HYDERABAD: The world seems to be angry and so are the poets and authors. The anger spills out with ink creating seas across topographies wherever their works are read. Even with the changing times the angst hasn’t subsided, it has found new vents. We remember legendary feminist poet late Kamala Das for her fiery lines ‘Give him what makes you woman… The warm shock of menstrual blood, and all your/Endless female hungers...’. This was written ages ago in her book ‘The Looking Glass’, now in a selfie-obsessed era the similar kind of lines are being written by poets on cyberspace. Sample these lines by 21-year-old poet Megha Rao:
‘i want to paint
kali with her legs
spread apart
bleeding from that
place between them…’
Next to this short poem is a sketch of the goddess. It’s a post by her on popular photo-blogging site Instagram. Megha isn’t alone in pouring out her rage through poetry. We also see 24-year-old Canadian-Indian poet Rupi Kaur writing:
‘apparently it is ungraceful of me
to mention my period in public
cause the actual biology
of my body is too real…’
The terse poem is supported by a beautiful drawing of two leafy branches intertwined with each other, at the point where they merge fall tiny leaves suggestive of menstrual blood oozing in drops from between the legs of a woman. It has not been a smooth ride for Rupi. She had her share of hatred online. Way back in March 2015, as part of a project, she posted a photograph of herself showing her back to the camera and spots of menstrual blood on her pajamas and bed. It created an uproar and Insta took off her post saying that her post ‘doesn’t follow community guidelines’, she retaliated by reposting the picture which was shared widely; her post got 91.7K likes, Instagram apologised and restored the deleted photo. Now, she has 1.3m followers. She did the next best thing. She went ahead and self published her InstaPoems in the form of a book ‘Milk and Honey’ re-published by Andrews McMeel Publishing. The book made it to The New York Times Bestsellers List and grabbed the numero uno position at the beginning of the year. While for the critics the book provided much discussion fodder, she has signed deals fro two more books.
Is it just angst and feminism that finds its way in InstaPoetry? A lot of InstaPoets move to different planes pondering over mysticism, polishing the Self. Sample these lines by Afro-American poet Nayyirah Waheed:
‘even if you are a small forest
surviving off of
moon alone,
your light is extraordinary’
Nayyirah ponders chiselling the rugged mountains that pop their heads in the serene lake of soul. She tries to make the stony surface smooth by writing:
‘there
are
feelings.
you haven’t felt yet
give them time
they are almost here’
She rises above the concepts of Self and addresses issues of racism in the lines:
‘never
trust anyone
who says
they do not see color.
this means
to them,
you are invisible.’
She goes ahead and pens the plight of immigrants who in the wake of Syrian war and wars elsewhere in the world are no better than destitutes. She reminds of Moses who split the Red Sea into two with his staff for the exodus of Israelites to save them from the large, merciless Egyptian army. With the upheaval of centuries, the ocean-crossing immigrants might appear to be similar as that of the prophet, but their fates aren’t similar and are at the mercy of their host or hostile nations. In very few words she pours the ocean of pain itself. The water gushes towards the salinity of readers’ tears. She writes:
‘you broke the ocean in
Half to be here.
only to meet nothing that wants you.’
Nayyirah has 311k followers and has published two books of poetry namely ‘Salt’ and ‘Nejma’. Goodreads sums up: “This collection of poetry explores the realities of multiple identities, language, diasporic life & pain, the self, community, healing, celebration, and love.”
Warsan Shire, a Somali-British poet and writer has taken the voice for lost translations, forsaken home and identities. Beyonce quoted her in her visual album ‘Lemonade’. Interestingly, she came to Insta later and has her fan page where her small ready-to-fit-in-the-screen poems are uplodaed. Sample these lines:
‘...dear god
i come from two countries
one is thirsty
the other is on fire
both need water.
later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
it answered
everywhere
everywhere
everywhere.’
Till the time poetry exists, sources to read it too will exist bringing in more verses, more poets, more readers.