Virus Alert: Poems by Hemant Divate, translated from Marathi by Dilip Chitre, Mumbai: Poetrywala, 2004, pp. 76, Rs. 100/-
If one examines ` Virus Alert’ poems by Hemant Divate, one of the prominent contemporary Marathi poets, translated into English by Dilip Chitre in the context of these old haunting debates, it will offer us fresh insights into tortuous relation between poetry and politics.
` Dhullu is switching the TV on and off with the remote
He’s telling me to switch on one channel after another
Till his favourite channel is found
Any moment soon after
He begins to hate the channel..(p.2)
Would be considered `too loose’, ` too direct’ and less informed by the Anglo American modernist aesthetics of formal precision, irony and mythopoetic imagery. The chances of a longish, directly confessional and often flat poetry like that of Virus Alert of being rejected by the established canons of Indian English poetry are great.
“ One is just a domesticated animal kept by this city
The one that sniffs around the city the whole day long
Day by day
One’s turning into a fuckin’
Unprinted roll of newsprint thats found defective
Or the key number in the material of an ad
A pimp, a pimp, a pimp...( p.12)
Or consider how the poem whose title says it all ends:
“ and Hemant Dayanand Divate
Belongs to no one anymore
He belongs to the e-universe
And here too he gets waylaid and screwed
But he hardly lets out an `e’ from his mouth
He utters` Aai-ee-ga!’
(And here too he gets screwed, p.19)
The metropolis of Mumbai transformed by globalization transforms the speaker, who sometimes signals his intimacy with the poet, into something he never was. It decontextualizes him, uproots him, dehumanizes him and what is left is only the memories of thirty one years.
The speaker is always afraid of losing his individuality, not to mention his sanity, under the cultural bulldozer of globalization:
I
Am forgetting
Me
No trace remains
Of colour, form, speech, touch, or meaning
To me
There does not remain
God, parents, relations
No remainder
Like caste, class, religion, nationality, language, script
Breath, mind, body and soul
I am reaching out
Beyond birth and death
I don’t know
Me
(p.29)
The standardization and homogenization of culture that globalization threatens people is a real danger, especially for the poets.
Uniformity
While reading the poems of contemporary poets
You do not
As the blind in the parable
Of Chakradhara do
Feel the whole elephant
But feel it as though it were a piller, a wall, and so forth
And therefore perhaps
If a poem
By one of you is
Passed around as anyone else’s
It wont add a whit
To language.
(p.28)
The speaker is paranoid and self obsessed hypochondriac who worries about poetry being bedridden in this time of great cultural crisis.
The Poem Should Not Be Bedridden
Word constipated poem
Its skin’s become prickly
Its restless, itchy
Slowly, its sores will fester
Begin to stink as well
Language languishing as through under a curfew
Words silent as though prohibited from assembling
With this sort of strict patrolling
One cant even curse meanings
Freely
(p.34)
This Review Appeared in The Dhauli Review, Sept 2008