GloMag is the coming together of writers in their diverse manifestations, thoughts, and expressions, and the visual interpretation of these. Sometimes the original thought of the writer gets completely lost in the interpretations. Visual aids help us to decipher the writer’s intentions, and at the same time, enhance the reading experience – page 232
“Willingly no one chooses the yoke of slavery”
Reminding us of this grim truth is this excellent and poignant collection of poems from The Significant League with its outstanding crop of poets and excellent editors at the helm- Dr Ampat Koshy, Urooj Murtaza and Ipsita Ganguly. Thank you dear Editors and the Different Truths Team of Arindam Roy and Anumita Chatterjee Roy for giving us an opportunity to write and read such beautiful poems and that too as a service to mankind. Poetry at its best. Happy May Day!
The Significant League (TSL) and Different Truths (DT) together offer an Anthology on Bonded Labour, 60 poems, one be each poet, full of pathos and pain.
The first poem in this collection is mine titled ‘Paro’s Girl’
Paro’s Girl She was the sound of a pot being scrubbed And drummed upon, a visual rooster call Framed through a red iron grill, in the grey dawn Was her bowed squat, the permanent sniff, Wispy thin arms and unkempt plait Yet she was invisible A rag bundle among the crows The sleeves of her frock stopped where my gaze too did Not wanting to add five burnt fingers scarred into a claw To the discomfiture of being clothed in privilege.
She was Paro’s girl. Paro, dirt exterminator by day And physiotherapist by night. From a hidden perch, I watched in awe As soot black feet stamped on the prone Rickshaw puller’s flesh and bones. Houses trembled when her tongue lashed. Yet her absence was a natural disaster An infant hung from her black breasts, But the girl was a contract forgotten A loan obtained when she had none of her own.
‘Maa’ an attempt to bond with another bonded one Whose voice and swagger were defense mechanisms, But who couldn’t bring herself to call the labour-sharer A daughter, but then these were all written indelibly in stone. I believed with all the wisdom of being eight, An unknown bond they had somehow signed One I couldn’t read. Paro’s girl scrubbed on with her mesh of heirloom scars No one remembered that she had never been named.
Humbling to have my poem judged as first runner up at the World Union Of Poets Competition 2016. My gratitude and thanks to honourable jury members and to ALL the winners! Thank you Dr. Ampat Koshy and all my friends in The Significant League who have showered me with wishes and congratulatory messages and have always supported me even during my long absences from the group and FB.
“The WUP organized several events to celebrate the WUP Day, as it is lovingly called. The most eagerly fought and waited for is the WORLD UNION OF POETS PRIZE 2016. Dr. J.S. Anand from India, Ambassador of the WUP and General Director, was appointed the President of the Jury. Other Hon’ble Members of the Jury included International Directors of the WUP Dr. Maria Miraglia, [Italy] Sh. Ashok K. Bhargava [Canada], Dr. Muhammad Shanazar, [Pakistan], Dr. Roghayeh Farsi [Iran] and Dr. George Onsy,[Egypt]. The result of this contest in which around 100 poets from across the world participated, was declared today: 1) ABEGUNDE SUNDAY OLAOLUWA (WINNER OF THE “WORLD UNION OF POETS PRIZE 2016)
2) REENA PRASAD (2° PLACE);
3) MARIBELLA GENOVA (3° PLACE);
4) CAROLINE NAZARENO – GABIS (4° PLACE);
5) DEEPA CHANDRAN RAM [5th Place].”
“WORLD UNION OF POETS CELEBRATES THE POWER OF POETRY: AIMS TO BRING A REVOLUTION IN THE CONSCIOUSNESS OF TIME. Dr. J.S. Anand, from India, Ambassador of WUP, and General Directo…
And when the earth gave a mighty heave and rested its last unbroken piece on a jagged cliff, a sift occurred
Poets being more surefooted than the rest were left on the narrowest of ledges “Bring your best poem, only one. The best” came the cry, “See that red world floating on the ocean that is where the best will survive!”
And I threw myself into the blue sea for a poem you had made me and within me were a thousand poems of yours, each one the best written with your breath and there wasn’t between them any comparison or enmity