That’s How Mirai Eats a Pomegranate
By Namrata Pathak
Available at Amazon.in
Mirai takes a knife, slays open
of wanton wastes.
Eating is a political act, its pivot an axis of selective assimilation. Don’t we eat love, memories, people and places? Don’t we eat words and sounds? Don’t we eat our lovers? Don’t we eat ourselves? But this act of eating is neither hunger or gluttony, but something akin to spiritual awakening, a quest for self-discovery, a search for the unknown beyond which there will be a new beginning. The resonances are awry, sometimes peculiar.
That’s how Mirai eats a pomegranate!
Evocative and sensual, Namrata Pathak’s poems compel the reader to go back to them, time and again, to unearth ever newer treasures at each reading. There is freshness in these works, evident in the treatment of the varied themes. Through surprising but apt metaphors and vivid images, she touches many chords. Here the familiar is made wondrous, the unfamiliar heartstoppingly recognisable, through masterful use of language. Reetuparna Dey’s unique illustrations add a striking dimension to the book.
Mitra Phukan, author of A Full Night’s Thievery: Stories
In nimble, otherworldly verses, Namrata Pathak conjures scenes both familiar and fantastic. This is a work of understated beauty, the kind that is increasingly rare in these muscular times. The poems and the accompanying illustrations have been crafted with great commitment and care. This book is a generous gift to the reader who takes her time with it.’
Kaushik Barua, author of Windhorse
the colour of nongrim hills
You are the colour of roasted ham
in Michael’s Joint,
honeyed, burnt for effect.
Our next door neighbour is an amateur cook.
He has manuals of culinary delight.
His flavour-smeared hands, pock-marked,
you are exactly that colour.
Afifa Kauser in The Thumb Print – A magazine from the East:
Every time you read the book, not only you unearth new shades and hues, but each poem conjures up a chunk of emotion, sharp and familiar. It is a dream packed in a few lines; the rhymes and metaphors, often unusual, twine grace with raw, earthy beauty. The poetry collection covers a range of topics, such as the dismay and desolation of a young wife in the ‘fish woman,’ the monotony of a professor and the day to day ‘mundane routine’ that binds her, the aches of loneliness of a lover whose beloved is no more, the disrupted ties between a mother and a daughter, reconstruction of writers like Celan, Marquez and Robin Ngangom and the eventual erasure of the boundary between life and art, to mention a few.
Read the complete interview in The Thumb Print.
Bijoykumar Tayenjam writes in Facebook on 22 October 2018.
When it comes to poetry, I am a very slow reader. May be this has something to do with my education. In college I have not studied literature. My profession is not even remotely connected with literature. I want to munch each and every word. I prefer to read poetry when I am alone with no one to disturb or distract me.
I find Namrata Pathak’s ‘That’s how Mirai eats a pomegranate’ a book of exhilarating poems. Uncanny illustrations of Reetuparna Dey, whom she had taught once, provide pictorial representation of some of the poems. Some tell anecdotes, some draw caricatures and some melt like ice cream in the mouth but give a different taste when chewed.
I found some of the poems perplexing and attacked them like solving a difficult jigsaw puzzle. The poems are like photographs of a figure taken from different directions cut to pieces and then put together to reconstruct the figure conveying the beauty and expression seen from every conceivable angle. Once you know the clue every piece fits in easily.
‘As you draw a travesty out of a homecoming,
the feet boil
in a mundane rickshaw ride from Malingaon to Fancy,
the ashen hands of the ghats
the belly of a pregnant evening,
here memories are pickled
by summer-laughs —
limes in glass-jars.
The city stores your eyes intact in slime water,
Bluish-green, like two marbles.’
(Conversations: pieces of glass fragments)
For me beautiful words only do not make a poem beautiful. Beautiful words cannot guarantee a poem to be beautiful. Well, beautiful word is an asset to a poem but not its soul. Imagery and expression play more important roles in a poem.
Love is your glass
parody the lit sky,
our canopied evenings; it grows like lanes,
grows further still like lanes,
into a strangeness of one another’s touch,
into a faint scent of the yet-to-come,
(The fourth man)
The evocative power of her poems surprises me — I went several years back in time, to my childhood days when I used to fill every space available in my notebooks with sketches.
The night is a mouthful of nothingness.
In enormous teeth gnaw at your
tilted voice. The upward thrust
on the roof of the mouth tastes of wind.
(Night at Mohanbari)
Some of her poems exude lyrical emotion.
I saw poky bamboo leaves thrusting out of the wall
the day my father lay on the hospital bed.
His amputated words
I find her description of Robin Ngangom very interesting since I know him personally.
He is an anonymity
that burns many tongues.
He is a many-petalled bruise.
the thin-tailed fish of your wedding night,
stacked pungently with sweets,
hell and fire,
this man who digs into your skin,
eats the bread crumb trails of your name,
makes you his gastronomic delight.
His poems are claws,
they tear your flesh away in nocturnal wars,
in diseased disappointments.
Wound. Blood. Pain.
Everything else is deathlike. Or lifelike.
(On reading Robin Ngangom)
Namrata has been successful in making words to breathe in her poems. She seems to have created a style of her own, a difficult thing for anyone to achieve.
Koushik Sen reviews in Ethos Literary Journal (ELJ):
To wrap up, the poems in this collection are so evocative that speaking much about them would ruin their flavour–and if you can sit through poems, you are up for an experience here. The excellent production of the book certainly helps the cause, and Rituparna Dey’s illustrations are a treat to the eyes.
Read the complete review Namrata Pathak’s That’s How Mirai Eats a Pomegranate in ELJ.