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Books

Two poets and an unfolding poem
With the dawn. By Nihal Fernando and Herbert Keuneman. Published by Studio Times Ltd, Dec 2005. Reviewed by Irangani Serasinghe

When I heard that Nihal Fernando was putting out another book of his photographs and that the text was by the late Herbert Keuneman, my first reaction was, fantastic! Two poets getting together, one with the camera and the other with a pen, and both with one passion - Sri Lanka. Then a sudden thought struck me. “How come?” It is a long time since Sri Lanka lost this invaluable son of hers - Herbert Keuneman, so chockfull of knowledge of this country, so sensitive to all things beautiful …

Then I was enlightened. These pictures are a selection from Nihal’s 1973 exhibition when he and Herbert had got together and created this lovely poem called ‘With the dawn’ and it has been tucked away for 33 years before reaching the printers and you and me.

The cover picture is so soft and gentle that I found myself turning the pages ever so gently as though I was afraid of causing the slightest disturbance by the rude rustling of paper.

Page by page I was lifted up and up with the birds from the lake and sedge, from branch and nest, up, up into the awakening day. And now I am treated to a bird’s eye view of the other denizens of the jungle awakening and starting off on their quest for food and water. Elephants, buffaloes, leopards and bears, sambhur and deer, mongoose and jackal and proud, majestic eagles, all have one fixed purpose - food and water. But now we must come down to earth where all the drama is taking place - the eternal quest for food and water.

The eagle swiftly swoops down to take off with a struggling fish, while the leopard, the crocodile, the jackal tear their quarries apart. But this is not an ugly fact in the beautiful poem: this is merely the unerring pattern of Nature. As Herbert Keuneman puts it “the leopard … kills without malice.”

And so we meander quietly through the jungle feeling so much a part of it and yet so much an outsider longing to be one with the jungle. The sun sets. The day closes. All these pictures taken after hours and years of waiting and watching, waiting and listening, waiting and smelling, are black and white, and of course the hundred in-between greys. I would not have it otherwise. There is restfulness in black and white which colour cannot capture. So the poem flows on ….
Available at Studio Times Ltd and leading bookshops.

Another stark yet powerful depiction of life in Jaffna
The Northern Front. A collection of short stories, by Ayathurai Santhan
Ayathurai Santhan, in his recent book, “The Northern Front” has done it again.
In his earlier collection of poems "Survival and Simple Things” the stark realities of life in Jaffna were described in deceptively simple terms.

In “The Northern Front” vignettes of life in Jaffna – mainly, written in starkly simple prose, devoid of artifice – convey an even more powerful message.
The majority of stories are set in the pre-Ceasefire Agreement period. They are an indirect indictment of the superficial values of our urban society whose chief concerns are which restaurants to patronise over the week-ends or which video to watch on an evening.

In his stories, the chief concerns are survival and obtaining the basic necessities. Kerosene figures predominantly (petrol being an unobtainable luxury), as do bicycles and motor-cycles: practically the only mode of transport until the CFA.

There is no ranting against injustices, rather a fatalistic acceptance. Life goes on against a backdrop of war which is treated almost in a matter-of-fact manner. Helicopters are humanised by transforming them into the relatively innocuous “Helis”. There is a quiet humour too (“Points of view”, "Using a Yard-stick" and “Homecoming"); a non-judgmental comment on the caste-conscious Jaffna society (“Double Standards” and ”The hierarchy”) and a nostalgic remembrance of lost opportunities. (“Another Palmyra Story" and 'The breeze that did not carry the pollen.”)

This book should be compulsory reading for all non-Tamils. I hope that Santhan, with his effective and telling prose, will in his next book expand on his themes and give us the more substantial and conventional form of short story, as we know it.

- Premini Amerasinghe

Where the mundane leaps out in poetry
"CHANNELS" - Vol.13 Number 1. Edited by Premini Amerasinghe. Published by the English Writers Co-operative of Sri Lanka. Reviewed by Anne Abayasekara

Premini Amerasinghe's Editorial sounds a warning note, pre-disposing the reader not to expect too much from the most recent issue of "CHANNELS" which has for several years now served as a vehicle for new writers of both prose and poetry to convey their wares to the general public.

"…The number of pages devoted to creative writing is sadly less than usual, as the Editorial Board (comprising Anne Ranasinghe and Sita Kulatunge) was determined not to compromise on the standards set by `Channels'. The material submitted on the whole lacked quality, or did not come under the rubric of `creative writing.' The poetry was better than the prose."

So, let's first look at the poems. I noticed three seasoned writers had submitted verse - Jean Arasanayagam, Parvathie Solomons Arasanayagam and, surprisingly (to me), Carl Muller. I have read much of Mr. Muller’s writing, but none of his poetry. This one, entitled "The Stump", immediately recreated in my mind the picture of a once-flourishing avocado tree, frequented by squirrels and birds and under whose shade children played. I felt myself respond when the writer recalled "the chuckling rustles of its wind-blown leaves." I experienced a pang of sharp regret as I read:

"It will not grow again, this aged tree
No leaves will rise from what the axe has left,
And in the ridges of its faceless bone
The termites crawl and burrow in the cleft."
Verses that are not in the same vein as Joyce Kilmer's famous "Trees", but evoking emotion of a different kind, nonetheless.

Belonging as I do to an older generation brought up on the works of the romantic poets of a bygone age, - Keats, Shelley, Byron, Wordsworth, - it's a surprise to me to discover that modern poets often focus on what appear to be very mundane themes, as evidenced in this volume. For example, "Termite Castle" by Asgar Hussein: As with Carl Muller and his forsaken tree-stump, this poet too recreates vividly the glorious architecture and pulsating life of a termites' home in its heyday and then contrasts it starkly with its present fall from splendour -

"But the glory was over sooner than I thought.
It is now home to a cobra
Lurking in the darkness to pounce
On some unsuspecting toad."

Similarly, Parvathie Solomons Arasanayagam's recollections of all that was associated with "Grandfather's Abacus" that "stands on a cupboard" and "reminds me of the past when grandfather counted money under a solitary lamp saving for his family up North." There is a pathos about the poem that conjures up a fleeting vision of a past time and forgotten people.
"Death at Sea" by Jean Arasanaygam is a poignant elegy for "Lakdasa Wickramasinghe, a promising young poet who died at sea" many years ago. Not being familiar with either the poet or his work, I am left wondering about the allusion to "that necromancer" and the concluding lines,

"Death which had charmed you
Before the sea took you."
There are other poems that merit attention, but I will mention only one more – Tanya Rajapakse's "Parading Soldiers", because, once again, in a few terse lines, it calls up an instant image of young men whose
"Once soft minds, now hardened,
Trample those feelings
Which threaten their purpose.

Feet rise together in step
To the drum. With set expressions
They march, into the wide open arms
Of Death."
There are but five stories in this volume. "Soap Bubbles" by Subhadra Balasuriya is a well-crafted piece, bringing to life a character with whom the reader can empathise.

The writer paints with deft strokes a schoolboy's bright anticipation as he rushes home to tell his family about the incredible praise heaped on an essay that day by a usually grudging English master, fully expecting to bask in their unalloyed pleasure and admiration. His great news is received with unbelievable indifference by his parents and brother. There is a fine build-up to the sad anti-climax and the utter deflation of the boy's high spirits.

I liked Lal Medawattegedera's story, "The Grass Cutter's Caricature". Velu, the grass cutter becomes a real person, one who takes pride in his work and is undoubtedly exploited by those for whom he mows the grass with his skilfully-wielded long knife.By contrast, he is an object of fun to the young man visiting the aunt who employs Velu.

He amuses himself by drawing caricatures of the grass cutter. A minor tragedy (for Velu) erupts when his employer's pure-bred Labrador gets hold of the sarong the man had put aside to don the ragged trousers he always wore when working, and tears round the garden with it. The irony of the story is that the dog's mistress is much more concerned that her precious pet had a dirty sarong in his mouth, than she is about the man's loss of his garment. She carelessly asks her nephew to give Velu a sarong if he has one to spare and she hurries to attend to her dog - "She forced open the dog's mouth and meticulously wiped it with disinfectant."

To make up for the paucity of the contents, this issue of Channels includes, at the end, a section on "Events & Activities". Anthea Senaratne has given an account of what must undoubtedly have been a memorable event, `An Evening of Poetry and Music & the Launch of Anne Ranasinghe's book, A Long Hot Day', organized jointly by the EWC and the Goethe Institute in May last year. Then there are the interesting details of a one-day Poetry Workshop held at the British Council in November, 2005, with a synopsis of what each of the speakers said on this occasion. Since they were all highly reputed professionals - Prof. Rajiva Wijesinha, Dr. Lakshmi de Silva, Anne Ranasinghe and Chandana Dissanayake - their comments are worth reading.

Of special interest to me is a short, short story by Anne Ranasinghe entitled `The Rain Fly', "written to stimulate participants of the workshop to write a poem." Finally, a useful and informative piece on "The Short Story & Professional Craftsmanship" by the distinguished author, Christine Wilson.

It is to be sincerely hoped that writers old and new will heed the exhortation of the Editor to "Attempt a fresh approach, inject innovative language and vibrancy into these pages, improve their blandness with the spice of Sri Lankan English. It is time we Sri Lankan writers disciplined ourselves to work harder and carve a niche for ourselves in the world of literature," she writes.

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