Book Review by Lakshmi Kannan
Title: letters in lower case
Author: Jaydeep Sarangi
Jaydeep Srangi is an academic who writes beautiful poetry. letters in lower case is his tenth collection of poems. The poem that bears the title in the first section, blithely mentions the names of super figures such as Tagore, Tutankhamun, Ashoka and others in lower case, like it is an act of defiance, with the last three lines taking on a tongue-in-cheek tone to explain:
my letter to my boy hood idol is undelivered navigating an outswinger, the peon is on leave. all letters are in lower case. (Letters in Lower Case)
He dedicates this book to his father-in law:
I know not how to pray -- the hot tears I possess with that I will worship your cold feet. (Dear Departed)
The poems are classified broadly under three sections – ‘Laws of the Land’, ‘Gesture of Surrender’ and ‘The Window you Hold’. Poetry is often born between the said and the unsaid. Sarangi’s best poems leave some things half-said to reverberate in the mind of the reader. Sarangi returns to the lower case in another poem in the last section, only this time it is not just letters but life itself that is in lower case.
I take off the shirt that i liked so much, names written in only lower case here i shall rest in peace. (Life in Lower Case)
The ‘I’ takes its place in a diminutive ‘i’.
Sarangi’s poetry has a distinct sense of geography. Jhargram in West Bengal where the poet spent his boyhood days, together with the river Dulung, become powerful motifs. They are magnified manifold times to haunt, to evoke associations and emotions that one cannot always explain. Sarangi writes:
Stand near me, speak to me. Time arrives at my lips.
He goes on to evokes a series of vivid images before he concludes:
With body carrying memories, dysfunctional habits, I wait for your green touch sometime, somewhere. (When You Visit Jhargram)
In a number of poems, Sarangi has internalised the river so deeply that it seems to flow in his bloodstream.
Dulung in summer. Where farmers can cross Cows can walk down. Each leaf is green. In love, I ask you to become a river. … Dulung is sleepless tonight. It can’t wait to see How dreams meet in a river. (Gifts of the Night) Dulung calls you at this hour, trees are deep with the night, mysteries of the world are back with bats calling a bad weather. (Dulung Moment) where do we all go? my mate, you know me -- for years, since my family nestled on your bank you have watched me with care and concern. you always instructed me what to do and how to do. dear river, pure silver of the earth true mineral in humans, by blood and voice lead me to your honest home, always faithful, but never take away the window you hold. (My Growing up as a River)
Like rivers, the rain holds a special fascination for poets, music composers, singers, dancers, and all artists. Interestingly, it means different things to different people. Sarangi’s poem “Rain Means” needs to be read whole to absorb the impact of the line ‘Rain brings me back to you’ that begins each stanza. So does the beautifully written poem ‘Rains in my Garden of Dreams’ and ‘Raining Always’. Life, memory, new experiences are all inextricably woven into the poem ‘Where the Rain is Born’. However, my favourite is ‘Waiting for Summer Rains in Kolkata’ with its laconic, understated humour, held on a tight leash. There is supplication, anticipation, yet an awareness of the wayward, capricious nature of rain. It is structured in a superbly ironical mode.
If she decides to come, she may not. If the forecast is, she will come, she will not come. Taking her on our side, we keep white flowers on doorways
The third section of the collection is refreshing in its mix of poems about some of the most precious things in our lives, such as friendship. A poet’s best tribute to a friend is to pen a poem that could be remembered. It was a joy to read Sarangi’s ‘Makers’ to his ‘Friend Forever’, reminiscent of feelings evoked while reading Alfred Tennyson’s ‘In Memoriam’.
With friends, Sarangi returns to rain again: ‘my old friends are fresh raindrops’ he declares. Other poems evoke memories so vivid and alive that Sarangi could have opened a box of perfectly preserved treasures. ‘In Folders’, he gives a feel of nostalgia with Jamdani muslin saris or his grandmother’s ‘delightful Bengali silks’. It is in the interstices between paradoxes and enigmatic ironies that Sarangi’s poems speak much the way life does – in fragments, snatches, lucid glimpses and haunting fade outs.
Keep me in the waiting Once you attend to my call My lines will lose charm. (Gifts of the Night)
Lakshmi Kannan, also known by her Tamil pen-name ‘Kaaveri’, is a bilingual writer. Her twenty-five books include poems, novels, short stories and translations. For details regarding the fellowships and residencies she received, please visit her website http://www.lakshmikannan.in
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