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Review

The Reclamation of Wilderness

Review by Basudhara Roy

Title: Wild Women: Seekers, Protagonists and Goddesses in Sacred Indian Poetry

Editor: Arundhathi Subramaniam

Publisher: Penguin Random House

“The path of the heart is at times discredited as a soft option. It is seen as a path of neurotic excess and greasy sentimentality. Yet, what we hear in these songs isn’t prissy obedience but open-throated longing. […] Such longing is not born of an infantile need for a divine paterfamilias. Nor is it the resort of those who lack the intellect to craft their own destinies. This is the way of the razor’s edge. The path of those who have nothing left to protect or prove. This is one of the most courageous journeys back home,” writes Arundhathi Subramaniam in some of the most powerful lines of a very evocative Introduction to this book.

Wild Women: Seekers, Protagonists and Goddesses in Sacred Indian Poetry is a comprehensive anthology of sacred poems that brings together three of Subramaniam’s most cherished interests–spirituality, poetry, and women’s creative lives. Seen within the tradition of Arundhathi’s own consistent and remarkable oeuvre as woman, poet and spiritual traveller, this anthology containing poems by women seekers as well as poems by men and women dedicated to women protagonists and goddesses, is a deep historical and existential search for legacy, for connection, for the otherness of selfhood and the self-ness of the other. The cover of the book, richly symbolic as it is, is also highly attractive, and one that readers will not forget in a hurry. Here is a birth, both cosmic and cataclysmic, a falling and a rebounding, calm and turmoil.

As an anthology of poems, Wild Woman attempts an undertaking not envisaged before – the bringing together of the voices of women within the spiritual fold from across the length and breadth of the country’s geography and history. Here are women from varied historical ages, diverse places, languages, social classes, traditions, and religious cults; women who are both well-known and relatively anonymous; women who choose to live within the family as well as those who seek to renounce it altogether; women who speak in their own voices as well as those who are spoken for by male poets, lovers and devotees; women who stand between history, myth, and divinity; in short, women who have been beckoned by and have responded, in various ways, to the persistent call of the wilderness within their wide, vibrant souls.

Given the intensity of its subject and intention, the book is aptly titled. ‘Wild women’, apart from being alliterative, marks distinct metaphorical connections with the cultural terrain of women’s lives. As the poems in this book powerfully assert, ‘wilderness’ is a location these women existentially inhabit. It is a space that is beyond the governance and influence of society, and though women are native to it, this is where they are forever exiled from. To return to the self is to reclaim this wilderness within, to dismiss societal constructs and make an institution out of faith and intuition. This wilderness, as Subramaniam insists, “is not a cosy hearth. It is a place of peril, a smithy of surprises.”

It is also a space that has the potential to envision a new ontological, epistemological, and social order. Every voice in this anthology is, thus, disruptive in its envisioning of a form of existence that militates against the one offered by contemporary society. In ‘Get Ready to Live like a Pauper’, Gangasati [1]whose songs are an important part of the oral tradition of poetry in Gujarati even today, says:

The world of the divine has no place
For caste, gender or race
Shed this phantom chain,
Be cool and take it easy, man.

Similarly, Amuge Rayamma of the twelfth century CE, says:

If you know the self
why have truck with those who gossip?
If you can move in ways unimagined,
why depend on women?

In every poem, the route taken into this wilderness is that of the spiritual, revealing a desire to merge the self with the essential light of the universe—the formless Divine or the God, loved deeply in some human form.  Here is a total rejection of every established commandment, and a faithful obedience only to the experience of the self – the physical and the spiritual. The Lord is conceived as responding to every form of desire and arrives to the woman seeker in plural shapes of parent, lover, mentor or guide. To Kanhopatra of the fifteenth century CE, the Lord appears as “Mother Krishna” while to Vidya who wrote in Sanskrit sometime between the seventh and ninth century CE, he comes as a lover:

Why expose a lone woman
to such pageant
o season of rain
the torment
the sweet bitter need to be
touched

The poems in this anthology evince a strong dissatisfaction with prescribed moulds of identity and an urgency to experience life and thought first-hand. The constant pull between society and the individual, dogma and will, subjection and agency, and incarceration and liberation constitute the essential conflict in these poems, only to be resolved by the fierce choices of the spirit. Dissatisfaction with caste, gender, family, materialism and injustice lead the poets in this book to experiment with a language that legitimises the use of women’s experiences as yardstick and metaphor for the exploration and exposition of new truths. Keeping the feminine body of woman and nature at the centre of experience and discourse, the syntax of these poems is framed by an irresistible desire to overwhelm the old with the new. In every poem, thus, language becomes a sharp and dextrous tool, both argumentative and aesthetic, to establish new knowledges and new points of view. In ‘A Manifesto for New Poetry’, Muddupalani (eighteenth century CE) writes:

Can your poems stand in the field, girl,
alongside all the great poems of all the great
poets? Absolutely.
Doesn’t the bee gorged on honey
from the great lotus still savour
the humble flower’s nectar?

“The journey of a book, not unlike the journey of the heart, has its own logic—precise but not always schematic,” writes Subramaniam. Operating on its own logic, this book vitally performs for our times four extraordinary tasks—historical, activist, poetic, and feminist. Historically, it liberates women from stereotypes of oppression within patriarchy and domesticity, and by reinstating their positions as thinkers, philosophers, agents, leaders, and role-players within active religious and community life, it lays down empowered annals of womanhood for us to contemplate on. In terms of literary activism, such an extensive attempt at documenting and compiling voices of and for women within the spiritual domain, is largely unprecedented. “The essential impetus behind this project was to invoke the names of women. To turn cameos into protagonists. To invite backstage workers into the spotlight,” remarks Subramaniam. By highlighting women’s names and contributions to Indian spiritual traditions, this book will not only protect these names from oblivion and erasure but also encourage further explorations and deliberations in this field.

“A poem can offer us respite from too much meaning,” states Subramaniam. As poetry, this volume is a distilled collection of some of the finest spiritual doubts, agonies, and ecstasies of the human self in its journey towards the divine. Additionally, by bringing poems in translation from a wide corpus of vernacular languages into English, this anthology opens up Indian English poetry to the most intimate linguistic and creative recesses of the Indian mind. Finally, as a feminist work, this book highlights an ontology of the wild which becomes here, a praxis rather than an anomaly, and helps to establish a shared bond of courageous and self-conscious womanhood. Through each of the three sections of the book where women appear as seekers, protagonists and goddesses, Wild Women steadily performs an ecriture feminine, and sculpts a spiritual biography of Indian womanhood.

There is an elemental power that radiates from Subramaniam’s language, the power of words that have been painstakingly lived through before utterance. Subramaniam is, as much, a disciple of language as she is of the spirit. “This is poetry as power—the power of conscious utterance and the raging power of all that must be left unsaid,” she remarks of the poems in this book. Her own words evince that power to create and to procreate an understanding of womanhood that is steadily expanding to include new experiences and worldviews. She writes, “Since these poets lived lives profoundly wedded to mystery, that mystery is an integral part of this project.” Constantly aware of this mystery, Wild Women is a passionate and compelling thesis for reclaiming women’s essential wilderness and the place of wild women within history, spirituality and poetry.

[1] A medieval saint poet of the Bhakti tradition

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

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Categories
Review

Re-deciphering the Human

Book Review By Basudhara Roy

Title: Burn the Library and Other Fictions

Author: Sunil Sharma

To embark on a relationship with a meaningful collection of short fiction is to hone one’s awareness of the world that shapes us and is, in its turn, shaped by us. A well-conceived short story is a sharp ray of light that undertakes to illuminate a particular plane of the compound and poly-faceted experience that reality will always be. Urging us to concentrate on that angle alone,  the short story crucially assists in peeling off our familiarity with life at that point of being and invites us to locate new meaning in what we might have long known.

In the company of Sunil Sharma’s Burn the Library and Other Fictions, a collection of twenty dense pieces of short fiction, one is on a riveting journey into the physical and psychological entrails of a society that is blissfully absorbed in plotting the architecture of its own doom. Sunil Sharma is an academic from Mumbai who has relocated to Toronto post-retirement. Acutely conscious of the subtle but definite ways in which social life, interaction and communication are being endangered by stereotypes, prejudices, capitalist strategies, ICT, artificial intelligence, eroding faith, self-doubt and the surrender to myopia, Sunil Sharma attempts, in these tales, to not merely draw our attention to what ails us as a society but also offers valuable possibilities of grace and redemption.

Ranging in form from flash fiction to full-length short stories, the themes in this collection are eclectic. Dreams, conjugal relationships, diasporic intimacy, the plight of migrants, women and elderly people, the breakdown of the family, the disruption of social cohesiveness and harmony, the threat of being transformed from consumers to victims of hyper-functional gadgets, and the consistent search for meaning amidst life’s ruins contour this collection through angst, satire, tenderness and hope. 

What immediately draws one towards Sharma’s style is his capacity for intricate observation and his incisive, almost brutal honesty in his descriptions. Here is a writer who does not hesitate to call a spade a spade without resort to satire, irony or humour to dilute the effect of his statements. In fiction where it is easy to camouflage and refract ideas, Sharma impresses and inspires by keeping critique frank and unencumbered by location, ideology or craft.

In ‘Love: Beyond Words’, the reflective narrator-husband observes:

“Our worlds, exclusive, were held together by an arranged marriage and later on, by the kids only…like rest of the middleclass Indians. Two perfect strangers brought together by common practices who discovered each other in initial years of marriage and then lost by the pressures of work and antiromance conditions of our living in an Indian metro…like others of our ilk.”

In the poignant flash fiction ‘Skeleton in the Attic’, once the skeleton has been identified as that of the paternal grandmother whom the family forgot to unlock from the attic when it left for its vacation in a hurry, the omniscient narrator quietly points out, “Once the shock was over, food was ordered and video of the visit played out and they forgot the skeleton.” In ‘Beware! Migrants are Coming!’, the interrogator minces no words in establishing the migrant’s statistical invisibility and thereby his ontological dispensability:

“You are a scum. A bloody scum. You come first to our holy land. Then you bring your entire hungry village that sucks us dry. We will no longer tolerate this N-O-W. The thieves are disposable. None cries for a thief. You are not human. You are not us, your death will not affect us, or anybody here, or anywhere.”

Concern for the margins remains central to Sharma’s intellectual, emotional and moral vision of a sane and progressive society. In story after story, it is these interstices that he examines, emphasizing their structural importance to the well-being of the centre. The malady, as the writer establishes, is rampant and global. Whether it is women, the poor, the elderly, the disabled or the migrant, the health of the margins directly determines the health of the centre. In ‘Two Black Stones and an Old God’, for instance, faith in divine reward and punishment becomes a device of empowerment for the grandmother and granddaughter both of whom are victims of the family’s neglect. In ‘The Street’, the narrator maps the entire cultural change that has taken place in his native town of Ghaziabad by observing the difference in the metrics of spatial arrangement and communication. The transformation of the public space that once symbolised community, shared concern and active empathy into a space of inequality, indifference and social apathy marks, for the narrator, the apotheosis of postmodernist social fragmentation and alienation.

However, the most stringent and memorable critique of postmodern and posthuman culture is perhaps put forward through the eponymous story ‘Burn the Library’. Though the setting of the story is 2071, around fifty years into the future, the conflict that it explores between information and knowledge, between programmed intelligence and creative thinking and between human growth and entropy is vital to the fabric of contemporary intellectual debate. What is the future that we are enthusiastically chasing, the writer seems to ask. Does it promise an unfolding of our rational and emotive powers or does it seek to arrest and freeze them unconditionally? For Sharma, the possibility of resistance to the omnivorous challenges of technology usurping humanity lies only in and through the circulation of ideas via writing. Ideas alone, for Sharma, are indestructible and even if all libraries were to be burnt and all sources of information were to be destroyed or corrupted, new knowledge could be founded and resurrected in the world through the strength of individual creative thinking alone. The Advanced Homer (AH) virus that seeks to alter “consciousness about culture” says, “Wake up! Find out authenticity. Life. Real life beyond the wired universe. Think – alternatively. Subdue the dominant of technology. It is not our master anyway. Go human. Re-think culture.”

‘Go Human’ is a powerful slogan, lethal in its simplicity as it indicates how far we have strayed from what we were meant to be. For me, it richly encapsulates the vision of the entire collection since it is only by the reclamation of our own humanity and that of others around us that we can battle the evils of discrimination, prejudice, violence and self-destruction.

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