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Contents

Borderless September 2023

Art by Sohana Manzoor

Editorial

What do They Whisper?… Click here to read.

Conversations

Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri in conversation with M.S. Viraraghavan and Girija Viraraghavan ( grand daughter of President Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan) on their new book, Roses in the Fire of Spring: Better Roses for a Warming World and Other Garden Adventures. Click here to read.

In conversation with Isa Kamari, a celebrated writer from Singapore, with focus on his latest book, Maladies of the Soul. Click here to read.

Translations

A Hunger for Stories, a poem by Quazi Johirul Islam, has been translated by Professor Fakrul Alam. Click here to read.

A Hand Mill, a story by Ammina Srinivasaraju, has been translated from Telugu by Johny Takkedasila. Click here to read.

Kiyya and Sadu, a part of this long ballad on the legendary lovers from Balochistan, has been translated from Balochi by Fazal Baloch. Click here to read.

The Time for the Janitor to Pass by, poetry written in Korean and translated by Ilhwah Choi. Click here to read.

Sharat or Autumn, a poem by Tagore, has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty. Click here to read.

Poetry

Click on the names to read the poems

Jared Carter, Rhys Hughes, Santosh Bakaya, Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, Sagar Mal Gupta, Nirmala Pillai, George Freek, Pramod Rastogi, Peter Devonald, Afshan Aqil, Hela Tekali, Swarnendu Ghosh, Alpana, Michael Burch

Poets, Poetry & Rhys Hughes

In Tintin in India, Rhys Hughes traces the allusions to India in these iconic creations of Hergé while commenting on Tintin’s popularity in the subcontinent. Click here to read.

Musings/Slices from Life

Black Pines and Red Trucks

Meredith Stephens shares the response of some of the Californian community to healing after the 2020 forest fires with a narrative and photographs. Click here to read.

Remembering Jayanta Mahapatra

KV Raghupathi travels down nostalgia with his memories of interactions with the recently deceased poet and his works. Click here to read.

The Toughness of Kangaroo Island 

Vela Noble draws solace and lessons from nature around her with her art and narrative. Click here to read.

Where is Your Home?

Madhulika Vajjhala explores her concept of home. Click here to read.

A Homecoming like No Other

Saumya Dwivedi gives a heartwarming anecdote from life. Click here to read.

Musings of a Copywriter

In Hair or There: Party on My Head, Devraj Singh Kalsi explores political leanings and hair art. Click here to read.

Notes from Japan

In Against Invisibility, Suzanne Kamata challenges traditions that render a woman invisible with a ‘sparkling’ outcome. Click here to read.

Essays

Jayanta Mahapatra: A Tribute to a Poetic Luminary

Dikshya Samantrai pays tribute to a poet who touched hearts across the world with his poetry. Click here to read.

Celebrating the novel… Where have all the Women Writers Gone?

G Venkatesh writes about a book from 1946. Click here to read.

Chandigarh: A City with Spaces

Ravi Shankar travels back to Chandigarh of 1990s. Click here to read.

The Observant Immigrant

In Climate Change: Are You for Real?, Candice Louisa Daquin explores the issue. Click here to read.

Stories

The Infamous Art Dealer

Paul Mirabile travels through Europe with an art scammer. Click here to read.

Getting Old is like Climbing a Mountain

Saranyan BV explores aging and re-inventing homes. Click here to read.

The Airport

Prakriti Bandhan shares a short, whimsical narrative. Click here to read.

Book Excerpts

An excerpt from Syed Mujtaba Ali’s Tales of a Voyager (Joley Dangay), translated by Nazes Afroz. Click here to read.

An excerpt from Sanket Mhatre’s A City Full of Sirens. Click here to read.

Book Reviews

Somdatta Mandal reviews Begum Hazrat Mahal: Warrior Queen of Awadh by Malathi Ramachandran. Click here to read.

Basudhara Roy reviews Sanket Mhatre’s A City Full of Sirens. Click here to read.

Bhaskar Parichha reviews Samragngi Roy’s The Wizard of Festival Lighting: The Incredible Story of Srid. Click here to read.

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Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Kindle Amazon International

Categories
Editorial

What do they Whisper?

No, they whisper. You own nothing.
You were a visitor, time after time
climbing the hill, planting the flag, proclaiming.
We never belonged to you.
You never found us.
It was always the other way round.

‘Moment’ by Margaret Atwood

With an unmanned mission reaching the moon — that moon that was chipped off the Earth’s surface when Theia bashed into the newly evolving planet — many feel mankind is en route to finding alternate biomes and perhaps, a solution to its housing needs. Will we also call moon our ‘Homeland’ and plant flags on it as we do on Earth?  Does the Earth — or the moon — really belong to our species. Do we have proprietary rights on these because of lines drawn by powerbrokers who say that the land belongs to them?

These are questions Margaret Atwood addresses in her writings which often fall into a genre called cli-fi. This is gaining in popularity as climate has become uncertain now with changes that are wringing fear in our hearts. Not all fear it. Some refuse to acknowledge it. While this is not a phenomenon that is fully understood by all of us, it’s impact is being experienced by majority of the world — harsh stormy weather, typhoons, warmer temperatures which scorch life and rising water levels that will eventually swallow lands that some regard as their homeland. Despite all these prognostications, wars continue to pollute the air as much as do human practices, including conflicts using weapons. Did ‘climbing a hill’ and ‘planting the flag’ as Atwood suggests, ever give us the rights over land, nature or climate? Do we have a right to pollute it with our lifestyle, trade or wars — all three being human constructs?

In a recent essay Tom Engelhardt, a writer and an editor, contended, “Vladimir Putin’s greatest crime wasn’t simply against the Ukrainians, but against humanity. It was another way to ensure that the global war of terror would grow fiercer and that the Lahainas of the future would burn more intensely.” And that is true of any war… Chemical and biological weapons impacted the environment in Europe and parts of Afghanistan. Atom bombs polluted not only the cities they were dropped in, but they also wreaked such havoc so that the second generation’s well-being continues impacted by events that took place more than seven decades ago. Yet another nuclear war would destroy the Earth, our planet that is already reeling under the impact of human-induced climate change. Flooding, forest fires and global warming are just the first indications that tell us not only do we need to adapt to living in changed times but also, we need to change our lifestyles, perhaps even turn pacifist to survive in a world evolving into an altered one.

This month some of our content showcase how to survive despite changes in norms. Suggesting how to retain our flora in a warming world is a book, Roses in the Fire of Spring: Better Roses for a Warming World and Other Garden Adventures, by M.S. Viraraghavanand Girija Viraraghavan, the grandson-in-law and granddaughter of the second President of India, Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan (1888-1975). They have been in conversation with Shantanu Ray Chaudhuri to explain how they have adapted plants to create hybrids that survive changing climes. Would it be wishful to think that we can find solutions for our own survival as was done for the flora?

Critiquing the darker trends in our species which leads to disasters is a book by an eminent Singaporean writer, Isa Kamari, called Maladies of the Soul. He too looks for panacea in a world where the basic needs of humans have been satiated and they have moved on towards overindulgence that can lead to redundancy. In a conversation, he tells us how he hopes his writings can help towards making a more hopeful future.

This hope is echoed in the palliative poems of Sanket Mhatre from his book, A City full of Sirens, excerpted and reviewed by Basudhara Roy. Bhaskar Parichha’s review of Samragngi Roy’s The Wizard of Festival Lighting: The Incredible Story of Srid, is a tribute also from a granddaughter to her grandfather celebrating human achievements. Somdatta Mandal’s discussion of fiction based on history, Begum Hazrat Mahal: Warrior Queen of Awadh by Malathi Ramachandran not only reflects the tenacity of a woman’s courage but also explores the historicity of the events. Exploring bits of history and the past with a soupcon of humour is our book excerpt from Syed Mujtaba Ali’s Tales of a Voyager (Joley Dangay[1]), translated from Bengali by Nazes Afroz. Though the narrative of the translation is set about ninety years ago, a little after the times of Hazrat Mahal (1820 –1879), the excerpt is an brilliant introduction to the persona of Tagore’s student, Syed Mujtaba Ali (1904-1974), by a translator who describes him almost with the maestro’s unique style. Perhaps, Afroz’s writing bears these traces as he had earlier translated a legendary work by the same writer, In a Land Far from Home: A Bengali in Afghanistan. Afroz starts with a startling question: “What will you call someone who puts down his profession as ‘quitting job regularly’ while applying for his passport?”

Other than a semi-humorous take on Mujtaba Ali, we have Rhys Hughes writing poetry in a funny vein and Santosh Bakaya giving us verses that makes us laugh. Michael Burch brings in strands of climate change with his poems as Jared Carter weaves in nature as we know it. George Freek reflects on autumn. We have more poetry by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, Pramod Rastogi, Peter Devonald, Afshan Aqil, Hela Tekali and many more, adding to the variety of colours that enhance the vivacity of conversations that run through the journal. Adding more vibrancy to this assortment, we have fiction by Paul Mirabile, Saranyan BV and Prakriti Bandhan.

In non-fiction, we have Devraj Singh Kalsi’s funny retelling of his adventures with a barber while Hughes‘ essay on the hugely popular Tintin makes us smile. The patriarchal past is reflected in an essay by G Venkatesh, whereas Suzanne Kamata from Japan talks of women attempting to move out of invisibility. Meredith Stephens and Candice Louisa Daquin both carry on the conversation on climate change. Stephens explores the impact of Californian forest fires with photographs and first-hand narrative. Vela Noble draws solace and strength from nature in Kangaroo Island and shares a beautiful painting with us. Madhulika Vajjhala and Saumya Dwivedi discuss concepts of home.

Two touching tributes along with a poem to recently deceased poet, Jayanta Mahapatra, add to the richness of our oeuvre. Dikshya Samantrai, a researcher on the poet, has bid a touching adieu to him stating, “his legacy will continue to inspire and resonate and Jayanta Mahapatra’s name will forever remain etched in the annals of literature, a testament to the enduring power of the poet’s voice.”

Our translations this time reflect a diverse collection of mainly poetry with one short story by Telugu writer, Ammina Srinivasaraju, translated by Johny Takkedasila. Professor Fakrul Alam has introduced us to an upcoming voice in Bengali poetry, Quazi Johirul Islam. Ihlwha Choi has translated his own poetry from Korean and brought to us a fragment of his own culture. Fazal Baloch has familiarised us with a Balochi ballad based on a love story that is well known in his region, Kiyya and Sadu. Our Tagore translation has attempted to bring to you the poet’s description of early autumn or Sharat in Bengal, a season that starts in September. Sohana Manzoor has painted the scene depicted by Tagore for all of us to visualise. Huge thanks to her for her wonderful artwork, which invariably livens our journal.

Profound thanks to the whole team at Borderless for their support and especially to Hughes and Parichha for helping us source wonderful writings… some of which have not been mentioned here. Pause by our content’s page to savour all of it. And we remain forever beholden to our wonderful contributors without who the journal would not exist and our loyal readers who make our existence relevant. Thank you all.

Wish you all a wonderful month.

Mitali Chakravarty

borderlessjournal.com

[1] Translated literally, it means Water & Land

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Visit the September edition’s content page by clicking here

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Excerpt

A City Full of Sirens

Title: A City Full of Sirens

 Author: Sanket Mhatre

Publisher: Hawakal Publishers

A CITY FULL OF SIRENS

On a rain kissed day 
sirens from ambulances wring at full volume
sending a shockwave through this somnolence 
the city has been suddenly diagnosed with Stage 3C 
and all of us who matter to her: 
slum dwellers, middle class, uber rich
upper caste, sub-middle-sub-lower, lower,
converts, casteless, outcasts, pimps and city planners   
were late by a minimum of ten months in pre-empting this disease
nobody took the city to an oncologist 
pointed out this infernal spread
no one bothered when her vitals temporarily shut down
no octogenarian ruins were consulted 
when her uterus screamed a history of malfunctioned births 
now, water levels are rising 
her stomach bloats with a spell of monsoon
and there’s no omental biopsy in sight
no cytology report collected
everyone’s figuring out which part of her abdomen
could be punctured to release the flow 
forgetting we had to close the tap, long ago. 
the city kept a lot in her womb for far too long
regret and debris
garbage and a festering wound
what she needs isn’t saline and drips 
but a memory from the books of sunshine 
an embrace from salt lines and mangroves 
the reassurance of leafy smiles stretching into infinity
somebody holding her hand, somewhere 
she deserves a Sunday with a beginning, middle & end
an unclogging of mind with forests of her childhood 
ultimate exculpation from all traffic jams, under construction sites, 
illegitimate saat bara* of a river rechristened as a gutter  
a forehead filled with deep-rooted kisses 
not immigrant, sweat-soaked goodbyes 
she needs hope in her veins 
laughter under her tissue
maybe, a joke from the past 
before she’s sent for chemotherapy

*Saat bara: The 7/12 extract is an information document prescribing details about a specific piece of land such as survey number, area, date and more particulars about the existing owner's name.  

MID FLIGHT

Bending over clouds 
we are dunked, face first 
into the broken arteries of Kolkata: 
dissected torso of a civilization, blinking back 

A vanishing sunset sprints
below a network of lackluster lakes 
suspended in time
green stillness festering in its colonial wounds

Our fingers trace her desiccated tributaries, desolate perimeters
brittle sentences from a lost fable breaking at the seams  
while miniaturized humanity rearranges  
the lost pages of an endless narrative

A new story foams 
at the mouth of its river 
yearning for reinterpretation 
from citizens in the sky 

We realize
mid-sentence and mid-flight 
are the same things
spoken skywards 


CULTURE OF TRANSIENCE

It took a river for civilizations to be born
how else do you explain the nature of blood in our veins? 

rivers wait for none, sometimes, not even themselves 
and here we are stuck in the make believe of eternality 

created to throw us off the scent of water
too precious, like truth, residing in our atoms

anything that doesn’t change our body can never change us: 
a law that stays hidden in deep trenches of our epidermis 

underneath all permanence lies everything in passing
oceans, forests, islands, farms, clouds, cities—landmasses of desire 

suspended raft-like, floating on the ever-flowing waters of time
while we are left to determine our own culture of transience 



VERTICAL FORESTS
 
Words are seeds
we sow for tomorrow
where an axe melts into the navel of the axis
emerges a flower on the other side
our voices etched in the bark
can put a soul to sleep
an Amazon in each word; stretching
through thick mesh of bones and arteries
 pulp synchronized to our heartbeats
birdsong to a breath
while ink sprawls
on a dream of half slept pages
 
blank verses quivering with eternality on empty lines
blood and conscience ensnared
 in a network of memories
 rooting us
 
To a new earth
where only time exists
—Unhalved

About the Book     

In Sanket Mhatre’s debut collection, A City Full Of Sirens, poetry is intertwined with the body language of love. From the simple act of facing oneself every morning deeds are garbed in the language of sensual love. These are deeply thought out, deeply experienced poems, germinating from a nameless place of profound experience. They measure intricately the delicate entities of parting and separation and pine for a union of the truth with the truth. Enmeshed with memories and half-memories, longings and surrender, Sanket’s poems reflect the deepest flushes of love and the brokenness that inevitably follows.

About the Poet

Sanket Mhatre is a Mumbai based bilingual poet, writer and columnist. His first book of cross translated poems in Marathi and English, titled The Coordinates Of Us , won the prestigious Raza Foundation Grant after being shortlisted at iWrite2020 in Jaipur Literature Festival. Apart from being widely published nationally and internationally, Sanket has been invited to recite poems at Kala Ghoda Arts Festival, Jaipur Literature Festival, Poets Translating Poets, Vagdevi Litfest, GALF, Glass House Poetry Festival, Anantha Poetry Festival, National Poetry Festival Kolkata, Ledo National Poetry Confluence Assam among many others. Sanket has also been curating multilingual poetry performances through Crossover Poems. He is also the co- creator of Kavita Café – a unique digital platform that blends cinematic vision with poetry. 

Click here to read the review

PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

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Categories
Review

Poetry as Palliative

Book Review by Basudhara Roy

Title: A City Full of Sirens

Author: Sanket Mhatre

Publishers: Hawakal Publishers

I wait
weighing words against memories
memories against poetry
poetry against noise
noise against feeling
feeling against time
only to arrive
at the deepest homecoming of words 
-	‘Homecoming’

Something irreplaceably urgent yet inconsolably fragile commands the readers’ attention in Sanket Mhatre’s A City Full of Sirens. There is, to begin with, the orderly chaos of the book cover that with its startling depiction of noise and alarm, summons us to a danger that is as neurological as it is existential, as concretely physical as it is metaphysical, and as identifiable as it is, ultimately, anonymous.

Darkness asphyxiates
shifting the axis of your soul
madness froths
bubbles of hurt
shadows of shards
inserting lost files of remembrance
pulse rising –
raising a question at boiling point

Here is an understanding of the city as both protagonist and witness, as conquistador and vanquished, as healer and diseased. Mhatre is mostly talking about Mumbai (“Andheri East doesn’t realize/ that it is sleeping in a belly of void/ It is only a matter of time/ until all the lights go out”) but his city could be “the broken arteries of Kolkata” (‘Mid-flight’) or precisely any cityscape where life routinely unravels amidst disillusionment, betrayal, threat and hope, every poem to it being “a wound or a flower or a piece of sunshine” “written on the threshold of vulnerability and despair” as “a letter trying to find its own footprint on the shifting axis of time and circumstance” (‘Introduction’)

Tortuous and tortured, Mhatre’s city is a site of bereavement, uncertainty, imperilment, disease, derangement and more, its inhabitants choiceless in their compulsion to wear its frayed fabric upon their skin. But this is not all. Lurking within these poems is also the decisive realisation of the city as a human construct, a mirror that reflects rather than distorts or imposes human irresponsibility and disorder. In the title poem of the collection, for instance, the city is a patient incapable of being saved by its nonchalant dwellers:

the city has been suddenly diagnosed with Stage 3C
and all of us who matter to her:
slum dwellers, middle class, uber rich
upper caste, sub-middle-sub-lower, lower,
converts, casteless, outcasts, pimps and city planners
were late by a minimum of ten months in pre-empting this disease

Mhatre’s cities emit steady sirens of disaster – biological, ecological, technological, moral and aesthetic. But redemption, too, is to be found here alone (“Clay hands in a relentless prayer to -/ everything the earth stands for/ and everything that rises upwards from it.” – ‘A Kiss of Cotton’) for only what hurts has the ability to effectively transform – “anything that doesn’t change our body can never change us”. (‘Culture of Transience’) What, chiefly, reconciles the city as wound to the city as mirror, is the imperative of language and its expressive potential for love and poetry. (“A verse could be an open road” – ‘These Years with Her’)

A City Full of Sirens is a dense interrogation of the city, its sirens of overpopulation, congestion, capitalism and climate change, and an exploration of the fullness or plenitude of language that can somehow soften all of this and make it more bearable for life and time. Firmly rooting this collection is a momentous faith in the capacity of words to resist postmodern fragmentation by building bridges across emotions, cultures, and epistemologies. Mhatre’s imagination in poetry is luxuriantly metaphorical. In almost every poem, words defy ordinary appearances to transform into winged images in deep conversation with a reality tangential to the page. In ‘Anuvaad[1]’, as the poet says, all languages are born “from the same birdsong”. In ‘The Concept of Distance’, every stanza offers a new perspective into distance – “The space of pain between two alphabets, now divorced,/ looking on either side of a sentence”. In ‘Morphing into Everything’, the beloved and the city coalesce into one:

my fortresses crumble
dissolve mid-sea
rebirth as an archipelago
sink into her navel
populate her mind
germinate on her dermis
disintegrate into a thousand birds
taking early flight 

In each of the fifty-six poems in the collection, is a seamless interweaving of self and space. Most of Mhatre’s sirens are symbolic, conjured through the weight and immediacy of metaphor. In each poem is this sense of something that must be overcome — a lurking claustrophobia, an unnamed distrust, a haunting faithlessness, a constant suggestion of order tipping into anarchy.

An acute precariousness, marked by a vital need to thresh out feeling on the floor of language, is the signature of this collection.

Very significantly, many of these poems are about poetry itself —  its genesis, composition, structure, and its relentless shapeshifting ability to weld disparate worlds and subjectivities into a coherent experiential whole. Unravelling within this book’s narrative arc is an empathetic journey of the body and spirit, its goal being to discover “the completeness of existence…Time. Tide. Man. Woman. Humanity. Age. Difference. Distance”. (‘Rain Being’) Passion configures these poems in various ways and not least through the erotic of language. In the best poems here, love, poetry, woman and city become indistinguishable from one another, permeating ontological and aesthetic boundaries and accomplishing a spiritual surrealism that marks the distinctness of this collection.

A City Full of Sirens is, thus, about cities that are both germane and antithetical to poetry, about a “confabulated planet” and mutating geographies “stretching/ through thick mesh of bones and arteries/ pulp synchronized to our heartbeats/ birdsong to a breath/ while ink sprawls/ on a dream of half-slept pages”. (‘Vertical Forests’) It is equally about the inhabitants of the cityscape, the reconciliation of their numerous fragments and roles – “a new you added everyday/ an old you subtracted”. (‘The Queue’), intending “to geolocate/ the fulcrum of our absolute feeling/ outliving erasures”. (‘Synthesis’)

The collection remains remarkable for its obsession with language, its authentic emotional inflections, its charged candour, and its oscillations across a wide thematic range of existence, estrangement, erosion, and redemption. Annihilation, disease and death watermark these poems in undeniable ways but the energy of the book lies in its refusal to be contained within scripts of hopelessness or pain. Summoning optimism to thought and agency to action,  A City Full of Sirens makes a palliative of poetry and crafts an entourage of life’s resilience to learn from every setback –

I was never the rain.
Until you cloud-burst me with words.
You gave me the first drop.
It’s my turn to take you in. 
--‘Rain Being’

Click here to read the excerpt

[1] Translation, Hindi

Basudhara Roy teaches English at Karim City College affiliated to Kolhan University, Chaibasa. Author of three collections of poems, her latest work has been featured in EPW, The Pine Cone Review, Live Wire, Lucy Writers Platform, Setu and The Aleph Review among others. 

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PLEASE NOTE: ARTICLES CAN ONLY BE REPRODUCED IN OTHER SITES WITH DUE ACKNOWLEDGEMENT TO BORDERLESS JOURNAL

Click here to access the Borderless anthology, Monalisa No Longer Smiles

Click here to access Monalisa No Longer Smiles on Kindle Amazon International