caferati

Poetry audiences - a discussion [Part 7]

2008-03-06T12:25:00.004+05:30

Vivek Narayanan:

Dear Peter et al.,

A few things strike me in thinking about this discussion. The first is, what is the optimal audience for a poetry event, how many people would make us happy and, can we assume that more people is necessarily better? I'm not trying to be elitist; rather I am saying that this need for a mass audience that we have is a particularly modern and contemporary anxiety.

Poetry has always tended to have small audiences. Bob Holman, who was recently in town, was telling us about that about that now legendary reading where Allen Ginsberg first premiered Howl, and the fact that there were maybe twenty or thirty people in the room. Jack Spicer, an American poet who is less known because he shunned official publication and the "poetry career" path in general (he said, rather harshly, that being published in anthologies made him feel like a pimp) says, in an interview that very often there might be only two or three people who really read your work closely, understand and engage with it. Mandelstam had a small but highly devoted band of followers determined to keep his poetry alive. One thinks about how many people Wordsworth or Shelley or Keats had in their audience (I'm not sure if Keats gave readings) or indeed, one thinks about how many people in Ghalib's time didn't just dismiss him as "difficult" or "experimental" or an obscurantist and the only answer one has is: enough people were there to make it memorable.

The fact that other mediums-- fiction and that upstart film-- can now routinely have mass audiences makes poetry aspire to the same. However, because poetry has always been about community to an extent that other mediums are not, this has also meant an almost absurd increase in the number of poets, leading to the situation that Silliman has been talking about for a while now, where there are thousands of competent poets in the US. Priya speaks of the "C" list^[1] of incompetent poetasters not coming to readings. Yes, there are many of those in the Indian scene, some have even climb to positions of influence over the years, but we must also now get to asking the question, is "competency" enough, and what will happen when we also start having hundreds and then thousands of poets, all at least a minimum level of competency? That is quite a deadening situation in its own way. Where will we go from there?

I propose we take seriously the shift from "audience" to "community" and think about what it means. This does NOT mean saying that everything is fine and anything goes, for, alas, even if we agree to set all poets as equal, the fact remains that some poems will be better, even vastly better, than others. Some poems will be just good enough and that by itself is not really good enough! What I am saying rather is 1) we ask ourselves why we don't engage more closely and honestly and critically with each other's work and 2) why we don't take care to document events.

1) close engagement: Priya notes how Adil's commentary on Arvind made her day (I wish I was there, I wish I could watch it on Youtube). And yet, how often does this really happen? I've always had the sense that the Bombay Eng. poetry scene is a very social but ultimately fails because it generates no internal critique-- this was less so at different points, notably the early poetry soc. days of the 90s and, perhaps even more so, what I have heard about the Clearing House days of the late sixties and early seventies. What so often happens, however, is that people line up to read one after the other, then there's a general round of back-patting, then everyone goes off to gossip and carefully avoids the actual poetry. In Delhi we have been tackling this by deflecting the issue onto "performance", which I think is an interesting strategy, but eventually it will only take us so far. The fact that we don't get enough serious engagement (and this should include loving but vigorous and *informed* critique and argument, fights and discussions and tips about the poetry we are reading, assuming that all of us are reading a lot, issues where a lot is at stake, and not just weak little suggestions for each other's linebreaks) means that we turn our hopes outward, in a wish for love and affirmation from an imaginary audience that never shows up. Rather, why not turn it around: if we engage with enough intensity and vigour and critique among the people who do show up (even if it's just the readers themselves who show up) then rumours of that true intensity will spread, and others will want to be part of it. And if we really bring enough intensity (I think Sampurna's points are relevant here) to the event, regardless of how many people are there, then I believe the question of audience will become irrelevant.

I have no magic trick in mind for how we will be able to be completely honest about each other's work, and I'm reminded of that episode of Friends where Phoebe (disastrously) decides to "tell the truth" in her songs. But this, for me, is what has to happen *before* the question of a lay audience even comes into the picture.

2) documentation: Priya notes how Adil's commentary on Arvind made her day (I wish I was there, I wish I could watch it on Youtube). Well, why can't I? I sit and watch the Berkeley poetry reading series a couple of days after the event. I would even go check out Peter Griffin sitting down and reading to a few people in Bombay. I hang around Penn Sound, downloading new recordings. I watch movies of some Canadian or British poet reading to an audience of 12 in the 1970s, realising that even then they had more sense than us to make a proper recording of the event. I realise that in the art world every damn performance is documented, and it is not so relevant that only four people showed up for the actual event. And yet, at my PEN reading, where only six people showed up, I tried and failed to make a recording using my pocket recorder that was drowned out by the sound of the fan. A good clear recording, ready for youtube or radio podcast or the archive does need a little prior thought and arrangement by the organisers, perhaps also a little investment, but at the end of the day this is not very much, since someone or the other will own a video camera and a decent microphone. And hey presto! Someone else is watching it and getting inspired fifty years later. And yes, I think this should be the duty of the organisers. The answer lies, obviously, not in seeing the web and the live event as competing mediums but in continuing to think about how they might work in tandem.

Vivek

p.s. -- The Jack Spicer talk / reading that I quote from can be found here (scroll down to the talk at the beginning of Jack Spicer speaks and reads from Language (full work)).

[1] Note from Peter to Vivek:

..a clarification. When Priya speaks of the "C" group, she is referring to Caferati. (Whether she also intended it to be a comment on a "C" list as opposed to an "A" or "B" list is something you'll have to ask her.

Vivek's reply:

Ah! Didn't realise that. Well perhaps you can post my comment with a little annotation, as above, about my misreading.

[Priya Chabria's original mail, Annie Zaidi's reply, a short reply from Priya C, in which your correspondent drones on and on and on., Sampurna Chattarji's take, some more thoughts from Annie, Vivek Narayanan's view.]

Poetry audiences - a discussion [Part 6]

2008-03-06T06:29:00.005+05:30

Annie Zaidi:

Hi

Most of my thoughts on the subject have been put down. Before I said anything more on the subject, I'd wanted to hear others' views too, but none seem to be forthcoming quickly. So will just respond to some of the things said so far.

"Each one of us, individually, must give not merely as good as we receive, but better. This commitment also comes into play. Irrespective of those who stand alongside."

Perhaps, we should give more than we get. I don't know if that idea will appeal to many, but it would be nice if writers at least start confronting themselves about what it is they want. And then agree to do what it takes to make it happen. If we want attendance and ears, we should agree to lend ears.

"Perhaps a later start time. And I would definitely say not a weekday. That said, this won't guarantee larger audiences, but it certainly makes it easier to attend. I don't work fullt-time now, but, thinking back, I would have find it very doable to get to a short event at around 7 p.m. or a little later."

I'd say even 7pm is a bit early. For Bombay, especially. I can think back to my schedules in the city and 7 would have been very difficult. (That was one reason I never seemed to have a cultural life there.) You could start at 7.30pm and end at 8.30 pm, which is not at all late by city standards. Don't know about locations, because there are probably all sorts of concerns there, and you've got to pick something that's cheap and quiet. It would help if it is at a cultural hub. Prithvi is an excellent space, that way. So is the NCPA area.

"Definitely more audience building. More awareness generation. More education. (I remember someone saying at a poetry event that the way our education system brings poetry to us is bad. But then, if we agree, what are we doing to help people rise beyond that?"

Suggestion: Those of us who know people in schools or colleges - can we initiate one class a month 'living poets' kind of series? Can PEN do it? Colleges are better. Each college has hundreds of English Lit students. (My college had 170-odd in my batch alone). If the principals or HoDs can be spoken to. They just need to schedule some time, a mic, and would be nice if they could pay the poet a teeny bit, taxi fare at least. I do know things are changing a wee bit. Spoke to a college teacher yesterday and she said that Manju Kapur had come to speak at the college. No reason why poets can't reach out and build connections too.

"How about, for a start, including notes on why you selected the poems that are on the site? Why not have the poets write about the genesis of the works featured?"

We can, though I am not convinced that that would help. We're talking here about building audience, and building a sense of community. And I personally don't remember being particularly interested in the genesis of a poem, unless the facts are integral to understanding it.

"Attention spans are dropping, and there is so much more competition for those diminishing slices of attention. Films, news, opinions, everything's getting shorter, more concise, in an attempt to fit in. (And, y'know, there is more opportunity there. Good poets manage to fit things into beautifully carved nutshells.)"

If that's a suggestion that poetry needs to be shorter, or that it needs to be tailored to the tastes of people, I'd beg to differ. Several times on the Caferati board, I have encouraged poets to expand their piece since it begins to say something interesting and stops abruptly.
Attention spans are something we need to worry about only if the craft isn't that great. Or if the way we present our craft isn't that great. The fact that news is getting shorter just makes it more unreadable/unwatchable. And Indians continue to watch 3-hour long films. In which nothing happens. And soaps. In which nothing happens again.

I'm just nudging this discussion into a slightly different track, but since both Sampurna and Peter have brought up the fact that our audience has a dozen other alternatives to entertainment and culture, we need to change track somewhat, I think.

I follow popular media with great (detached) interest. Many of the popular songs, for instance, do have something different about them - their sound, their words, their context. Something 'hat ke'. It is that which captures attention. (And I digress a little here, but does anyone remember this Hindi poet called Maya Govind? She wrote the song 'gutar gutar' which became a national (out)rage, about a decade ago. I mention her now because she was a poet, not a full-time Bollywood lyricist, and she wrote an overtly suggestive song about pigeons... since we are on the subject of capturing attention.) Mere beauty rarely captures the attention of wide swathes of people, or the imagination of a nation. I find a lot of modern poetry is predictable and I like being surprised, whether it is in theme or metaphor.

"The wisdom of crowds does work, and it the mob is powerful and fickle. Fifteen minutes, fifteen seconds even, of fame? That's not the future; it's already happening."

Democracy in poetry is welcome, and creation should not be the preserve of a few. Which is why open mics are catching on so well. It is great if everybody is indeed participating in poetry and giving back to it. That's not the problem. The opposite is.

On mobs... But the mob watches Ekta Kapoor's soaps! (And is reasonably loyal, actually, if you'd follow soap TRPs, you'd know). It has been centuries since poetry has been a mob's delight. Not unless you include songs. Is the market of songs open to poets? I don't know. Have heard a few rock bands in Bombay who do sing in English. The lyrics are awfully derivative... maybe we should explore that audience.

"Poets need to compete for attention the same as anyone else. They need to compete with films, books, news, reality TV, the latest web phenom."

Sure. And poets are doing so, using these very tools. People are making poetry films. HBO runs a performance poetry series (not in India, unfortunately). SAB TV had a program on Hindi poetry, especially funny poetry. And we are all using the web. We need to use more of it. If I can access the right computer and net connection, I do go poem-hunting on the web. I like watching videos too, and I go looking for poetry videos. Can't find any Indian ones.

"Why is it that a poetry-loving community--specifically, English poetry, because there are far larger turnouts for poetry events in other Indian languages--is difficult to find in the real world in this country?"

That's easy. A tiny percentage of our country speaks English. Most of them speak it or read it only to further their professional interests. If they did have poetic leanings, they're likely to read poems in any of many other languages. We ARE a very, very tiny community here, proportion-wise. It is no point trying to compete with Hindi or Urdu or Marathi audiences.

"Why are the better-known poets not able to grow audiences? Why aren't they embracing the technology that's available? Things like podcasts, posting poetry online, writing about poetry, about the appreciation and understanding of poetry, for instance."

It would help a lot if the better-known poets began to do cool stuff with technology. However putting poetry up on the web is a concern for many. Copyright issues. But one way out is to put up stuff on your own websites which doesn't allow the 'copy-paste' function. That alone would be a great step forward. (Would help if techno-savvy poet-people advise techno-unsavvy ones like myself on this)

There's also that can be done by just reaching out to poets in other languages and that way, build little networks of communities with some overlap.

"We, as people who believe that the work of certain poets is special, should do more to publicise it, sell it, make it easy to relate to, make sure the people that it speaks to hear about it, and convince people to attend, to read them."

True. And I can think of ways. It will take time and a little money to begin, but of course, there are ways. Which we will discuss elsewhere, maybe. This is getting too long for the moment.

[Priya Chabria's original mail, Annie Zaidi's reply, a short reply from Priya C, in which your correspondent drones on and on and on., Sampurna Chattarji's take, some more thoughts from Annie, Vivek Narayanan's view.]

Poetry audiences - a discussion [Part 5]

2008-03-06T06:27:00.003+05:30

Sampurna Chattarji:

Dear all,

I think Peter and Annie have covered most of the points that impinge on the presence/absence of audiences for poetry events in our respective cities, with practical, sound and sensitive suggestions on how to address some of them. I have just one thing to add, and I’d like to do that in my capacity as a poet and participant rather than as an organiser of such events.

I think the key question for me is – how does one define a ‘successful event’? I have had, in the past two-three years, the pleasure of reading my work at a variety of forums from the posh art gallery (with red wine!) to the noisy premises of a Prithvi café (with no mike!). The dynamics of every event has varied and so has my satisfaction as a poet and a performer (in some sense, even a reading becomes a performance). I find that the number of people in the audience has had a varying influence on the satisfaction I derive from an event. Some of the best events for me were those that were attended by not more than 12 to 15 people, and that allowed the kind of intimacy and intense engagement and interaction that a larger, more-well attended event could not. I have been equally thrilled and dismayed by how many or how few people turned up to listen to me, but always in the process of reading, and engaging with those who did come, I have felt a sense of pleasure and a sense of gratitude. An old-fashioned word, yes, but I think in a world where there is so much else that one could do – watch a movie, go for a play, a concert, stay in and read Proust, go out on the town with old friends, eat sushi, learn salsa – assuming of course, that one has the leisure to do all of this and is not bound by some hideous corporate deadline as most of my friends are, in such a world of teeming options, in cities that are rich enough to offer us all these options – I do feel grateful when someone opts for poetry. And it is not only poetry events that are (sometimes) sparsely attended, and neither is this a problem specific to India. The American playwright Alan Brody who was here in July (he teaches and lives in Boston) said readings are the hardest things to organise as one can never be sure how many people will finally come. (To slip back into organiser mode for a second, I also know how deeply disappointing it is when after doing everything possible to invite/entice a sizeable audience, one fails, and it is the same five or six or seven indefatigable amazingly supportive old regulars who come.)

Which brings me back to the question – how does one define a ‘successful event’? For me, as a poet, the answer is increasingly being defined in terms of the richness of response, the intensity of listening, a quality both unquantifiable and deeply enriching. Numbers, in this situation, are becoming an aside, a functional detail in an experience nuanced with something I can only think of as personal pleasure.

I’m not sure how this addresses some of the other conversations, but I do hope, in some way, it does.
With love,
Sampurna.

[Priya Chabria's original mail, Annie Zaidi's reply, a short reply from Priya C, in which your correspondent drones on and on and on., Sampurna Chattarji's take, some more thoughts from Annie, Vivek Narayanan's view.]

Poetry audiences - a discussion [Part 4]

2008-03-06T06:17:00.005+05:30

Peter Griffin:

Dear Priya

It was no hardship for me; it was a privilege to be asked to share the stage with so many talented folks, even more so for me since I wasn't one of the poets in the anthology. But yes, I was expecting more folks from the Caferati group, and was disappointed that only one of the folks who said they might come eventually did make it.

I thought there would be more folks from PEN's list present too. But the low numbers were not exactly unexpected. I haven't been to many PEN events, but at the ones I have attended, I was surprised to see so few folks. At the first PEN event I went to, at Ranjit's invitation, there were five readers, including myself, and five - or was it six? - listeners.

Part of this is, I think, to do with the combination of timing and location, something I have discussed with Ranjit. Events that start at 6.15 in the evening, mid-week, in South Bombay and that last, usually, under an hour ; that's very unrealistic and just does not take into consideration the realities of Bombay. Working folks are usually in their office until 6 p.m. Many work later as a matter of course. The city's business district is no longer Nairman Point and Fort. Increasingly larger sections of people work in the former mills district around Dadar, Parel, and Prabhadevi, in Bandra and the Bandra-Kurla complex and Ghatkopar and Andheri and suburbs further North and East, even in places like New Bombay and Malad. Getting to a reading by 6.15 would mean having to take off from work early, not always easy to do, and definitely not an option on a regular basis.

(Digression: With Caferati, one of my learnings was that once a month, on a Saturday or a Sunday afternoon or evening, is a fairly achievable goal. Not, perhaps, wholly relevant, since the scenarios are not the same, but it does take into consideration that folks have full, busy lives and expecting them to devote larger, more frequent chunks of time would be difficult. Also, Caferati is also an online organisation, and the read-meets are not, therefore, the sole gatherings of the group.)

Solutions?

Perhaps a later start time. And I would definitely say not a weekday. That said, this won't guarantee larger audiences, but it certainly makes it easier to attend. I don't work fullt-time now, but, thinking back, I would have find it very doable to get to a short event at around 7 p.m. or a little later.

Definitely more audience building. More awareness generation. More education. (I remember someone saying at a poetry event that the way our education system brings poetry to us is bad. But then, if we agree, what are we doing to help people rise beyond that?

PEN is working on it, especially with the new Poetry@PEN series. Open Space has made a wealth of work available on the Talking Poetry pages. (Why not more discussion? How about, for a start, including notes on why you selected the poems that are on the site? Why not have the poets write about the genesis of the works featured?) Caferati is trying to bring more writers into the fray. We need more efforts, and we need to work harder ourselves. Be the change, as the catchphrase goes.

Your specific questions

Is the online community of poets/ poetry lovers 'self-sufficient' in the sense that such readings/launches are no longer required by blog tribalism?

I'm going to have to be long-winded.

The online community of poets and poetry lovers is growing.

Part of this is because the nature of the online space permits participation and interaction that overcomes barriers of distance and time. Add to this the fact that the community is not exactly thick on the ground, and such folks as there are are scattered across the world, larger concentrations in arts-friendly cities and the like, but more usually, people are not aware of how to get in touch with, join, participate in real-life groups, or there are none in their vicinity. When such folks find an online community, this can be huge. I know this was the case for me, and others have told me much the same.

Does this mean that these communities are self-sufficient? If so, is that a good or a bad thing?

I think that yes, they can be self-sufficient. For many, it is enough to just write and have maybe a few dozen people read. It is enough for them to have an audience, period. Here, they're getting one that is potentially international; at any rate, more than the number they would physically be able to show their work to otherwise, something that was impossible when getting your poems published in a magazine or a book was the only way to rise beyond constraints of geography or time.

"Publishing" means something very different these days and that's the reality. Many don't aim to be published in the conventional sense, way too many don't work on their craft, or read enough or analyse enough or learn enough. Is that the fault of the medium? Perhaps. I don't think so, but perhaps. But then, perhaps, because the technology makes it easy, more people will write, will show their work around. I like that. And I think it's worth it. Perhaps, out of this much wider community, a few poets who may never have been heard if not for the technology will now rise to greater visibility. I like that too. And it's definitely worth it.

We should also consider these things.
- It is a fast-moving world, and information overload is very real.
- Attention spans are dropping, and there is so much more competition for those diminishing slices of attention. Films, news, opinions, everything's getting shorter, more concise, in an attempt to fit in. (And, y'know, there is more opportunity there. Good poets manage to fit things into beautifully carved nutshells.)
- Technology has helped democratise many things. Experts, mediators, the media, they become irrelevant for some people. The wisdom of crowds does work, and it the mob is powerful and fickle. Fifteen minutes, fifteen seconds even, of fame? That's not the future; it's already happening.
- Poets need to compete for attention the same as anyone else. They need to compete with films, books, news, reality TV, the latest web phenom.

And also some things to think about.
Why is it that a poetry-loving community--specifically, English poetry, because there are far larger turnouts for poetry events in other Indian languages--is difficult to find in the real world in this country? Why are the better-known poets not able to grow audiences? Why aren't they embracing the technology that's available? Things like podcasts, posting poetry online, writing about poetry, about the appreciation and understanding of poetry, for instance. If the media won't carry such writing, why not put it out there anyway, for the good of the craft, the calling?

I can understand none of the C group attending if they trash the work of all the poets reading. This is perfectly acceptable. But do they know the work of these poets well enough to trash it all? Or are the reasons darker and smaller? I'm speaking both of hiding in the paltry 'I-me-myself" syndrome of closure and safety by not attending, and the fear of nails being worn down by slog that's on display on such an occasion. I'm also speaking of perhaps not loving, passionately, intensely enough , the art that makes one be-- which is necessary to commit to in order to improve and seek. These are deep and troubling questions.

Possibility one: people did not attend because they didn't like the work of the people reading. Let us also assume that they do know the work well enough to reach that conclusions, and that, you accept, is good enough reason. Fair enough.

Possibility two, they do not know the work well, but do not think highly of the work they have come across, and therefore do not attend. I think that this perfectly acceptable too. If I don't like what I have seen or heard once or twice, why would I want to delve deeper? It's up to the poet to interest me, grab me, make me want to come back, or read more.

Possibility three, they have not heard of the work of these poets at all and therefore do not attend. Nothing wrong with that either. We, as people who believe that the work of certain poets is special, should do more to publicise it, sell it, make it easy to relate to, make sure the people that it speaks to hear about it, and convince people to attend, to read them.

Possibility Four, they have heard of and like the work of the poets featured but still do not attend. There could be a variety of reasons for this, like the day of the week and the time and the location and not having heard about it in time, or not having been told about it in a convincing way. It could mean that some people think poetry is best read off a page with the voice of one's mind rather than heard in voice of the poet (and let us also note that not all poets read well). It does not necessarily follow that the reasons are "darker and smaller." It does not necessarily follow that anyone is hiding, or scared of seeing slog on display or not loving the art well enough. Those are unkind assumptions. Because it is possible to work hard at poetry, care passionately about it, without attending a single reading. If it is possible to love Shakespeare who's been dead for centuries, why can't one experience, love, study a contemporary without ever seeing that contemporary read her/his own work?

I ask also because through discussions that occurred later I was enlightened to the fact that most of the recent readings in Bombay ( except those announced as events with, possibly, cocktails through in) are very poorly attended.

No one invites me to the cocktails, alas. So I can't comment.

If it is imperative that in order to attend, the platform must extend to permit one to read from one's work, no matter how recent a 'poet' one is,

Why do you assume this? Unfair, i think.

..then we must rethink the very idea of launches and readings. We must, indeed, rethink the very idea of listening and sharing and growing. We must, by extension, dismiss words like rigour, experiment, form and love from our vocabulary and substitute these perhaps with words like laziness and anything goes or ... We should stop believing that poetry is a sacred and necessary impulse that enables one to live.

Yes, we must re-examine the idea of launches and readings. We must make them more attractive to people. We must remember that we're competing for people's attention and that they have many alternatives to choose from. Even if we were to restrict ourselves to what else is available in poetry, if one had the choice between looking at a few videos which feature Billy Collins reading his work while the visual interprets those words with some great animation, or checking out some great spoken word performers on YouTube, would I come listen to Peter Griffin sit in a chair and read a poem? Rather than dismiss rigour, experiment, form and love, we should, in this re-examination, work harder, experiment more, love it more.

~p

[Priya Chabria's original mail, Annie Zaidi's reply, a short reply from Priya C, in which your correspondent drones on and on and on., Sampurna Chattarji's take, some more thoughts from Annie, Vivek Narayanan's view.]

Poetry audiences - a discussion [Part 3]

2008-03-06T06:14:00.004+05:30

Priya Sarukkai Chabria:

Hi Annie, Hi Peter,
Thank you for the eloquent and serious responses to issues I raised in an earlier mail. I feel heartened, especially as both of you lead a major blog site on poetry. I also consider the both of you hard working poets. (Yes, Annie, impassioned is a word often employed about my work and here's another response.)

I refrained from using the word 'community' as this I found lacking. But by all means, let's deploy it now if there is a crack of hope.

I validate the suggestions you made. Peter: yes, invite the poets you mentioned to dialogue. Also, and equally important, the three questions you, Annie, plan to initiate on the C blog. These are pertinent points to engage commitment.

I suggest: use the mails or extracts that have passed between us to contextualize the issues --thought I'm not familiar with your format. Because we are speaking of vast and deep concerns.

To further the debate:
True, a sense of community is necessary and significant to help us be what we are. It is imperative to stand by each other in our frail and encompassing endeavour. But beyond this there is the sense of self and gratitude to the art that makes us be. Each one of us, individually, must give not merely as good as we receive, but better. This commitment also comes into play. Irrespective of those who stand alongside.

My new argument may seem to convulse the idea of community that I found lacking and longed for, and to which you have responded thoughtfully. But this is a spiral on it. This aspect is the moola, the root and seed: beyond all else, unshakably, begin with self.

Yes, Annie, this is implied in the questions you wish to raise; also in the word 'reciprocate'.. But let's forefront this aspect of faith too, what say?

Priya

[Priya Chabria's original mail, Annie Zaidi's reply, a short reply from Priya C, in which your correspondent drones on and on and on., Sampurna Chattarji's take, some more thoughts from Annie, Vivek Narayanan's view.]

Poetry audiences - a discussion [Part 2]

2008-03-06T06:09:00.004+05:30

Annie Zaidi:

Hi Priya

I had been thinking hard about the things you said in your mail to Peter and while I saw it as the impassioned and immediate response it was, I did think that there is much to think about. Here is what I wrote back to Peter (slightly edited):

"I do agree with most of what she says in terms of attendance and poetry events and community building. See, I'm a professional journalist and a working poet (though unlike a certain [name deleted], I don't go about introducing myself as a 'working' poet, because it is understood that I am working on being one, if I am one.) And there are at least three times as many book launches and readings here in Delhi than there in Mumbai, I think - though this may not be true of poetry specifically, since Mumbai has more better-known poets writing in English. I don't make it to all but I do try and make it to at least the poetry events, especially if organised by someone I know or if a contemporary is participating.

This is what 'community' is about. A community stands up for you, supports you. You often trade within a community. Many of us have gone to some trouble to seek such a community of writers, and it is for this reason - because it lends us purpose and makes us feel that what we're doing is important. Perhaps our community is small, but to these 30 or 50 people, it matters that a new book of poems is out, or that a new poet-performer is in town. Otherwise, why have launches? Why perform? Why read? We might as well sit at home and read to the walls.

If I do not attend other people's events, why should anyone come to mine?

...

Even a genius will be die undiscovered and unsung, if he is not willing to get out there and be part of the community. Even Ghalib attended mushairas.

...

But this also seems to be increasingly true of writers and launches here. I see the most thickly-attended ones are the ones with free cocktails. Which is understandable sometimes - a high-profile event like the Vikram Chandra launch at the Taj. Or even a blah event at the British Council. You don't like the work that much, but there will be drinks and bonding with other writers, later.

But at Sampurna and Sridala's reading at the Sahitya Akademy here, there was only chai and since I got there later, I did not get even a cup of chai, and it did not matter. The toilets - like in all government offices - smell, but it did not matter. There were about forty people or fifty, some were friends and supporters, and some young emerging Delhi poets, and it felt good to see them there. We had no role to play barring that of listeners and buyers, and we played it. The evening was good.

Now, we cannot do this every day but we can do this every other week or even every weekend. As poets, as writers, as aspirants, this is part of the package.

And I think we have to start communicating this to the Caferati crowd. If you want to be a poet and want appreciation and want people to buy real books, learn to reciprocate. Learn that there will be jobs and family and distances but if you want to be part of the poetic community, in the real world, then get out and negotiate the rules of the real world.

....

Maybe we need to initiate a discussion about this on Caf. If you like, I will do it.

And I would like to begin with just these three questions - do you want your own book out some day? how many poetry/literary events have you shown up for? how many poetry books have you bought last year?

What say?

annie

[Priya Chabria's original mail, Annie Zaidi's reply, a short reply from Priya C, in which your correspondent drones on and on and on., Sampurna Chattarji's take, some more thoughts from Annie, Vivek Narayanan's view.]

Poetry audiences - a discussion [Part 1]

2008-03-06T05:43:00.005+05:30

This post, and the next few as well, are the texts of an email debate initiated by Priya Sarukkai Chabria.

Background: At the Bombay launch of 50 Poets 50 Poems, attendance was low; Priya says there were more press than audience members there, I counted a dozen people, aside from the eight people on stage, the young man who was helping sell the books, and the chai lad.

The principals in this discussion have agreed to put this up on the Caferati blog and invite a larger discussion. We're hoping that you folks could bring in your take on the topic; your opinions, your perspectives from different events in different cities. Feel free to comment, or to mail any or all of us.

~peter

Priya Sarukkai Chabria:

Dear Peter,
Thank you for participating in the PEN 50Poets50Poems launch. All the other Bombay poets too who were in the anthology who weren't abroad made it a point to participate. This was excellent. I appreciate your show of solidarity especially as you had to traverse great distances to be present. You had also said that some from the Caferati group would be present. However, none showed.You possibly were perturbed by this.

Why a single poet/ poetry aficionado/ wannabe didn't showed is a matter to ponder on because such an assembly of poets is exceptional.( Indeed, we had more press that poets!) But first I ask myself: do I attend enough of such literary events? My answer is yes. Also a launch of a poetry anthology in the hallowed PEN "prescient" is an event to celebrate. For any writer worth the name, PEN is significant.. The evening, to me, was a matter of keeping faith with one's art, with the art of poetry, the spaces that support it and with the reality of living.

As you are a leading moderator of the active and large Caferati group I direct the following enquiries to you:
Is the online community of poets/ poetry lovers 'self-sufficient' in the sense that such readings/launches are no longer required by blog tribalism? I do not use the word 'tribalism' in a disparaging manner, rather to imply close affinities that are sustaining though small. Also, as this group,comprising of young poets --and those who want to make the grade-- is active in its writing and critiquing of poetry, one would have thought that such an experience would be enriching to them. Since the evening kicked off with Adil J reading his poem and Arvind's, I shall employ just this case to make my point. Beside contextualizing his own poem, Adil's deep inquiry into Arvind's references and imagination, I found made my day. I'd have thought younger poets too could have gain from this. Also from the manner in which poems are read aloud/declaimed/ articulated. A range of this, too, occurred.
I can understand none of the C group attending if they trash the work of all the poets reading. This is perfectly acceptable. But do they know the work of these poets well enough to trash it all? Or are the reasons darker and smaller? I'm speaking both of hiding in the paltry 'I-me-myself" syndrome of closure and safety by not attending, and the fear of nails being worn down by slog that's on display on such an occasion. I'm also speaking of perhaps not loving, passionately, intensely enough , the art that makes one be-- which is necessary to commit to in order to improve and seek. These are deep and troubling questions.

I ask also because through discussions that occurred later I was enlightened to the fact that most of the recent readings in Bombay ( except those announced as events with, possibly, cocktails through in) are very poorly attended. If it is imperative that in order to attend, the platform must extend to permit one to read from one's work, no matter how recent a 'poet' one is, then we must rethink the very idea of launches and readings. We must, indeed, rethink the very idea of listening and sharing and growing. We must, by extension, dismiss words like rigour, experiment, form and love from our vocabulary and substitute these perhaps with words like laziness and anything goes or ... We should stop believing that poetry is a sacred and necessary impulse that enables one to live.

This I do not accept.

Poets are practical people; we are deeply embedded in reality, I know we seek clarity at all times. I agree:there must be other reasons too --such as weekday, traffic snarls , personal problems etc. that came into play. I too have missed a film, an art opening, even book launches because of such petty inconveniences. But did ever one's dog die on the evening of the antho launch when so many poets were reading at a PEN event?

Had I taken the evening to be personal, merely celebrating my achievementas an editor I would not be so concerned.

I look forward to your response.
Best wishes
Priya

[Priya Chabria's original mail, Annie Zaidi's reply, a short reply from Priya C, in which your correspondent drones on and on and on., Sampurna Chattarji's take, some more thoughts from Annie, Vivek Narayanan's view.]

R.I.P.

2007-12-31T11:59:00.000+05:30

Take a moment, please, to remember the voices we lost this year.

Revathy Gopal

Shakti Bhatt

Kersy Katrak

Tarapada Ray

J B D'Souza

Qurratulain Hyder

Poornachandra Tejaswi

Leela Majumdar

Bunny Reuben

[Thanks to Arka Mukhophadhyay, Uma Mahadevan Dasgupta, Anjan Ray, Falstaff, Kankana Basu, Arundhathi Subramaniam.]

Arambol (Goa)

2007-12-12T22:34:00.000+05:30

The smell of hashish in the air is a dancing
thing. The girl’s small, curved hands are

like two shells in sleep. The bartender
raises his foot and brings it down on a

crab, spilling its meat onto the sand, leaving
a pattern in entrails. I eat my tuna salad.

The boys on the beach turn over in their sleep
and the one-eyed man in the café cups

his own face with two hands thoughtfully.
Such violence on gentle shores is common,

he thinks. In the distance, a blue boat
is a little blemish I could rub away, a

transgression. The beach continues to
burn in its silent, unstoppable way.

© Anindita Sengupta.

This festive party (for Janet Fine)

2007-12-05T02:10:00.000+05:30

Too soon for trips! don't leave this festive party
the moon's eclipse would grieve this festive party

we met along a road toward a rare concert
the tablas' taps retrieve this festive party

you twirled in natyam as a whippersnapper
must Rudra's steps re-weave this festive party?

you caught the screenings festivals received you
lost stardust tints the eaves this festive party

Mumbai Cairo New York pearls for your piercing
low-budget trips don't peeve this festive party

in five-and-dimes you’d shop in several countries!
and fashion’s glitz achieve this festive party

you found a manuscript on pleasing women
God's microfische conceived this festive party

the dusk of palaces caught your affection
you threw Raj Pipla's eve this festive party

does Bollywood recall one who first named her?
the skinnydips are brief this festive party

you sliced my heart critiquing my first movie
don't seal your lips! nor leave this festive party

I still have tales to tell! who'll understand me?
don't doubt my quips believe this festive party

I won't be brief! I'll flourish my bandana
I've got tricks up my sleeve this festive party

the kiss of death they claim is liberating
reluctant lips receive this festive party

the smile of Tukaram lives in the painting
newspaper clips frame Jiv this festive party

Ellen sends love from yon out at East Hampton
and look! a glimpse of Steve this festive party

here’s Lucian! Betty’s also soon arriving
the commune let’s not cleave this festive party

too swiftly time's page flits! we were still reading!
the boat tips and upheaves this festive party

the ghazal's wit steeps love in lamentation
a dye that suits the sleeve this festive party

a million notes the soul jots on its journey
we've still chits to retrieve this festive party

days vanish and the nights fitfully finish
tell me if it’s a thief? this festive party

the world drifts in its dream yet Parabrahma
motionless sits who sees this festive party?

in Haridwar there's aarati morn and evening
trays wave as Shiv bereaves this festive party

from Raphael accept gratitude's bandish
his note slips through the sieve this festive party

For Janet Fine, a friend. She expired in Mumbai, 24 November 2007.

verse 3: natyam (Skt.): dance – more specifically, Bharata Natyam, a discipline that engaged her from a young age.

verse 7: “a manuscript” – viz., Lazzat un Nissa (The Pleasure of a Woman, circa 1850), a translation of which she published (under her own imprint) in 2003.

verse 8: Prince Manvendra Singh Gohil, from the former princely state of Raj Pipla, was a friend of hers.

verse 9: She wrote journalistically about the film industry; and she is credited as the original coiner of the expression “Bollywood.”

verse 14: Jiv (Hindi): life

verse 22: aarati (Skt.): a Hindu ceremony of worship

verse 23: bandish (Hindustani): a classical song

© David Raphael Israel.

Janet Fine

2007-12-05T01:54:00.000+05:30

We were saddened to learn, through her friend, David Raphael Israel, of the passing of Janet Fine, on the 24th November, 2007.

Here is part of David's note:

Janet showed rare independence in her life. She made her living mainly as a working journalist, covering (among other things) the film industry. She also launched a small publishing venture, focusing on old-world Indian erotic literature. She had played a role in helping organize a "Festival of India" series of concerts in the U.S. in 1986, at venues such as the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts (Washington, DC), involving performers such as Ravi Shankar and the Dagar Brothers. I'm just mentioning a few strands of activities that come to mind. I have not seen any proper obituary for Janet, but would like to know if one has been published.

For those who knew Ms Fine, a New York Times obituary also has a guest book which you can sign.

How to Read a Poem + Heat in Poetry [links to essays]

2007-11-06T19:23:00.000+05:30

Both links are from Edward Nudelman's blog, which I discovered recently, thanks to Dipalle Parmar on the Pune newsgroup.

From How to Read a Poem:

To have a clue, reading very good poetry must be swallowed whole. Don’t sit there chewing away, gumming the food and trying to figure out if you like it (I’m not talking about fast food here, but fine cuisine). Most people know within seconds if they’ve got a really big fish on the line. The pole goes down and you get a tug. The response? Any self-respecting angler will exclaim in glee and start reeling away like a lunatic.

So, I’m suggesting, when you read poetry, do just that. Read it. It’s that simple. Don’t cerebrum your way through it, asking: what does this mean? What does that imply, what is the author trying to tell me? Oh dear, that poet must be in a very dark place… no, that poet can’t be talking about a real life experience, etc. There's plenty of time for that later. Sometimes you just have to swallow before chewing.

From Heat in Poetry:

I like to think of poetry as a collection of words, each with their own potential energy. We seek to group the words in such a way that will increase that energy, like rolling a huge ball up a hill. The higher it goes, the farther it will roll down. Poetry finds a language that is hidden in the vernacular of our imagination. It will have a certain sound (especially when read by the author, with the author’s full intent) that will sound like poetry. As prosaic as this appears, it becomes clearer if one listens to enough poetry recited out loud (podcasts of poets can be widely found on the web, not only by contemporary poets, but also past recordings of great 20th century poets like Auden, Frost, Plath, Bishop, and Dylan Thomas, to name just a few). It is in the hearing of poems read aloud that I have come to appreciate in a special way this dynamic force of building energy in great poetry.

Go read.

Caferati's first annual Celebrating Shakti Bhatt Workshop - a report

2007-10-24T23:58:00.001+05:30

A report on the workshop (which was announced here & here) is long overdue, for which, my apologies. If it had been up to me, I would still be searching for my notes. Thankfully, there is an Annie. And an Anita.

-peter

Annie Zaidi on the session about Indian Poetic Forms:

The evening began with me making emergency calls to Ashwini — had forgotten to organize envelopes — and Danish — would he please pick up blank paper and extra pens — before landing up a good 45 minutes early at the Attic, where the organisers of the miniature paintings sat at a little table, looked at me expectantly and offered me a chair.

I looked at the paintings, thought about how beautiful the photos would look with these as the backdrop, fretted about what we’d do if enough people didn’t land up or too many did, and paced about anxiously while the Attic staff laid out the ‘farsh’ and the chairs.

As people began to stroll in, I worried about whether to put the shoes inside or outside and whether there was a chance of them being stolen outside. Then I went about collecting money from the participants — and one would-be participant who could not attend because of a last-minute emergency, but showed up anyway to pay up since he had confirmed attendance (thank you, gentle person).

When Professor Shivaprakash called, unable to find his way from Regal, Monica kindly went down to fetch him. He arrived with another scholar from JNU and ten minutes later, we started the workshop.

While the good professor said several things about poetry in general, and more specifically about the historical contexts of forms and short forms like the haiku, I did not manage to take down everything.

However, I do remember that he had compared poetry to firecrackers.

Just like there are two kinds of crackers — the single dazzle-burst kind, like the anaar for instance, and the multiple boom-boom-boom kind, like the larhi — similarly, there are two kinds of poetry. The latter kind gradually reveals itself, one idea leading to the next, and culminating in one final burst that may be a big, definitive finale or a quiet fizzle. The other kind says all it has to in a very short space of time with a very limited use of words. The haiku for instance. Or a doha, a tanka or an abhang. Or the vachana.

He also said that these shorter forms could be equated with a Zen-like instantaneous illumination.

Prof Shivaprakash had chosen to concentrate on vachanas, a form of Kannada poetry from the medieval ages, and also the subject of a forthcoming book he is editing for Penguin India.

Literally, a vachana means ‘speech.’ Alternately, it also means ‘promise.’ A vachana he said originates from triplets in Kannada that was often sung by women, and often contained rural and/or domestic themes.

In the medieval era, vachanas were popularized by speaker-poets many of whom came from the artisan classes and as the form evolved, their poetry became a tool of critique, against both the existing modes of poetry and transmission of knowledge.

Poetry is comprised of meaning and sound, he said. And what these new speaker-poets did was to challenge the content of Sanskrit poetry while simultaneously changing the way it sounded. They were opposed to the use of ‘abhida’ or a referential language. A referential language would depend on figures of speech, such as similes. They felt that a simile is a substitute, and therefore nor the real thing. Only real experience ought to be the subject of poetry, according to the vachana poets and therefore, they often spoke of their own lives, their work and their immediate environment.

Professor Shivaprakash also discussed the two foundations of meter in poetry. One depends on the contrast between stressed and unstressed syllables, which is how it is in older English poetry. The other kind depends on the equivalence of syllables, that is, vocalic length, such as it is in a ghazal. However, meter, he said, is only one manifestation of rhythm in a poem. There is also the notion of a sprung rhythm, which is what vachanas use. Such as ‘we were the first that ever burst into the silent sea.’

In the Kannada vachanas, there are few end rhymes, but there is often an initial rhyme. The first or second sounds of each line may rhyme. This brought a different kind of symmetry to the language. One of the best-known, and Professor Shivaprakash’s favourite, vachana poet is Akkamahadevi. He had circulated copies of some of her work as samples that were given away to participants.

The session was opened up to questions later and several participants wanted to ask the professor tough questions. On the question of what exactly the form was like, he said that the thing about this form was that it followed no rules. It is rooted in the breaking of form, and therefore, it is difficult to ascribe rules to it. He was not sure that new poets will succeed in writing a vachana, or how to advise them to write it, but added that it is possible to write ‘a vachana-like poem’.

Towards the end of that discussion, I observed that forms seem to grow from one to the other, with new twists and variations leading to new names for the form. Such as the qasida giving birth to the masnavi, the marsiya and the ghazal and how the ghazal itself seems anxious to grow in different directions but seems not to be able to find a new name for the newer experiments.

That led to some talk of other Indian poetic forms such as the anthadi and the keh-mukarni (both of which we have seen many examples of in Caferati's forum), examples of which were read out and met with much delight.

The participants seemed more enthused by the idea of the naughtier, saucier keh-mukarni so that form was chosen for an exercise. Several people came up with instant verses which were read out to much merriment and blushing. (Note to participants: do post your efforts in this thread, if you don’t mind.)

Though I had not read mine out, I had written this one:

There’s such black in his eyes
Black his tongue, black his lies
Black as coal, black as a rai
Your beloved? No, the kadhai.

This was followed by a short break for snacks — dhokla, samosa, gulab-jamuns, tea — and we went on to the next session on editing, led by Anita Roy and Urvashi Butalia.

Anita Roy, on the Editing for Non-Editors session that she and Urvashi Butalia conducted. Urvashi and Anita are from Zubaan.

The workshop kicked off with the participants all coming up with their own definitions of what an editor should be/should do. This ranged from correcting grammar to taking the author out for a drink (specifically: after their MS has been rejected). The nice list of editorial roles defined by Gary Kamiya — “Editors are craftsmen, ghosts, psychiatrists, bullies, sparring partners, experts, enablers, ignoramuses, translators, writers, goalies, friends, foremen, wimps, ditch diggers, mind readers, coaches, bomb throwers, muses and spittoons — sometimes all while working on the same piece” — was added to by the group: my favourite being “butcher.” Urvashi went on to elaborate on all the different kinds of editors there are out there — commissioning eds, desk eds, copy eds — and what to expect from each.

I then, perhaps fancifully, compared an editor's work to that of a gem-cutter: polishing, honing, cutting, until the light passes through as sparklingly and as clearly as possible. Some diamonds are rougher than others, so need more work. Some will never be more than a hunk of coal, and best consigned to the fire early on.

Then, having hedged around a bit and said how there aren't any real guidelines about how to approach a commissioning editor with your work, proceeded to contradict myself totally by laying down THE LAW in the form of 10 Commandments (see below).

Getting down to brass tacks, we all had a bash at re-punctuating a piece of de-punctuated text: specifically, an extract of Don Marquis's free verse work, Archy and Mehitabel. Had a lot of fun figuring out where to put quote marks and arguing about commas.

Then we sharpened our pencils and the cutting blades of our editorial minds by tackling an extract of an article that appeared in "Crime and Detective", whose idiosyncratic usage of the language reduced many participants to tears — of laughter. But which, usefully, kicked off a discussion about how much authorial quirkiness (and specifically Indian-English intonation, usage and vocab) one should or could allow.

One of the nicest comments afterwards was a backhander: "When they said there'd be editors coming to talk to us about editing, I thought: Oh my god, how dull can it get? But actually, I really enjoyed that."

Well, good. So did we.

I think Shakti would have too.

Anita's Ten Commandments:

Submitting your MS to a publisher
THE TEN COMMANDMENTS

1. Thou shalt first find out about the publisher.
If you’ve written a short story for children, there’s no use sending it to Granta. If you’ve written a book review, send it to a journal that actually carries reviews. If you’ve written a book about growing dahlias, don’t send it to a publisher of feminist fiction. Etc. etc. Go to a bookshop or your bookshelves and see who’s published the kind of book that you think yours would sit well next to. Do your research first, and find out which place is going to suit your work best, which ground is likely to be the most fertile for your kind of seed to grow.

2. Thou shalt abide by the submissions process.
Usually on their website the magazine, journal or publisher will have something called “Guidelines for submissions”. Do stick by these if you possibly can.. They are there for a reason. If they state up front that they only accept proposals through an agent, don’t expect them to make an exception for you. If they say: don’t send it by email; then don’t.

3. Thou shalt not tell the publisher why they should publish you.
It’s an editor’s job to figure out whether this MS is suitable for their list, whether it will sell, and why: not yours! Editors are invariably turned off by authors going for the hard-sell: eg “I am sending you the gist of my most valuable work. I am sure it will excite you and you would react positively.” Also be realistic about your target readership — “It will appeal to young ones and senior citizens” cutteth zero ice.

4. In your covering letter, never resort to LARGE FONTS, underlining, exclamation marks, bold, or coloured type.
This smacks of a kind of lapel-tugging desperation on your part — not good — and also the suspicion that you think the editor has the deductive powers of a three year old, who needs Bright colours and Loud sounds to hold his/her attention. Is this really who you want to be editing your precious prose?

5. Thou shalt make sure thy covering letter is not full of typos!
Scan and rescan and print out on paper and then get someone else to read through your covering letter before you send it off. There is nothing more off-putting than having an author make spelling and grammatical mistakes in his/her initial approach – does not encourage an editor to read on.

6. Thou shalt judiciously exploit personal contacts.
“X suggested I contact you.” “We met at Y launch”. “I heard you speak at Z conference” – anything that helps the editor feel that there is some kind of personal connect will help your MS stand out from the crowd.

7. Chose your fonts with care.
Go for safe fonts: Courier, Times, Garamond, Times New Roman. Don’t feel that you need to have ‘designed’ your page before sending them in. In fact, that may backfire: if you’ve got illustrations that the editor hates or have laid out a page in a way that just doesn’t go with their style, it makes it that much harder for the editor to see past the flummery to the “meat” i.e. your words!

8. Attach attachments.
Double check when you say you’re attaching an attachment that you actually do! And make sure it’s in as bog-standard a format as you can think of: MS Word almost always. 1.5 or double-line spaced.

9. Tell them who you are.
Always helpful to have a bit of biodata about the author — where you’re based, age, profession, what else you’ve written or done. But keep it relevant, and keep it short.

10. Thou shalt take ‘No’ for an answer
If you’ve been rejected by one publisher, go kick the door, or the dog, put on some loud rock, pour yourself a stiff whisky, cry, wail or otherwise get it out of your system. Then find someone else to reject you again. Do NOT argue with a ‘reject’ letter. Everyone knows they are full of platitudes like “not quite right for our list at the present time” — do not write back and say, oh, that’s ok I can wait, what about next week/month/year?
There’s no reason why you can approach the same person/publisher with another story another poem another time, but asking for a re-trial is a big no-no.

....

And finally, comments from some of the participants.

Monica Mody:
Thank you, you guys, for organizing this fabulous workshop! I enjoyed Prof Shivaprakash's session even though I wish there were more interactive, poet-friendly elements in it. And sorry I couldn't stay for the entire editing session.

Nupur Maskara:
Yes, it was fun to attend. Thank you for organising it, it was a great way to remember your friend and what she stands for. I have put up the kehmukarni I wrote at the workshop on my blog.
The pics are great!
looking forward to the next session.

Gopika Nath:
I really enjoyed the workshop. Professor Shivaprakash was really very interesting and enlighteneing and opened new windows of interest. In fact I have recently picked up a book by Ramanujan on Vacanas! Urvashi and Anita were useful in terms of the exercisesthey made us do. I would have skipped some of the points Anita made re what one should or shouldn't do, which mostly called upon good ole common sense. Some of the comments/suggestions presented a& very personal, even prejudiced view, rather than one that could be seen as universally appplicable advice. There were times when I felt that for every negative idea she presented, I could already hear someone I had read/heard etc, contradict this, in my head. But that was really a very minor point.
A workshop in memory of someone who has contributed significantly to the field of writing and publishing is a great idea. However, it would be appropriate to list these contributions during the introduction. I, did not know Shakti, nor her work and really would have liked to know more than what the young girl talked of. I could not make much sense of her "being a huge person" and that ilk.
Thank you for all your efforts towards organzing this and hope that we shall have more in the future.

Venita Coelho:
I thoroughly enjoyed the workshop. Thanks to you guys for putting it together.
Just one suggestion. You might want to start earlier next time. It's not very fair to people of the caliber of Urvashi and Anita to have people leave mid workshop. Perhaps an all day affair next time with a break for lunch?

Preeta Priyamvada:
It was great to be at the workshop. I did find it useful, but I had to leave early and could not sit through the entire second session - the one i was more interested in. The invite mentioned the editorial workshop would be the first one and I had planned accordingly. Anyway, I do look forward to more of such workshops. Can we have one on hindi literature too - giving an overview - history + brief information about the different genres?

Michael Creighton:
Yes, it was a good afternoon. And I did think Anita's ten commandments were helpful. Thou shalt drop names! Why not?
For what it's worth, here's my keh-mukarni, written that day.

I lick wet, salty, spicy skin;
I bite, I suck, I sigh, then grin.
Who gives so gives so good, I wanna hollah?
My wife? No, friend, the Bhutta wallah!

....

If you were at the workshop, please feel free to add your impressions and/or feedback as comments. Those of you who attempted keh-mukarnis, please post them in the comments, or email me.

P.S. There are photographs taken at the workshop posted in a Facebook album.

50 Poets 50 Poems

2007-10-24T17:52:00.001+05:30

50 Poets 50 Poems, published by Open Space, draws from the contents of the website Talking Poetry edited by Priya Sarukkai Chabria.

Open Space, a civil society outreach program, encourages discussion, debate and action on social justice, sustainable development and human rights issues. It is an initiative of the Centre for Communication and Development Studies.

Open Spaces: 50 Poems 50 Poets has been made possible as the contributing poets have each 'donated-a poem' to the anthology. It is an effort that reflects faith in poetry and its readership to keep alive this art that adds to our larger cultural life and our sense of multiple identities. This anthology hopes to focus on the diverse voices speaking from different cultures that enrich our lives.

Who will you see in the book? Here you go. (And apologies for any errors; this list was typed up independently, not copy-pasted.)

The Old Debate of Don Quixote vs Sancho Panza – Priscila Uppal
The Waiters – Adil Jussawala
Lines on Water – Sridala Swami
A River – Bina Sarcar
Ultima Multis: The Last Day for Many – Stephanoes Stephanides
Still Life, Basque Country – Aman Nath
For Children in Wartime – Alamgir Hashmi
Mawlai – Anjum Hassan
Tale of the Young Bride – Anju Makhija
Sat by a Poem – A J Thomas
Lost Etymologies – Arka Mukhopadhyay
Because – C P Surendran
A Pearl within an Oyster – Deepa Agarwal
Study of a Vase – Deepankar Khiwani
Of Sea and Mountain – Gieve Patel
This was Nattu – G J V Prasad
My Lover is Like the Sea – Jane Bhandari
Monologue of the Silverfish – K Satchidanand
Round of the Seasons – Keki Daruwala
Martyr – Jalal Malashah (translated by Omid Varzandeh)
Psalm: From Black Sea Sonnets – George Szirtes
Flight: 4: After the Empress Eifuku – Priya Sarukkai Chabria
Borges – A K Mehrotra
Ghazal – Nakul Krishna
Hummingword – Sampurna Chattarji
A Farewell Letter of Cherries (For Professor MB)– Kynpham Sing Nongkynrih
The Word: Selection from Echolocation – Mani Rao
Four Friends – Meena Alexander
Ass & Pandava – R Raj Rao
My Fat Aunt – Marilyn Noronha
During Breakfast – Ravi Shankar
Speaking a Dead Language – Ranjit Hoskote
Remember Icarus – Aditi Thorat
Jacket on a Chair – Sudeep Sen
Rangzen: Exile House – Tenzin Tsendue
Notes on Chris Hani's Funeral – Vivek Narayan
Diwali (Bundi, Rajasthan) – Barry Scott
Will You Let Me Write – Mythri Surendra
Life of the Imgination – Moeen Faruqi
The Inquisition – Santan Rodrigues
To Roethke – Anand Thakore
The House Next Door: for Phil Blosser – Saleem Peeradina
Stone-People from Lungertok – Temsula Ao
The Witness – Randhir Khare
To Baudelaire – Jeet Thayil
Rumi and the Reed – Taish Khair
From a Deep Dwelling – Steven Grieco
Sky Song – Mamang Dai
At the Rodin Museum – Tishani Doshi
Fire's Goal: For the Sage Sharabhanga – Laurie Patton

The book costs just fifty rupees. If you'd like a copy, please get in touch with Priya Sarukkai Chabria [surpriya34 AT gmail DOT com - you can tell her you got the address from me]. For those of you not in Pune, you may want to band together with other poetry lovers and make a consolidated order to save on postage. Caferati members in these cities, we suggest you get together with your city coordinators and pick up copies for the entire group.

I Can’t Figure Out Why Sathe Died

2007-10-20T23:40:00.000+05:30

Sathe worked in the Traffic Accounts department.

Last week I gave him a brochure to prepare.
He did a good job
And the neat pages were on my desk in a day,
Spiral-binding, figures, flags, all in place
And his featureless face
Hovering.
I thought of recommending his name
For a Railway Week award.
Good clerks are hard to come by.

Sathe usually ate lunch at the office,
His thin shoulder bones hunched up over his desk
Single-mindedly.
Maybe his wife was a good cook.
He definitely had a family.
I distinctly remember
Sanctioning an advance for a daughter’s wedding.

Sathe wore limp shirts of no colour
Yet perhaps his mind contained a palette.
I wouldn’t know
But it was possible.
Perhaps his wife wore blue to please him.
Perhaps he ached for the red soil of his village.
Perhaps he collected match-boxes.

Sathe’s death was in the local papers, on the ‘city’ page.
It didn’t cause much of a ripple.
Some people had killed some other people
And a few bystanders.
We held a Condolence Meeting.
I fast tracked the death-in-harness payments.

I can’t figure out, though, why Sathe died.

© Susmita Srivastava.

The Shakti Bhatt Foundation announces the inaugural 2008 Shakti Bhatt First Book Prize

2007-09-22T17:27:00.000+05:30

Sept 27, 2007
7 PM
Charbagh, British Council

September 27 would have been the writer and editor Shakti Bhatt's 27th birthday. To celebrate the occasion, her friends will read from her work and remember her with poetry, short fiction, and music.

The Shakti Bhatt Foundation will announce the inaugural 2008 Shakti Bhatt First Book Prize.

All are welcome.

==

The Shakti Bhatt Foundation is a non-profit trust set up by her family to keep her memory alive. It wishes to reward first-time authors of all ages.

THE SHAKTI BHATT FOUNDATION
announces the inaugural

2008 Shakti Bhatt First Book Prize

The Shakti Bhatt First Book Prize is a cash award of one lakh rupees.

A 3-member panel of judges will shortlist entries. The 2008 panel of judges includes William Dalrymple and Kamila Shamsie.

We invite entries in the following genres: poetry, fiction, creative non-fiction (travel writing, autobiography, biography, and narrative journalism) and drama.

Open to first-time authors of all ages.
The book must be published between June 1, 2007 and June 30, 2008.
Only books published in India are eligible.
Publications must be in English or translated into English from an Indian language.
Vanity press publications are ineligible.

Deadline for entries is July 15, 2008.

Jeet will be happy to answer specific questions.

If you would like the mailing address of the foundation, to send in your book, or if you have queries for Jeet, please leave a comment with your email address here.

The Kural

2007-09-19T19:09:00.000+05:30

There is a form of poetry called the kural in Tamil. It is best known by the classic Thirukural, a book of 1330 kurals written by Valluvar in the 1st century BC. A kural is a poem of seven words, four in the first line and three in the second, and addresses a wide variety of subjects. The first (and most famous) kural is

"Agara mudala ezhuthellam adhi
bagavan mudatrae ulagu."

A-kara (the letter a) is the first of all writing
God is the first of all being.

One feature peculiar to Tamil compared to English is that two words can be merged into one, while they must be hyphenated in English, whicha allows the seven-word rule to be applied rigidly.

Here's a link for more information.

In reply, David Israel said

The Wikipedia item about the Kural points, in turn, to Venpa for a discussion of the metrical form used by the Kural.

It is explained to be this sequence—
cheer cheer cheer cheer
cheer cheer eetru-cheer
mdash;where "cheer" is explained to be roughtly equivalent (in effect) to the English iamb. My question: what is the eetru cheer roughly equivalent to, in terms of English prosody? Also, besides just the metrical verse form, what should one know about the formal grammar of the sentence?

Establishing that, it could be possible to attempt writing
something like an English Kural, maybe. :-)

Ozymandias replied:

The kural is a form of venpa poetry, consisting of 1 and 3/4th feet. Venpa can go upto 11 and 3/4th feet.

The basic Tamil poetic unit is the asai, which can be can be monosyllabic (ner) or bisyllabic (nirai). 1-4 asais make a cheer, though 4-asai cheers are not used in venpa poetry.

Four cheers make a foot or 'adi', which is the line of the poem. A a venpa poem is one where the last line is just 3/4th foot (eetr-adi). An eetru-cheer is a truncated cheer.

1-asai cheers: These can only occur in the end, and that too they must be either a naal (1 long vowel) or a malar (2 short vowels).

2-asai cheers: 4 types are possible (nerner, nernirai, nirainer, nirainirai) and all are allowed except in the last cheer. The last cheer (which is truncated) must be either naal-short (long-short) or malar-short (short-short-short).

3-asai cheers: Though 8 types of asai combinations are possible, only the nirai-X-ner cheer and ner-X-nirai cheer are allowed. Both long and short vowel ners and nirais are allowed.

Three rules govern the assembly of cheers:

a)X-ner must be followed by nirai-X or nirai-X-ner.
b)X-nirai must be followed by ner-X or ner-X-nirai.
c)nirai-X-ner must be followed by ner-X or ner-X-nirai.

I hope with these rules once can make up an English venpa quite easily.

© Ozymandias.

The Keh-Mukarni

2007-09-19T14:07:00.000+05:30

The "Say-and-Deny" Riddles of Khusrau

Keh (say) Mukarni (denial) is an interesting genre of riddles played between two young women, where one of them describes something in a way that it is mistaken by the other girl as a reference to the first girl's beloved, but which finally turns out to be something completely different.

Here are a couple of examples from Amir Khusrau himself.

Lipat lipat kay wa-kay soyee,
Chhaati say chhaati lagakay royee,
Daant say daant bajay to taada.
Aye sakhi saajan? Na sakhi jaada!

(Cuddled up in his arms she slept,
Bosoms pressed against each other, she sobbed,
When the teeth started clattering, she saw.
Was it the beloved? No my dear. Winter!)

Oonchi ataari palang bichhayo,
Main soyi meray sir par aayo;
Khul gayin ankhiyan bhayi anand,
Aye sakhi saajan? Na sakhi Chand!

(Had my bed on the roof top,
and was off to sleep, when he came;
Could not sleep any further, it was such a pleasure.
Was it the beloved? No dear, it was the moon!)

© Manjul Bajaj.

Manjul Bajaj's "Modern Day Keh Mukranis."
David Raphael Israel's Keh Mukarni thread (open to contributions from other writers).

The Anthadi

2007-09-19T13:56:00.000+05:30

As the name suggests (Antha- End, Adi- Beginning), the last word of the first verse forms the first word of the second.

An example is a famous poem in Tamil composed of 100 verses, Abirami Anthadi, dedicated to the goddess Abirami, the deity in the southern temple of Thiru Kadayoor in Tamilnadu.

Found a translation of the verses in a site (as usual, something is lost in translation, but it suffices as an example):

First two verses:

1
She who has the reddish sun as a tilaka,
She who is the red gem for those who understand her and worship,
She who is like the tender bud of pomegranate,
She who is the first ray of lightning,
She who is the reddish liquid made of saffron,
She who is like the Lakshmi sitting on red lotus,
She only is my life�s all help.

2
Help thine is needed from thee,
Oh, most beautiful one in the three cities,
Who has the cool flowers as her arrows,
Who uses the sweet cane for her bow,
And who has the rope and the ankusha in her hand,
To know that you are in the Vedas,
And in its different branches,
And as holy drops in Upanishads,
And as Pranava in its roots,.
And Oh mother, make me realize.

The same form of the word need not be used; as in if "help" is the last word in the first verse, "helped" can be the first word in the next. This serves to give some latitude for composition.

The last word of the last verse, will be the first word of the first, completing the entire cycle.

There are other Anthadis, dedicated to other gods will try to find those examples too.

Someday, a medium would be found, where we can translate everything, the beauty, the piety without losing those essential qualities. Till then...

Link to Sridala's anthadi.

© Sruthi Krishnan.

The Ghazal

2007-09-17T07:40:00.001+05:30

What is a ghazal?

For the uninitiated (like me, so forgive me, oh scholarly ones, if I mess up any of this explanation), here are the basics.

• A short poem of between five and fifteen couplets in the same metre.

• Always opens with a rhyming couplet called matla. The opening couplet of the ghazal is always representative. It sets the mood and tone.

• The rhyme of the opening couplet is repeated in the second line of the other verses. So, the rhyming pattern is AA, BA, CA, DA, and so on. But it's not that simple.

• The entire ghazal uses the same rhyme and refrain. The rhyme (called the qaafiyaa) must always immediately precede the refrain (or radif). The refrain may be a word or phrase.

• Each couplet is a unit which can stand on its own, as a sher in its own right.

• There can be no enjambement across the couplets in a strict ghazal; each couplet must be a complete sentence (or several sentences) in itself.

• In the maqta, which is the last sher of a ghazal, the poet's takhallus, or pen name, traditionally appears, often in very creative ways.

This is what a ghazal looks like:

Couplet one:

------------------------------ rhyme A (Qaafiyaa)+ refrain (Radif)
------------------------------ rhyme A (Qaafiyaa)+ refrain (Radif)

Couplet Two, Three, & so on:

---------------------------------------------------------------
------------------------------ rhyme A (Qaafiyaa)+ refrain (Radif)

References and further reading (Some of these did not appear in the original post)

(Thanks Annie, who suggested this exercise, and provided the first three links.)

What is a Ghazal? by Abhay Avachat

Elements of a Ghazal, in Urdu Poetry Archive

Urdu Ghazal: an introduction, by K C Kanda in Urdu Poetry Archive

Agha Shahid Ali (1949-2001 a Kashmiri-American poet who wrote original ghazals in English, and translated Faiz Ahmed Faiz)

Basic Points about the Ghazal, by Agha Shahid Ali

The Wikipedia Ghazal page

Jeet Thayil's Ghazal in Salt Magazine.

That Bastard Ghazal, by Andy Weaver, in Poetics.ca

The Ghazal: An Inevitable Unity, by Jenny Burdge in Trilopia

The link to the original post, below, will take you to a Ghazal exercise on the forum.