungle. Under, around, skirting tween, and on our bodies too. Sometimes naked and weeping. The bodies. Or maybe the jungle, which looks too exact. Too perfect. Is it utopia or dystopia? Depends on us. Sirens screech. People scream. Things thud, thump, jingle, roam, romp and mingle. And destinies go in a loop. Watching from the clouds, Gandhi went visiting in his loved loin cloth carrying an Ahmisa* placard. But no one was there. Just burnt trees, buildings, and cars covered with ash, soot, tears, salt, sugar, and some water droplets. He takes a bit of the salt, sugar and water and mixes, and places in a knot at the end of his loin cloth. Trudges on.

From somewhere, Kaa could be heard:

“Do you know, I can eat your khadi cloth, you, and all

One gulp of you

Smug about nonviolence, that is you

One simple morsel, that’s all it will take

To have you in my tummy bake

You, your khadi cloth, and all.”

Gandhi retorted, “You don’t have enough might to eat me. My nonviolence will give you diarrhea.”

Baloo chuckling, sighing could be heard, in his deep baritone,

“And there you have it, Gandhi. Kaa is crazy…crazy, crazy tizzy

To eat you and the man-cub and pretend he’s busy

Let is seem all is bright, blaring, and glitzy

When nothing’s left to be balmy

Nothing that’s cheerful and summery

And there you have it, Gandhi. Kaa’s crazy…crazy, crazy, tizzy.”

Sher Khan roars, Bagheera laughs with Mowgli on his back. And Gandhi runs towards a light. Under a tiny tent sat Gus with a torch, shivering, ears upright at the sound of steps. Shadows loom large. Of Gandhi, Martin, Mandela. And of our ancestors. And of all the souls died in road accidents, tsunamis, earthquakes, hurricanes, droughts, killed in wars, riots, murdered, raped, disease killed, or hung themselves. Gus barely lifts the tent and Gandhi’s tears fall on his deer like nose and onto the parched Earth below. ORS** from the knot in his loin cloth falls too. All disappear. A new leaf is soon seen blowin’ in the wind***.

 

*Ahimsa: Non-violence

**ORS: Oral rehydration solution

***Blowin’ in the wind is a song written by Bob Dylan in 1962 BIO

Bio: Anita Nahal is a Pushcart Prize-nominated Indian American author and professor. She teaches at the University of the District of Columbia, Washington DC. Anita has one novel, four poetry books, four for children and five edited anthologies to her credit among others. Her third poetry book, What’s wrong with us Kali women? (Kelsay, 2021) and her novel, Drenched Thoughts (Authorspress, 2023) are prescribed as mandatory reading in a course on Multicultural Society at Utrecht University, The Netherlands. Anita is the daughter of Sahitya Akademi award-winning Indian novelist, Late Dr. Chaman Nahal, and educationist Late Dr. Sudarshna Nahal.

 www.anitanahal.com

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Setu, October 2023 :: Gandhian Philosophy

SPECIAL ISSUE: Towards Visibility

Poetry by BIPOC, Women, Individuals with Disabilities and Non-binary Voices

 

Guest Editorial by

Anita Nahal, Sangeeta Sharma & Candice Louisa Daquin

 

Candice Louisa Daquin

This special issue of Setu showcases poetry by individuals who identify themselves either as Black, Indigenous and People of Color (BIPOC), as women, as individuals with disabilities or as non-binary voices. Current world demographics reveal that women are 49.58%, Black people are 7.8 billion, Indigenous people are 6%, 1.3 billion individuals with disability and about 2% of the population in 27 countries identified themselves as non-binary in a 2023 survey. [1]

Obviously, statistics never paint a whole picture, and likely there are many more than these numbers who identify as such. Ultimately these groups are not a minority but a flourishing major part of society but despite this their voices have historically been marginalized. Hence our enduring efforts toward visibility.

Human nature prevents some of us from recognizing and accepting the distinctive diversity of others. As a species we have the potential of generating bias and fear in our brain synapses, consequently shifting to a “fight-or-flight”[2] mode rather quickly when encountering ‘difference’. Princeton university researchers, Janine Willis and Alexander Todorov have concluded that it takes only 1/10 of a second for us to make a judgement about someone based on optic perceptions.[3]

Sangeeta Sharma

            Keeping that in mind, in this curated issue, we present an assortment of themes that BIPOC, women, individuals with disabilities and non-binary poets across the globe are writing about. We have a wide geographical coverage as our poets are from the US, India, Bangladesh, Canada, Australia, Portugal, and Mauritius. 

The questions this issue wishes to address include: what attracts the interest of our poets and provides an impetus for them to express themselves? Are they addressing bias, injustice, violence, abuse or seeking the lost bonds of camaraderie, or lamenting over the digressing environmental richness? Do they yearn for spatial connections with cherished or disliked places or people, or are they engrossed in imaginary fascinations with non-human species or beyond in space? Or is magic their main poetic stay?

Anita Nahal

Or are they articulating their personal lives and beauties or challenges therein, prejudices, and world views towards them or others? Or are they writing poetry about love, loss, survival, family, parenthood, various “isms”, music, dance, sports, food, travel, etc.? 

Also, are these poets expressing in realism or surreal terms? What kind of semantics do they employ? In what forms do they create poetry—free verse, prose, haiku, ekphrastic, etc.?

Perhaps none of these themes or styles can be expressed in a vacuum and poetry outpourings are simply an amalgam of related or unrelated thoughts, feelings, and expressions.

This extraordinary issue of Setu is, therefore, exclusive as it’s rare to have a collection of so many minority voices in one issue…thirty in all! We have retained the variances of American, British, and other forms of English be it, to offer a smidgeon of linguistic variety and flavor. We have also preserved the different grammatical usages because we believe that poetry is a genre that allows us to experiment more with language than any other writing medium.

“Although poetry should abide by most traditional language rules, how a poet chooses to use them is critical. Whether they decide to follow them or break them, they’re making a statement and conveying a message with this choice.”[4] It’s that message, loud and clear, of poetry by BIPOC, women, individuals with disabilities and non-binary voices that you will find on the pages of this issue. We humans have layered identities within us, lapping and overlapping just like in British mathematician John Venn’s Diagram, though unlike his equal circles, our circles can change shapes and sizes depending upon what is dear to us at a particular moment in time.[5] 

We thank all the contributors for their time and effort in submitting their precious creativity. Without writers, we wouldn’t have any journals or books!  

We also thank Setu, Sunil Sharma, and Anurag Sharma for their support to the theme and hope they don’t find any editorial gaffs! We did our best! It’s certainly hats off to us three, as we worked from different global time zones, effectively employing Zoom and emails to get our work done quickly and harmoniously. As three women editors for this distinctive Setu issue, each one of us is unique, and we also represent a multitude of divergences in our personal and professional styles which gelled extremely well! In the end, another deep gratitude to our contributors and to Setu!

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[1] Published by Statista Research Department and 9, J. (2023) Gender Identity Worldwide by country 2021, Statista. Available at: https://www.statista.com/statistics/1269778/gender-identity-worldwide-country/

[2] In the 1920s American psychologist, Walter Cannon was the first to write describe the fight-or-flight concept.

[3] Wargo, E. (2006) How many seconds to a first impression? Association for Psychological Science - APS. Available at: https://www.psychologicalscience.org/observer/how-many-seconds-to-a-first-impression

[4] writingjournal_xdluy8. (2023, July 30). Do poems need to follow grammatical rules? - letter review. Letter Review -. https://letterreview.com/do-poems-need-to-follow-grammatical-rules/#:~:text=Poems%20don’t%20need%20to,a%20message%20with%20this%20choice.

[5] Nahal, A. (2016) Diversity & Inclusion applied in layers (DIAL) model by dr. Anita Nahal, CDP, Society for Diversity. Available at: https://societyfordiversity.wordpress.com/2016/03/01/diversity-inclusion-applied-in-layers-dial-model-by-dr-anita-nahal-cdp/ 

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Authors

Achingliu Kamei Amita Ray Amrita Valan Barbara Chepaitis Basudhara Roy Cyril Dabydeen Danielle Wong Deepa Agarwal Dustin Pickering Hema Ravi Kamayani Bisht Kayla Pica Williams Laksmisree Banerjee Maria do Sameiro Barroso Meenakshi Mohan

Milan Mondal Neelam Saxena Chandra Neera Kashyap Parameshwaree Munisamy-Odoye Pramila Venkateswaran Rachael Ikins Robert Maddox-Harle Roopali Sircar Gaur Snigdha Agarwal Sonali Pattnaik Stasha Powell Suchita Parikh-Mundul Suzette Bishop Tasneem Hossain Vandana Kumar

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Setu, September 2023

Passing on inter-generational oral history and written traditions

Anita Nahal

-Anita Nahal

 

Background:

I grew up in the previous century, mostly in India with a lavish sprinkle of travels to varied countries in Europe, Africa, and the Americas, and a stay for a few years in the US in my childhood plus some time spent there later doing my Ph.D. and Fulbright Post-Doc Scholar-in-Residence prior to moving to America permanently in 2002 with my then teenager son. Stree-Shakti and Insaan-Shakti were ingrained in me by broadminded parents, by the diverse societies we visited and resided in, and by the gift of motherhood bestowed on me by God and destiny. Blessings were and are manifold. Furthermore, Hinduism with its hundreds of female, male and androgynous Gods and Goddesses suggests a very liberal way of manifesting and living. The plausibility of choice, the freedom to worship whom we wish, in the manner we wish, without strict rules allows for a wide range of possibilities in transcribing these cultural/religious traits into our daily lives. I believe learning is passed on generation to generation through an amalgam of traditions, religion, culture, oral history, and the written word, plus lived experiences.

Papa in a library in the US.
Location unknown. Sometime in the 1980s

Many elements of an individual’s identity and socialization are molded by a set of circles from the minutest and most intimate family to society, the nation, and the largest, most esoteric, emotionally distanced, yet in some ways most immediate spectrum being humanity’s cautionary loop. These circles function at times, independently, and at other times in conjunction with each other, lapping and overlapping in a plethora of resemblances to John Venn’s diagram. Despite their ability to think, speak, read, and write in a way that has assisted humans to advance more than other species on this planet, yet this very competence has curdled some to be over-competitive, jealous, mean, and self-indulgent. In this increasingly dystopian scenario, where we have yet to reach, I believe, that tipping point as Morton M. Grodzins, American Political Scientist had enunciated, I was raised by parents who had a heightened, progressive, futuristic genderist philosophy.

On numerous occasions, I heard my grandparents pray out loud in family gatherings for the boon of a son to my parents. Besides the male factor, I also grew around aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends who lamented about my dark skin. Added to the repetitively voiced familial and societal opinions, fear and claustrophobia over women’s idolization, pedestalization, sexualization and violence, imagined and re-imagined by Bollywood and Indian television melodramas also pilled on, inculcating in me repulsion for and rejection of such patriarchal norms. My parents aided me in this philosophy as both rejected family pressures and Bollywood/television typecasting and insisted that men and women are equal, that I was no different, “no less than a son,” and that skin color had no impact on human intelligence or success as did no other differentiations artificially crafted by some humans. They were Arya Samajis and rejected the caste system and the ostentatious application of humans conduct. As a young impressionist girl these views held the potential of personal growth in a liberated environment. I was also by nature a precocious child with a deep organic desire to expose injustice and take up cudgels for the underdog, something that led me to “burn my fingers” as the expression goes, many times.

 

And so came the knowledge:

Learning by example, through sharing of family stories, and through formal education were imperative elements in my growth. Besides the basic three Rs, finding the definitions of two new words each day, reciting a memorized poem per week, analyzing new books, articles in magazines or happenings around the globe were routine. When I signaled my interest to do a bachelors in law after high school, my parents without any fanfare said, okay sure, we can talk about it after you complete your masters! Later pursuing an M.Phil. and Ph.D., was a given considering both my parents were doctorates.

My father, Professor Late Chaman Nahal taught in the English Department at Delhi University and was also a writer. His and my mother’s families (unknown to each other at the time) fled the new Pakistan during partition in 1947 and moved to the new India. As refugees, both families, like thousands of others, tried to find a substantial sense of roots or create new ones to formulate a semblance of normalcy in the new era the division of the land brought the South Asians. My father poured a lot of his emotions and feelings into his creative writings, ultimately publishing over twenty books.

Papa at an event about his writings in the US.
Year: Most likely, 1975

His novel on the partition of India, Azadi, won the Sahitya Akademi award in English in 1977 followed by the Federation of Indian Publishers award, twice in 1977 and 1979.

From his spirit of humanity and general forgiveness despite having lost his sister, her husband, and their unborn child in a train massacre on their way to India during partition, I learned compassion, fairness, and balance. And seeing him write, in addition to my own stances on injustice, enthused in me a burning desire to scribble as well from as early an age as nine. Consequently, I also imbibed from him writing skills, patience for the complex vagaries of publication, and moving on when rejection letters sat stoically in mailboxes. He was also a critique of bewildering gender expectations and couldn’t comprehend why only when women must keep the Karva Chauth vrath* and insisted on keeping a fast along with my mother.

Mummy with the Delhi State Teachers Award.
Year: Most likely between 1985-87

My mother, Late Dr. Sudarshna Nahal was principal of Satbhrawan Arya Samaj Girls Senior Secondary School in Delhi. An amazing human being with one of the kindest natures I have ever known, she became my role model in a different way than my father. Somehow, again organically, I was taking it all in. I would visit her school and observe the way she conducted herself, the way she interacted with students, faculty and staff, the way she was steadfast, the way she had a genuine heart to help others and the way she walked and talked, the way she sat with warmth and determination in the principal’s chair. Above all, this instilled in me leadership skills and I realized that I was very similar to my mother and carried her enterprising, courageous, daring, go-getter, survivor attitude and aura as my badge of honor throughout my life.

I also learned from my mother how to run after, and for, one’s dreams. One of hers was to raise funding for tuition for students whose families could not pay, for the school labs and classrooms, for the library and for the building. To achieve this, she went to the top leadership in the country and met with prime ministers of India to seek funds for her school.  They visited her school, or she went to the Prime Minister’s residence. What confidence, fearlessness, and belief in her convictions she had!

Mummy at Teen Murti House, New Delhi above with
then Prime Minister of India, Jawaharlal Nehru. Year: Most likely, 1962

 

 

Mummy when she visited Lal Bahadur Shastri, PM
of India. Year: Most likely between 1964-66

Prime Minister Indira Gandhi during her visit to
mummy’s school. Year: Most likely 1966-1967

 Now a legacy to pass on:

 Therefore, both my father and mother ecnouraged in me a keen awareness of my identity and role in life (not just in society or family), and an intential effort to improve myself, to be a better version each day. The best way I can honor them is to ensure that I pass on all I have learned to my son and to others. Writing seems hereditary in our family as my son writes beautifully. When we left India in 2002, he was the student editor of the children’s section of The Hindustan Times. While professional work takes up much of his time these days, yet, he used to write poetry, humor pieces, travel, envrionment and everyday life articles with aplomb.

Stree Shakti is not a given because I am a woman. Nothing in life is a given. Everything, each and every particle of our making, is to be striven for, worked for, and earned. Also, I don’t like to place myself within any box, in fact I don’t believe in boxes. Women, LGBTQ+ or men, we all are humans and as I said in the beginning, I ascribe to Insaan-Shakti (Human power), or Insaniyat (Humanity). For me huamnism stumps feminism. It does not imply I don’t strive for rights that are specific to women. Yet, at the same time I wish to ensure that when we struggle for women’s rights, we understand and perpetuate that we are also striving for human rights. And Shakti is to be benevolent, not harmful. It is to be for the benefit of others and humanity in general, not for some. As American writer, Patricia Cornwell said, “I believe the root of all evil is abuse of power.[1]

I shall end with a poem of mine from my second book of poetry, Hey-Spilt Milk Is Spilt, Nothing Else (Authorspress, 2018) which was my mother’s favorite when I first wrote it though she and my father didn’t live to see this and my later published books.

 

Lone voice

Woman, woman
Shy not, say it
Uphold dignity
Even if ceaselessly
The darkened mushroom clouds
Threaten an acid rain.

 

 

Glossary:

*Arya Samajis: Those who adhere to the principles of Arya Samaj, a social-religious reform movement started by Swami Dayananda in 1875
*Karva Chauth Vrath: A Hindu tradition wherein married women observe a fast without water or food for one day for the longevity of their husbands. Unmarried women can also keep the fast to get a “good” husband.
*Insaan-Shakti: Human power
*Insaniyat: Humanity
*Shakti: Power
*Stree-Shakti: Women power   

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[1] https://www.azquotes.com/author/3301-Patricia_Cornwell

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Setu, March 2023