Teesta Review: A Journal of
Poetry, Volume 5, Number 2. November
2022. ISSN: 2581-7094
A Cup of Tea for Dad and Me
-- Arnis Silvia and Susheel K. Sharma
Introduction
Two poets of different
cultures and generations have come together to converse through poetry on the
various themes, such as: grief, equality and age. The chapter title ‘A cup of
tea for Dad and Me’ symbolises two things. One, ‘a cup of tea’ represents
shared moment, shared knowledge or shared understandings. It reflects our
dialogues and conversations which occurred in the form of poetry; poems and
response poems are tools for building shared understandings and co-creating new
meanings. Meanwhile, ‘for Dad and Me’ refers to intergenerational views and
understandings towards aspects of life, which represents both poets’ points of
view coming from two different generations (a woman in her 30s and a man in his
60s).
Employing duoethnography
methodology (see Sawyer & Norris, 2012), both poets construct meanings on
their own and then co-construct new meanings through their poems and responses.
There are six pairs of
poems in this chapter. The first three poems are written by Arnis Silvia, then
responded to by Susheel Sharma. The last three poems are composed by Susheel
Sharma, responded to by Arnis Silvia. For each pair of poems, both authors provide
their personal reflections. Discussions and insights are presented in the
following section.
974 KILOMETRES:
Poem and response
974 Kilometres
(by Arnis Silvia)
: Dad
How could I measure a distance when
near is far?
Homes are two dots on the map,
used to be twelve hours of journey
then restriction came in between
hearts are close, yet my hands
could not
touch your eyelids for one last
time
sky is as grey as your hair
as the sidewalks
as the tombstones
How could I measure time when
regret is timeless?
A phone call was a train I missed
to catch
Fifteen minutes later did I know
that your train won’t come back
I wish I could move back the clock
to hear your sorry and goodbye
don’t you have a lot to say
and little to pass on
I want that little, please
How could I measure life when life
is done?
Death was a lotto ticket you bought
with the money I save
for many years to come
And you won
This pandemic won
On a day as grey as sidewalks
as grey as tombstones,
you were gone.
You were my yardstick,
and now I lost count.
Tell me, Dad
How could I measure them all?
Miles Away (by
Susheel Sharma)
:Dad
in response to “974 Kilometres” by
Arnis Silvia
When I was trying to draw a map
To indicate my location on the sand
The water wave full of froth came
To wipe out all boundaries. It is
just
All yellow ground with black
patches
Here and there; the basalt rocks
are
covered with sand to give a feel
of comfort.
The bones of my grandfather hurt
me when I tried to ride his back.
Another wave comes to take away
One of my slippers. How will I go
Home with one bare foot? I count on
Your wisdom Dad and remain patient.
On the sand I felt I was in the
arms
Of my father beyond all
geographical
Boundaries; the sea returns my
slipper
A little away.
Without flesh and skin, a body is
no
More than yellowish, rock like
bones.
Another slightly larger wave comes
to
Soak me; I feel the taste of salt
in my mouth.
Why I can’t listen to your voice,
O father! Where are your lectures
on
Shakespearean tragedy and Whitman?
The storm ravages houses and men;
The sea is a killer. I have found a
pearl
In a sea-shell.
Tell me, Dad
how to measure a burn
In the heart and a thorn in the
mind.
Reflections
Arnis Silvia:
The poem reflects an immense
grief of a daughter whose father died of Covid-19 but could not see or talk to
him at his last moment. She missed the last call from her father, just 15
minutes before he was gone for good. She, who lived 974 kilometres away from
her dad, could not be sorrier and more disappointed that her dad whose love and
affirmation she needed the most, who also gave her childhood trauma, did not
pass on any message or keepsake when he left. She, who tried her best to
recover from her childhood wound, did not get the last sorry that she deserved
so much. Then she had to live saying sorry on behalf of her father to her very
self.
This poem speaks volume about how
far physical and emotional distance between parents and children affect
someone’s view of life and mental wellbeing. Emotional duality (sadness and
relief, hate and forgiveness, disappointment and compassion) as implied in this
poem might resonate with bitter realities of human emotions that never be
single-dimensioned.
Susheel Sharma:
The grief felt by the persona in
Arnis’s autobiographical poem is also the subject matter in my poem. However,
this is doubled in my poem as the persona recollects the memories of both the
grandfather and the father. The life goes on irrespective of birth and death.
The images taken from sea-shore indicate to the constant movement of life
irrespective of any mighty object, unconcerned with time and undaunted by the
glory of the people; the cyclic movement of the waves indicates to the
life-cycle of human beings, the disappearing signs on the sand indicate to the
erasure of memory. The time period of life is compared to the elapse of time
between two waves. The rushing movement of the sea-waves hints to the rushing
of memories associated with the grandfather and father. Thus, the distance
between three generations is not only physical but also fleeting in terms of
memories and elapsed time.
THE
DELAY: Poem and response
The Delay
(by Arnis Silvia)
The being stranded
and displaced
The being
pulled out from your roots
by unknown
hands;
Time morphs
into fireflies
your hands
cannot catch.
Numbers were flying off
of your planner
of your schedule
disappeared
into the night.
Clocks, stubborn
as your dreams
stopped ticking,
while sun rises
and sets.
Kokaboora makes
noises
-while you not.
Detainment caught
your steps
out of a long journey.
You stuttered
answering the whys
your mind interrogates
figuring ’til whens
your ability lasts
In the waiting room
words are bubbles
your head
could only blow.
Hands are checking
what have been unticked
Feelings are busy counting
what is less
than
losing
what is less
than
missing.
The Delay
(by Susheel Sharma)
: in response to “Delay” by Arnis
Silvia
The delay in getting up
disturbed the schedule
of reaching the railway
Station and, the train
Left me on the platform,
Stranded.
I am trying to dig out some
Notes to lead a pious life
Without burning sins and to
Treat the world as home.
Words are not transient
Bubbles.
The night soon comes to
Envelope me in sleep.
Chirping of birds yields to
Ticking of the clocks. Why do
I cry? Visions yield place to
Dreams.
My grandson catches hold
Of my kurta and cries to
Accompany me on the flight.
Flying planes can be dangerous.
I just assure him of an early
Return.
Stranded bubbles and dreams return;
But I miss your delays and smells
now.
Reflections
Arnis Silvia:
“Delay” is a poem representing a beyond-human-control situation like a quarter
life crisis. However good someone tries to control their life through plans,
there is apparently always something beyond that control. Like a proverb
saying, “man proposes, God disposes”, sometimes we can only accept what is
uncontrollable. There
comes a time when well-organized
and well-planned activities of the intelligent and capable human beings get
disrupted by greater circumstances. For people in their 30s
who are passing through the phase
of achievement, recognition, and competition, delay is more of a curse rather
than blessing. One disruption in life affects the ongoings of other plans and
timelines. It also gives a sense of getting missed out and left behind, which
leaves this group of people emotionally drained.
Susheel Sharma:
Arnis’ poem is sad as it is a sort
of continuation of her earlier poem. For me, the “delay” is good as one gets
some time to ponder over and reflect on one’s deeds/ mistakes when one arrives
late at the station and the train is missed. The persona in my poem, apparently
an old person, is contemplating on various kinds of delays and their
consequences that he has faced in his life. He enjoys his time by ruminating
over the past when he suffered the pangs of love while waiting for the late
beloved. Some of the delays cause some disruption because of which visions are
reduced to dreams. While some others become as memorable as the body-odour of
the beloved.
FORTRESS: Poem and
Response
Fortress
(by Arnis Silvia)
While you see me strong
This smile is not mine
I am wearing my mother’s, my
grandmother’s,
my great grandmother’s and women
before her
My face is a fortress - thick and
tall
A little girl inside me hides
within the wall
people stone me with shame and envy
dent me a little, exhaust them to
eternity
Our men are very good guests
come visit with an appointment,
leave the place with a notice.
You won’t find them in the
housekeeping chamber
nor them near the basement
A little boy inside them loves to
play outside
into the fortress he too comes to
hide
At nights I hang my smile like a
coat
Before I close my eyes,
I admit before the pictures
of my mother, my grandmother,
my great grandmother, and the women
before her
This smile is too hard to wear
My little soul cannot bear
Yet they yell back at me
just go to sleep and
wake up stronger!
No man is needed
to be a warrior
Dawn is broken
As I am putting on my crooked smile
Ready for another fortress show
from the wall,
my mother, my grandmother,
my great grandmother, and the women
before them
screaming at me:
Fix
your smile
Conquer
your day!
No
man is needed
to
be feeling okay.
The Red Fort
(by Susheel Sharma)
: in response to “The Fortress” by
Arnis Silvia
We are the sons and daughters
Of the same parents; then why
Am I black and you red? And, there
The white man is on the prowl
With his gun; my courage is my
forte;
My patience is my strength; My body
Is frail and sharp bullets pierce
it.
There dwells Sikander Butshikan
To eradicate the land of heretics
and
Infidels and raze all my temples in
his
Quest to become a Shah. A guest is
not
To be trusted; was Suhabhatta not
to
Be trusted? Can knowledge be
trusted?
Is the convert loyal to the people?
Another Shah comes running from
Iran to plunder; the peacock
throne,
Kohinoor and Darya-ye Noor are not
Sufficient; the Innocent blood
should
Flow in the streets of Delhi. The
loot
Saves Iran from taxes; The Red Fort
Can’t save the women and children.
The princesses giggle, purchasing
Silk, jewellery in the roofed
market.
Mumtaz lives in the marble Mahal.
The whites do not spare the white
Rang Mahal; the cut-off heads are
The frail poet-King praises his
brave
Sons at the sight of special
nazrana.
Why was Hudson repeating Alamgeer?
The Major was no follower of the
Guru,
Nor a playmate of his three sons?
Brave
Teg casts a cursory glance while
riding his
Horse; Mati, Dayal and Sati smile
from
Above. God doesn’t sleep. The Sins
of
The father shall be visited upon
the son.
Red Fort houses a military
cantonment
In the country of Gautama, the
Buddha.
Reflections
Arnis Silvia:
“Fortress” is a poem that represents gender roles in Java, Indonesia which
apparently also applies to many other cultures. The role of women is central in
many households where men are the main breadwinners for some reasons (women
serve as the main carers for their children, their parents, and their parents
in law). Despite the demanding responsibilities and commitments, these
domestics’ contribution of women is often neglected and less praised by the
society. Meanwhile, men’s monotask of ‘earning money’ gained more respect and
pride.
This poem offers an insider insight
of how gender roles are lived and passed on from one generation of Javanese
women to the next generation. Housewives take care of almost everything in the
house, working from early morning to midnight, being a gardener, cook, teacher
to their kids, a wife to her husband. Meanwhile, husbands who spend most of
their time outside the house, are simply like a guest. They come, rest, and go,
without even being involved in the complexities of daily life management.
Susheel Sharma:
While Arnis’s poem is about gender
divide, my poem has a larger canvass in which racial history and violence are
presented through some silent eye witness, say “the Fort of Time” or some
national monument like a fort. Various causes for violence, religious,
economic, geographical, racial prejudices, hatred and personal jealousies, have
been hinted at through various names from Indian history to highlight the
issues. Because of this not only the menfolk suffered but even the women and
children not spared. The entire belief in human goodness is shattered by such
events. The poem raises questions such as: What should one believe in? -- In
might being right? In the goodness of humanity? In the religious books? In
realistic descriptions: every powerful person tortures the weaker person on one
pretext or the other.
TEA: Poem and Response
Tea
(by Susheel Sharma)
One’s age evaporates with time like
Sugar crystals do in the boiling
water.
With every passing moment the speed
Gets enhanced. Some cold milk needs
To be added to slow the process and
let
The crystals stay for a little
while more.
Sugar disappears leaving a sweet
taste
Behind like divine moments do. Tea
Leaves do to the milk what the
impatient
dreams do to life. Some cardamoms
bring
flavour like some proud moments do.
A little ginger works wonders like
praises do in an office.
Over-heated
tea gets impatient to pour out of
the pan
like silly abuses in a fit of
anger. The
tea served with some tangy snacks
gives
some warmth in the cold winter like
the
grand-kids in a lap. Hands feel the
warmth
of the past and bring a smile on
the wrinkled
face. Teeth are not necessary to
enjoy tea but
The lips should know how much is
too much
For the tongue and the cavity at a
moment.
Tea makes following friends,
understanding
Enemies’ sly smiles, chasing and
being
Chased on the chessboard of life
easier,
Cosier, smooth and playful.
Tea-parties
Colour one’s invisible dreams with
pride,
Jealousies, passions, gratitude and
hopes.
Iced Tea
(by Arnis Silvia)
: in response to “Tea” by
Susheel Sharma
You might wonder of why
We --young people prefer our tea
cold
and why do we like it with other
flavour
better than being pure as it is
Teen age is water that we want to
freeze
Life is tea that we don’t want to
be bold
and bitter
and dark
Let them belong to the wise men
and women before us
We
need some sweet
some innocent belief
some baseless optimism
some world of changeability
unlimited by bitter reality
freed from prejudices
built along our age
Moments of joy and freedom
are vanilla to our tea
: sweetness that does not last long
We know that, we do
We know that age evaporates as does
hot tea
so does our naivety
so does our changeability
Someday
when we have grasped
the essence of reality
We became aware
that people do not change easily
that trust can be betrayed
that hope can be disappointed
our idea of sweetness evaporates
that is when our tea evolves
it is hotter
darker, bitter
In our youth time
Our hearts are all warm
We need ice to cool them down
As we get older
Our hearts turn colder
We need heat
To prevent it frozen.
Reflections
Susheel Sharma:
Preparing hot tea and having it, is
a part of modern Indian culture. The phenomena have been used as a metaphor for
leading a life in this poem. One grows old as quickly as one cup of tea is
prepared. Through the imagery of tea various facets of life have been
presented. The poem may be regarded didactic by some but it makes a realistic
presentation of life-events. If hot tea is not prepared carefully, one may burn
oneself. If one does not know the art of drinking tea, one may be called
uncultured and uncouth; besides a steaming cup of tea may scald one’s lips,
burn one’s tongue and leave one feeling some red-hot regret if one is even
slightly careless. So is the case with the carelessness and the mistakes which
may cause havoc in one’s lives.
Arnis Silvia:
In responding to Susheel’s poem, I
was taking a perspective of a younger person whose life is in the ‘hot’ phase,
hence needs a balance from an “Iced tea”. It is also based on my observation
towards the tea drinking habit of young people in Australia, where they prefer
sweetened tea with various toppings such as: bubble milk, jelly, red beans, or
other flavour.
Iced tea or cold tea symbolises
younger people’s attempt to live in the moment. Young people want to freeze the
time so they could embrace life as it is, without regretting about the past nor
being anxious about the future. These people are aware that their phase is full
of joy, excitement and energy, and that this phase is not eternal. They know
that they cannot enjoy that exciting phase forever, therefore they want to do
their best to be present.
HUNTING: Poem and
Response
Hunting
(by Susheel Sharma)
A poet tells a lie all the time.
He is an idiot telling a tale.
Still, let me try telling one.
In a jungle safari
One will not hunt
A lion; a lion also
Doesn’t dream of
Hurting one.
A lion carves out
His territory,
A hunting space
An area for himself,
And for his family.
He works hard
To safeguard it
In the thick jungle.
Another lion has
To fight hard to
Make inroads into it.
They both use their paws.
Neither one has a gun.
A dog pisses around
To fix his territory.
He never attacks the
Intruder alone.
A lion hunts
For his meals,
Never for pleasure.
A dog has no pity on the
Fellow suspect; it is loyal.
A dog attacks the infringer
Just for suspicion –
The new one may steal his food.
The intruder is surrounded
By his class; he surrenders,
By lying down on his back,
With folded legs in the air,
Showing his long and sharp canine
That cannot bite flesh at the moment.
The owners let the trespasser flee
To a safe haven after his caving in.
His tail changes its shape;
It goes inside the hind legs
Before the dog retreats.
A man may be hunted
If he lies down on his belly
In a complete submission.
The other man shows his grit
By suffocating a knuckled
man.
This filching is not
pleasuresome.
It is a tale of life—
Not told by an idiot
Hunted
(by Arnis Silvia)
: responding to “Hunting” by
Susheel Sharma
In the jungle of needs and
wants
Who knows who hunts and who is
hunted?
A lion hunts for his territory
A dog hunts for his meals
is the same lion, the same dog
who is being hunted
by hunger and fear
A man hunts for bucks
Bucks hunt for possession
Possession hunts for status
Status hunts for recognition
Recognition hunts for costs
Costs hunts for income
Income hunts for time
Time hunts for break
Break hunts for peace
Peace hunts for mind
Mind hunts for adequacy
Adequacy hunts for hard work
Hard work hunts for soul
Soul hunts for peace
and the cycle continues
Even poets hunt for words,
a vehicle to deliver his
message
are the same poets being hunted
by deadlines, crisis of
identity
by self-doubt, peer-pressure
unpaid works, debts, mortgage
internal paradox, guilt, shame
can he still tell a lie?
Lie is a privilege
For those who have many to
offer
Who have much in their bunker
enough for damage control
for lies that they may tell
And no poet is too lavish to do
so
Honesty is luxury
Only poets have
And no honesty equals to
prosperity
So, no
A poet does not tell a lie
Because truth is the only thing
that defines them
Poets don’t lie.
Reflections
Susheel Sharma:
The poem is an Anthropocene
allegory. It not only describes the habits and the regulated lifestyle of the
two ferocious animals like a lion and a dog but it also glorifies their
behaviour. Their predictable behaviour is contrasted to the unpredictable one
of a civilised human being for all practical glorification. The poem attains
political and racial dimensions when the George Floyd’s killing at the hands of
Derek Chauvin, a white policeman, is referred to and described. The persona in
the poem dons himself as a poet. He poses himself like a Shakespearean fool who
is wise enough. Like a Frostian poem it begins in a delight but ends in wisdom.
Arnis Silvia:
What is understood from Susheel’s “Hunting” is a paradox of being a hunter. In
an ecology of life creatures where there is a food chain, hunter is hunted by
another hunter. Even the top eater will be finally eaten by smaller microbes
that dissolve them into the ground.
In responding to the poem, I took
the flipside perspective which is ‘hunted’, presenting the paradox of being a
victim. Although the perspective is opposite to Susheel’s poem, but the main
message that “Hunted” tries to convey is quite similar. What I would deliver
through this poem is a bitter truth that no one or no single entity in this
world is fully free and powerful. Even the poets, who are assumed as the most
independent, honest and true people, are not free from pressures and a sense of
being hunted by the critics and the rival poets.
SUNSHINE: Poem and
Response
Sunshine
(by Susheel Sharma)
Both of us need clean air
To maintain the haemoglobin
The calcium you need for bones
Shapes mine too the same way.
Both of us need water and food
To sustain our bodies and spirits.
My food is not all black and
Yours is not all white; if my lips
Get thicker than yours, it is not
My doing; thick lips can make
As much love as the thin lips do.
Remember Lucifer’s lips were
Not different from those of God.
My black colour is not the doing
Of Lucifer; they say it is melanin
That has done the trick. I ask
Who has created that pigment?
Sure, it was not devised in Africa.
Why was it not distributed equally?
Why were you not given more?
Do you see a conspiracy there?
In the training camp we held the
Same guns; we were trained to
Fire the same bullets; the holsters
Were not painted different either;
Neither were the bullets stained
Nor were there any names on them
Still your bullets pierced only the
Coloured hearts. How come they
Become more blood thirsty in your
Hands with the blowing of sirens?
You certainly need more
Cheery sunshine than I do.
Melanin
(by Arnis Silvia)
: in response to “Sunshine” by
Susheel Sharma
I am melanin strong
Sunshine colours my skin
like an armour of war
fighting the radiation
without sunscreen
then why did you see me weak?
Can we race in sunbathing
and see who is surviving?
Eggs have the same yolk
with same nutrition counts
despite their shell colours
Have you asked a hotel chef
for only white-shelled eggs
for your breakfast?
I am red beans to your mashed
potato
I am jam to your bread
I am black tea to your milk
Oh, how dull your life
Without me?
In the warzone
Guns and bullets are blind
your eyes are not
who to pick to be killed?
will you pass the white
and aim for the coloured?
So shoot me
Shoot me to serve your
selective blood thirst
shoot me to redeem
your hatred to my people
shoot me so you know
that my blood colour
is just the same
as yours.
Reflections
Susheel Sharma:
The poem is a dramatic monologue,
political in nature written from the perspective of a coloured person. Here,
the persona is rejecting the notions of white-race-superiority and the
consequent xenophobia and wishes for a better world without any colour
prejudice. He is trying to justify his position and stand on various grounds
viz. biological needs, physical capacities, natural justice and offers a
scientific explanation for his coloured skin. He questions even the training
that has been imparted to both of them simultaneously but which has developed
two different attitudes. The poem ends without any display of hatred towards
anyone but, in the Biblical manner, prays for benevolence of even the opponent.
Arnis Silvia:
Melanin is simply echoing and complementing what “Sunshine” is saying about
racism, xenophobia, and discrimination based on skin colours. The main
difference between two poems is that, Susheel’s poem focuses more on the
situation, while Arnis’ poem is more on the person. In “Melanin”, I voiced out
a call for equality and mutual respect, because despite the different colours,
we all have much more similarities as human beings with capacities, dreams and
aspirations.
Concluding
Thoughts
In this dialogic poetry exchange,
both Susheel and Arnis worked in tandem in examining their personal artifacts,
stories, memories, and critical incidents (Sawyer and Norris, 2009) and the
meanings they give to these issues. Through duo ethnography in the form of
poetry exchange, both poets explored their personal, philosophical, cultural,
and social tenets of their loves and explicating their assumptions and
perspectives. Susheel in his 60s offers his global and macro lens of life,
while Arnis in her 30s proposes a more micro dimension of personal life. Both
offered their own unique perspectives of life, yet attempted to dialogue these
differences through their response poems.
The
difference in cultural, temporal, geographical, and social contexts between two
poets were mediated by the use of English, which is their second or third
language. With this language, poets were able to
understand each other’s sentiments and work and are able to respond to them by
showing full empathy. Both the poets are concerned with growing distances -- both
physical and mental, limitations of the scientific gadgets and reject any kind
of negative discrimination. They specify the adoption of a more humane approach
and reject every kind of mono-culturist approach for leading a meaningful and
peaceful life. They have paid equal attention to the themes and the similes,
metaphors, imagery and symbols in their poems.
This
collaborative work finally demonstrates that duo ethnography enabled its
collaborators to ‘interpret the interpretations and meaning of others and to create
dialogic transactions (between and within
themselves)’ (Sawyer and Norris, 2009).
List
of works cited
Norris, J., Sawyer, R. &
Lund, D. (eds.)(2012). Duoethnography: Dialogic Methods for Social, Health,
and Educational Research. London: Routledge
Sawyer, R. & Norris,
J. (2009). ‘Duoethnography: Articulations/(Re)Creation of Meaning in the Making’
in Sawyer & Norris, The Collaborative Turn, pp. 127-140.
Netherlands: Brill.