On tracing the history of Indian English literature, if one looks at the genre of poetry, it has been observed that anthologies have brought together voices not just from across the country but also collected varied ideas/perceptions/concepts that have been fermenting and brimming and searching for their readers.
You can grow
your inward silence indoors now
the inessential park is closed.
My interest in South Asian literature grew during my undergraduate and postgraduate years and as one grows older, there seems to be an affiliation that one feels with the familiar; an identification that calls out to you at an individual level. Something that calls out home and this anthology has been a homecoming for me as a reader.
Degrees gather mould in old, forgotten cupboards.
Now, your mad dance is a bid to—what? Learn the body?
‘The body is sacred’, poor Whitman forgot this:
Sanctity has a stiff price. One must earn the body.
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