Book Review - Where even Present Is Ancient.Benaras

The Blurb

Where Even the Present is Ancient: Benaras is a book that seeks to tell the little stories that make us who we are. The author believes that Benaras resides in all of us Indians, in some beautiful often-unknown way. The author is the Sutradhar, in that she attempts to connect an India that many do not realize exists, in that it is everybody’s story. Radha, Krishna, Ganga, Benaras and Me are all characters in this deluge of poems. This attempt at telling the story of the ancient, of love and of faith is to instil the confidence that poetry exists in all of us, everywhere, all that is needed is to smell its fragrance. To those outside India, the book does not seek to be a representation of what India is or was, but a whiff of what it also can be. It is an attempt to ask people to see the little stories that govern all of our lives, stories that we often don’t see, but those that are important. The audience for this book might be strewn across the globe, for faith is not religion-centric, it is people- centric and often without dimensions. In poetry there is no beginning, no middle, nor no end. Like faith it is everywhere, it is omnipresent. The book affords no answers, nor no questions, but if you listen and read carefully you will see new things, a new beauty perhaps, one that has been silent so long.

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   My Review

This collection of poems paints Benaras vividly. The poet ,Maitreyee B Choudhury , an established author,sets the tone of the book by calling Benaras a long lost poem in itself.For a reader like me who has had a love hate relationship with the city in the past, this promised an interesting read.
She describes Ganga , the Vishwanath temple, the various ghats and almost everything about the city of Benaras very passionately much as an artist would paint his muse.If the reader has never known Benaras,he would be intrigued enough to make an attempt to see what this historical city is all about.For some who have breathed the air in this city of Gods, each poem is like revisiting the spiritual city all over again.
'Vishwanath 'I had come
your doors were closed however
with people,full of you
and yet themselves..
Here she talks about the famous Vishwanath temple and says a lot more in these two lines again,
"I decided not to leave that Rupees hundred Fluttering in the Benaras breeze ,
at your doorstep"
There are many Gods in this city which promises Nirvana with a dip in the holy Ganges. You touch a wall ,a God stares back. Rituals ,like Gods are  many and like a maze, one can enter and completely lose himself.
Through the eyes of the poet a reader makes a journey through the narrow lanes of Benaras .Many hate it the moment they step in the city but for some, it offers salvation. Love it or hate it, but Benaras stirs that something in you that lingers on..
Like the poet says "..someone spits a Benarasi Kaththaa ,and the fragrance sticks to me." this is what the book has done to me. It will stay with me for a long time to come.
I rate it  4/5
                         

About the Author
 

Maitreyee B Chowdhury is a web columnist and creative writer. She is author of Reflections on My India, a book of Indian traditions and spirituality in parts. Maitreyee is also author of Uttam Kumar and Suchitra Sen- Bengali Cinema’s First Couple and Ichhe Holo Tai, a bilingual muti media presentation of poetry. Maitreyee is featured amongst other Indian writers such as Gulzar, Shashi Tharoor and Deepti Naval in an anthology of Indian writers Celebrating India.

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Just a matter of time

This story is part of  edition 8 of Indifiction Workshop.The theme given is horror and the plot was  given by Jayashree Srivatsan.

The story:

Just A matter Of Time.

I am kind of wary of  this man who has walked with me for over ten kilometers through this dense forest.He keeps talking to himself or may be  to no one in sightl. Why does he have to look up to trace the heads of the tall trees every now and then?I wish I was alone in this big escape plan from the heavily guarded central jail of Bandipur. If it was not for his strong sense of direction and extra sharp sensory perception,I would have never let him in my plans.Something about him is not normal.I have seen many ugly faces but this one is not normal.Thank God he agreed to leave his constant companion, that scary black cat behind, before we escaped from the prison.. Read the full story here....

A letter to my Words

I stood wide eyed and gazed around,
you seemed so far away..
Woebegone,I closed my eyes
and I found you within my own self ,
in my heart and all over my mind.

Since then...
I have used you as crutches, I have used you as my shield
I hid behind your thick foliage, in hope and in despair,
I expressed  love, I conveyed  detest
For shaping my thoughts my words,  I thank thee..

Could never imagine in the wildest of dreams,
my world without you and your quaint twine
Lost in oblivion,I did stand perplexed,
in the complex  maze of my own  words enmeshed.

Until ,lies and deceit, became ,but just a shade of the truth
They looked like truth and they did pass  as one.

But you stood right  beside and never  failed me.
In your victory my words, I came second to none.

Why I Write

I write because
                    I see...
I write because
                    I feel...
I write because
                    thoughts wander in my mind,
                    and tend to slip away
                    far into the oblivion
                    and I want them to stay..
I write to play with the stray thoughts
                     and string them together..
                     and weave a quilt,
                     warm and comforting,
                      a fabric,unique and so -me .
Or, perhaps I write merely because,
                      when my name and I , cease to exist..
                      my words will still remain,
                      for someone on this earth
                      to remember me and cherish,
                      even as they read..
                   
This is my response to this week's prompt on Write Tribe- Why I write
                           

                                                    

Sanjha- Chulha by and for the Blogeshwaris.

Indiblogeshwari forum -A significant part of me, turns a year old and it is celebration time!
This is a Sanjha - Chulha for women from all walks of life. Sanjha chulha for the uninitiated , has been an old tradition in rural Punjab where women gather to cook in a huge tandoor which they share with their neighbours .Women shared much more than food around these community stoves.They shared their grief and their joys . IB is pretty much the same for us, albeit virtual.What is cooked here is unbelievably interesting.The basic ingredient ( read- a random post) is provided by one woman from somewhere across the world and the flurry of activity has to be seen to be believed ! Food for thought is always more in supply  than the demand so there are simple and exotic  ingredients thrown in for good measure from all over the world by hyper excited bunch of women and the final dish turns out to be beyond anybody's imagination ! We can start a discussion from a book review and end it with dadi ma ka nuskha for acne !  The tandoor of this sanjha chulha is hot 24x7 and apart from fresh bread and what not being baked here ,what radiates in abundance from the chulha  is warmth...and it is never in short supply.If you think the ladies do not indulge in leg pulling and the vessels are not flying around all over the place,you are hugely mistaken .You just do not hear the sound! Suddenly, during a tu-tu-main-main, someone mentions something interesting about a handsome hunk and the delicate  fingers begin a mavali dance on the keyboards. Talk about one liberated group and you don't need to look any further.
The young and the old mingle here freely to exchange thoughts-kabhi gossip kabhi wisdom ! I have spent few of my most memorable afternoons with Vinita,Corinne and Janaki ,three key members of the IB gang.Thanks to them, I got  my ROFLMAO days back after I last experienced those while  in college.
'The Elusive One ' was the prompt given at the beginning of the month by the principal of IB college .I do not wish to be introduced to the vikral-avatar of lady Vinita Bahl ,so here I am back on my laptop after a month to blog about my elusive one.
Come April and my house helps, all three of them vanished for a long vacation. My daily grind and housework woes is not the subject matter of this post ,so you can relax and continue to read further :)
-I explored hidden corners in my own house and found stuff which I had forgotten completely about. Some things were found tied neatly inside a polythene bag  and placed beneath the old printer .To think that the said object was on my priority 'to buy' list.
 -I found so many wires and cables that if I lay them end to end ,I can connect it to a laptop as far as  inside the airport lounge.
- I opened another polythene bag and the next few minutes were spent saving my head from crazy balls flying and bouncing crazily all around.I also realized that it was that simple to make my family laugh!!
-I found ALL my butterfly clips ! I do not need to mention here that they were part of another treasure in yet another plastic bag.
(The list is still under construction ...)
I realized that my  full day house help had been stuffing things inside plastic bags all over the house, behind ,under and over the cupboards and lofts.All this, in the name of dusting and cleaning !What she thought was unimportant,promptly got stuffed and kept out of our sight and beyond  our reach.
What I did next was to take leave from work ,make sure that Hobbs and son were lost  in an interesting gadget exhibition for the whole day and then perform the most difficult task of throwing the unwanted stuff out of the house. The stuff was sorted and the objects that were out of sight for more than three months and were not missed ,were discarded. The Raddiwala was called on the sly and was instructed to take it all away as fast as he could. My home had lost a lot of weight and pleased as a punch on a great mission being successfully accomplished,I sat down with a cup of kadak chai .That is when Hobbs and son rang the doorbell.
The wires ,the non functional old printer and the broken Gameboy had found their way back home with the duo. Sigh!!
What I decided after this whole episode is that I ought to reduce my dependency on the house helps .Every now and then, from now on,I do this one job and many other odd ones around the house ,myself. I can not function without helps but I will definitely not lean on them completely. Your best wishes will be more than welcome :)

100 words On Saturday - Your Call

Endless wait stretched for days .Her life back home was waiting for her.She had been informed about three weeks back and she flew down as soon as she could, to fulfil her duty .Did she have to?No ! Did he deserve it? Not at all!

A decade ago,she had left it all behind,his maddening rage,abuse and the marriage.

 He met his match in a disgruntled servant who smashed his master's skull in a fit of rage.He lay in the hospital bed on life-supports.

A shrill ring and a voice -"Your call madam.....the hospital". 

                                             

                             

Quiet Communication--100 Words on Saturday.

Did you say something ? I felt it in silence and we shared that silence .

Your unspoken words  have that  power to reach out .

They find ways to convey  they have messengers ,able and eager, to help them in this endeavour. 

Little gestures ;  tilt of the head ,narrowed  eyes, hands folded  or lips forming a smile....they all speak.

It may take a while for my eyes to linger longer, to meet your eyes but I will learn.

In this cacophony of sounds and words ,there is space for the unspoken. To hear the sound of  'quiet ' will take some time.