This Week in Poetry

Episode 11 - The Rhythms of Yuvan: Tamil Poetry Today

Exploring the Poetic World of Yuvan: A Contemporary Tamil Poet In this episode of 'This Week in Poetry with Professor Nedumaran,' the focus is on Yuvan, an esteemed contemporary poet from Tamil Nadu. Professor Nedumaran introduces Yuvan's work, highlighting his contributions to 21st-century Tamil literature, specifically mentioning his two poetry collections, 'Thira Pahal' and 'Idhuvum Dhaan, Adhuvum Dhaan.' The episode features readings and discussions of selected poems, emphasizing the joy and emotional depth of Yuvan's poetry. Professor Nedumaran encourages Yuvan to continue his poetic endeavors and invites listeners to explore more of his works. 00:00 Ep. 11 - Yuvan 02:24 Poem - Ninaivootal 04:08 Poem - Avalavae Dhaan  05:37 Outro Yuvan's books are available through Kaalachuvadu Publications. Thanks for listening to this episode. Please share this with those who love poetry like we do!

Episode 10 - Exploring A. K. Ramanujan's Poetic Masterpieces

Title: Exploring the Intricacy of A.K. Ramanujan's Poems Welcome back avid readers and poetry enthusiasts! This week’s blog post delves deep into the mesmerizing world of A.K. Ramanujan as featured in the latest episode of "This Week in Poetry with Professor Nedumaran." Let’s enjoy a journey through the selected poems from Ramanujan’s works, exploring the nuanced layers of his writing. ### Introduction In the recent episode, Professor Nedumaran shares several poems from A.K. Ramanujan’s collection "Uncollected Poems and Prose," edited by Molly Daniel and Keith Harrison. This collection, published by Oxford India Paperback in 2001, offers a profound contemplative experience of Ramanujan's works. Additionally, a companion piece, "Journey’s A Poet's Diary," edited by Krishna Ramanujan and Guillermo Rodriguez and published by Penguin Random House in 2019, is highly recommended for a comprehensive understanding of the poet’s life and thoughts. ### Waiting The poem "Waiting" transports readers into a simple, yet intensely contemplative scenario. Here, a man stands in his drawing room, observing a family through the window as they walk by. The vivid depiction of the family members—the father, mother, son, and daughter—each engaging in their unique activity, contrasts sharply with the poet’s own sense of stagnation and uncertainty. > "Waiting for a friend from Milwaukee to pick me up on Sunday. I looked out the window. A family of four... They were waiting for nothing, while I waited, as always, for someone to arrive from somewhere and take me somewhere else." This section illustrates Ramanujan’s remarkable ability to juxtapose the ordinary with the philosophical, creating a poignant reflection on life’s transient moments. ### Farewells Switching from the theme of waiting, Ramanujan’s "Farewells" engages with the concept of goodbyes in various forms. Inspired by the essay by Max B. Bourne, this poem captures the anticipation, awkwardness, and profundity of farewells. > "At the railway station, standing at the window of your friend... you can neither go home nor stop talking over and again about the delay. Oh, the old days when banana sellers were not rude and tea was really from Darjeeling." Ramanujan's conversational style is evident throughout as he explores the flavors of farewells, from the mundane to the emotionally charged. This versatility in capturing life's routine moments deeply resonates with readers. ### Returning In "Returning," Ramanujan employs a narrative technique that is both nostalgic and surprising. The poem begins with a familiar scene of seeking a loved one, only to conclude with a jarring realization of time’s passage. > "Returning home one blazing afternoon, he looked for his mother everywhere... Suddenly, he remembered he was now 61. And he hadn't had a mother for 40 years." Ramanujan’s craft in unfolding a seemingly simple narrative into a profound epiphany exemplifies his mastery in poetry, aligning with Robert Frost’s notion of poetry beginning in delight and ending in wisdom. ### Daily Drivel, a monologue Ramanujan's "Daily Drivel" is a fascinating departure from the typical themes of poetry. It captures the tedium and trivialities of daily life, embedding a deeper meaning within the routines. > "I cannot tell you how many things I did in the four hours you were gone... not even wishing they were precious seeds that could sprout a harvest by springtime." The poet’s reflective tone on mundane chores contrasts sharply with his wife's pursuit of higher meaning, striking a chord with readers who recognize the beauty in life's ordinary moments. ### Conclusion As Professor Nedumaran concludes his podcast episode, he encourages listeners to share and subscribe, reminding us of the collective joy and contemplation poetry can bring.  > "Do share and subscribe to this podcast on Spotify, Apple or wherever you listen to your podcasts... We will meet you in the next one with more wonderful poems for your listening pleasure. Till then take care." This insightful journey through A.K. Ramanujan’s poetry invites readers to pause, reflect, and appreciate the intricate tapestry of life captured through his words. Join the conversation, share your thoughts, and let’s celebrate the profound artistry that lies within poetry. --- We hope you enjoyed this deep dive into the world of A.K. Ramanujan’s poetry. Stay tuned for more enriching literary explorations!

Episode 9 - Imtiaz Dharker

Poem #1: They'll say - she must be from another country When I can’t comprehend why they’re burning books or slashing paintings, when they can’t bear to look at god’s own nakedness, when they ban the film and gut the seats to stop the play and I ask why they just smile and say, ‘She must be from another country.’ When I speak on the phone and the vowel sounds are off when the consonants are hard and they should be soft, they’ll catch on at once they’ll pin it down they’ll explain it right away to their own satisfaction, they’ll cluck their tongues and say, ‘She must be from another country.’ When my mouth goes up instead of down, when I wear a tablecloth to go to town, when they suspect I’m black or hear I’m gay they won’t be surprised, they’ll purse their lips and say, ‘She must be from another country.’ When I eat up the olives and spit out the pits when I yawn at the opera in the tragic bits when I pee in the vineyard as if it were Bombay, flaunting my bare ass covering my face laughing through my hands they’ll turn away, shake their heads quite sadly, ‘She doesn’t know any better,’ they’ll say, ‘She must be from another country.’ Maybe there is a country where all of us live, all of us freaks who aren’t able to give our loyalty to fat old fools, the crooks and thugs who wear the uniform that gives them the right to wave a flag, puff out their chests, put their feet on our necks, and break their own rules. But from where we are it doesn’t look like a country,     it’s more like the cracks that grow between borders behind their backs. That’s where I live. And I’ll be happy to say, ‘I never learned your customs. I don’t remember your language or know your ways. I must be from another country.’ From: I Speak for the Devil Publisher: Penguin Books India, Poem #2: The Right Word Outside the door, lurking in the shadows, is a terrorist. Is that the wrong description? Outside that door, taking shelter in the shadows, is a freedom-fighter. I haven't got this right. Outside, waiting in the shadows is a hostile militant. Are words no more than waving, wavering flags? Outside your door, watchful in the shadows, is a guerrilla warrior. God help me. Outside, defying every shadow, stands a martyr. I saw his face. No words can help me now. Just outside the door, lost in shadows, is a child who looks like mine. © Imtiaz Dharker, from The terrorist at my table (Bloodaxe Books, 2006) Poem #3: Blessing The skin cracks like a pod. There never is enough water. Imagine the drip of it, the small splash, echo in a tin mug, the voice of a kindly god. Sometimes, the sudden rush of fortune. The municipal pipe bursts, silver crashes to the ground and the flow has found a roar of tongues. From the huts, a congregation: every man woman child for streets around butts in, with pots, brass, copper, aluminium, plastic buckets, frantic hands, and naked children screaming in the liquid sun, their highlights polished to perfection, flashing light, as the blessing sings over their small bones. Poem #4 - A Century Later The school bell is a call to battle, every step to class, a step into the firing line. Here is the target, fine skin at the temple, cheek still rounded from being fifteen.   Surrendered, surrounded, she takes the bullet in the head   and walks on. The missile cuts a pathway in her mind, to an orchard in full bloom, a field humming under the sun, It's lap open and full of poppies.   This girl has won the right to be ordinary,   wear bangles to a wedding, paint her fingernails, go to school. Bullet, she says, you are stupid. You have failed. You cannot kill a book or the buzzing in it.   A murmur, a swarm. Behind her, one by one, the schoolgirls are standing up to take their places on the front line. ----- That's all we have in this episode of this week in poetry by Professor Nedumaran. I hope you enjoyed this rendition of a selection of poems by Imtiaz Dharker. Do share and subscribe to this podcast on Spotify, Apple, or wherever you listen to your podcasts. Your feedback is much appreciated. We will meet you in the next one with more wonderful poems for your listening pleasure. Till then take care.

Episode 8 - K. Satchidanandan

This week in Poetry - Episode Eight. In the coming weeks, we shall explore the amazing variety of poems in English written by Indian poets from the Pithamahan of Modernism, Nissim Ezekiel to the very young like Sivakami Velliyangiri, with their 'thoughts weaned in silence, but spoken as poems'. This is a whole new generation of poets exploring creativity with utter disregard for labels and canons, reading aloud, or performing their poems and expressing themselves on a dazzling variety of themes; provocative, transparent, and at times damning.  In this episode, we shall read some of the poems of K. Satchidanandan, born in 1946 in Kerala, he believes Poetry is performance. Poetry is theater. He writes his poems in Malayalam. And he himself translates them into English.  A bilingual, literary critic, playwright, social activist, and recipient of many awards, including the Sahitya Academy Award in 2012, Satchidanandan is heard and read with respect by his readers around the world.  Now to his poems.  STAMMER A stammer is no handicap. It is a mode of speech. A stammer is the silence that falls between the word and its meaning, just as lameness is the silence that falls between the word and the deed. Did the stammer precede language or succeed it? Is it only a dialect or a language itself? These questions make linguists stammer. Each time we stammer we are offering a sacrifice to the God of Meanings. When a whole people stammer stammer becomes their mother tongue: as it is with us now. God too must have stammered when He created Man. That is why all the words of man carry different meanings. That is why everything he utters from his prayers to his commands stammers, like poetry. GENESIS My grandmother was insane. As her madness ripened into death, My uncle, a miser, kept her in our store-room,  Covered in straw.  My grandmother dried up, burst, Her seeds flew out of the windows.  The sun came, and the rain,  One seedling grew up into a tree, Whose lusts bore me.  Can I help writing poems  About monkeys with teeth of gold? THE MAD The mad have no caste or religion. They transcend gender, live outside ideologies. We do not deserve their innocence. Their language is not of dreams but of another reality. Their love is moonlight. It overflows on the full-moon day. Looking up they see gods we have never heard of. They are shaking their wings when we fancy they are shrugging their shoulders. They hold that even flies have souls and the green god of grasshoppers leaps up on thin legs. At times they see trees bleed, hear lions roaring from the streets. At times they watch Heaven gleaming in a kitten’s eyes, just as we do. But they alone can hear ants sing in a chorus. While patting the air they are taming a cyclone over the Mediterranean. With their heavy tread, they stop a volcano from erupting. They have another measure of time. Our century is their second. Twenty seconds, and they reach Christ; six more, they are with the Buddha. In a single day, they reach the big bang at the beginning. They go on walking restless, for their earth is boiling still. The mad are not mad like us. GANDHI AND POETRY One day a lean poem reached Gandhi’s ashram to have a glimpse of the man. Gandhi spinning away his thread towards Ram took no notice of the poem waiting at his door, ashamed at not being a bhajan. The poem now cleared his throat And Gandhi glanced at him sideways through those glasses that had seen hell. “Have you ever spun thread?” he asked, “Ever pulled a scavenger’s cart? Ever stood in the smoke of An early morning kitchen? Have you ever starved?” The poem said: “I was born in the woods, in a hunter’s mouth. A fisherman brought me up in a cottage. Yet I knew no work, I only sing. First I sang in the courts: then I was plump and handsome but am on the streets now, half-starved.” “That’s better,” Gandhi said with a sly smile. “But you must give up this habit of speaking in Sanskrit at times. Go to the fields. Listen to The peasants’ speech.” The poem turned into a grain and lay waiting in the fields for the tiller to come and upturn the virgin soil moist with new rain. That's all we have in this edition of This Week in Poetry with Professor Nedumaran. Thank you for listening to some of the great poems of K. Satchidanandan. I hope you have enjoyed his poetry and there is more to come. And I shall meet you again next week with more voices from Indian Poetry in English. Till then, take care and goodbye for now. This is Professor Nedumaran signing off.

Episode 7 - Ars Poetica and Other Poems

Welcome back to this week in poetry - episode seven. A poem is communicated before it is understood. Hence, a poem shall be read aloud heard, especially its music, its orchestrated sounds. The listeners shall feel those sounds before attempting analysis, particularly content analysis. Poems were read aloud in public, in durbars, in the presence of kings and people. And therefore this week in poetry is an effort at reviving the tradition of Kavi Samelans and Kavi Arangams where poets presented their work to the aficianados and lovers of poetry. Right. Without much ado, let's move on to the poems. We shall first take up a poem - Ars Poetica, a poem on what poetry is by a modern American poet, Archibald MacLeish. Then we move on to yet another American poet, William Carlos Williams. Who gives us a deceptively short poem, this is just to say. Finally we listen to Charles Bukowski, another modern American poet who was called the poet laureate of American low life, with his confessional lyrics about his life in Los Angeles. We present his the laughing heart and roll the dice. Let's go. And listen. Thanks for being patient listeners! Do write to me with your feedback and reading suggestions.