Book Review by Ranu Uniyal
Title: I am Not the Gardener: Selected Poems by Raj Bisaria
Author: Raj Bisaria
Publisher: Terra Firma, Bangalore
Here is a book that I have been waiting for. In several sittings you go through these breathtaking poems by Raj Bisaria. A book that needs to be read with patience and, if you have had the privilege of being taught by him, you read with a curious eye. Soft and gentle – a touch of an artist gently goads you to read it loudly– as if you are in an auditorium reading out to an unknown audience. Who will listen to this voice of a gardener who with I am Not the Gardener weaves seasons of delight “telling of one’s heart is not self-gazing” but divine contemplation?
The book does not carry an introduction to the author. It has forty-three poems with photos capturing moments with family and friends. A few pictures of the domes and spires from Lucknow too add a special meaning to the verses. As director, producer, designer, actor and professor, Raj Bisaria has left an indelible mark. Press Trust of India described him as “Father of the modern theatre in North India”. Raj Bisaria founded Theatre Arts Workshop in 1966 and Bhartendu Academy of Dramatic Arts in 1975 in Lucknow. He taught English literature for more than three decades at the University of Lucknow. He is the first to receive Padma Shree from Uttar Pradesh for his contribution to modern theatre. As a theatre artist his contribution remains unparalleled.
The first poem in this collection is ‘The Curtain Boy’. The poem is a thoughtful mediation on the meaning rather meaninglessness of all our actions. The poet writes “I am not the gardener, / Nor the owner of the garden. / My job is to do odd things/ To weed out little wrongs/ To keep the pathway clean”. ‘Odd’ and “little” acts of “watching” lead to an awareness of the burden of possession and the transitory nature of dreams. And this is followed by a similar concern in the poem ‘To a Young Actor’ – “I was told once to discipline/ Imagination in the rhythm/ of iambs and trochees. Only I wonder / If external form will give / Meaning to chaos.”
The poet, artist, and the philosopher in him create a complex mirage of emotions that reflect the restlessness and the anxiety of a man who finds comfort in words. “In your dying/ My love has found / A new lease:/ For beyond death / Only love goes on”, the poet expresses his love for his mother in the poem ‘Elegy’. Like Hamlet he gives voice to his own fears and then affirms with a defining certitude “Love is a quiet secret, / The seed within the rose.” The images are drawn from garden to the sea and the mountains “And I learnt to be silent / with the unspeakable granite of the mountains.”
Travel as a motif binds his restless spirit and opens the unreachable corners of his heart. Love and fulfilment are contraries in a world trapped in the mundane. In his poem ‘Byzantium’, Yeats refers to “The fury and mire of the human veins”. An artist seeks perfection in this imperfect world. The desire to transcend the ordinary compels him to write. The debut collection of poems gives us fascinating insights as Bisaria draws us to a wide range of experiences with a cry for attention “Do not shut my words out. It is winter.” Here in lies an assertion with a sad awareness that yes, life is ending. The artist within and the performer without must often be traversing contradictory spaces. Both are equally strong and vulnerable.
Sometimes the voice of the performer seems to undermine the anguish of the poet. “He who does not forgive himself/ Forgives others less.” These are poems of love, longing, grief, and interminable loneliness that invades an artist whenever he confronts his inner self. Those familiar with Bisaria’s dramatic productions might find a different voice lurking behind these poems. It requires courage to accept one’s vulnerabilities, to confront the inner daemons and to pour an array of emotions with a faith that only an eternal seeker can display. “To your shrines I came my Lord, / But I came without faith; / To your people I spoke my Lord / But I spoke without love; …Yet give me Lord peace/ To bear my own emptiness, / And your silence /Quieten my doubting mind.” This is not just a poem with the title ‘Prayer’, but a plea that resonates with a quest for self-realisation.
A sadness runs through these poems. Read and receive every word, every glance, every touch of this mortal self where “Love comes slowly by and by…” and the poet firmly believes “Love’s life is more than time…”. “It is a flight in the freedom of self…”. Even if you try hard, it is difficult to run away from oneself. Like a shadow your inner conscience follows you, here, there, and everywhere.
Ranu Uniyal is a poet and a Professor from the Department of English and Modern European Languages, University of Lucknow.
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