Соннет Мондал: «Индия — страна, где стихи пишутся более чем на сотне языков» Sonnet Mondal: India is a country where poetry is written in over a hundred languages

Sonnet Mondal: India is a country where poetry is written in over a hundred languages

Contemporary Indian poetry is written in more than 100 languages and has originated from various traditions. Sonnet Mondal is a curator of one of the largest Indian poetry festivals and an editor of the international poetry magazine Verseville. The editor-in-chief of RADAR Maria Malinovskaya talked with Sonnet Mondal about the diversity of Indian poetry, ghosts of the past and his choice of the poets for the current issue.

.

Q: Sonnet, you are known as a poet, an editor of an international poetry magazine, and an organizer of a major poetry festival. How do you combine all this? Is it possible to make a living in India being an editor of a literary magazine, or do you have any other occupation apart from literary work?

.

A: Negating the passage of time, it is our willpower that fixes and strengthens our life events, and an unwavering, intense, and tenacious passion for the things we admire — reinforces our resolve. I don’t think I have enough time to manage all of these responsibilities alone, but I have enough willpower to keep going. My love of poetry, I believe, is what allows and energizes me to continue working on my creative projects. It goes without saying that every large organizational effort must be sustained through effective teamwork. I am fortunate to have a great team of literary-oriented folks and friends that work tirelessly to keep everything running smoothly. In India, it’s tough to make a living from literary endeavors, especially when it’s only poetry, and I believe the same is true in other areas of the world. I do have a daily work that I have to manage along with these activities.

.

The Answer
.

A dry land seeking liberty
to get drenched wonders
about the quiet after this storm.

The roads are familiar to it.
The smell of the air isn’t.

The trees no longer liaise.
Their commitments are done.

Does the new rephrasing require us?

An empty bowl falls on the floor —

the sound seems familiar.

It was there in the quiet
before the storm.

.

.

Q: How did you start writing poetry?

.

A: I don’t recall any specific incident that prompted me to begin my poetry journey, but it was around 2005 when I penned my first complete poem. My interest in poetry stemmed from a need to write—to find a place to put the stories I’ve been carrying around in my head. Perhaps composing poetry has aided me in putting my life stories on paper, which I return to time and time again. In this chasing world, we are surrounded by two layers of smoke: one from the pollution that obscures our view of the stars, and another from the fast-burning lives that prevent us from looking up at those stars. Poetry has provided a welcome break in these moments, allowing me to reflect on my past, look up to the infinite, and realize how far I’ve come in life.

.

Q: How has your writing been changing? Have there been any radical changes in poetics or your views on how to write?

.

A: With time, life changes and priorities shift. My writing has been the reflection of my life, its shadows, identity, philosophical exchanges, and the intensity of my lived experience. If someone follows my writings over the years, I believe this is evident. While the way of thinking remains the same, the exploration of the space between loneliness at night and ghosts of the past have evolved the intensity of my thinking to find out what more is possible, and whether that possible stuff has anything to do with my encounters and interests.

.

.

Q: In your poems, there’s often a reflection on loss. Why is that? What is that loss — since it’s no longer a particular thing but one of the core concepts of your poetry?

.

A: To me, loss is something that compels you to come back to it and depart with new thoughts. I frequently strive to encapsulate satire and sorrow when contemplating losses — mourning both for the dead and the living; the gone days and the present. We meet certain people on our journey and then never see them again — a reminiscence, sometimes filled with joy, sometimes with sadness. I’ve also lived in numerous areas in India and moved into a variety of homes, some of which I may never see again. I still retain a nostalgic connection to every area I’ve visited and every particular person I’ve met. It keeps me awake at night, and I attempt to offer them a place to call home in my writing. To document this sense of loss, I strive to communicate with my environment more through poetry.

.

An Afternoon in My Mind

.

I don’t remember much about waiting

for the bus to my mother’s village
or how we made summer tolerable

while waiting for trains to the cities.

.

They were like the ignited wick of a cracker

stripping me of my patience.

But like a clogging bunch of thaw

in the flowing canal of my memories—

.

I have this photo of catching fish

with Mama, Bhai
and Dadu—the stoutest one there

holding the fly rod.

The ecstasy still lies in the frame

but uncle and grandpa have passed away.

.

The fishes we caught that day

still flutter in my mind.

The pond must be
keeping our reflections safe—

somewhere in its water

captured by the late afternoon light.

.

.

Note:

Mama, Bhai and Dadu: Maternal uncle, brother and grandfather in Bengali

.

.

Q: You are a participant in poetry festivals in Macedonia, Ireland, Turkey, Nicaragua, Sri Lanka, Germany, Italy, Ukraine, Hungary, Slovakia, and your poems are translated into many languages. How did your international poetry career start? At what point did you go beyond the Indian literary environment and what helped that?

.

A: It began in Macedonia in 2014. I was going through a difficult time in my life, and this tour introduced me to poets and poetry that helped me get through it. In the words of Adonis, «I come from a land …. Where poetry is like a tree which watches over man and where poet is a guard who understands the rhythm of the world.» Perhaps to better comprehend this rhythm, I began to travel more and more to match the beat of my everyday life with civilizations from all over the world.

.

.

Q: As a poet and as a person, what do you obtain from participating in international festivals? Are there any countries, cultures, or particular foreign poets who influenced your writing?

.

A: In the world of verse, literary traditions differ from place to place. The style, intellectual process, sincere yearnings, sensuality, and approach to realism differ. I live in a world that is so different that it never ceases to surprise me by bringing me near to people and cultures from whom I am reminded of how small but unending this journey is. I’d rather not say anything specific here, but I owe something to everyone I’ve met and every place I’ve been, and I attempt to repay them through poetry. This has kept my poetry and me alive.

.

.

Q: And what about Indian poets? Which of your contemporaries or predecessors are important to you and how?

.

A: It’s tough to narrow down a few poets, let alone explain their influence on me, India is the only country where poetry is written in over a hundred languages. It would be tough to even draw an abstract in such a short space. The cultural, political, and spiritual significance of the territories they inhabit, are some aspects that interest me among my contemporaries.

.

Q: If we take Indian poetry that is recognized and sought after in the global literary context, — which tradition or traditions does it grow out of?

.

A: The most important and well-known Indian poems, from a worldwide perspective, are those that highlight the cultural, political, and spiritual significance of the areas they usually inhabit, as well as those that offer novel perspectives on the common Indian’s everyday existence. Indian poems that originate from the land, those that smell of the soil, rather than those that offer generic sentiments in the face of a lowering day, have always piqued the interest of the international community.

.

A Breeze From My Childhood

.

.

It was during an afternoon

in my summer vacation

when my mother made me a few small clay figures—

and painted them with a red dye.

.

The bargain was I should bathe

in the well and eat my lunch

before I could have those clay toys.

.

My toys, placed at the edge of a charpoy
fell off and broke as I was executing the deal

with some rice and curry in my mouth.

.

From a distance, I felt water splashing

over the freshly painted walls of my mind.

The dye was the colour of my thoughts.

Like a glint vanishing through rolling wheels—
after decades now, I wonder

about the exact point when I grew up
and about the exact point I would grow old.

.

I am still at some distance, and I can see

the walls of my house falling off

like those clay toys made by my mother.

.

I feel an air cooling my shadow.

It must be travelling from the meadows

surrounding my childhood home.

.

Q: Contemporary Indian poetry: what is it like? What are its main differences from contemporary European poetry, for example?

.

A: These world regions have distinct political, historical, and cultural dynamics. As a result, the themes that emerge from India will be vastly different from those that emerge from Europe. The unwavering desire to discover and go beyond borders, which is frequently fascinating, is what binds us together. Indians, in my view, frequently use more complex philosophical reasoning, translucent textures, and startling imagery that foreigners may find puzzling until they travel to India and gain some experience living there. While we now live in a globalized world, the distinctions in poetry writing styles may be traced back to the origins and everyday lifestyles of Europe and India, which are again distinct. In addition, if I may say, the roots of different regions in Europe and India vary. While reading poetry from different countries in Europe or different regions of India, it is always like going into another culture and traveling inside your mind.

.

.

Q: What is the Indian literary environment like? It looks like there are lots of poets in India. Are there really? Is the Indian poetry community hierarchic or horizontal? Is it separated into many smaller communities, and if yes, on which grounds? Which curators or institutions determine the value of particular writing?

.

A: The Indian literary environment is vibrant with possibly the largest number of litfests at present than any other country. There are several opportunities, but the majority of them are not transparent, and there are also numerous individuals who write poetry. In diverse regions of India, the poetry community is neither hierarchical nor horizontal, but rather a blend of both. Although there are no apparent communities, there are groups that are split by internal ideology. There are no good poetry readers or editors working for India’s major publishing houses. In India, independent publishers are responsible for the majority of good poetry collections. Determining what is truly good remains critical to a newcomer’s career, and reading more contemporary poetry is the only way to develop the skill to detect and differentiate.

.

.

Expectations

.

I wonder if a dung beetle can ever stop rolling
or a woodpecker hammering a house

ever indulge in a soft kiss.

Doing away with expectations floating as planktons

around an abandoned ship, I wonder if they can ever

inspire a story of extreme opinions

like flamingos in front of a pastel twilight.
.

Re-enacting the labours of my thoughts, I feel—
the daily farmyard of my life needs to be mucked up
as the reaper of my life tries to plough
the meditative stretch of my reasoning

from the burning Sahara

to my repose in the silence of tree hollows.

.

.

Q: Is there some kind of marginal, but not second-rate contemporary Indian poetry? Any weird stuff not fitting into any context? Are there any freak poets?

.

A: I’d just like to point out that, even though India’s poetry scene is small, good poetry is recognized, even if it’s late. Strange things can be found anywhere. India is no exception when it comes to poetry.

.

.

Q: Could you please talk about your work at Verseville and about the festival you curate?

.

A: The journey with Verseville is now thirteen years old. The magazine has sustained various phases of changes, and I have remained one of the constants in it looking after its survival. I am happy with the way guest editors have presented so many lovely poets in its past editions, and we hope to present more in times to come. About Chair Poetry Evenings — Kolkata’s International Poetry Festival, is a joint effort of the team behind Chair Literary Trust, to present poets from all around the globe in an annual literary event solely dedicated to poetry in the cultural capital of India. The festival which started in 2018, has already presented four successful editions with plans for years to come. Both Verseville and Chair Poetry Evenings are not solely curated by me. It’s a big team effort that has sustained it so far.

.

.

Q: For RADAR #2 India, you’ve suggested a few poets. Why did you choose them out of all others? As the guest editor of this issue, what exactly in Indian​​ poetry would you like your Russian readers to see or understand?

.

A: It was a difficult task to narrow down to just four poets, and I regret not being able to include so many other poets whose work I enjoy and admire. However, because we must always respect the space we have, I have tried to choose four poets who are active in the contemporary world of Indian poetry, who hail from various regions of India, who have seen Indian poetry from abroad, and who have been actively involved in the worlds of writing, translating, and publishing poetry. ​

.

.

Grandpa’s Veranda

.

Grandpa used to sit on a protruding part

of the veranda of our old house.

In subtle hesitancy, he used to nod

to known people walking by—

ploughing time—watching across the road.

During his last days, I remember him

mostly staying in the bed where

he had slept for more than six decades.

.

These days, I sit often in the new open balcony

of our house. A few people wave at me.

A few smile and some just walk by.

.

I will be sitting here till these people remain

just as grandpa still sits in his veranda

in the eyes of those who have seen him there.

.

An inescapable view of places we inhabit—

an inconsolable coffin—much before we depart.

.

.

________

.

The interview is illustrated with the poems from Sonnet Mondal’s new book An Afternoon in my Mind (Copper Coin, 2021).

.