“I’ve known rivers:
I’ve known rivers ancient as the world and older than the
flow of human blood in human veins.”

(‘The Negro Speaks of Rivers’)

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American poet Langston Hughes wrote the poem “The Negro Speaks of Rivers” nearly a century ago, where he emancipates himself as his soul ‘has grown deep like the rivers’. Tamil poetess Lakshmi Kannan’s Nadistuti is of the rivers and for the rivers flowing deep at our heart. Here the poet uses rivers of India as metaphors for women’s lives and their bodies. Rivers change from dry to full in seasons, like a female body.

Lakshmi is never bluntly sensuous. Around her, there is a mother’s presence. Her poetry is not hardcore confessional like many of her contemporaries writing from different spaces. Her multicultural roots are a vital dose of her fascinating corpus. Dedicated to the great Jayanta Mahapatra, this collection is a house of poems where we become so engaged that we lose our sense of time:

“What’s the matter, neem tree,

Guarding the front of our

house, have you lost your sense of time?” (‘14 April, 2020’)

Lakshmi owns a space by her labour’s stir. With a strange note sometimes, she can afford to be lost. Sometimes self-humbling anonymity is a prize. The poet invokes the rivers inside her closed eyes breathlessly but sublimely. The book cover takes us to Ganga Aarti at the Dashahwamedh Ghat in Varanasi, where the evening Aarti is performed by the brass lamps, which are accompanied by the mantra chant in the presence of a huge devotional crowd. Lakshmi poeticises this magical euphoria through a language that is subtle, quiet, and delicate. Her poem on the ‘Blue God’ refers to the Kumbh Mela, a pilgrimage in Hinduism. The seasoned poet, writing since her teens, looks at Sindhu as a historical river that ‘birthed a nation.’. Deeply rooted in the myths of India, Lakshmi describes the Indus referring to significant deities, Parvati, Meenakshi, Rama, etc. Her poem ‘Snake Woman’ explores the Indian cult of Nagapuja in order to please the snakes. Indian secret scriptures are replete with references to snakes and snake gods. The nocturnal experience as described in the poem is rich with extraordinary poetic embellishments and Indian imagination of female snake gods and some human-snake forms.

“…a red dot shining on its brow

Mother watched fascinated yet fearful.”

Indian English poetry is at its best when it delves into the myths of the land and its people. Our poets are blessed to have numerous cultures, languages, and myths as their baggage. They are never bored with one culture, one language. With her rich Tamil roots and her vibrant links with other Indian cultures, Lakshmi breathes a confluence of histories and traditions through an idiom that is her own.

The poem ‘In Search of Father’s Garden’ is inspired by African woman writer Alice Walker’s In Search of Our Mother’s Garden, where she captures the voices of unsung heroines” with whom she has crossed paths:

“Go, search for your mother’s garden

said famously, a black American writer

making it a metaphor for feminist rights.” (‘In Search of Father’s Garden’)

Material, cultural, and theoretical changes are becoming prominent in modern Indian society. Lakshmi uncovers the grief caused by the grip of urban expansion and material promontory.

The contemporary Indian English poetry has some multilayered perspectives. Poets of the contemporary age have made use of the emotional baseline of poetry and started a new tone, where life has been re-examined with a topical outlook. Lakshmi Kannan’s poem ‘Yellow Roses’ is a beautiful testimony to that:

“She smiles

and buried her face in them

They spoke to her softly.”

Indian traditions and deep-seated values flow in her ink; her poems are rare gifts of love for Indian rivers with unquiet waters.

 “I’m on my way, Mother

very soon I’ll be submerged by your waters

dissolving my multiple names (.)” (‘Kaveri’)

Her poem ‘High and Dry’ is about the river Gomti, a tributary of the Ganges. According to Hindu belief, the river is the daughter of sage Vasishtha, a revered Vedic rishi:

“When you’re quiet and acquiescent Gomti

you’re left high and dry.”

In a tropical country like India, flooding in monsoons is very common. The poet describes floods in Gomti through a set of sparkling metaphors:

“Gomti, it’s only when you swell and rise in fury

Every few years,

It’s when you lash against bridges, embankments,

shaking up the whole of Avadi (.)”

Lakshmi’s rivers are no blur of a woman; they keep histories alive.

This collection of poems pitches the reader between the fresh light of longing for an intense life and the dark dead. Many of these river poems powerfully evoke the cleansing and healing effects in the reader:

“Isvara, his beak clean

Felt completely satiated

By the fruit he never ate.” (‘Jiva and Isvara’)

‘Naman’ to ‘Fireside,’ all five sections are a curious read where we meet a sangam of awakened thoughts and perspectives of the world of senses and sensibilities. The word ‘naman’ means ‘to bow down,’ and the poet bows down to rivers of Indian life. Though the poet speaks of northern rivers and one southern river (Kaveri), it is a trope that includes the whole topography of the country. Chamundi Hills stand tall among rivers and together make her poems so attractive that we want to visit again and again. Some poems are of hope, brightness, and promises; pearl drops follow in close succession.

Come, read Lakshmi’s poems now. The rest is a ghazal!

The reviewer is principal, New Alipore College, Kolkata, and president, Guild of Indian English Writers, Editors and Critics (GIEWEC)

Spotlight

Nadistuti

By Lakshmi Kannan

Authorspress, New Delhi, 2023

 102 pages, Rs 495/-