DIGITAL COPY ON MAGZTERThayil has never been to Mexico
City, even here the city in the
head presides, like the ‘I’ in
his pems, as he said recently,
never entirely personal, but a
fictional means to deal with
confession. Yet, it is in the act of
writing, of being immersed in a
poem that the chaos of
everyday existence is for a time
displaced. From ‘How to Be a
Leaf ’:Hold your breath until
You are God’s green thoughts,
Stop eating,air will suffice for food.
water is another matter:
the skin absorbs moisture,eyes adjust,
limbs grow inward.
Conjugate patience.Worship women and trees.Thayil recently admitted that
poetry is a kind of prayer. ‘They
are an offering to the gods.
That’s what they are.’ An excerpt
from ‘Imaginary Homecoming’:At river’s edge
I cup my hands,
drink till I’m drunk,the cool water
made sweeter
with knowledge.This is the end
of wandering under
other skies,the untrue north of exile.
How many camps
like this one?Well, Ghalib was a Sufi too:
In this world of infinite
possibility...all I see is one
footprint. (^114) / ARTS ILLUSTRATED / FEB 2016 - MAR 2016 /IAF - Delhi Connecting Art