Jayanta Mahapatra is one of those early canon-making Indian poets with whom Indian English poetry established its identity and integrity. His poems give us a whole semiotics of life’s bare face with the outside world, making them candid yet indirect reflections of the hard times we live in.

For Jayanta Mahapatra, a good poem is a movement in life, and a “good” poem always prepares the readers for the condition of music. Plainly speaking, it takes us from the level we are at to a higher stratum, like music.

“Another day of waiting out, wondering

About our poets and what they are

Going to say about us (.)” (‘Possessions’, Noon: New and Selected Poems, p. 59)

Scent of Rain is a fitting tribute to Jayanta Mahapatra, who supported poetry by the young and old with maximum beneficence. Mumbai-based noted poet and political scientist Ashwani Kumar’s anthology is redolent with the poet’s relationships with people living in small towns and villages, rivers passing by, and ruins of the past. At various levels, all these are his uneven catalogues of poetry. Veteran poet Adil Jussawala pursues his poem beautifully for Jayanta Mahapatra:

“The garden’s earth yawns,

It has a pink tongue. It has ears.” (‘The Garden’s Earth Yawns’, p. 15)

Written for more than five decades, Mahapatra’s amazing scope and variety engage us profoundly and compel us to return to them again and again. Mahapatra’s poetry is sensuous; it breathes with its body and the local. Adil tries to capture Mahapatra’s feelings and the form immaculately.

Noted writer Anamika dedicates her poem faithfully:

“Aged mountains bless trees

With longevity.

Plants know to say nothing

They know to be, to be quiet.” (‘Silence Roars’, p. 21)

Nature has long been the muse of many famous and aspiring writers from different lands and cultural contexts who map human instincts and feelings poignantly. They are mapmakers for the human race. Jayanta Mahapatra is one of them. Robin Nagangom, a significant soul-maker from the North East of India, describes his feelings for Mahapatra and his vision in his poem ‘Days’,

“After Sunday prayers fall silent

And bells fade away in the hills.” (p. 178)

Many of Robin’s early works were published in the Chandrabhaga, edited by Jayanta Mahapatra.

The quiet house of poetry is quieter now. Memory comes silently and soothingly. Noted poet Sudeep Sen gives a vivid pen picture of Mahapatra’s intimacy with quiet music of the age and art, even when poetry is not advised to read and write:

“Words come gently on paper, slowly ripening

Like mangos, green to amber, or orange to red.”

(‘The Gentleness of Memory’, p. 231)

Mahapatra’s material descriptions of the indigenous landscape and people dwelling therein are accompanied by his historical vision, making them a fascinating gift. Sonnet Mondal’s dedication, ‘Grandpa’s Veranda’  reminds us of Jayanta Mahapatra’s iconic poem on his grandfather:

“Grandpa used to sit on a protrusion

of the veranda in our old house.

He used to nod subtly

to acquaintances walking by—“ (p. 223)

After Jayanta Mahapatra’s demise, unwarranted solitude patrols Tinkonia Bagicha, Cuttack. The city is not extravagant with sunlight. Extraordinary Bibhu Padhi arrests the moment with his beguilingly lucid words,

“Keep the priests away, weep like a child

I am sure, the long-lost god

shall appear behind your tears,

and ready for compromise.” (‘Puri’, p. 60)

Cuttack-born, prolific, and inward-looking poet Bibhu Padhi approximates his feelings of loss with the sea’s patience and the rock-cut wheels of Konarak. Bibhu Padhi’s poem is a collage of varied impressions and psychological imprints at multiple levels.

Poetry for Mahapatra is a door to reaching out to the hearts of his countrymen. His poems capture the fuzzy differences between absence and presence, arrivals and departures, shadow spaces between objects, and spells of rain on rites. Ashwani Kumar, the editor, in his dedication, compares Mahapatra with the great Chilean poet Pablo Neruda, whom Mahapatra considered a champion artist:

“I can’t tell you everything

But I often hear Pablo’s voice between memory and time.”

(‘Pablo Neruda in Gaya’, p. 50)

Mahapatra was a mentor for many poets, critics, and translators. Jamshedpur-based poetess and one of the curators of Hearth Within, Basudhara Roy, elegantly writes of Mahapatra’s fascination for rivers. Mahanadi is his source for poetic thoughts and feelings.

“I have returned every night to a river

which has preserved in her meanders

the pinnate stories of my youth. (‘Rehabilitation’, p. 56)

Basudhara records her indebtedness to Jayanta Mahapatra.

Jayanta Mahapatra’s training in physics made him cerebral, straight-thinking, law-bound, specific, precise, cryptic, and terse. His idioms are rich with the flavour of his culture and traditions. He writes poetry that is intensely personal and fits within the parameters of contemporary world poetry written in different cultures. According to Sahitya Akademi award-winning author Arundhathi Subramaniam,

“At first

it’s nostalgia—

a downpour of kisses

under a weeping umbrella.” (‘A First Monsoon Again’, p. 40)

Like many other Indian English poets from Orissa, ‘rain’ is Mahapatra’s one of the stock images. Arundhathi’s love without a story captures Mahapatra’s fascination for the monsoon rain.

Shiva Prakash translates from his poem Kannada:

“I am your translator

Let me translate your untimely tears (.)” (‘I Am Your Translator’, p. 82)

Mahapatra’s poems are like healing herbs. All his followers are translators of his hope, zeal and longings.

Noted author Mani Rao in the poem ‘Chandrabhaga’ expresses her longing for Mahapatra and his art,

“In the shadow

of the moon

See you again.“ (p. 137)

We wait for the timer’s wondering self. We keep longing. Scent of Rain is Sahitya Akademi award-winning poet Jayanta Mahapatra’s linkage with the world of poetry and his poet-followers in the truest sense. His magazine, Chandrabhaga, played an important role in literary canon-making in India and beyond.

Many of the poets included in Scent of Rain had personal relationships with Jayanta Mahapatra and his family. Many visited his residence in Cuttack in different seasons. Many poets and scholars of poetry have handwritten letters in their personal treasuries. All of them hold his silent yet subtle moves. His encouragement is a vital dose for aspiring minds. Urna Bose translates her sincere feelings in the poem ‘Sorrow’,

“Cast a spell on you; hold your free will captive

a dark addiction, on such black onyx mornings.” (p. 248)

Repeat to the left; repeat to the right. Urna unfurls how sorrow sits at the edge of the bed. Jayanta-da is no more, and we miss him. We remember him repeating many times, ”Love is as strong as death.” No wind, no storm, can wither away the love of a great poet. He knew the magic of living and the joy of longing.

Scent of Rain is about remembering the writer and his craft. Jayanta Mahapatra’s publications and appearances in seminal poetry journals and magazines all over the world carved a prominent space for Indian English poetry in the 1970s. With a writing career spanning more than five decades, his poetry engages us profoundly and compels us to return to it again and again. This sublime anthology with 189 poets records how our hands meet, parts, and dreams, like faith-making flower-boats of relationships. There are no tears!

The reviewer is principal, New Alipore College, Kolkata

Scent of Rain: Remembering Jayanta Mahapatra

Edited by Ashwani Kumar

Red River, Chennai, 2024

290 pages, Rs 499/-