কারার ঐ লৌহকপাট,
ভেঙ্গে ফেল, কর রে লোপাট,
রক্ত-জমাট
শিকল পূজার পাষাণ-বেদী।
ওরে ও তরুণ ঈশান!
বাজা তোর প্রলয় বিষাণ!
ধ্বংস নিশান
উড়ুক প্রাচীর প্রাচীর ভেদি।
(Destroy those iron gates of the prison, the
demolish the stained stony altars
of chain worshipping!
O youthful Shiva,
Blow your horn of universal cataclysm!
Let the flag of destruction
rise amidst the rubble of prison walls
of the East!
Kazi Nazrul Islam: Selected Works [Dhaka: Nazrul Institute, p 128; 1999]
Can a poet living in India today dare to write such lines as the ones written above? Yet, someone still sings in the night for the hope of the dawn- poet Varavara Rao is a visionary who believes,
‘There is a stir beyond the mountainous barriers of caste.
See, the shades of blood harvest
Fragmented rays behind the hill.
Now, there is no place for fear.
Certainly, the dawn will come.’
–Varavara Rao: A Life In Poetry
Varavara Rao’s newly published collection of poetry, Varavara Rao: A Life In Poetry edited by N Venugopal and Meena Kandasamy is not only the witness of at least sixty years of post-colonial India, but it is also a book of hope amidst the hate ridden political narrative of present India. As a sensitive non-conformist, his pen aches for the farmers, for the Dalits, for the women, and for all who are the worst victims of capitalism and state oppression. He refuses to be a prop in the background. Rather he decides to be a chronicler and becomes the light which brings change. In present-day India, when the deafening silence is so entrenched in the poetic community, Varavara is quite erudite and obvious in his stand:
‘When crime seizes power
Hunts down people
Holds them criminal-
Anyone who remains silent
Becomes a criminal.’
(“Intellectual” from the book Varavara Rao: A Life In Poetry).
He rejects the hyperbolic aesthetic of narcissistic delight, which believes in “arts for art’s sake.” He has no qualms in saying,
‘There is no self-deception greater than
Separating poetry and life‘
Like Bengali poet Sukanta Bhattacharya, he is not a poet who whiles away time watching the beauty of the moon. Rather, he sees the moon through the eyes of the hungry, oppressed people.
Like Bengali poet Sukanta Bhattacharya, he is not a poet who whiles away time watching the beauty of the moon. Rather, he sees the moon through the eyes of the hungry, oppressed people.
For Varavara, everyone seeking justice is his ally. So his pain flares up even for the policemen who were demanding better salaries and working conditions in May 1978. The poet writes,
‘He was called a man when he was born
He was called a man when he grew up
But the day he joined the police to earn his bread
His name became lathi, van and rifle.’
(“Yes He Too Is A Man”, p -33, Varavara Rao: A Life In Poetry).
Varavara also understands that the dream of a casteless, equal world be impossible without the emancipation of women. The poet is spot on when he writes,
‘Woman!
Your tears will not crush your oppressor
And bathe your rage in flames of fury.
Speak for your rights.
Step in unison with the marching feet.
Leave the system that treats you as an object.
Become a force, become an individual.
Join hands to overthrow the patriarchy.
As the flaming red sun rises
There shall be triumph.’
(P 25, Women translated by Meena Kandasamy)
When most of the anglophone writers are now writing from a cosy comfort zone of language and life, Varavara Rao’s poetry serves the people. The living, breathing, sweaty, stinking mass of the real India breathes in his words. The upper class can denounce or overlook his poetry as “raw” but they forget what is raw is real. His poetry is not a lullaby but rather a clarion call to look outside the window and hear the cries of the common men. His poetry connects all the fault lines of caste, class and gender to not pushing the lines under the carpet of the status quo, but rather to addressing the wounds to heal:
‘When crime seizes power
Hunts down people
Holds them criminal-
Anyone who remains silent
Becomes a criminal‘
(P – 32, “Intellectual”)
He always believes in the power of words. He might be an incendiary to some but his poetry testifies that words are his only weapons. In the poem, “What We Need Is Poetry” he speaks on behalf of the poetry of democracy,
‘The poetry that’s a metaphor of our fights
And another world
The poetry of democracy…’
In this collection of forty-eight poems, there is pain and blood but the hope that the readers find in the poem is the only engulfing contagion.
In this collection of forty-eight poems, there is pain and blood but the hope that the readers find in the poem is the only engulfing contagion. And we must thank N Venugopal, Meena Kandasamy and Penguin for opening up the poems for non-Telugu readers.
Like his favourite poet, Kazi Nazrul Islam, Varavara Rao is a people’s poet. His words are luminous in this dark time. The legacy of Varavara Rao is the legacy of truth, love, compassion and equality.
Like his favourite poet, Kazi Nazrul Islam, Varavara Rao is a people’s poet. His words are luminous in this dark time. The legacy of Varavara Rao is the legacy of truth, love, compassion and equality. Tishani Doshi rightfully writes in her poem- “This May Reach You Either As A Bird Or Flower (Varavara Rao)”,
‘In every
republic there will be some who walk down to
the water with his life vests and bread,while others
lead soldiers to the trapdoors in the cellar. You stand
at the edge beating a drum.’
Truly, Varavara Rao is beating the drum of change and the poems of this collection reverberate with the song of an equal, free world.
