Teesta Review: A Journal of Poetry, Volume 3, Number 1. May 2020. ISSN: 2581-7094
We All are ‘Siamese Twins’ : a Review of Sita’s Sisters
Sita’s
Sisters: Sanjukta Dasgupta, Hawakal Publishers, Nov, 2019.
pp 80.
ISBN 978-93-87883-89-5
Sita’s Sisters is the 6th volume of
poems by Sanjukta Dasgupta. The volume is a strong socio-political statement and
is a scathing critique of patriarchy and a strong comment on some national
issues. She explains the title quite self-consciously in the introduction to
the volume titled “ A Preamble…”
“I feel the battle for gender equality
and gender justice will have to go on, in a resolute and concerted manner, till
the battle is won, no matter how long it may take .After all, unlike a man, a
woman can be destroyed but not defeated.”
She had stated in the ‘Preface’ to her
fifth volume of poems Laskhmi Unbound that the poems in that volume could be
read as “as poems of resistance”, but she would like to urge her readers, she
continues, “to read these poems as texts of resistance and resilience,
confidently gesturing towards inevitable social change.”
There are 40 well -crafted poems in the
volume with metaphoric crockery of realistic images, poems with line breaks, partial rhymes,
internal rhymes, end rhymes, oxymorons,
epanaphora that makes their presence strongly felt , accent grouping , alliterations, all cast in
a modern diction that makes reading the collection of poems never a dreary
enterprise. As is evident in the title the book and also her explication, most
of the poems in the volume are overtly feminist which articulate characteristic
feminist concerns. On the onset, I would like
to congratulate the poet for not shying away from the feminist label as
some poets or celebrities prefer to, under the pretext of ‘humanism’ or
‘postfeminism’ thereby denying the very roots of existence and allowing masks that are not compulsory and we witness
such stances often shifting.
I
no longer feel I’m Mamta Kalia
I
am Kamala
Or
Vimala
Or
Kanta or Shanta
I
cook, I wash
I
bear , I rear,
I
nag, I wag,
I
sulk, I say
…
The
woman may bear any name but the quandary remains. Likewise, Dasgupta’s poem speaks of “Rita , Mita,
Arpita, Sumita, Rinita, Lolita, Bonita, Anita, Sunita, Sucheta…” The dots are
suggestive that it is a non-exhaustive list, for there are
Thousands
and thousands of Sita’s sisters
Programmed
parrots
Pathetic
puppets
Remote
controlled robots (13)
We can almost touch the subdued anger in
the voice. The nameless ‘Pillion Rider’ who cooks “endlessly chopping,
churning, cooking …” pronounces unhesitant “my body is used by him…abused by
him.” (24) “Sita’s Lament” speaks of Sita’s sons Luva and Kusha and her lament
“I could never inspire them” (16) “Sita and The Golden Dear” recounts the scene
from Ramayana where Sita urges Ram to get her
the golden deer and concludes “male authors of the world’s patriarchal
epics blame/the bewitching femme fatales who seem bereft of shame.” (18) In “Sita
meets Lakshmi” Sita meets Lakshmi Unbound and steps out into the world “her
chains clattered to the ground”. Indian women have to bear the burnt of rigid
conservative norms and moral codes. The poem dreams of a liberation. “Binary”
is a wonderful acceptance of Alashkmi (the Lakhmi unbound), the untamed part of
the woman as a “Siamese twin” of Lakshmi, the favorable and accepted form of
the goddess of wealth. The “I” in Dasgupta is not a predominant preoccupation
in her poems as with the confessional poets. The poetic “I” is never at the
center in the poems pronouncing the predicament of women. The poetic persona
can, however, be closed into the poet, if we are keen, in poems like “Why I am
a Feminist”, “My Mothers’ Harmonium”, “Though Easter in Krakow”, “A Failed
Dream”. “Autumn” is a poignant poem of slow ageing and its acceptance. Dasgupta is nostalgic for once in “MY
Mother’s Harmonium” as she says she's
going to let her fingers dance old tunes on the old harmonium at night and in
"Although ..." we have a feel we are reading a private story. “You
only wanted tea, I wanted a new world," reveals her longing not only for
personal freedom, but also for a new realm.
There are poems on Kolkata, the city
which is the native place of the poet; “Calcutta/Kolakata”, “Two in One”, “Park
Street”, “Dumdum”. The poet is in love with the city and says “Kolkata is MY
city / Though I am a citizen of the world” (60) We may question the
capitalization of ‘MY’ without which the line would have been as emphatic. “The
Hunted” is about Nirbhaya gang rape of New Delhi in 2012 that had sent shock
waves across the country and forced our attention to the existing brutality of
rape culture in India and the nasty and medieval patriarchal mindset that comes
with it. “Why I am not a Humanist” is a statement probably a reaction, like we
all reacted in one way or another to Meryl Streep’s evasive “I am a humanist …I
am for nice easy balance” (cf. Meryl Streep on feminist question: 'I'm a
humanist', Ben Child The Guardian 2nd October, 2015) Feminism is not dead,
because the world still requires it and being a feminist is being a humanist.
The poem works around the framework of the Kamduni rape case in June 2013. A
culture that overlooks the deaths of the marginalized is taken up in “Who
Killed the Little Tribal Girl?”
A sentient poet does not conceivably
limit her views to the discriminations and brutalities singly against the
women. “Hunger” speaks of the disparity
between the lavish lifestyle of the wealthy and the extreme hunger of the poor.
The divide is also the burden of “Park Street”, for feminism seeks out equality
for all. “O My God “ and Rabindranath Tagore’s “Where the Mind is Without Fear”
are attempts to reread the poems in the present socio- political ambience. The
poet has a prayer: “Into that Hell of horror, O Unfortunate citizens/Let not my
country dive!” “150 Years Young” is a
tribute to Mahatma Gandhi and all who have been killed through intolerance as
is “Dhoti Dance.” The poem beautifully contrasts the challenges thrown to
choreographer by heroes in the secured ambience of movie shoots and the real
challenges the real heroes hurled on the road to national freedom against the
ruthless colonial powers. The title is a play on the popular song ‘lungi dance’
where Shahrukh Khan folds up his lungi to dance and beats some goons to elope with the girl of
his choice. Gandhi’s was a different dance, in the sense of freed movement, it
was satyagraha, it was non-violence, unlike the
photoshopped media hero’s choreographed steps it was
a dance of a ‘ frail old man’ who led the nation to freedom. “Protest”
brings out the absence of fearless protesting voices in a “strange automated
land” (76)
One dominant stylistic feature of the
volume that makes its presence strongly felt is epanaphora :
I
wish I was…
I
wish I could…
I
wish I could …
I
wish I could…
And swim
I
wish I could…(15)
Or
,
They
found nothing motivational
They
found nothing inspirational
They
found nothing aspirational (16)
Or
again,
She
was a furious doer
She
was a restless dreamer
She
was a tempest, a tornado
She
was the ruthless Redeemer
She
was not Bhadrakali
She
was Chamunda Kali the relentless slayer
She
was kali who haunted the burning ghats (25)
There are many such applications of
epanaphora across the span of 40 poems,
sometimes it takes on a bard like quality like:
Youth
was a time of great expectation
Youth
was a time of great disillusionment
Youth
was a time of trust deficit
Youth
was a time of trust deficit
Youth
was a time of emotional bankruptcy
Youth
was a time of trauma and hypocrisy
Youth
was a time when patriarchy threw off its masks and cloak (28)
From a poet who conveys message directly
like a timely served table tennis ball across a table we do not expect much
oxymorons, when they come, they surprise us, like “visible and invisible/
Internal and external” (33), Silence/ Howls voicelessly (30), from being /To
not being (30), from life /To lifeless (30) The epithets used are bold, almost
loud , “luscious green” ,”dreary wasteland” ,”whiplash stripes” “jet black
flying tresses”, “bright black halo” sometimes concise like “packed impact”.
Her fondness of playfulness with words is so abundantly evident throughout the
volume such as “fasted steadfastly” (24)
or in titles of poems like “Have Oil, Expect Turmoil”, or “Dress and Address”
that we are almost tempted to quote Johnson’s famous "A quibble is to
Shakespeare what luminous vapours are to the traveller". Like epanaphora,
the poet is rather fond of alliteration:
torture and torments (30) , “gruesome grostesque and gorgeous”(25)
“towering terrifying terminator” (26).
If brevity is the soul of wit, for
Dasgupta’s poems are never too long, the soul of her volume is intensity. Every
expression made is intensely made within the space she allows herself.
The volume is a treat for English
literature students who would immediately recognize the relate lines like “if
Autumn comes winter can’t be far behind, or smile at the unfailing satire in
Cows
cows
Blazing
bright
In
my country day and night.
Those acquainted with the recent
published poetry volumes will applaud the volume for a voice that is her very
much her own.