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Greetings

Happy Birthday Borderless

Borderless Journal started on March, 14, 2020. When the mayhem of the pandemic had just set in, we started as a daily with half-a-dozen posts. Having built a small core of writings by July, 2020, we swung to become a monthly. And we still continue to waft and grow…

Art by Sohana Manzoor

We like to imagine ourselves as floating on clouds and therefore of the whole universe. Our team members are from multiple geographies and we request not to be tied down to a single, confined, bordered land. We would welcome aliens if they submitted to us from another galaxy…

On our Fifth Anniversary, we have collected celebratory greetings from writers and readers stretched across the world who share their experience of the journal with you and offer suggestions for the future. We conclude with words from some of the team, including my own observations on being part of this journey.

Aruna Chakravarti

Heartiest congratulations to Borderless on the occasion of its fifth anniversary! Borderless, an international journal, has the distinction of carrying contributions from many eminent writers from around the world. From its initiation in 2020, it has moved from strength to strength under the sensitive and skillful steering of its team. Today it is considered one of the finest journals of its kind. I feel privileged to have been associated with Borderless from its very inception and have contributed substantially to it. I wish to thank the team for including my work in their distinguished journal. May Borderless move meaningfully towards the future and rise to greater and greater heights! I wish it every success.

Professor Fakrul Alam

Five years ago, when Borderless set out on its literary voyage, who would have imagined the length and breadth of its imaginative crossings in this span of time? The evidence, however, is digitally there for any reader who has seen at least some of its issues. Creative writing spanning all genres, vivid illustrations, instant links giving resolute readers the option to track a contributor’s creative voyaging—here is boundless space always opening up for those seeking writing of considerable variety as well as originality. The best part here is that unlike name-brand journals, which will entice readers with limited access and then restrict their spaces unless you subscribe to them, all of Borderless is still accessible for us even though it has attracted a wide readership in five years. I certainly hope it will stay that way.

And what lies ahead for Borderless? Surely, more opportunities for the creative to articulate their deepest thoughts and feelings in virtual and seemingly infinite space, and innumerable avenues for readers to access easily. And let us hope, in the years to come Borderless will extend itself to newer frontiers of writing and will continue to keep giving space to new as well as emerging writers from our parts of the world.

May the team of Borderless, continue to live up to their claim that “there are no boundaries to human imagination and thought!”

Radha Chakravarty

Since its inception, Borderless Journal has remained true to its name, offering a vital literary space for writers, artists and scholars from around the world to engage in creative dialogue about their shared vision of a world without borders. Congratulations Borderless, and may your dream of global harmony continue to inspire.

Somdatta Mandal

According to the famous Chicana academic and theorist Gloria Anzaldua, the Borderlands are physically present wherever two or more cultures edge each other, where peopIe of different races occupy the same territory, where under, lower, middle and upper classes touch, where the space between two individuals shrinks with intimacy. Hatred, anger and exploitation are the prominent features of this landscape. There, at the juncture of cultures, languages cross-pollinate and are revitalized; they die and are born. Borders are set up to define the places that are safe and unsafe, to distinguish us from them. A border is a dividing line, a narrow strip along a steep edge. A borderland is a vague and undetermined place created by the emotional residue of an unnatural boundary. It is in a constant state of transition. The prohibited and forbidden are its inhabitants.

About five years ago, when a new online journal aptly called Borderless Journal was launched, these ideas which we had been teaching for so long were simply no longer applicable. Doing away with differences, with limits, it became a suitable platform where disparate cultures met, where people from all disciplines could express their views through different genres, be it poetry, translation, reviews, scholarly articles, creative writing and so on. Many new writers from different parts of the world became regular contributors to this unique experimentation with ‘borderlessness’ and its immense possibilities are very apt in this present global context where social media has already changed many earlier notions of scholarship, journalism, and creativity.

Jared Carter

In its first five years Borderless has become an important witness for international peace and understanding. It has encouraged submissions from writers in English based in many different countries, and has offered significant works translated from a wide range of national literatures. Its pages have featured writers based in India, Pakistan, China, Taiwan, Japan, South Korea, Australia, the UK, and the US. In the future, given the current level of world turmoil, Borderless might well consider looking more closely toward Africa and the Middle East. As the magazine continues to promote writing focused on international peace and freedom, new horizons beckon.

Teresa Rehman

The best part of this journal is that it is seamless and knows no margins or fringes. It is truly global as it has cut across geographical borders and has sculpted a novel literary genre called the ‘borderless’. It has climbed the mountains of Nepal, composed songs on the Brahmaputra in Assam, explored the hidden kingdom of Bhutan, walked on the streets of Dhaka, explored the wreckage of cyclones in Odisha, been on a cycling adventure from Malaysia to Kashmir, explored a scenic village in the Indo-China border, taken readers on a journey of making a Japanese-Malayalam dictionary, gave a first-hand account of the war in Bosnia-Herzegovina and described the syncretic culture of Bengal through its folk music and oral traditions. I hope it continues telling the untold and unchartered stories across mountains, oceans and forests.

Kirpal Singh

In a world increasingly tending towards misunderstandings across borders, this wholesome journal provides a healthy space both for diverse as well as unifying visions of our humanity. As we celebrate five distinguished years of Borderless Journal, we also look forward to another five years of such to ensure the underlying vision remains viable and visible as well as authentic and accurate.

My heartfelt Congratulations to all associated with this delightful and impressive enterprise!

Asad Latif

The proliferation of ethnic geographies of identity — Muslim/Arab, Hindu/Indian, Christian/Western, and so on — represents a threat to anything that might be called universal history. The separation and parcelling out of identities, as if they are pre-ordained, goes against the very idea (proclaimed by Edward Said) that, just as men and women create their own history, they can recreate it. Borders within the mind reflect borders outside it. Both borders resist the recreation of history. While physical borders are necessary, mental borders are not. This journal does an admirable job in erasing borders of the mind. Long may it continue to do so.  

Anuradha Kumar

I have been one of Borderless’ many readers ever since its first issue appeared five years ago. Like many others, I look forward with great anticipation to every issue, complete with stories, , reviews, poems, translations, complemented with interesting artwork. 

Borderless has truly lived up to its name. Within its portal, people, regardless of borders, but bound by common love for literature, and the world’s heritage, come together. I would wish for Borderless to scale even greater heights in the future. As a reader, I would very much like to read more writers from the ‘Global South’, especially in translation. Africa, Asia and Australasia are host to diverse languages, many in danger of getting lost. Perhaps Borderless could take a lead in showcasing writers from these languages to the world. That would be such an invaluable service to readers, and the world too.   

Ryan Quinn Flanagan

To me, Borderless Journal is a completely free and open space.  Topics and styles are never limiting, and the various writers explore everything from personal travelogues to the limp of a helpful druggist.  Writers from all corners of the globe contribute, offering a plethora of unique voices from countless circumstances and walks of life. Because of this openness, Borderless Journal can, and likely will continue to grow and expand in many directions simultaneously.  Curating and including many new voices along the way.  Happy 5th Birthday to a truly original and wonderfully eclectic journal!

George Freek

I feel the Borderless Journal fills a special spot in the publishing world. Unlike many journals, which profess to be open-minded and have no preference for any particular style of poetry, Borderless actually strives to be eclectic. Naturally, it has its own tastes, and yet truly tries to represent the broad spectrum which is contemporary poetry. I have no advice as to where it should go. I can only say keep up the good work, and stooping to a cliche, if it’s not broken, why try to fix it?

Farouk Gulsara

They say time flies when one is having fun. It sure does when a publication we love regularly churns out its issues, month after month, for five years now.

In the post-truth world, where everybody wants to exert their exclusivity and try to find ways to be different from the person standing next to them, Borderless gives a breath of fresh air. At a time when neighboring countries are telling the world they do not share a common history, Borderless tries to show their shared heritage. We may have different mothers and fathers but are all but “ONE”! 

We show the same fear found in the thunderous sounds of a growling tiger. We spill the exact hue of blood with the same pain when our skin is breached. Yet we say, “My pain is more intense than yours, and my blood is more precious.” Somehow, we find solace in playing victimhood. We have lost that mindfulness. One should appreciate freedom just as much as we realise it is fragile. Terrorism and fighting for freedom could just be opposing sides of the same coin.

There is no such thing as a just war or the mother of all wars to end all wars as it has been sold to us. One form of aggression is the beginning of many never-ending clashes. Collateral damage cannot be justified. There can be no excuse to destroy generations of human discoveries and turn back the clock to the Stone Age. 

All our hands are tainted with guilt. Nevertheless, each day is another new day to make that change. We can all sing to the tune of the official 2014 World Cup song, ‘Ola Ola,’ which means ‘We are One.’ This is like how we all get together for a whole month to immerse ourselves in the world’s favourite sport. We could also reminisce about when the world got together to feed starving kids in Africa via ‘Band-Aid’ and ‘We Are the World’. Borderless is paving the way. Happy Anniversary!

Ihlwha Choi

I sincerely congratulate Borderless Journal on its 5th anniversary. I am always delighted and grateful for the precious opportunity to publish my poetry in English through this journal. I would like to extend my special thanks for this.

Through this journal, I can read a variety of literary works—including poetry, essays, and prose—from writers around the world. As someone for whom English is a foreign language, it has also been a valuable resource for improving my English skills. I especially enjoy the frequent features on Rabindranath Tagore’s poetry, which I read with great joy. Tagore is one of my favourite poets.

I have had the privilege of visiting Santiniketan three times to trace his legacy and honor his contributions to literature and education. However, one aspect I find a little disappointing is that, despite having published over 30 poems, I have yet to receive any feedback from readers or fellow writers. It would be wonderful to have such an opportunity for engagement.

Additionally, last October, a Korean woman received the Nobel Prize in Literature—the first time an author from South Korea has been awarded this honor by the Swedish Academy. She is not only an outstanding novelist but also a poet. I searched for articles about her in Borderless Journal but was unable to find any. Of course, I understand that this is not strictly a literary newspaper, but I would have been delighted to see a feature on her.

I also feel honoured that one of my poems was included in the anthology Monalisa No Longer Smiles: An Anthology of Writings from across the World. I hope such anthologies will continue to be published. In fact, I wonder if it would be possible to compile and publish collections featuring several poems from contributing poets. If these were made available on Amazon, it would be a fulfilling experience for poets to reach a broader audience.

Moving forward, I hope Borderless Journal will continue to reach readers worldwide, beyond Asia, and contribute to fostering love and peace. Thank you.

Prithvijeet Sinha

The journey of authorship, self-expression and cultural exchange that I personally associate with Borderless Journal’s always diverse archives has remained a touchstone ever since this doorway opened itself to the world in 2020. Going against the ramshackle moods of the 2020s as an era defined by scepticism and distances, The journal has upheld a principled literary worldview close to the its pages and made sure that voices of every hue gets representation. It’s also an enterprise that consistently delivers in terms of goodwill and innocence, two rare traits which are in plenteous supply in the poems, travelogues, essays and musings presented here.

The journey with Borderless has united this writer with many fascinating, strikingly original auteurs, buoyed by a love for words and expression. It is only destined for greatness ahead. Happy Birthday Borderless! Here’s to 50 more epochs.

From Our Team

Bhaskar Parichha

As Borderless Journal celebrates its fifth anniversary, it is inspiring to see its evolution into a distinguished platform for discourse and exploration. Over the years, it has carved a unique niche in contemporary journalism, consistently delivering enlightening and engaging content. The journal features a variety of sections, including in-depth articles, insightful essays, and thought-provoking interviews, reflecting a commitment to quality and fostering dialogue on pressing global issues.
The diverse contributions enrich readers’ understanding of complex topics, with a particular focus on climate change, which is especially relevant today. By prioritising this critical issue, Borderless informs and encourages engagement with urgent realities.
Having been involved since its inception, I am continually impressed by the journal’s passion and adaptability in a changing media landscape. As we celebrate this milestone, I wish Borderless continued success as a beacon of knowledge and thoughtful discourse, inspiring readers and contributors alike.

Devraj Singh Kalsi

Borderless Journal has a sharp focus on good writing in multiple genres and offers readable prose. The platform is inclusive and does not carry any slant, offering space to divergent opinions and celebrating free expression. By choosing not to restrict to any kind of ism, the literary platform has built a strong foundation in just five years since inception. New, emerging voices – driven by the passion to write fearlessly – find it the ideal home. In a world where writing often gets commercialised and compromised, Borderless Journal is gaining strength, credibility, and wide readership. It is making a global impact by giving shape to the dreams of legendary poets who believed the world is one.  

Rakhi Dalal

My heartiest congratulations to Borderless and the entire team on the fifth Anniversary of its inception. The journal which began with the idea of letting writing and ideas transcend borders, has notably been acting as a bridge to make this world a more interconnected place. It offers a space to share human experiences across cultures, to create a sense of connection and hence compassion, which people of this world, now more distraught than ever, are sorely in need of. I am delighted to have been a part of this journey. My best wishes. May it continue to sail through time, navigating languages, literature and rising above barriers!

 Keith Lyons

Is it really five years since Borderless Journal started? It seems hard to believe. 

My index finger scrolls through Messenger chats with the editor — till they end in 2022. On the website, I find 123 results under my name. Still no luck. Eventually, in my ‘Sent’ box I find my first submission, emailed with high hopes (and low expectations) in March 2020. ‘Countdown to Lockdown’ was about my early 2020 journey from India through Thailand, Malaysia, Indonesia, and Australia to New Zealand as COVID-19 spread.

Just like that long, insightful trip, my involvement with Borderless Journal has been a journey. Three unique characteristics stand out for me. 

The first is its openness and inclusiveness. It features writers from all over the globe, with various contributions across a wide range of topics, treatments and formats. 

The second feature of the journal is its phenomenal growth, both in readers and writers, and in its reach. Borderless really does ‘walk the talk’ on breaking down barriers. It is no longer just a humble literary journal — it is so much bigger than that. 

The third unique aspect of Borderless is the devotion endowed in nurturing the journal and its contributors. I love the way each and every issue is conceived, curated, and crafted together, making tangible the aspiration ‘of uniting diverse voices and cultures, and finding commonality in the process.’

So where can we go from here? One constant in this world is change. I’d like to think that having survived a global pandemic, economic recession, and troubling times, that the core values of Borderless Journal will continue to see it grow and evolve. For never has there been a greater need to hear the voices of others to discover that we are all deeply connected.

Rhys Hughes

I have two different sets of feelings about Borderless Journal. I think the journal does an excellent job of showcasing work from many different countries and cultures. I want to say it’s an oasis of pleasing words and images in a troubled sea of chaos, but that would be mixing my metaphors improperly. Not a troubled sea of chaos but a desert of seemingly shifting values. And here is the oasis, Borderless Journal, where one can find secure ideals of liberty, tolerance, peace and internationalism. I appreciate this very much. As for my other set of feelings, I am always happy to be published in the journal, and in fact I probably would have given up writing poetry two years ago if it wasn’t for the encouragement provided to me by regular publication in the journal. I have written many poems especially for Borderless. They wouldn’t exist if Borderless didn’t exist. Therefore I am grateful on a personal level, as a writer as well as a reader.

Where can Borderless Journal go from here? This is a much harder question to answer. I feel that traditional reading culture is fading away year after year. Poets write poetry but few people buy poetry books. They can read poems at Borderless for free and that is a great advantage. I would like to see more short stories, maybe including elements of fantasy and speculative fiction. But I have no strategic vision for the future of the journal. However, one project I would like to try one day is some sort of collaborative work, maybe a big poem with lots of contributors following specific rules. It’s an idea anyway!

Meenakshi Malhotra

Borderless started with a vision of transcending the shadow lines and has over time, evolved into a platform where good writing from many parts of the world finds  a space , where as “imagination bodies forth/ The forms of things unknown, the poet’s pen/Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing/A local habitation and a name.”

It has been a privilege to be a part of Borderless’s journey over the last few years. It was a journey based on an idea and a vision. That dream of creating solidarity, of transcending and soaring over borders and boundaries, is evident in almost every page and article in the journal.

Mitali Chakravarty

Looking at all these responses, thinking on what everyone has said, I am left feeling overwhelmed.

Borderless started as a whimsical figment of the imagination… an attempt to bring together humanity with the commonality of felt emotions, to redefine literary norms which had assumed a darker hue in the post Bloomsbury, post existentialist world. The journal tried to invoke humour to brings smiles, joys to create a sense of camaraderie propelling people out of depression towards a more inclusive world, where laughter brings resilience and courage. It hoped to weave an awareness that all humans have the same needs, dreams and feelings despite the multiple borders drawn by history, geographies, academia and many other systems imagined by humans strewn over time.  

Going forward, I would like to take up what Harari suggests in Homo Deus — that ideas need to generate a change in the actions of humankind to make an impact. Borderless should hope to be one of the crucibles containing ideas to impact the move towards a more wholesome world, perhaps by redefining some of the current accepted norms. Some might find such an idea absurd,  but without the guts to act on impractical dreams, visions and ideas, we might have gone extinct in a post-dino Earth.

I thank the fabulous team, the wonderful writers and readers whose participation in the journal, or in engaging with it, enhances the hope of ringing in a new world for the future of our progeny.

Categories
Poetry

Shakespearian Musings by Kirpal Singh

King Lear, Act I, Scene I (Cordelia’s Farewell) The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Pianting by  Edwin Austin Abbey (1852-1911) From Public Domain. 
DESPERATE LEAR 

against all winds that blow
and all the rains that pour, 
Old Lear still sought home
as we all do sooner or later—

home is where the heart is—
cardiac surgeons locate hearts
but the homes seem elusive
lost perhaps among the veins
and the pulse beats which sound
okay to all intents. 

thus to be without home
ported lustlessness;
perhaps for some despair
too close for comfort 
too close to acknowledge,

And so I roam without a home. 
return to the heart, 
the heart of all things,
and I realise and learn,
my heart is here with me. 
inside and pretty safe,
despite some odd beats
hardening who knows what,

home is where the heart 
returns after all the wandering 
finally settling all debts
owed by the stomach
in desperate circumstances,

Old Lear challenged the gods
but the  duel was one-sided 
no one wanted him
as he wrestled Nature
desperately needing Cordelia,

sometimes our Cordelias die
before they’re properly born-

I know for my Cordelia died 
before she could be born--

she still struggles to learn 
knowing its totally futile. 

after all only in rare miracles 
do we resurrect from the dead,

farewell, my sometime girl, 
perhaps we shall meet 
somewhere in our dreams
and realise all was a nightmare!



POOR HAMLET 

Poor Hamlet 
forgot poor Cordelia
in another realm
also where deceit,
cunning and corruption
ruined innocence, purity
and brought hell to bear.

these poor players 
whose destinies pry
and fathom deep sores, 
some known only alone, 
challenge our premises, 
contentment, pride, joy
and much else besides—

but who are we to probe
and pry and wonder? 
think and cry and ponder 
when it's the same
yonder and everywhere?

in my stillness, my friend 
you who smile all the time 
and beguile love
will never know anguish 
nor the Joy of being 
humanly correspondent 
despite all hints and 
references, nor in the 
byways of escape 
and neither in the grasp
of knowing and suffering 
will you understand, know 
and appreciate 
value and truncated joy. 

in the end, nothing much 
matters more than smug
satisfactions of owning
even in this simple way, 

forgiveness can be all!
Hamlet. From Public Domain.

Kirpal Singh is a poet and a literary critic from Singapore. An internationally recognised scholar,  Singh has won research awards and grants from local and foreign universities. He was one of the founding members of the Centre for Research in New Literatures, Flinders University, Australia in 1977; the first Asian director for the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize in 1993 and 1994, and chairman of the Singapore Writers’ Festival in the 1990s. He retired the Director of the Wee Kim Wee Centre.

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

Categories
Conversation

From Ukraine to America: A story of Resilience

Lara Geyla converses about her memoir, Camels from Kyzylkum, and her journey as an immigrant.

Lara Geyla

A migrant’s journey is never easy – it’s rife with adjustments and changes. Adapting to a country that is totally different from the one in which an immigrant is born, requires adjustments of various kinds, including learning new languages. Migrants also need to find acceptance and friends in the country they move to as did Lara Geyla, when she migrated out of a crumbling USSR to America, pausing by the way of Austria and Italy. She recorded her journey in Camels from Kyzylkum: A Memoir of my Life Journey.

Kyzylkum is a desert located in Uzbekistan. Geyla lived and worked in the desert for twenty years. She learnt that the camels were the hardiest of creatures. Her life’s journey like that of any other immigrant, had been hard. So, at the start of her memoir, she tells us: “I am a camel from Kyzylkum, too. Like a camel, I have adapted and found ways to help myself survive in the desert. As a camel stores his energy in its hump as part of its legendary ability to travel hundreds of miles without food and water, I stored the energy of my spirit to help me stay strong as I crossed continents alone, with two suitcases and $140 in my pocket in my search for a better life.”

Perhaps, this is a resilience that each migrant needs to unearth to settle into a country of their choosing, or sometimes thrust on them due to external factors like war and climate change. Through her memoir, we get glimpses of different parts of the world as she inched her way closer to the country she sought. People helped her along. At one point, when she arrived at the wrong destination for an interview with the American embassy that was crucial to her move to the country of her choice, an Italian taxi driver drove her at breakneck speed to the right address, where after a few questions, she was given the permission to emigrate.

This was in the 1990s. After moving to America, she helped more of her family to move to the country which gave her refuge. She found acceptance in a firm as a programmer/ analyst in Maryland. She lives now in her new home in Florida with her new family and friends and basks in their acceptance and love. In this exclusive, she talks to us of her journey.

Tell us what made you write Camel from Kyzylkum?

I had wanted to write my life story for a long time, as I believed my life journey was filled with incredible places and events. However, while I was working, I never had the time to focus on writing. Even then, I knew that if I ever wrote a book, it would be titled Camel from Kyzylkum. I finally wrote my story during the COVID 19 pandemic in 2020–21, when we were confined to our home.

Where in the Soviet Union did you grow up? What was your childhood like? Tell us about your schooling and a child’s life in the Soviet Union? How was it different from what we find in other countries?

I was born into a Jewish family in Vinnitsa, a city in southwestern Ukraine, not far from the capital, Kiev. At the time, Ukraine was part of the Soviet Union. Life wasn’t easy for those born into Jewish families in the Soviet Union; being Jewish was considered a nationality, not a religion. In fact, during my time there, we lived under the slogan: “Religion is poison for the people.” Religion was heavily suppressed, and atheism was strongly promoted during my time there. Although I grew up much like other children—playing the same games and attending the same schools—I was aware from a young age that there was a stigma attached to being Jewish. I felt different but didn’t understand why. After 1948, anti-semitism in the Soviet Union reached new heights, particularly during the anti-cosmopolitan campaign, when numerous Yiddish poets, writers, painters, and sculptors were arrested or killed. During my time there, antisemitism was consistently supported by the Soviet state and used as a tool to consolidate power.

When I was about 12 years old, my parents divorced, and my mother and I moved to Belarus to live with my grandmother. We all shared the same apartment. Soon after, I was sent to a boarding school, which I hated but had no choice and stayed there until I graduated. I’ve written about all of this in my book.

How was life different from what we find in other countries? That likely depends on the country you compare it to. Despite the many challenges and negative aspects of life in the Soviet Union, one notable advantage was the education system. It was of quite high quality, mandatory, and free.

You moved with your husband to the desert of Kyzylkum. What was it like living in the desert? In tents?

For the first three years, our young family lived in a small settlement belonging to a geological expedition. It really was in the middle of nowhere. The nearest civilized city, Navoi, was 200 kilometers (124 miles) away. Our settlement, simply called Geological Party #10, and it consisted of about two dozen barracks under the blistering sun, set in a barren landscape devoid of vegetation and offering hostile living conditions for humans, plants, and animals alike. The summers were extremely hot. The winters were harsh. At night, the wind became a growling, tumbling mix of sand and snow. I lay awake for hours, listening to the eerie howling outside. It was one of those winds that frayed nerves, made your hair stand on end, and left your skin crawling.

After three years, we moved to Muruntau, a slightly larger geological settlement, but we still lived in barracks. From there, we relocated to Zarafshan, a city in the heart of the Kyzylkum Desert of Uzbekistan, where we finally got our first apartment.

I have written extensively about our life in Zarafshan in my memoir, Camel from Kyzylkum. However, you might find it interesting to read an article by a Canadian reporter who accidentally stumbled upon Zarafshan while exploring Google Earth. He wrote and published the piece online in 2011, In Zarafshan.

What work were you doing there? What jobs did you do in the USSR? Did you go back to university there?

I earned my degree from a geological college in Kiev and worked as a geophysicist in the Kyzylkum Desert, focusing on gold and uranium deposits. Geophysics involves using surface methods and specialised equipment to measure the physical properties of the Earth’s subsurface and identify anomalies. These measurements help to make interpretations about a geological site, detect and infer the presence and location of ore minerals. Geophysical data is then integrated with surface geological observations to develop a comprehensive understanding of a region’s geological structure and history.

My job required me to work in various environments, including the open fields of the desert, open-pit and underground mines, as well as in the office. In fact, the Muruntau gold deposit in the Kyzylkum Desert, where I once worked, was and still is being mined as the world’s largest open-pit gold mine.

You have told us you were part Ukrainian and part Jewish? Judaism is faith — not a geography. So, were both your parents Ukrainian?

I was born into a Jewish family in Ukraine, which was part of the Soviet Union at the time. Both of my parents were Jewish and born in the Soviet Union. In my time there, Judaism was not considered a faith but rather a nationality. Nationality was stated in one’s passport. Synagogues were closed, and like most other Jewish families in the Soviet Union, our did not follow Jewish religious or spiritual practices. Instead, we celebrated all Soviet holidays. However, I do remember my father’s family gathering for Hanukkah and giving us, little kids, gifts and money. My husband, however, was Ukrainian, which made our daughter part Ukrainian and part Jewish.

Were you there during glasnost? Did things improve for you after the Perestroika and Glasnost? Please elaborate. How long did you stay after the dissolution of the USSR within your country of birth?

I would like to answer to this question with excerpt from my memoir Camel from Kyzylkum:

“Glasnost was understood as the movement in the USSR towards greater openness and dialogue. In the period from 1987-1991, Glasnost became synonymous with “publicity,” “openness,” and it reflected a commitment by the Gorbachev administration to allow Soviet citizens to publicly discuss the problems and potential solutions of their system.

I still lived in Zarafshan and took an active part in Perestroika and Glasnost—I was not afraid to express my opinions or attend meetings. I truly believed that we could change life for the better. One day I came to work only to find out that agents from the KGB had searched my office. KGB stands for Komitet Gosudarstvennoy Bezopasnosti, which translates to “Committee for State Security” in English.

At the time of Perestroika and Glasnost, books that previously had been available only through the underground distribution in the Soviet Union became legal, and excerpts were printed in many publications. I read a lot, and these books opened my eyes to the bloody recent history of our country—from the 1918 Revolution to the present day, on to all of the misleading, hidden truth, hypocrisies of our government, and the Soviet system as a whole. I realised that all of the concepts and ideas that they had taught us from early childhood were mendacious.”

I left the Soviet Union in October 1989, and as punishment, my citizenship was revoked. The Soviet Union ultimately collapsed on December 26, 1991, by which time I was already living in the United States.

Why did you want to move out of the Soviet Union? Can you give us the timeframe in which you moved out in terms of Glasnost and other events?

The Glasnost period in the Soviet Union was from 1987 to 1991. I left in 1989.

The late 1980s were years of exodus from the Soviet Union. Gorbachev opened the door of the “iron curtain” and everyone who could escape was leaving. I moved from Zarafshan, Uzbekistan, to Gomel, Belarus, in 1988. At that time, every single day platforms at the Gomel railroad station were full of people: families who were lucky to get exit visas, and relatives and friends who came to say their last goodbyes to them.

There was a code word: “to leave.” If you whispered it with a mysterious gravitas, there would be no need to ask further questions.

When I was asked if I would consider leaving, I said “yes” with no hesitation. I did not know what leaving would entail, but I started to go through the process as everyone else did. I apprised the family members, but there was no need or time to have long discussions—it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and the “iron curtain” could be down again at any time. We all knew how challenging and frightening immigration could be, but we had a hope that after all of the suffering, we could build a better life.

How is it you were on the list for visas and others were not given the privilege? Who were the people given the right to leave the Soviet Union?

Under Soviet law, no person could leave the country without the government’s permission, granted through an exit visa. This regulation applied not only to Soviet citizens but also to foreigners, including diplomatic personnel. Emigration policies varied over time and were always challenging to navigate.

In the 1970s, Jewish people in the USSR, often referred to as “refuseniks,” staged hunger strikes to protest the Soviet government’s refusal to grant them permission to emigrate to Israel. These protests highlighted the severe restrictions on their right to leave the country and garnered international attention, becoming a pivotal part of the movement advocating for Soviet Jewry, an international human rights campaign for Soviet Jews.

In the late 1980s and early 1990s, liberalised emigration policies allowed many Soviet Jews to leave, with more than half of the Jewish population emigrating, primarily to Israel, the United States, Germany, Canada, and Australia. However, it wasn’t only Jewish individuals departing; anyone who could endure the convoluted emigration process took the opportunity to leave. As a punishment, those who emigrated had their citizenship revoked.

The Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society (HIAS) played a vital role in assisting people leaving the Soviet Union, supporting them on their journeys to new destinations. HIAS continues to advocate for the protection of refugees and ensures displaced individuals are treated with the dignity they deserve.

For me, navigating the bureaucratic barriers of Soviet emigration policies in the late 1980s was extremely difficult, but my Jewish heritage worked to my advantage. After overcoming numerous hurdles, I left the Soviet Union at the end of October 1989. I had two suitcases, $140 in my pocket, and no certainty about my final destination. With my Soviet citizenship revoked, I became a “citizen of the World”.


Why did you choose to move to the USA over all other countries?

When I left the Soviet Union at the end of October 1989, I knew my point of departure but not necessarily my destination. The only identity document I had was an exit visa from the USSR and the train ticket to Vienna, Austria. I held no citizenship in any country and knew very little about immigration laws or processes. My ultimate goal was to reach America because I believed that the United States was the land of opportunity like no other country. During my interview in Austria, I was given the option to select a country I wanted to go to, and I chose the United States.

Other than language, did you have to study further to get a job in the US? How is working in the US different from working in the USSR?

Yes, I wore many hats and attended various schools before landing my professional job in the USA. First, I had to learn English. My journey began with earning a certificate as a nurse assistant. Next, I attended school to become a medical assistant, followed by completing a two-year program and passing the exam to become an X-ray technician. I worked in that role until I later completed a course for computer programming.

My first job in the US, however, was clearing tables at Burger King. I worked as a waitress, cleaned people’s houses, worked in department stores, and babysat young children. I did whatever it took to survive and was never afraid of hard work.

Working in the US was vastly different from working in the USSR, mainly because of the many barriers I faced: learning a new language, navigating cultural differences, adapting to unfamiliar social norms, and constantly acquiring new skills. Despite the challenges, I succeeded. Now, I’m happily retired, enjoying life in a beautiful community in Southwest Florida.

Have you ever returned to Russia after you migrated? How did you find it, especially as the Soviet Union broke up into so many countries?

My husband and I traveled to Ukraine in 2010, by which time it was an independent country. This was after the Orange Revolution1, a series of protests primarily in Kiev in response to election fraud. The revolution, which unfolded between late November 2004 and January 2005, brought significant political upheaval. Viktor Yushchenko was elected president on December 26, 2004, after weeks of turmoil that thrust the country into chaos.

As the informal leader of the Ukrainian opposition coalition, Yushchenko was one of two main candidates in the 2004 presidential election, the other being Prime Minister Viktor Yanukovych. During the campaign, Yushchenko survived an assassination attempt when he was poisoned with dioxin, leaving him disfigured. Despite this, he persevered and emerged victorious in the re-run election.

When we visited Ukraine in July 2010, the memory of the Orange Revolution was still fresh. We explored many cities, stayed with my childhood friend in Vinnitsia, and visited relatives in Yalta, Crimea. Crimea, sadly, was annexed from Ukraine by Russia in 2014.

The changes in Ukraine since my time living there were noticeable, but some things remained the same. We especially enjoyed our time in Yalta—a vibrant city filled with cheerful faces, where people celebrated life at this beautiful Black Sea resort.

In June 2018, during a cruise around the Baltic countries, we spent a day in St. Petersburg, Russia. The city and its museums are undeniably remarkable, as they always have been. However, the rude customs control at the port, long lines at the museums, being rushed through the exhibits, and other all-too-familiar experiences immediately brought back unpleasant memories from the past. After this brief visit, I have no desire to ever return to this country.

So, are you writing more books?

I’m considering it. However, finding the time to focus has been challenging. Between our extensive travels, my photography and video projects, marketing my memoir, and other everyday activities, my schedule hasn’t left much room for writing another book.

Thanks for giving us your time.

Click here to read an excerpt from Camels from Kyzylkum

(This online interview has been conducted by Mitali Chakravarty.)

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

Disclaimer: The opinions expressed are solely that of the interviewee and not of the 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

  1. Orange Revolution took place in Ukraine between November 2004 to January 2005, primarily a response to the Presidential elections ↩︎
Categories
Musings

My Patchwork Year

Reflecting on the last 12 months, Keith Lyons finds some things fade away, others reveal themselves, and mighty trees fall.

Collage courtesy: Keith Lyons

Am I over-sharing if I confess that the first photo on my iPhone of my 2024 year is a spectacle lens prescription? Or that the summary photo for 2024 — chosen by Apple and its algorithm — is of a coffee cup with the best of my efforts to create the basic latte art design: a monk’s head?

Looking back on the year, I wonder about the interplay of personal and global, a year which started with me learning how to make an origami crane, the symbol of peace, hope, longevity and good fortune, and ended with me getting ill, losing my father, without a paying job, and facing an unexpected massive bill. 

The trick to making a paper crane is to have a good teacher. I was fortunate enough to connect with a semi-retired Japanese man (Mocchan) whose gift to the world is to meet strangers, have a cup of coffee, and patiently show them the dozen or so steps how to fold, flip, and unfold a piece of paper until it becomes a paper crane. 

As for ill health, loss, unemployment, and debt, there are no easy tricks; you just need to go through them. “Survive til ’25” has been the mantra of bank economists and real estate pundits, recognising that 2024 has been a rough year for many sectors and most people, with inflation (and with it, rising living costs) the primary concern of citizens all around the world. Many countries are in economic recession, geopolitical threats are on the horizon, and the globe is warming faster than expected. The economic challenges were highlighted for me when earlier this year friends admitted to me they had changed their brand of coffee beans to a cheaper, no-frills variety, to cope with the cost of living squeeze. Yes, a First World problem. But who in 2024 has not examined their expenditure, put something back on the shelves, or not completed an online purchase — known as ‘cart abandonment’?

So, if I was to look back at the year in review, as a tapestry or a mosaic, what would I see? Fragments of memories, experiences, events. The days of my life, some almost the same as the previous day, others with unanticipated twists and turns. Welcome to the journey of 2024.

January

In the very centre of my city, Christchurch (New Zealand’s most English of cities), where a quake-damaged cathedral sits un-repaired, I get transported into another world, an immersive world of lights and colours in the giant inflatable sculpture Arborialis Lunminarium, made by the Architects of Air (https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=901452564787031). Inside the labyrinth of tunnels and designs like cathedral stained-glass windows, I take time to sit in alcoves and lay in the centre of one of the domes, bathing in the natural light filtering through the installation, breathing in the tones, listening to the echoes and reverberations. 

February

My next-door neighbour’s house goes on the market. I go across to an open home in the weekend. The neighbours left without saying goodbye. “Gone to Australia,” the real estate agent tells me. “Better jobs.”

Most of the prospective buyers are recent arrivals in New Zealand. 

Looking across to my house, I realise, I need to do some work on my property, including having some trees cut and trimmed. I make a mental note to mention it to a friend who often meets with an arborist. 

A few weeks later, the house sells at auction, for a price way beyond its valuation.

March

I go on a hiking trip with a friend in Fiordland, at one point missing a direction arrow and going off the trail, with others following us up a rocky stream-bed. After much faffing around, we retreat to the last known marked part of the trail, just as other hikers find the next marker without any problems. Lesson: sometimes the directions are up above your eyesight. Look up. 

Back in internet-land, I find much merriment in watching Penn Holderness rapping in the style of Eminem wisdom found on pillows and cushions with quotes. Also, online I find a post detailing things to do for a low-dopamine morning, to sharpen mental clarity, reduce stress and anxiety, and improve long-term brain health. They include not watching Facebook reels or videos first thing in the morning (wait an hour at least), as well as drinking water, getting natural night and fresh air soon after waking, eating a high-protein breakfast, and delaying your first morning coffee for at least an hour. 

April 

For the first time in ages, I go out to a venue at night, listen to live music, have a few drinks, and end up dancing. The venue is a former Anglican church, built in the Gothic revival style in 1875 with an octagonal layout, and later becoming a theatre and then a Japanese wedding chapel. It is a unique setting with a micro-brewery, stained glass windows, and bouncers at the door. I am trying to recall the last time I went out to a live band and danced. My companion is also speculating that she’d also had not been out dancing since the Covid-19 pandemic. We are both in our 50s but are heartened to see others even older than us moving and grooving to the Balkan-Latin fused dub beats of Yurt Party. 

May

I am late for a musical performance in the capital Wellington, and only hear half a composition that has been composed in memory of my brother. Fortunately, the performers agree to repeat the piece afterwards, to enable recording of it, and also so I can call my father so he can listen to ‘Heal’ by Salina Fisher over the phone. It is quite special. I know my father is also deeply moved by the classical composition, even without being in attendance at the Futuna Chapel, regarded as one of the outstanding pieces of 20th-century architecture in New Zealand, combining Maori and European design elements. 

A day later we celebrate my father’s 88th birthday. My father is dying. A few weeks later, we are holding him and speaking with him as he takes his last breath. 

June

The arborist I wanted to come cut down and trim trees on my property dies suddenly in an accident while felling a large tree on an extensive hillside property he is restoring. At a memorial service the only way through the loss is to retell stories about his character, adventures and humour.

An old friend from school days has sent a native tree to plant in memory of my father, and on the shortest day I think about where I might plant it. Winter is considered the best time to allow trees to establish in the wetter months, but it is cold outside, so I keep the tree inside in my sunroom, and ponder where it might grow best. 

July

One night after visiting my mother, I come across an event that seems both crazy and appealing in the coldest time of the year. ‘Rogaining’ is a cross-country navigation sport where teams try to visit as many checkpoints as possible within a time limit. A winter series mixing strategy, adventure, orientation and the challenges of darkness. I resolve to rope in some friends to form a team. Can I offer to be the main navigator given that I’ve gotten lost in unfamiliar terrain more than once?

A pair of WWII binoculars used by my father as a naval navigator ended up in a private collection museum. It is a bittersweet part of letting go, hoping that something once connected to someone special will be put to good use, and is in good hands. When I show the photo to my mother and sister, we have a small sense of closure. 

August

My work contract finishes, as our programme wraps up. The significance of the end dawns on me, as I realise the impact on many people and communities from the end of the collaborative research, including early career scientists who now may have to change professions, or go overseas in the hope of work. 

In my garden, daffodils bloom bright yellow, and I bring in the flowers to spread the promise of new beginnings inside. My parents planted the bulbs when we were children. 

September 

Having put off appointments because of being busy at work, I get advice from a dietary nurse, fitness trainer and stress coach on improving my health, fitness, and sleep. Ultimately, I am caring for my heart. My blood pressure and cholesterol have been high in recent years. I don’t want to die ‘young’. 

I go on holiday to the comforting golden sands and clear waters of Abel Tasman National Park, where I have fond memories from family trips in the 1970s. I make new memories and feel more connected to my father and brother as I gaze at night up to the vast Milky Way, with the five stars of the Southern Cross emerging over the horizon. 

October

In an effort to improve my skills for employment and leisure, I start a coffee-making barista course. Each week, there is a test and challenge. I have to learn the names of the parts of the espresso machine, because at the start I only know their functions and not their exact names: group head/gasket, portafilter, basket, drip tray, steam wand. 

A friend of my brother visits, bringing his partner and their child, whose first name is a composite of my brother’s name Ian, and the boy’s grandmother’s name. 

November

On the barista course, we learn how to pull the perfect shot of espresso, by ensuring the best combination of freshly roasted beans, fine grind size, and how it is pressed (or tamped) to extract the full flavour of the coffee. At each one-on-one session, my tutor Masako extends my knowledge and practical skill. I have to prepare two different styles of coffee in under four minutes, from order to dispatch. I don’t make them in time. The next week, I have to make four coffees in under eight minutes — latte, long black, mocha, flat white. I am over time. Will I ever improve to be able to work in a busy cafe?

My speaking blood pressure monitor reads out my levels in mercury pilar and concludes: Result Normal. I attribute the reduction — without medication — to taking on board the advice of the Mayo Clinic around improving sleeping, reducing stress, less salt, limiting alcohol, lowering weight, and exercising frequently. After positive feedback from my health professionals on the lifestyle changes I’ve made, I felt like I undo my progress when an old school friend visits my house mid-afternoon with a carton of 18 beers and a six-pack of Guinness. 

December

The day after the visit, I find the spot to plant the tree the school friend gave me in memory of my father. The tree will bloom in spring with yellow flowers to attract nectar-eating native birds. My father loved birds. 

To get the temptation out of sight, I give the remaining beers away to my builder who turns up to guide an engineer through recent quake repairs to my house. The engineer, originally from China, finishes his inspection saying everything seems allright. His visit has cost me over $2,000, an unexpected extra cost due to the previous professional’s work being discredited. 

I don’t even get an interview for a job I thought I was dead-certain to be shortlisted for. But another door opens, and I get a job offer for a role starting in the new year. I know I am lucky, given the tough employment market, but I know that while I might be ‘pale’ and ‘male’, I ain’t stale. 

I finish my barista course, and take away the need for patience, consistency and practice. 

But then, after feeling tired from a gym session, a bike ride and a hydrotherapy class, I come home and feel inertia drag me down. Will I have time to finish this piece for Borderless, I wonder? Then I test positive for Covid-19.

Best wishes to you, wherever you are.

May the past be your lesson, the present your gift, and the future your motivation.

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Keith Lyons (keithlyons.net) is an award-winning writer and creative writing mentor originally from New Zealand who has spent a quarter of his existence living and working in Asia including southwest China, Myanmar and Bali. His Venn diagram of happiness features the aroma of freshly-roasted coffee, the negative ions of the natural world including moving water, and connecting with others in meaningful ways. A Contributing Editor on Borderless journal’sEditorial Board, his work has appeared in Borderless since its early days, and his writing featured in the anthology Monalisa No Longer Smiles.

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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

Categories
Poetry

Culture, History and More… in Verse

By Kirpal Singh

CULTURE REDEFINES HISTORY

Who would have thought it’s possible 
To undo centuries of traditions
Trapped and shaped by norms galore?

On New Year Days, we wear black —
Really — it’s the fashion these days! 
Even the Communists prefer black — 
Ditching the red to history’s dustbins!

Tough lessons History teaches, 
So we can make better judgments. 
Alas the mind resists and rejects 
Revisions which suggest undermining. 

How weak our wills and our resolves!


I’M THE GOOD SHEPHERD

I bring you glory and a new life-
History written in the Lamb’s blood
And the Future assured in Love.

We hear and try to fathom meanings
Written in blood — cold and hot, 
Alas, no revelations on the horizons
And no blessings either in the making.

And so we toil and wait,
Toil and wait for a new world, 
Where waiting will be no more 
And promises delivered on call—

Such, such shall be the Arrival 
Of a fresh understanding, 
Of what it means to be human, 
To know flesh and blood and the 
Soul’s search for a new heaven, 
And a new earth brimming, 
Sealing centuries of waiting,
Fulfilling expectations of yore, 
Making past and present and future 
In a miracle beyond reckoning. 
This will come to pass as we sleep…

Kirpal Singh is a poet and a literary critic from Singapore. An internationally recognised scholar,  Singh has won research awards and grants from local and foreign universities. He was one of the founding members of the Centre for Research in New Literatures, Flinders University, Australia in 1977; the first Asian director for the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize in 1993 and 1994, and chairman of the Singapore Writers’ Festival in the 1990s. He retired the Director of the Wee Kim Wee Centre.

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

Categories
Interview Review

A Backpacker’s Diary by Jessica Mudditt

A brief overview of Once Around the Sun : From Cambodia to Tibet (Hembury Books) by Jessica Mudditt and a conversation with the author

Jessica Mudditt

Jessica Mudditt’s Once Around the Sun: From Cambodia to Tibet is not just a backpacker’s diary but also her need to relate to humanity, to find friendships and even love, as she does with Kris, a photographer named after Krishna, the Hindu god, because his parents while visiting India fell in love with the divinity!

The Burmese translation of Our Home in Myanmar was published recently.

Hurtling through Cambodia, Vietnam, China, Tibet, young Mudditt concludes her narrative just at the brink of exploring Nepal, India and Pakistan in her next book… leaving the reader looking forward to her next adventure. For this memoir is an adventure that explores humanity at different levels. Before this, Mudditt had authored Our Home in Myanmar – Four years in Yangon, a narrative that led up to the Myanmar attack on Rohingyas and takeover by the military junta. Once Around the Sun: From Cambodia to Tibet is the first part of a prequel to her earlier book, Our Home in Myanmar, both published by her own publishing firm, Hembury Books.

What makes her narrative unique is her candid descriptions of life on a daily basis — that could include drunken revelry or bouts of diarrhoea — while weaving in bits of history and her very humane responses. Her trip to Angkor Wat yields observations which brings into perspective the disparities that exist in our world:

“I was gazing out at an empire that was once the most powerful and sophisticated in the world. In 1400, when London had a middling population of 50,000, the kingdom of Angkor had more than a million inhabitants and a territory that stretched from Vietnam to Brunei. It had flourished for six hundred years, from the ninth to the fifteenth centuries.

“But somehow Cambodia had become one of the world’s poorest countries, and surely the most traumatised too, following a recent war and genocide. I knew that when we came back down to the ground, there would be a collection of ragtag street kids and downtrodden beggars desperately hoping for our spare change. It was difficult to reconcile the grandeur of Cambodia’s past with its heart-breaking present in the twenty-first century. How did a country’s fortunes change so dramatically? Could the situation ever be turned around?”

How indeed?

Then, she writes of Vientaine in Vietnam:

“I was struck by the fact that sex work seemed to be the consequence for countless young women living in poverty. It made me angry, but mostly sad.”

In these countries broken into fragments by intrusions from superpowers in the last century, judged by the standards of the “developed countries” and declared “underdeveloped”, an iron rice bowl becomes more important to survive than adventure, discovering other parts of the world or backpacking to self-discovery. Travel really is the privilege of that part of the world which draws sustenance from those who cannot afford to travel.

Jessica showcases mindsets from that part of the Western world and from the mini-expat world in Hong Kong, which continue alienated from the local cultures that they profess to have set out to explore or help develop. One of the things that never ceases to surprise is that while the ‘developed’ continue to judge the ‘third world’, these countries destroyed by imposed boundaries, foreign values, continue to justify themselves to those who oppress them and also judge themselves by the standards of the oppressors.

Some of these ‘developing’ countries continue to pander to needs of tourism and tourists for the wealth they bring in, as Jessica shows in her narrative. She brings out the sharp differences between the locals from Asia and the budgeted backpackers, who look for cheap alternatives to experience more of the cultures they don’t understand by indulging in explorations that can involve intoxicants and sex, their confidence backed by the assurance that they can return to an abled world.

Backpackers from affluent countries always have their families to fall back on — opulent, abled and reliable. Mudditt with her candid narrative explores that aspect too as she talks of her mother’s response to her being sick and budgeting herself. Her mother urges her to cut short her trip. But she continues, despite the ‘adversities’, with an open mind. That she has a home where she can return if she is in any kind of trouble begs a question — what kind of ‘civilisation’ do we as humans have that she from an abled background has a safe retreat where there are those for whom the reality of their existence is pegged to what she is urged to leave behind for her own well-being? And why — as part of the same species — do we accept this divide that creates ravines and borders too deep to fathom?

Mudditt with her narrative does create a bridge between those who have plenty and those who still look for and need an iron rice bowl. She mingles with people from all walks and writes about her experiences. Hers is a narrative about all of us –- common humanity. Her style is free flowing and easy to read — quite journalistic for she spent ten years working as one in London, Bangladesh and Myanmar, before returning to her home in Australia in 2016. Her articles have been published by Forbes, BBC, GQ and Marie Claire, among others. This conversation takes us to the stories around and beyond her book.

What led you to embark on your backpacking adventure? Was it just wanderlust or were you running away from something?

It was primarily from wanderlust, but I also didn’t know what I was going to do with the rest of my life. After six years at university, I was still yet to have any particular calling. However, I was also glad I didn’t know. It meant that I was free to go and explore the world, because I wasn’t putting my career on hold. I had no career.

I also had a broken heart when I set off for Cambodia – but the trip was planned before that relationship had even begun. But again, part of me was glad that my boyfriend had called it quits, because my plan was to be away for a very long time (and it ended being a decade away).

What made you think of putting down your adventures in writing? As you say, this is a prequel to your first book.

It was the pandemic that made me realise that backpacking was really special. There was a period in 2020 when it looked like travel may never be so unrestricted again, so it motivated me to document my year of complete freedom. It was also before social media was even a thing. When I was lost, I was really lost, and I had to use my problem-solving skills.

Prior to the pandemic, I sort of thought that backpacking itself was too fun to write about. I hadn’t actually lived in any of the countries I visited – I was just passing through. But that is also a valid experience, and one that many people can fondly relate to. There were also some really confronting and difficult moments.

You have written of people you met. How have they responded to your candid portrayals? Or did you change their names and descriptions to convey the essence but kept your characters incognito?

While I was writing the book, I got back in touch with the people I travelled with – I can thank Facebook for still being in touch with most people mentioned. They helped me to remember past anecdotes and I got some of the back story of their own trips. I have only used first names to protect their privacy, although there are some photos in the book too. Thankfully the world is so big that the odds are small that anyone would recognise, say, an Irish guy from Adam in Vietnam in 2006! Clem from Shanghai has just sent me a photo of her with my book, and Romi from Vietnam actually came to my book launch, which was awesome.

What was your favourite episode in this book — as a backpacker and as a writer? Tell us about it.

I think it was crossing into China and meeting ‘the man.’ I felt so alive with every step I took into China after crossing over on foot from Vietnam. To be chaperoned in the way I was – without being able to communicate a single word – was unusual. His kindness left me speechless, so the anecdote has a nice story arc.

In your travels through China, you faced a language handicap and yet found people kind and helpful. Can you tell us a bit about it?

I foolishly underestimated the language barrier. It was profound. In Southeast Asia, there was always at least a sprinkling of English, and I sort of just assumed that I’d be fine. I entered China from Vietnam, so my first port of call was Nanning, where there is not even really an expat population. I couldn’t do the most basic things, from finding the toilet or an internet cafe or something to eat! I used sign language and memorised the Chinese character for ‘female’ to make sure I went into the right toilet! In a restaurant, I just pointed at whatever someone else was eating in the hope that they would bring me a bowl of whatever it was. There were times when I was seriously lost and lonely, but I ended up staying in China for two months and saw the comedic side. I was bumbling around like Mr Bean (who is hugely popular in China).

I met a lot of people who were really kind to me, and I was just so grateful to them. I didn’t have Wi-Fi on my phone back then, so getting lost in a massive city in China was a bit scary. I met a student called Mei-Xing who ‘adopted’ me for a few days in Guilin. We had a really nice time together and it was so great to hang out with a local.

What is/are the biggest takeaway/s you had from your backpacking in this part of the world? Tell us about it.

I think it’s something quite simple: the world can be a very beautiful place, and a very polluted place. Tourism can do a great deal of damage when there are too many people clambering over one area. There is also an incredible level of disparity in a material sense on our planet. Some humans are travelling into space on rockets. Others are pulling rickshaws, as though they are draught horses. It is profoundly inequitable.

Having travelled to large tracts of Asia, what would you think would be the biggest challenge to creating a more equitable world, a more accepting world? Do you think an exposure to culture and history could resolve some of the issues?

I think that democracy is key. It slows us down and forces us to act in the interest of the majority, not the top-level cronies. That is definitely also something I witnessed in Myanmar. When a few people hold all the power, the population is deprived of things that ought to be a human right.

I think that travel definitely alters your perspective and broadens your mind, and it is something I’d recommend to anyone. Realising that the way that things are done in your home country is not the only way of doing things is a valuable thing to learn.

Mostly, you met people off the street. In which country did you find the warmest reception? Why and how?

In Pakistan. The hospitality and friendliness was unparalleled. I think it was in part due to not having many tourists there. Nothing felt transactional. I met some fascinating people in Pakistan who would have a profound impact on my own life. I am still in touch with several people I met there.

At a point you wondered if the poverty you saw could be reversed back to affluence in the context of the Angkor kingdom. Do you have any suggestions on actually restoring the lost glory?

I believe that it is beginning to be restored. Pundits have called this the “Asian Century.” I am convinced that the United States and the UK are in decline, and this process will only speed up. India, to me, holds the most promise as the next superpower, because it is a democracy (albeit flawed – like all of them), English- speaking, enormous, beautiful, fascinating and its soft power is unmatched. China is facing headwinds. I blame that on making people sad by removing their agency.

How long were you backpacking in this part of the world? Was it longer than you had intended? What made you extend your stay and why?

My trip was exactly 365 days long. I planned it that way from the beginning. I wanted to travel for no less than a year (more than a year and I might stay feeling guilty for being so indulgent!). That is also why the book is called Once Around the Sun – my time backpacking was the equivalent of one rotation of the Earth. I set off on 1 June 2006 – the first day of winter in Australia – and I arrived on 1 June 2007 in London, on the first day of the British summer. I love the sunshine.

After having travelled around the large tracts of Asia and in more parts of the world, could you call the whole world your home or is it still Australia? Is your sense of wellbeing defined by political boundaries or by something else?

Home for me is Sydney. I absolutely love it. I get to feel as though I am still travelling, because my home city is Melbourne. I go down a new road every other day and I love that feeling. The harbour is beautiful, and the sun is shining most days. It’s very multicultural too.

My kids are three and five, so I haven’t travelled overseas for years. My plan is to travel with them as much as possible when they are a bit older. I hope they love it as much as me. I cannot wait to return to Asia one day. I am also desperate to visit New York City.

What are your future plans for both your books and your publishing venture?

The second part of Once Around the Sun will come out in 2025. It’s called Kathmandu to the Khyber Pass, and it covers the seven months I spent Nepal, India and Pakistan.

My goal is to complete my fourth memoir by 2027. It will be called My Home in Bangladesh (it will be the prequel to Our Home in Myanmar!).

My fifth book will be about how to write a book. I am a book coach and in a few years I will have identified the most common challenges people face when writing a book, and finding their voice.

In the next twelve months, there will be at least 12 books coming out with Hembury Books, which is my hybrid publishing company. I love being a book coach and publisher and I hope to help as many people as possible to become authors.

Please visit the website and set up a discovery call with me if you plan on writing a nonfiction book, or have gotten stuck midway: https://hemburybooks.com.au/.

Photographs from Once Round the Sun, provided by Jessica Mudditt

(The online interview has been conducted through emails and the review written by Mitali Chakravarty.)

Click here to read an excerpt from Once Around the Sun

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Categories
Poetry

My Name is…

By Gregg Norman

MY NAME IS . . . 

Last week my name was Renfield
Familiar to a cruel Muse who
Visited according to his whim
I scurried about in service
To a master all-powerful
Desperate for redemption
For the key to sanity
The key to unlock the poem

Yesterday my name was Ahab
Searching the global seas
For the Great White Word
To start or finish a poem
I paced my pitching desk
In weather fair and foul
But did not strike the words
With my inked harpoon

Today my name is Vlad
And my rage knows no
Earthly bounds as I wait
For the red blood of life
To seep through my veins
And into my maddened brain
To create the words and lines
And the cursed verses

Tomorrow my name will be Pablo
And I will once again believe
That I can be prolific
In thought and deed
Boldly setting pen to page
With heart and soul
Interred in every word
Of a passionate poem

Gregg Norman lives in Manitoba, Canada. His work has been accepted by various international poetry publications in Canada, the USA, the UK, Australia, and Serbia.

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

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Categories
Poetry

‘…The Young in One Another’s Arms…’

By Kirpal Singh 

SPRING IN INDIA

I arrive just as Spring begins —
There are the usual songs
And dancing which excite,
Especially, the merry young.

For oldies, like I, it’s nostalgia. 
I recall Yeats and his haunting line —
The young in one another’s arms —
What happened in my life?
Where did my youth go?

It’s okay mutters a soft voice — 
You have other springs to enjoy!
Excerpted from WB Yeats’s ‘Sailing to Byzantium’ (1927)

Kirpal Singh is a poet and a literary critic from Singapore. An internationally recognised scholar,  Singh has won research awards and grants from local and foreign universities. He was one of the founding members of the Centre for Research in New Literatures, Flinders University, Australia in 1977; the first Asian director for the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize in 1993 and 1994, and chairman of the Singapore Writers’ Festival in the 1990s. He retired the Director of the Wee Kim Wee Centre.

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
Poetry

Spasms by Kirpal Singh

Etching by Thomas Rowlandson (1756-1827)
SPASMS

They delight through their insistence
Like some ill found friend,
Who doesn’t know lines drawn,
Keeping deeper knowing at bay.

These spastic breaths do worry
Many, whose heartbeats are dire,
Torn between duty and desire 
Lingering in-between in sadness.

Thus, do I thrust through my days,
Keeping both vigil and dreams, 
Determined to preserve sanctity
Of faith and resilience and Truth.

Someday, it’ll all make sense
Especially to those who keep mum
Fearing repercussions, hiding away 
Guilt and shame and sorrow.

Such intimate knowing is rare
A precious gift to those chosen
To know and bear the cross
Burying in their end the Truth.

Kirpal Singh is a poet and a literary critic from Singapore. An internationally recognised scholar,  Singh has won research awards and grants from local and foreign universities. He was one of the founding members of the Centre for Research in New Literatures, Flinders University, Australia in 1977; the first Asian director for the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize in 1993 and 1994, and chairman of the Singapore Writers’ Festival in the 1990s. He retired the Director of the Wee Kim Wee Centre.

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
World Poetry Day

What is Home?

Celebrating poetry around the world, our focus this year is on refugees, immigrants or poetry by migrants… In a way, we are all migrants on this Earth and yet immigration for both climate and war has created dissatisfaction in the hearts of many. Can mankind unify under the single blue dome which covers all our home?


“The Journey” by Alwy Fadhel, an asylum seeker to Australia. The piece is included in the Exile collection of the Refugee Art Project. Art from Public Domain.

We start by welcoming migrants from Jupiter but how do we react to human migrants within Earth… ?

All the Way from Jupiter

By Rhys Hughes 

All the way
from Jupiter came the refugees,
their heads
made of hydrogen,
and helium, their knees.
No one cried:
depravity!
for we were pleased
to help them
relocate to Earth: we offered
them homes
inside plastic domes
uncrowded but
full of swirling clouds
blown by the music of
fierce trombones
to mimic the crushing gravity.

All the way
from one of our homegrown
war zones
came refugees on their knees
and we said:
no, no, no, and no again!
Go back home right now,
be killed,
assaulted,
it’s all your own fault
for being born here on Earth.
The newcomers
from Jupiter are tubular
like cucumbers,
but men, women and children
like yourselves
aren’t welcome.

And what do refugees from war-torn zones on Earth have to add?These are poems by those who had to escape to safety or move homes for the sake of conflict.

I am Ukraine brought to us by Lesya Bakun, while she was on the run from her home to a place of refuge outside her homeland. Click here to read.

Immigrant’s dream brought to us by Ahmad Al-Khatat, who migrated from Iraq to the West to find sustenance. Click here to read.

In some cases, the wounds lingered and the progeny of those who escaped earlier conflicts give voice to past injuries as well as some immigrants who wandered to find a better life share their experiences.

In 1947, Masha Hassan writes of her grandmother’s plight during the Partition of the Indian Subcontinent. Click here to read.

Bringing along their homeland by Abdul Jamil Urfi talks of immigrants from Lahore in Delhi in the 1960s. Click here to read.

Stories Left Unspoken: Auschwitz & Partition Survivors by Cinna give us stories of people who moved for wars and politics. Click here to read.

A Hunger for Stories by Quazi Johirul Islam, translated from Bengali by Professor Fakrul Alam, gives a migrant’s saga. Click here to read.

Reminiscence by Mitra Samal reflects on an immigrant’s longing for her home. Click here to read.

Finding the Self in Rooted Routes by Isha Sharma explores at an individual level the impact of immigration. Click here to red.

Birth of an Ally reflects Tamoha Siddiqui’s wonder with new flavours she experiences away from her original homeland. Click here to read.

Two Languages by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozabal explores linguistic diversity in immigrants. Click here to read.

These could be listed as turns of history that made people relocate.

Red Shirt Hung from a Pine Tree by Ryan Quinn Flanagan takes two issues into account — violence against humanity and colonial displacement of indigenous people — is that migration? Click here to read.

Products of War by Mini Babu talks of the displacement of humanity for war. Click here to read.

This Island of Mine by Rhys Hughes reflects on climate disaster. Click here to read.

Some empathise with those who had to move and write of the trauma faced by refugees.

Migrant Poems by Malachi Edwin Vethamani reflect on migrants and how accepted they feel. Click here to read.

Birds in Flight by A Jessie Michael empathises with the plight of refugees. Click here to read.

The Ceramicist by Jee Leong Koh records the story of a migrant. Click here to read.

And some wonder about the spiritual quest for a homeland… Is it a universal need to be associated with a homeland or can we find a home anywhere on Earth? If we stretch the definition of homeland to all the planet, do we remain refugees or migrants?

Anywhere Particular by Wendy Jean MacLean reflects on the universality of homes — perhaps to an extent on nomadism. Click here to read.

Where is Home? by Shivani Shrivastav meditates on the concept of home. Click here to read.

Sparrows, a poem translated from Korean by the poet — Ihlwha Choi — questions the borders drawn by human laws. Click here to read.

 Journey of Hope  by Tagore has been translated from Bengali by Mitali Chakravarty. It explores the spiritual quest for a home. Click here to read the poem in English and listen to Tagore’s voice recite his poem in Bengali. 

Some look forward to a future — perhaps in another galaxy — post apocalypse.

In Another Galaxy by Masud Khan translated from Bengali by Fakrul Alam wonders at the future of mankind. Click here to read.

And yet others believe in the future of humankind.

We are all Human by Akabar Barakzai, translated from Balochi by Fazal Baloch, is a paean to humanity. Click here to read.

We are all Human 

By Akbar Barakzai...

Russia, China and India,
Arabs and the New World*,
Africa and Europe,
The land of the Baloch and Kurds --
Indeed, the whole world is ours.
We are all human.
We are all human...

Click here to read the full poem.

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