Know Your Poet: Swagata Sinha Roy

This month in the Know Your Poet series, we are featuring Swagata Sinha Roy.

Swagata Sinha Roy has been a facilitator in education for more than thirty years, having worked in educational institutes in Brunei and in different parts of Malaysia.

She is interested in reading and writing about, as well as discussing the diaspora, her Bengali roots, issues of identity, narratives for children, and most recently, popular culture and social media toxicity.

Currently, she is with a Malaysian university, nurturing her passion to get learners to enjoy the written word. She organizes book and poetry clubs in Kuala Lumpur and enjoys experimenting with different forms of poetry and getting to read poems aloud.

For her, every poem is a conversation. She is deeply indebted to her mother and two sisters for shaping her thought processes and is grateful to be extraordinarily ordinary. She can be reached at www2.utar.edu.

Read Swagata's poem Not Just An Address below.

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Not Just An Address

Swagata Sinha Roy

Home

A centre of culture

Of faraway memories brought near

Festive occasions meant alpona designs on the floor

Goddess Lakshmi’s feet drawn entering your door

To bring wealth to your hearth

Wherever whatever your land of birth

In a Bengali home, you can always expect to find

Books, poems, songs, food, paintings (they’d blow your mind!)

The kitchen, a veritable classroom of sorts

Filled with spice jars, pickles, designed pots

A little blackboard placed to learn

The Bangla alphabet as you take your turn

From aw, aa, roshui, dhirgoyi 3 to 4 letters a day

Bornoporichoi to Bankim Chandra, Tagore all the way

The Bengali taste buds, well that’s another story

The grinding of moshola; the aroma of paach furon, hing

There is art to mixing the spices to lace your gravy, you know

And to which lentil, onion, garlic, ginger and tomato go

Bhaja, posto, macher jhol, mishti doi – eaten separately

Aare baba… if you mix them up, how do you get to taste each delicacy?

And the govindobhog chal… any other rice do not measure up

Music floats in the air – bhajan, chhobi geet, robindro shongeet,

Come Durga Puja, Mohaloya takes the front seat

Then comes art – you must colour your drawings right

Pictures and your penmanship must always be a pretty sight

I still remember things at 476-M were not always happy

But what will stay with me is the camaraderie

The sharing, the caring, the singing, the drawing, the cooking

And so much more… I can definitely say

HOME is where the ART is…

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Glossary

Alpona: Designs and motifs made on the floor from a paste of rice and flour on auspicious Bengali occasions

Aw, a, roshui, dhirgoyi: The first vowel sounds in Bangla

Bornoporichoi: Bengali alphabet book

Bankimchandra: Bengali novelist

Tagore: Bengal’s most famous literary son

Moshola: Spices powder

Paach furon: A combination of five spices

Hing: Asafoetida

Aare Baba: An expression suggesting ‘oh dear’

Govindobhog chal: Rice cultivated in Bengal

Chhobi geet: Songs from films

Robindro shongeet: Songs of Tagore

Durga Puja: The ten-day prayer festival for goddess Durga

Mohaloya: The day Goddess Durga descends on earth

'Dos Colores y Cuatro Objectos' Winners

The Delhiwallah Poetry Collective is thrilled to announce the winners of the Dos Colores y Cuatro Objectos contest. The contest invited submissions on colours and kitchen-related items/things and encouraged the use of enjambment.

We are grateful to everyone who participated in the contest. Our judges were Gina Gallyot (English) and Vrriti Sharma (Hindi).

The winners of the contest are Gunika Virlley (कुछ ख़ास) and Ritika Bawa Chopra (Agonies of Kitchen).

Here's what our judges had to say about the winning poems.

Gina Gallyot: "The first line of her poem catches the reader’s attention straight away. The rhyming and pairing of cooking appliances and ingredients with the chef’s feelings were eloquently presented. The poem really lived up to its title - Agonies of the Kitchen while fulfilling the contest’s challenge requirements. The two contrasting colours and textures of brown and silver added great imagery bringing the poem to a resounding climax. It was a tough choice as all poems were very sumptuous offerings. Well done to all participants on your creative effort."

Vrriti Sharma: "यह एक सुंदर प्रतियोगिता थी और मुझे सुंदर, कल्पनाशील और दिल को छू लेने वाली कविताओं को पढ़ने में बहुत मजा आया। हालाँकि, सभी ने बहुत सुंदर रचनाएं लिखी पर उन सब में जो कविता मुझे ख़ासतौर पर पसंद भी आई और जो सभी मापदंडों को पूरा करती थी, वह थी गुनिका विरले की “कुछ ख़ास”. कविता में न केवल उसके रसोई के पुराने दोस्तों का परिचय था, बल्कि उसकी मदद के साथ स्वादिष्ट भोजन बनाने की खुशी के साथ-साथ उसके दोस्तों के लिए उनका प्यार भी था और वह उन चीजों से अपने पूराने और ख़ास रिश्ते को बड़े भावुक तरीक़े से दर्शातीं हैं. अंत में कुछ और चीजों से मिलने की लालसा को कह कर इस कहानी को ना ख़त्म होने की तरफ़ मोड़ एक ख़ूबसूरत समाप्ति देती हैं। सुंदर कविता।"

Read the winning poems below.

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कुछ ख़ास

Gunika Virlley

वो सुबह की चाय

में कुटी हुई अदरक का खास हिस्सेदार

जो मैंने कालका के छोटे से बाज़ार से लिया था

जिसको देखते ही लगा कि यह मेरा है

वो संगमरमरी सफ़ेद हमाम दस्ता

आज बूढ़ा हो चला है

किनारों से टूटा वो मज़बूत उतना ही है

हम उस ज़माने के हैं

जहां सामान टूटने पर फैंकते नहीं

जोड़ देते हैं। वो जुड़ा हुआ हमाम दस्ता

मेरी रसोई का अहम हिस्सा बन चुका है।

और वो मेरा पहला काला तवा

जिसपे नक्शे समान पहली रोटी सेकी थी

वो अब एक बुज़ुर्ग की तरह

कमज़ोर मगर अडोल सा ख़ामोश पड़ा है।

काम नहीं आता, पर हां मेरे घर का पुराना सदस्य है।

और वो भारी पत्थर का सिल बट्टा

जो मैंने बहुत तोल भाव करके पांच सौ रुपे में खरीदा था

जिसपे पिसी धनिए टमाटर की दरदरी चटनी का स्वाद

आज भी मुंह में आता है

समय के साथ हम सब भारी सामान त्याग दिया करते हैं

मैंने भी उससे त्याग दिया ।अब बाजुओं में इतना ज़ोर नहीं रहा ना।

और आख़िर में , वो मेरी छोटी सी सुनहरी संदूकची

जो मेरी नानी ने दी थी

वो नहीं मिल रही

जिसमें बंद मेरे बचपन के गहने, मेरी खुशियां, नादानियां,और कुछ मासूमियत

सब खो गईं हैं।

तुम्हें मिले तो ख़बर करना

तुम्हे मिले तो ख़बर ज़रूर करना

मैं लेनें चली आऊंगी

मैं लेनें ज़रूर आऊंगी।

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Agonies of the Kitchen

Ritika Bawa Chopra

I am totally bored,

Of the brown wooden chopping board,

My hands feel rejected,

Due the smell of garlic being grated,

I can feel the itch in the skin,

When to the dishes, I add the chillies in!

I always feel so weary,

Cutting the onions make my eyes teary,

I just feel at strife,

With the woks, ladles and the knife,

I do feel the monotony,

In the stainless steel silver crockery,

I often get uneasy,

With the ghee and oil so greasy,

I just feel so low,

Especially when kneading the dough,

I feel exhausted making chappatis with the rolling pin,

And serving by going in and out of the kitchen,

It makes my heart sink,

Seeing the utensil filled kitchen sink,

These agonies of the kitchen make me tired,

And I wish I soon get retired!

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My Eternal Longing: Menaha Bhandari

The Delhiwallah Poetry Collective brings the Young Poets feature that publishes young poets including school and college students.

Photo Credit: Chris Lawton (@chrislawton)/ Unsplash, Public Domain Dedication

My Eternal Longing

Menaha Bhandari

Beyond the boundaries

Yondering solo into the unknown

I delved deep into the green,

Wild, broken, lush, savage

The turf of green canopies

Hid me, I searched for peace.

Behind the woods

Into the ravines

Under the clear sky.

Yondering solo into the unknown

The emerald tide, faraway coast,

A shipwrecked, bouncing dolphins

I dived deep into the blue

A lost land

Treasures of past, the long lost pearl

Divine, mystical, angelic

Surfing deep into the lost world

I couldn’t reconcile.

Yondering into my sweet bed

Obvious, familiar sounds, brick walls

The aroma of honey syrup

Mingling with my mother’s hand kissed pancakes

The hoarse sound of the grinder breaking sugar granules

To bake a raspberry cake

The tender touch of the white linen bed sheet with my cranky pillow

The carpet with rose and marigolds

The squish- squash of the rusted doors

The known sound of the leaking taps

The wooden bookshelf, the brown flower vase

The rose and lilies at the backyard

Birds chirping the same old song

Under the sun-kissed sky, my terrace

Could hold me forever

As my home was where I belonged to

Love, care, yearning

All lived with me here, inside those four walls beneath the roof.

I stopped my search

I stay back in my home… eternally.

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Menaha Bhandari is an avid reader and a sports enthusiast. She juggles between writing poetry, animation, and digital art and is eager to publish a Manhwa digital copy in the near future.