Wednesday, 9 June 2021

BOOK REVIEW - Shanta Acharya's 'What Survives Is The Singing' reviewed by Anita Auden Money

What Survives Is The Singing By Shanta Acharya. Indigo Dreams Publishing, 2020.

Review by Anita Money


Shanta Acharya’s seventh poetry collection is dedicated to her mother for her 85th birthday.  The four carefully chosen quotations on life from Dickinson, Rilke, Bishop and Brecht have a particular power, not unlike the refraction of light, able to amplify and alter vision so that they act as a subtle introduction to the collection.  The title plays on Brecht’s lines ‘In the dark times/Will there also be singing? / Yes, there will also be singing /About the dark times. The collection, with notes at the end to give context to some of the poems, presents a landscape still familiar, characterized by the metaphysical and philosophical thinking that underpins Acharya’s  view of life yet grounded by a very practical awareness of the world and strong sense of irony, but there are changes: this landscape feels older, more reflective, questions left open waiting for response. 

Her technique has always been low key with lines that have a natural speech rhythm, in-line rhymes and often the use of refrain, a familiar poetic device and a characteristic of ghazals. There is experimentation with different verse schemes and with the spacing of words (noticeably in a marathon of red images in ‘Infinity in Red) but a predominant construction is that of two line verses, some that carry through and others that are end-stopped. Here are two examples from ‘In Silence’ and ‘The High Window’, the latter with a repeating refrain:

 

When fate deals you a losing hand, play in silence.

Luck favours those who mend themselves in silence.

        --------

An act of kindness never goes unnoticed,

The praise of prayer-wheels they say is heard from

                                                               the high window

In life’s intricate game of snakes and ladders,

Winner takes it all, face against the sun framed in

                                                               the high window

Acharya balances her informed understanding of the economic realities that drive politics and world affairs with a deep sense of human suffering, injustice and cruelty.  In this collection there are  four poems where she adopts the  persona of another woman to dramatize brutal experiences – that of rape, murder and female infanticide in ‘Can you Hear our Screams’; an honour killing in ‘Alesha’s Confession’;   genital mutilation in ‘Ambala’  and sexual exploitation  in ‘To Lose Everything’.    In ‘Graffiti’ the speaker holds the hand of a dying boy who has been stabbed in retaliation. 

‘The Bull Fight’ introduced with a quote from Nietzche ‘Man is the cruelest animal…’ arouses our   instinctive sympathy for the bulls and our admiration for the heroism, not of the matador, but of the bull. This sense of sympathy and identification extends to inanimate objects and in ‘Umbrella’ one that has been broken and set aside takes on a feeling of rejection:

 

Bent, broken, it skulked like a skeleton

Behind the door – an extra, never chosen to feature

centre stage, no opportunity to show off its strong,

supple skin, open up, let itself take wings –

 

be properly forgotten on a bus or train,

venture into other people’s homes

like its companion, the walking stick

that went on expeditions far and near. 

Trying to come to terms with personal injustices, disappointments and existential anxiety find expression in a variety of poems: ‘Self Portrait’, ‘The Best is Yet to Be’, Parallel Lives’, ‘All You Can Do’, ‘Just for Today’, ‘Where in the World Does One Find Happiness’(after LiPo).  Acharya questions her sense of self or many selves and the feeling that she is an actor playing a part  in a life that  is not as she imagined, while also searching to find her true self – ‘There’s someone in the mirror smiling at me,/the image is mine but who is that person?’ 

In ‘Woodpecker’, ‘Spring in Kew Gardens’, ‘Parliament Hill’ and ‘The London Eye’ there is engagement with life outside her own preoccupations and she muses on history and locality. This connection with the natural world and life around her provides emotional light relief in the sound of birds, the sight of cherry blossom at the advent of Spring, children learning to fly kites ‘their feet barely touch the grass glinting in the light’ and an aerial view of London from a capsule.  

 

Home and Exile, a reoccurring theme in her poetry, have a dimension that goes beyond India as home and  England a second home: it is a nostalgia for a different reality,  ‘rebirth,’  ‘a world elsewhere’ where one feels at home, free from disappointment and alienation.

Home is not a country or postcode,

more a state of mind, keeper of the map of my world-

 

offering a hint of the distance between myself

and the silence out there, the way life reaches

 

for light, and rays leaning like ladders against the sky

invest my journey with meaning. (from Home)

In the following lines from ‘Homecoming’ God is addressed:

 

Don’t know why I presume you might listen

more carefully to my entreaties in a foreign land?

 

I am the one on holiday, not you –

such are the limitations of the human mind.

 

Talking to you, sharing my thoughts, I keep thinking

you will respond, talk to me through your silence………

 

My loneliness has led me back to where I’d begun.

I’ve nowhere else to go, don’t turn me away

on another journey of self-discovery for I am done. 

 

Compare these lines with ‘The Art of Ageing’ where we are given a list of instructions on coping:

 

Let the young and foolish fume and rage,

Preserve your energy for life’s endless surprises…….

When you pray no point in thanking the Lord

For all the things He hasn’t done, or repenting

For the things you have.  If you haven’t been heard

In all these years, do not take it personally.

There may or may not be a reason for everything. 

Keep an open mind, but don’t be afraid to hold on

to what you believe.  Develop a sense of the absurd. 

 

Both poems, humorous in different ways, have a serious message.  There is an ambiguity that reflects the mysterious and unpredictable reality of existence, the question of belief and the challenge of holding on to a belief against the odds of silence.

 

Family and family bonds are another major theme and she sees interesting correspondencies in the movement of rivers.  In ‘Relationships’ she speaks of

 

daughter  mother  grandmother  great-grandmother

Linking us all the way back through time

 

celebrating the journey    memories of places

travelled   together  apart  shared

 

flowing from the same glacier


head of the soul mountain to a drop in the ocean……..

 

A slip of a stream growing into a river with tributaries becomes an image of motherhood in ‘Find Your Level’: ‘The memory of her mother’s  songs echoes / in her veins as she flows into the sea…’

 

What provides resolution is the recognition of her personal need to write and the human instinct for poetry.  There are several poems on the subject: ‘Why Some People Read Poetry’ (after W.S Merwin), ‘Why Some People Write Poetry’ but also ‘Less is More’ ‘Not Knowing’ and ‘The High Window’.  

In   ‘Words’  she celebrates the creative impulse and sense of relief in finding the words to make a poem, hoping the poem will travel the world, connect with others:

 

imagine your creations  rising like suns

On the shores of continents of strangers,

networks of neurons connecting the universe.

The joy is all yours, nothing’s the same anymore –

Not the past, present, not even the future.

 

The image of a river entering the sea and these lines of Acharya’s return me to the title of this collection and remind me of that famous line from Auden often misunderstood because pulled out of context:

 

For poetry makes nothing happen, it survives

In the valley of its making where executives

Would never want to tamper, flows on south

From ranches of isolation and the busy griefs,

Raw towns that we believe and die in: it survives

A way of happening, a mouth.

The singing taken in its broadest sense is about the human capacity for suffering and celebration, for lifting the mortal spirit above desolation, and this life affirming capacity is what the poet voices on behalf of humanity. 

Anita Auden Money is an educator based in London. She is a frequent contributor to Re-Markings. Her conversation with Re-Markings is being featured in the forthcoming issue of Re-Markings www.re-markings.com



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