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| Radha Chakravarty |
** ISSN 2475-1359 **
* Bilingual monthly journal published from Pittsburgh, USA :: рдкिрдЯ्рд╕рдмрд░्рдЧ рдЕрдоेрд░िрдХा рд╕े рдк्рд░рдХाрд╢िрдд рдж्рд╡ैрднाрд╖िрдХ рдоाрд╕िрдХ *
Special Edition: Radha Chakravarty
Special Edition: Radha Chakravarty
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| Radha Chakravarty |
Review of Gossips of Our Surrogate Story by Rajorshi Patranabis
Reviewer: Radha Chakravarty
Review:
Gossips of our Surrogate Story (Hawakal, 2025), Rajorshi Patranabis’s latest book, resurrects the myth
of the ancient Egyptian god Osiris and his undying love for goddess Isis, from
whom he has been forever separated. Through a series of brief but power-packed
prose poems, we hear the voice of Osiris affirming his passionate conviction
that their love will triumph over adversity.
Rajorshi has already carved
a niche for himself in short-form creative writing. With eleven volumes of
poetry in print, he has established his reputation as a poet committed to
experiments with genre, especially ghazals, sonnets, haiku, haibun and gogyoka.
The Last Drop of Your Tears, published in 2023, is the first volume of
gogyoka in English by an Indian. Checklist Anomaly (2023), likewise, is
the first collection of gogyoshi published by an Indian poet. Rajosrshi is also
a practising translator, with a multilingual sensibility. His own poetry has
been translated into Assamese and Hindi translations are also in the pipeline.
Interestingly, Rajorshi is a food consultant by profession. Perhaps that has
something to do with the bold textures, intense nuances and colourful flavours
that characterize his writing.
In the
Preface to Gossips of our Surrogate Story, Rajorshi asserts his faith in
Wicca, an occult philosophy dating back thousands of years, and based on worship
of the Mother Goddess. The word “witch”, he tells us, derives from “Wik”,
meaning ‘wise”. He uses the myth of
Isis, ancient Egyptian goddess of the moon and wife of Osiris, god of the realm
of the dead. Isis, goddess of magic, is also associated with emotions and the
soul. She is the sacred mother of all mothers. Osiris inhabits the multidimensional
domain of life after death. In the traditional story, Osiris, destroyed by Nut
and Set, is resurrected by Isis with the consent of the sun god Ra, on
condition that he will preside over the world of darkness. The prose poems in
this collection bring to life the voice of Osiris, declaring his eternal love
for Isis, despite the distance that separates them.
Paradox
becomes the defining feature of this fateful relationship. It is the cycle of
death and life that sustains the passion of Osiris for Isis. “I live to be
slaughtered again”, he declares (9). Distance, rather than proximity, fuels his
love. “I desire an irreversible life in a garb of death” (38); “I fail to hold
you close, and you, to stay away” (82); “We unite in estrangements” (121). Ra,
the sun god in Egyptian myth, stands as a figure of opposition to be defied in
this journey of impossible love. “Ra is old and tired and needs rest. … There
is a deep embrace before the old man wakes up from his forgotten eclipse” (13).
The path of passion is full of agony. Both lovers are permanently wounded. “She
bleeds secretly. … She carries every broken piece with her through broken
portals. Pain never deserts” (21).
In
his approach to Wicca, Rajorshi declares himself a seeker rather than a
believer. Perhaps it is the underlying quest motif that lends such profound
urgency to Osiris’ words. For his utterances explore what it can mean for a
lover to eternally walk the thin line between desire and despair. “I fast to
attain your prayers of a dream, smelling like this drizzle –drops that ignite
hope,” Osiris declares (138). Absence and distance are pivotal to Osiris’
passion for Isis. The story belongs to a distinctive mythology that differs
from similar narratives in Indian myth “Behula is not my Isis” Osiris asserts.
“She stays with him forever. I remain away from my Isis. We live, we love”
(11). The ancient narrative of Isis and Osiris is resurrected as an evocation
of long-distance love and unrequited desire that is at once timeless and
contemporary, remote and exotic, yet infused with powerful immediacy. This
timeless, death-defying love is projected in cosmic dimensions: “From my dark
world, I wait for a sunrise inside your eyes. I was yours, when love was first
painted in ether” (95).
The expression
of this extraordinary love seems to demand a vocabulary of its own. For the
language in which Osiris articulates his desire is individual, stylized, as
mysterious as it is mystical, with its own unique resonance and imagery. “My
love is yellow,” he declares, “burning in your blue mustard clouds, bleeding in
red through your lunar lips, thwarting the feeble ignitions of our immortal
spring. “My love is a rainbow, painted in translucence” (93). In places, the
effect of this style is mesmerizing, almost hallucinatory.
Rajorshi’s fascination for formal experiment is evident in his willingness to cross generic boundaries and adopt the mode of the prose-poem. This enables him to break free of formal constraints, combining the lyrical, emotive elements of poetry with the potentially more fluid freedom of prose. The individual pieces are brief, intense and condensed, but each has its own place in the long, continuous narrative of Osiris’ deathless, lonely love for his absent beloved. Trapped in the realm of darkness, Osiris asserts his conviction that love will prove victorious in the end. His dream of reunion culminates in an affirmation of faith in his beloved’s steadfastness, and in the power of love, articulated in the haunting, incantatory prayer: “Tua Anset”—“you’re the Isis I know”.
Radha Chakravarty
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| Radha Chakravarty |
Radha Chakravarty is a poet, critic and translator. Her latest books include Subliminal: Poems, Mahasweta Devi: Writer, Activist, Visionary and Kazi Nazrul Islam: Selected Essays. She has over 20 books to her credit, including translations of major Bengali writers such as Rabindranath Tagore, Bankimchandra Chatterjee, Kazi Nazrul Islam and Mahasweta Devi, and critical studies of Tagore, women’s writing and gender issues. She has edited several anthologies of South Asian writing, and co-edited the The Essential Tagore, nominated Book of the Year 2011. She was Professor of Comparative Literature and Translation Studies at Dr. B. R. Ambedkar University Delhi
Special Edition: Radha Chakravarty
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| Radha Chakravarty |
Review: Subliminal, how simple experiences grow in meaning
Book: Subliminal
Poet: Radha Chakravarty
Published by: Hawakal Publishers
ISBN: 978-8119858316
Radha Chakravarty’s debut poetry collection, Subliminal, invites readers into a world where the small and seemingly mundane objects of life are infused with profound meaning. It examines, with keen attention, the routine and minutiae of everyday life, bringing to our notice what is often overlooked. Her introspective style allows for a delicate exploration of personal experiences, nudging us to find the beauty and complexity hidden in the mundane.
“With invisible hypnotic
force,
Like Pied Piper’s magic
flute,
They draw us to the
glittering river’s edge
Where illusion beckons
and lures us in,
Until, entranced, we
take the plunge
And drown in the depths our own desire.”
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| Radha Chakravarty |
These lines from the title poem Subliminal (Hawakal Publishers), tucked in the middle of the book, capture the essence of the collection: the poet encourages us to look beyond appearances and delve into the depths of our core. While the poems can be read easily in one sitting, returning to them allows readers to appreciate their ambiguity and engage more deeply with their layered meanings.
The poems in this collection highlight the contrast between surface impressions and the underlying truths that lie beneath. The theme of appearance versus reality recurs throughout her poems as we journey through the pages of her book. It is clear from the very first poem Memories of Loss where the poet reflects on beautiful moments that conceal deeper, painful stories.
“In the hiss of logs in
fire,
The sighing of wood in
vanished trees
In the butterfly’s bold,
bright wings,
The trace of silken
cocoon dreams
In the cracked, patched
earth,
The yearning for a lost monsoon.’
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| Chaitali Sengupta |
Chakravarty's collection is rich with women-centred poems that explore themes of voice, freedom, body, and desire. Poems like Designs in Kantha, River/Woman, That Girl, The Homecoming delve into the legacies of our foremothers, the ‘rustle’ of their ‘sari aanchal, whispering a lifetime of stories, entwined in the still shining threads.’ (Legacy) The poems subtly reveal the profundity hidden in the seemingly banal and ubiquitous scenes of everyday life for traditional Bengali women.
In her poem The Casket of Secret Stories, Chakravarty conjures the image of quintessential Bengali women who hold the paaner bata-bell metal casket, once filled with their grandmother's gossip—spicy rumors of desire, heartbreak, longing, and loss. This casket contained rolled lime-smeared paan, betel leaf flavored with supuri, lavanga, elaach, and sometimes a dash of dokta, forbidden tobacco laden with sin. The poem captures a mouthwatering ritual, a daily rite of chewing with relish upon the secret morsels of women's inner lives, revealing the rich tapestry of their experiences and emotions. Through her nuanced observations, Chakravarty transforms ordinary moments into reflections of strength, resilience, and rich emotional landscapes. The lines from Designs in Kantha bear witness to this.
‘Years of laughter,
heartache, bliss,
Tears and yearning,
rage, despair-
worked by artful needle
into
guileless fictions of
innocence,
Pure and tender baby love.’
In this beautiful collection, Chakravarty delves into the lives of women from Indian mythology, creating some of her most powerful poems. Her tone is nostalgic, yet the figures of Ahalya, Sita, and Khana—the legendary Bengali woman astrologer—are portrayed with strength, resilience, and an astonishing spirit. In her poem, Ahalya’s Awakening Ahalya reflects poignantly, saying,
‘No one heard my silent
screams.
None heeded my wordless
plea
when I tried to set the
story right.
Year after year, age
after age,
with the patience of a
rock, I waited...
But only to find that
for women,
even in this new,
fast-advancing world,
not much has really
changed.’
These lines compel us to pause and recognize that, even today, women are often still expected to serve as faceless support. Chakravarty’s lines invite us to reflect inward and compel us to consider the ongoing struggles that women still endure for recognition and identity, challenging us to confront these enduring inequalities.
One of the most intriguing aspects of her book is her experimentation with challenging poetic forms, including Fibonacci poems, Skinnies, and sonnets.
The themes of
displacement, violence, and loss resonate deeply in Chakravarty's work. She
crafts a poignant narrative about relocation after partition of India and the
intense yearning for belonging in poems like Borderlines and Refugee.
Through her evocative rhymes, she explores the complex emotional experiences of
those uprooted from their homes, navigating the intricate landscape of identity
and longing for a sense of home. Here are a few lines from her poem Borderlines-
‘Now, barbed wire cuts
the land
In two, splicing lives and loves, tearing
Memories into shreds of pain.
Where grass once grew, hate has taken root,
The green earth stained red with rage and
blood.’
In contrast to such distress and disconnection, Chakravarty longs for peace ‘that descends with a sudden shower of rain, greening the earth after a drought. (Peace Process, reminding us of Tagore's timeless lines from his song Borisho Dhora Majhe Santiro Bani. She describes a peace that arrives unexpectedly, amidst ‘the noise and bustle, sweat and blood, wear and tear of everyday lives.’ This yearning captures her desire for tranquillity to break through the chaos of existence, the rising hatred dividing humanity and nations.
Poems like Pandemic in Delhi, Another Exodus, 2020 and Message in a Bottle are crafted during the bleak period of COVID-19, reflecting the harsh realities of that time. Through their poignant imagery and themes, these works capture the feelings of isolation, loss, and uncertainty that permeated daily life during the pandemic, offering a profound commentary on the struggles faced by individuals and communities.
Chakravarty’s simple
words make her poetry accessible to all readers. Her remarkable collection
gently studies how simple experiences grow in meaning.
Nadistuti: Poems by Lakshmi Kannan
Book Review: Radha Chakravarty
At a
telling moment in Nadistuti, Lakshmi Kannan’s latest book of poems,
a petulant ocean asks the poet: “But tell
me, it seems you write more about rivers?” (44). This book is a powerful testament to the
primacy of rivers in the Indian imagination, charting a narrative of constant
becoming. The epigraph, from Khalil Gibran’s “The River Cannot Go Back”,
asserts the centrality of this theme, which flows through the entire collection
like a riverine network: “it’s not about disappearing into the ocean, / but of
becoming the ocean.”
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| Radha Chakravarty |
A
reputed bilingual writer who publishes in English and Tamil (as Kaaveri),
Lakshmi Kannan straddles different linguistic and cultural worlds. She is the
author of several books, including The Glass Bead Curtain (Vitasta 2020,
2016), Guilt Trip and Other Stories and Sipping the Jasmine Moon
(2019. The present volume brings together several strands in her work. The
title Nadistuti invokes the sacredness of rivers in Indian culture,
drawing upon the Rig Veda hymn from Nadistuti Sukta. Though the title carries a religious aura, there
is in fact a remarkable versatility in Kannan’s figurative use of rivers to
bridge the gap between spiritual, social, geographical and mythological frames
of reference. Through wry wit, irony, allusion and graphic imagery, the poems
challenge stereotypical ways of thinking. Like Kannan’s other writings, they
express a strong feminist perspective and a concern for the less privileged
members of society.
“Naman”,
the first of five sections, recalls the devastation caused by the Covid
pandemic. The opening poem “On the Slopes of Shanaracharya”, is dedicated to
the memory of the late Dr. H. K. Kaul, much loved former President of the
Poetry Society of India. “Vasundhara’s Last Journey” and “Meditative Mother” use
the figure of woman to recapture the horrors of the pandemic. The theme of the
pandemic recurs in “14 April, 2020
(Tamil New Year)” from the fourth section, “Mandalas”.
“Nadistuti”,
the second section, focuses on the seven rivers sacred to Vedic
topography—Narmade which marks the boundary between North and South India and
must be “invoked first” before a holy dip, Sindhu who “birthed a nation”,
Kaveri “the mighty”, Godavari, where “[t]he waters connect”, Sarasvati “the
invisible river”, Gange, “river of hope”, and Yamuna, associated with “[t]he
blue God”. In Kannan’s poems, rivers
flow across landscapes that are geographical, temporal but also psychological.
The voices of individual rivers come alive. In “Small Beginnings” for instance,
we hear Talkaveri: “Now I must flow out/ to grow into the mighty Kaveri, /
nothing can stop me. Nothing.” The prose-poem “Ponni Looks Back”, an
interesting formal experiment, presents river Kaveri, channelling the flow of
collective memory through changing times: “I am a mother linking all the
peoples of the land that I washed.” The
rivers are women, excepting Brahmaputra, “the only son”. In “Aarti” and
“Visarjan”, the inexorable flow of time arouses a poignant awareness of death
as a change of state. An ironic counterpoint persists, though, in the section’s
title poem “Nadistuti”, where a man chants ritual prayers during his
holy bath while worrying about the erratic water supply in his home.
“Chamundi”,
the third section, foregrounds Kannan’s feminist spirit. “Anger Becomes Her”
questions the stereotype of the angel in the house: “So much anger/ is not
proper for a girl”. The rebellious young woman is seen as “Kali, fury personified”.
“Hemavati” highlights the
“half-hearted welcome” accorded to the newborn girl child, who nevertheless
defiantly “flowed out/in search of their mother, Kaveri”. “Basant
Panchami” asserts women’s right to
education. “Snake Woman” uses dreams and superstition to expose social
prejudice against the girl child. The male child, named Nagaraja or Serpent
King, “hissed at his mother who fed him, / bared his fangs at his father/ and
spewed venom”, while his sister becomes a snake woman, sloughing off dead skin,
evolving and outgrowing herself. “Swivel Stool” uses the images of swing,
swivel stool and rocking chair to celebrate women’s subversion of patriarchal
control at different stages of their lives. “Muniyakka in Maximum City” casts an
ironic eye on the sophistication of the privileged, through the earthy idiom of
the housemaid who carries a bit of her village wherever she goes.
In a more philosophical vein, the section called
“Mandala” explores the intersection of the temporal and the timeless, through
the relationship of Jiva, the individual self, to Isvara or Paramatman, the
divine spirit in every living being. “Kolam” describes the Tamil version of rangoli,
where the patterns: “make, unmake, and re-make/ like a Buddhist mandala”.
“Maximum City” focuses on urban centres, Bangalore and Bengaluru, Madras and
Chennai, where house sparrows keep flying, in search of home. “Being Bilingual”
has autobiographical overtones, while “Pichhai” expresses gratitude for all the
blessings that life has given the poet.
Bio: Radha
Chakravarty is a poet, critic and translator. Her latest books include Subliminal:
Poems, Mahasweta Devi: Writer, Activist, Visionary and Kazi Nazrul Islam: Selected Essays. She has over 20 books to her credit,
including translations of major Bengali writers such as Rabindranath Tagore,
Bankimchandra Chatterjee, Kazi Nazrul Islam and Mahasweta Devi, and critical studies
of Tagore, women’s writing and gender issues. She has edited several anthologies
of South Asian writing, and co-edited the The Essential Tagore,
nominated Book of the Year 2011. She was Professor of Comparative Literature
and Translation Studies at Dr. B. R. Ambedkar University Delhi.
Earth Melodies: Hum
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| Radha Chakravarty |
Special Edition: Radha Chakravarty
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| Radha Chakravarty |
Poetry: Radha Chakravarty
In Your
Eyes a River
Radha Chakravarty
[To my
father’s village Shyamsiddhi]
You
never left Shyamsiddhi.
In your
heart you carried a home,
in your
eyes a river, in the soles your feet,
the swing
and shift of a bamboo sanko,
narrow
bridge of precarious crossings,
in
seasons when you were not a-swim
in the
rain-swollen canal circling
that
mound, the lost ground of your birth,
forsaken
foundation of your fast-transforming self,
and absent
source of mine.
Past
towering Shyamsiddhi Math,
crossing
lush green fields of memory,
flourishing
on the soil of old tales retold,
I
traverse, now, the trail you took
on
sunburnt days, to Srinagar school, clutching
slate,
chalk, and shining boyhood dreams,
unaware
that the highway of history
is a
one-way route to the point of no return.
Across
that same swaying sanko I step, now,
forward
and back, into your past and mine,
searching
opaque green water for signs,
scanning
cloud-laden sky for answers.
The
climb is slippery. Mud can be treacherous.
Helping
hands draw me ashore, to the present.
My
questing soul kneels before
the
starkness of your truth. Face to face
with
the very spot where your story began,
bearing
hidden future seeds of mine,
awed by
stark simplicity of hut, yard,
well,
sky and bottle-gourd vine,
green
sway of banana leaves
and
palm tree’s shaggy grace,
Here, I
hear the heartbeat of the past,
feel
the pulse of my present.
The
silence of the listening earth is deafening.
Beneath
the gaze of that same new and ancient sky,
I stand
face to face with your impossible story,
and find
at last the missing opening lines of mine.
[Note:
This poem is addressed to my father, whose family migrated to Kolkata from
their village Shyamsiddhi in East Bengal (now Bangladesh), just before
Partition.
sanko:
Bengali word for a narrow bamboo footbridge.]
***
Cut
Flowers
Roses
in a vase
stems
cut to size, arranged
in formal
symmetry, designed
to
please the cultivated gaze,
to match
the stately grace
of ritual
social pageantry
still
fill
the air
with fragrant
defiance,
of forbidden
memory—
that forsaken
garden,
familiar
thorny branch,
wildness
of the wind,
smell
of moist earth,
hum of
the honey bee
dazzle
of sunshine,
tender caress
of
dewdrops at dawn, and
the
whimsy
of
butterflies
***
Driftwood dreams
stranded on a strange new shore
driftwood dreams of home—
that familiar forest, that deep-rooted tree,
that growing, branched family
of ancient lineage, lush with leaves,
new shoots, blossoms, slowly ripening fruit,
filled with birdsong, echoing calls
of creatures of the wild,
growing living history, now lost
in the toss and churn of ocean waves,
tides of time, indifferent
to the fate of un-homed migrants
***
Bio: Radha Chakravarty is a widely published writer, critic and translator. Subliminal: Poems is her recent collection of poetry. Her poems have appeared in numerous journals and anthologies. She contributed to Pandemic: A Worldwide Community Poem (Muse Pie Press, USA), nominated for the Pushcart Prize 2020. She has published over 20 books, including translations of major Bengali writers, anthologies of South Asian writing, and critical studies of Tagore, Mahasweta Devi and contemporary women writers. She was Professor of Comparative Literature & Translation Studies at Ambedkar University Delhi.



