TIP OF THE ICEBERG: EVENING, DELSLAM

Not all winter evenings settle down like a patient etherized on a table; not each swill of yellow fog enters your perception with an insidious intent; and yes, I do think – if I search hard-enough, the mermaids will sing for me.

Am I sounding crazy? Must be, but excuse me, these are crazy times.

For the past few weeks I have been mighty depressed; the current spate of events nationwide, more particularly in my hometown Delhi, has made me face again my specters from the past, asking me to ask myself – where do I stand?

Rather, with whom do I stand?

Is it at all possible to continue feeling normal, when politically motivated violence and state-sponsored bigotry becomes the new normal? How can I behave as if nothing has happened, when what’s happening makes me cringe in doubt and disgust and shame; when people all around you continue to turn regressive, when fanaticism becomes a fashion statement and logical reasoning gets out-thumbed – does it make sense to maintain your distance and say – that’s not my problem?

Is there anything called objectivity any more? How long will it take before fear reaches your own home? Spine and spleen are not just body parts, they define who you are. Losing them is not a good sign, at any stage, or age.

If there ever was a time to take sides, this is it.

An unbearable weight of uselessness was holding me back, when I approached a small, but comfortable looking café at Saiyad Ul Ajaib village, near the Garden of Five Senses, South of Delhi.

Dragging my feet, since I was weary, and afraid, that with my shattered self-esteem, I might be ridiculously out of place here; I was attending an invitation from Saumya Choudhury, the Programme Director of Delhi Poetry Slam, otherwise called DelSlam.

Seems I was needlessly worried.

Here, I searched me in the freewheeling passion of young voices, sprinkled liberally with a carefully crafted abandon; re-looked me in their intrepid demand for meanings; found me in the protest and the poetry that I thought didn’t exist anymore.

Silly me !!! I thought it was dark, since my eyes were closed.

That’s from Ishaan Phukan, a 19 year old law student; a common young man, to be precise, but with a few clear things to say – without mincing words.

I stand with you Ishaan; and Vishakha, Divya, Deon, Akhshay, Gracia…

That evening I met a lot of commoners; students, housewives, professionals at the early stages of their careers – from various fields – all coming together for an evening of performance poetry; and each with something to say, and ready to appreciate, and snap their fingers in support of their fellow poets; talking of things that make sense to them, and a few that don’t make sense.

I will bring you one of those performances, from DelSlam’s you tube uploads.  

Yes, I might have been a bit zapped with the overwhelming rush of blood to my head; but I never felt out of place – not for even one moment.

To know more about that evening and its participants, please go to the Face Book page of DelSlam. Follow them; check out their website, and even better, buy a ticket to their next monthly event and go meet them.

Chances are, you will remember, that youth is a state of mind.

This, however, was not my first tryst with Performance Poetry.

Couple of years back, I was invited to judge a session of Inter-school Poetry Slam at the school where my children go, and despite having no idea what I am getting into, I obliged, if only to impress the principal. I was pleasantly awestruck with the variety and intensity of the poetry then, and I ended up buying some of the participants’ collections of Ginsberg and Auden – if I remember it right.

But methinks the passion and the purpose with which Delhi Poetry Slam does it takes the idea to an altogether different level. The evening I witnessed was just the tip of the iceberg, in terms of their variety and scale of operations.

But before I tell you about the various dimensions of DelSlam, I have to tell you their genesis story; about how the ‘idea’ of running a full-fledged organization decidedly dedicated to performance poetry occurred – in the first place.

It’s not all been smooth sailing – is it? There must have been a fair amount of trials and tribulations in different stages of the growth of the organization. There had to be some naysayers, and some spoilsports. There always are.

I asked Saumya to share some of those experiences with my readers.

DelSlam also holds an annual nationwide poetry competition.

The Wingword Poetry Prize aims to provide recognition and financial rewards to budding poets from all over India.

Saumya feels a national poetry competition can help people explore the intricacies of their day to day existence and commit to expression.

The online poetry competition engages poets (across age-groups) in different categories. Entries are accepted for 3-4 months every year, and once that window is closed – an external committee of judges review the poems on a point-based system – based on creativity, originality and style of expression.

But isn’t it a thankless job to judge poetry?

Saumya agrees – it’s tough, and sometimes a very close call.     

The prizes range from 10,000 rupees to 1 lakh rupees and the winner gets a chance to publish a poetry book. 

Every year, the winners and participants of the competition are invited to a ceremony wherein they can network with trained poets, share feedback on their poetry and learn tips to gain exposure for their writing. Saumya says this ceremony is the most fun and engaging part of the Wingword Poetry Prize.

The winners of Wingword Poetry Prize 2019 have already been announced. In their official website, you can download a free collection of the winning poems. 

DelSlam also comes up with poetry anthologies – on a variety of topics, and with anywhere between 50- 100 poems in each collection. These books are retailed online and in bookstores.

What piqued my interest particularly was their self-publishing model – where poets fund their own poetry collections. Interesting idea, of course, but does that mean if I have money and feel poetic, I can go and publish a book with them. How does that work?

Seems like bit of a risky business to me.

Good riddance, I must say; traditional publishing rocks.

And that’s not just because I am old school; that’s because there are ample self-publishing opportunities available today, where writers of any caliber can misfire their imagination and get away with it. But these platforms do not take onus of the quality its offering to its readers.

If DelSlam does the same, I believe – that might not be the right brand building exercise for them. Platforms like these thrive on their ability to deliver credibility and quality – so it’s better that they stick to curated contents.

In any case, there are so many vehicles nowadays for young poets to express themselves. Technology is eager to net them, and like Saumya, I too believe that they should warm up to these new fangled opportunities.

Maybe, but nothing like performing to a live audience. Nothing like telling them on their face what you are feeling – right here, and right now.

For me, poetry is how I feel. Also, as the society becomes more fragmented and the ambience becomes more unpredictable – poetry starts becoming more expressive and intense.

I asked Saumya – would she agree to that supposition?  

The bout of depression that hung heavy over me was long since gone; here, finally, I was getting comfortable, since I was flattering myself into believing that this is where I stand.

With them, I stand.

Maybe they are the ones I should be writing about; and others like them; people who still exude hope, even in these hopeless times. A friend of mine suggested that many such counter worlds do exist – all you need to do is to go find them out.

Like most good things in life, that evening too ran out of time.

Before taking her leave, I asked Saumya, in a jovial yet complaining tone, ‘How do I find a job like yours?’ In a cascading laughter that rather resembled a mountain spring, she responded, ‘You have to create it…’

So true; never too late to start, I believe. There will always be time.