Exploring identity, existentialism & ephemeral nature of life

“A poem is a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It is a reaching-out toward expression; an effort to find fulfilment. A complete poem is one where an emotion finds the thought and the thought finds the words.”

American poet Robert Frost in one of his letters to his friend Louis Untermeyer made the above comment on his thoughts about poetry. It outlines his appreciation of how poetry begins as an emotion that arises from a desire to express oneself and finds fulfilment through writing, breathing life into words and allowing them to carry the message of one’s thoughts and emotions to a wider universe.

Reading Preetinicha Barman’s collection of poetry titled My Body Floating with Hyacinths, one can appreciate how she has managed to capture the intricacies of human experience with profundity and nuance. She has deftly woven her poetic skill around the intertwining themes of identity, existentialism, and the ephemeral nature of life, inviting readers to engage in a multifaceted exploration of the self and its relationship to the surrounding world.

Barman has been able to weave together personal and universal themes to create a rich tapestry that resonates with a sense of rootedness in one’s culture and heritage while simultaneously connecting with her personal experiences and journey through life, effectively inviting the readers to reflect on their own lives and experiences through the poet’s lenses.

The water hyacinth (Eichhornia crassipes), often known as the terror of Bengal, is an exotic shrub which competes with native species of plants and can also eliminate its competition. When it blooms, its flowers cover the water bodies in shades of white and lavender, creating a beautiful mosaic of gentle colours. However, there is an underside to it as well: because the plant is invasive, it not only destroys native species but also clogs the wetlands, rivers, flood plains, lakes and streams, leading to the death of many aquatic species. It is a classic example of the loss of biodiversity due to an alien species invasion.

Reading in this context, My Body Floating with Hyacinths unveils a “mythic…exploration of love and the lost world” (Guha) in which the poet navigates through the invasive modern identities to reach out to her people’s past, their customs and traditions, the complexities of identity and the longing for a legacy.

The poems are an expression of the depths of human emotion, as she uses language to transform her feelings into reflections of the broader human experience. This poetry collection consists of 70 poems that are divided into four parts: You May Not Believe My Story, We Had Emerged Out of Chaos, Let the River Narrate Her Own Tale and My Body Floating with Hyacinths, where each part, preceded by a unique subtitle, carries its significance in the overall context of the collection.

To fully appreciate the depth of My Body Floating with Hyacinths, it is imperative to consider the socio-cultural and historical contexts in which it was conceived. The poet has drawn upon a rich tapestry of influences ranging from history to philosophy to metaphysics and religion to explore the complexities of human existence. By engaging a wide, intertextual reading, she has grounded the poetry within a larger philosophical discourse, thus allowing the readers to immerse themselves in a nuanced exploration of the presented themes.

Barman belongs to the Koch-Rajbongshi people, hailing from Lower Assam. Paresh Borah in his paper, Demand for Separate Statehood and The Koch Rajbanshi’s Quest for Revival of Their Past in The Indian State of Assam writes, “Koch Rajbanshis are one of the oldest aboriginal ethnic groups of Southasia… Presently they are found in three Southasian countries viz. India, Bangladesh and Nepal. In India they are predominantly found in four Indian states, ie. West Bengal, particularly in North Bengal, Assam, and some parts of Bihar and Meghalaya.”

Historically, the Koch Rajbongshi people have had to fight to reclaim their historical legitimacy in Assam and, especially, in West Bengal. This has come about due to the emergence of cultural and political faultlines arising from the existence of other cultures and communities in the states, causing competition for dominance. As a result of this, Barman’s poems echo the desire to establish an identity that is confidently idiosyncratic with the region and the right to exist and be recognised, acknowledged and remembered. Thus, an understanding of the historical and socio-political context in which it was conceived plays an important part in the appreciation of the complexity of this poetry collection.

Poetry, therefore, allows her to utilise its vast repository of imaginative resilience to transcend the familiar elements of history and social discourse, blending it with her memories and emotions thereby enlarging the discourse’s scope.

The poems in My Body Floating on Hyacinths are meticulously crafted, each embodying distinct facets of human experience through which Barman explores themes of identity and existential enquiry. The introspective reflections of history, culture and identity allow the protagonist to navigate the complexities of selfhood, ultimately arriving at a deeper understanding of her place within the cultural context. This journey of self-discovery is marked by moments of vulnerability and resilience, illustrating the protagonist’s growth and evolution throughout the narrative. Barman explores the historical significance of her lower Assam heritage through poems such as My Old Story, The Storyteller’s Tale, Riddle, Atharakota, Mashan God and History.

My Old Story, the opening poem of the section You May Not Believe My Story, introduces us to the collection with a personal note that echoes a sense of belonging and ancient history: One day I will tell you

My old story, and

The ghosts of my giant ancestors

Would leap up the ancient well. (13)

The image of her great-grandmother in her evening prayers lends an intensely personal note that connects her to the resonating past:

You’ll hear the evening prayers of my great-grandmother

…harmonizing with the medley

Of the thunderous drum,

The forceful cymbals

And the high-pitched conch. (13)

Barman conjures images of grandeur in the “abashed mansion”, “the dilapidated temple” and the “ancient well”, which evoke a sense of antiquity and resilience. Though time has passed yet the ancient marks still linger, reminders of a past that refuses to be forgotten, denied or erased:

…if you visit the narrowing scraps of our yard,

You’ll see the marks of a vanished well

And a crumbled cattle-shed;

The neighbouring night jasmine tree

Still carries its ancient fragrance. (13)

The poet warns that the “ghosts of my giant ancestors” would one day “leap up the ancient well” as she tells her “old story”.

The Storyteller’s Tale invokes the poet as a storyteller, a keeper of memories, histories, knowledge and stories:

…she is the storyteller of the dead,

Of the living, of the past glories

Which have sunken into the layers of time. (15)

The poem resonates with a profound consciousness of history within the poet’s mind, imbued with a sense of the continuity of existence:

An un-erased skyscape are her folios

Which tell and would continue telling

The stories of the storyteller. (15)

The references to “koler-gaan”, her father smuggling “a silk sari for her wedding”, the “khadi andolon”, mixed with the references to “past glories”, the “layers of time” and the continuity of “the stories of the storyteller” enable the memories to linger, immortalised through the storyteller’s tales.

Riddle deals with the poet’s manifold complexities of identity:

You ask my name…

I am called Rajbangshi, Goalparia,

Deshi, Kamatapuri and yet, Koch-Rajbongshi. (16)

The poet introduces us to the idea that her identity transcends rigid definitions:

Sometimes I’m mutilated,

Humiliated to the point

Of being called a dialect, of Bengali, of Assamese

Or else Rangpuri. (16)

The poet resents being typified into narrow categories that she finds inadequate to express her multilayered identity fully. She expresses her resentment at the lack of empathy and understanding of being misunderstood. By terming it as ‘mutilation’ and ‘humiliation’, she shows the depth of her emotion and her desire to be understood more deeply. Being typified into a sub-class prevents others from seeing her as an embodiment of her rich culture:

I open my arms

And folk songs elapse;

…I am proud

Even without knowing

What I am called. (16)

Atharokota talks about a lost history in which the poet presents the cyclical nature of time in which the old is replaced by the new, and the latter carries no memory of the past which has effectively been obliterated. While the “pond with its reddish water still hallucinates the red history” and the “giant banyan” trees still “sigh of bygone days”, suggesting that a part of the history still lingers, but the past magnificence of “atharokota the eighteen-roomed palace” is lost in the present, the only remnant in existence being a desolate pond:

…the eighteen-roomed palace

Is lost in an abscessed land Around a desolate pond.

…called atharokota (20)

The once magnificent “palace” has now been turned into a fishery, a hut with a machan who guards it day and night, a poor shadow of its former glory. Just as the fish that now live in the pond do not remember the glory of the past, the poet implies that her people now living in the present do not know the magnificence of their past and are content to remain in ignorance, “feeding on the skulls of a missing history”.

The poem comes across as a cry of longing for the past and an invitation to the people to dig into their culture and history and once again, revive the knowledge about their identity that has been relegated to the past, and revel in the pride of their antiquity.

The consignment of history to oblivion is further represented in Mashan God, which, according to Hari Madhab Ray in Mashan Deity of the Rajbanshis: its forms, types and rituals is a powerful male deity worshipped by the Rajbanshis. However, in the poem, the “terrible Mashan God” has lost his power and, more significantly, his relevance:

They don’t know me.

I have been cast out of my myths. (63)

Having realised his insignificance in the present world, the Mashan God retreats into his palace, like a snail in its shell. The symbolism in the poem is quite revealing of the intent of the poem. The once-feared god, an important figure in the Rajbongshi culture, is relegated to the pages of history by forgetful people. On another level, the Rajbongshi people also believe that the Mashan god has power that assists people in hardships and the Mashan deity will protect fellow Rajbongshis from the impending cultural annihilation in the age of globalisation.

In many places, the Rajbongshi folks realised the significance of their indigenous culture and cultural symbol, and to save and protect it, they built concrete temples of the Mashan god in various places of North Bengal, and they started worshipping it which widely became a matter of much-needed community celebration.

Reading in this context enlarges the scope of the poem and allows it to instead be a message of hope rather than of loss. The Mashan god may rise in significance as a symbol of the rejuvenation of the Rajbongshis, redeeming and reclaiming their culture from the clutches of modern cultural annihilation.

Interwoven with the larger concerns about history and cultural identity are the poet’s own introspective reflections on her identity and existence. The poems serve as medium for the exploration of identity and existential inquiry. Barman’s childhood memories and her private ruminations reveal the meticulously crafted images and symbols that are used to reveal her emotions that are intense and often overwhelming. Through these devices, the poet navigates the complexities of selfhood, ultimately arriving at a deeper understanding of her place in the world. Barman bares her thoughts and emotions in these moments of vulnerability and resilience as she takes the readers on this poetic journey towards her growth and evolution.

“A Legacy of Sins” describes the poet grappling with her human condition of sinfulness, or rather, of being “called a sinner”. The poem is a philosophical introspection on the nature of sin, the proclaimed sinfulness of human beings and its universality, rendering it impossible for judgment by mortals who are equally susceptible to sin themselves. She acknowledges the existence of sin and of her own sins that are “numerous” that she “breathes out” and “make her breathless”. But she justifies the existence of her sin: “they are born of fear, of ennui, of irritation”, human conditions, reactions and emotions that often reveal humanity at their weakest and most vulnerable to actions that may go against moral codes. By equating herself with

Clytemnestra, she suggests that while she may be tainted by “the rotten heap of molten sins”, she cannot be judged by an Orestes, who is also equally tainted:

I am Clytemnestra,

Born of sun, born to sin, eternally

Only to die at the hand of a sinner,

Born of a womb. (86)

The poet points out the irony and injustice that though a white bird is seen as a symbol of purity, she, a human born from a fertilized egg, like the bird, is seen as “sinful”:

…perhaps, I would turn into a crystal,

And fly onto the heaven as a white bird

Do birds commit sin?

Not probably,

As they dwell far above the land of sins.

Why then, born of an egg,

I am a sinner

Or rather, I’m called a sinner? (86)

“Play, Love” is the poet’s moment of vulnerability as she displays her insecurities in the midst of passion, a moment of exposure where she lays bare her most intimate desire to belong to someone and for them to belong to her alone:

Each time we make love

I ask you to call my name;

…its an assurance of fidelity (48)

The inherent susceptibility to envy and skepticism forces the poet to view things “upside down” like “a bat” in an attempt to detect “a glimpse of promiscuity”, threatening to overturn the natural order of things. But in the end, having failed to find any evidence of infidelity, “the bat turns to a cat”, licks its scars from self-inflicted wounds of “suspicion and envy” and awakens from the “fragmented dream”.

In “The Response”, Barman reveals her most intimate moments in a daring rush of passion and sensuality. Her private moments, emotions and thoughts are laid bare for her readers, as she invites them on a heady journey of physicality and sensuousness, revealing the raw, unadorned truths of human intimacy:

She licked honey

Inside his mouth-cave.

His beaded pearls

Bit her lower lips

Turning it into a coral. (46)

In the midst of this passion, the poet highlights her feelings of sadness, melancholy and longing:

It was not him that she yearned,

It was the sun, the maddening wind,

The swift tickle over her curves. (46)

The poem is marked by a profound sense of desire, passion and sensuality, intermingled with a sense of longing, the inadequacy of mere passion and the desire for a transcendent sensual experience:

It was not exactly him,

But the limy smell,

The thicket brushing her

Arms and thighs,

The bubbled saliva

Flooding her with gems. (46)

A similar experience of frustration and melancholy is also echoed in “My Nights”, which juxtaposes the passion of an “intimate deadlock” with the mundane daily rituals:

At a certain point of my intimate deadlock

I hear the dogs barking,…  the keypad sounds shrill…

I get up, use the washroom, drink water,

Turn off the light, put the mobile on charge

As if to prepare for the rituals of another day… (73)

In addition to the poet herself, the characters that are mentioned in this collection are equally significant in their contributions to the narrative. Each of them is representative of a unique perspective on the exploration of identity and transience, complementing the poet’s exploration of these concepts. The interplay between these characters, symbols and metaphors serves to highlight the interconnectedness of history, culture and human experiences, emphasising how people impact others and are influenced by one another. Such relationships reveal the complexities of identity, culture, history and loss, further deepening the readers’ understanding of the human condition. For instance, “Fizz” explores the poet’s relationship with her father as she compares herself to him and her failure to live up to his expectations:

Now I’m in the mode

Of the descending order of statuesque.

Duty, patience, providence,

Whatever you framed me on

Are evaporating into fumes,

Evaporating… (17)

She expresses her conflicting emotions of upholding his values while grappling with her own personal failures and idiosyncrasies as she describes her “rough, dishevelled hair” that gives her a “vague-vogued” look of “carelessness”. She ends the poem with a note of rebellion and resignation as she invites her father to “see the derangement of your monument/shrouded by a forest of fizzy hair.”

Barman also explores her thoughts on her place as a poet and her own poetic aspirations in this collection. In “My Poems”, she presents an analogy of giving birth to her poems as a duck gives birth to her ducklings:

I hatched you one by one,

With full-timed patience…

Now you are quacking

Here and there,

Paddling in puddles. (89)

Calling her poems, “ugly ducklings”, she expresses a love-hate relationship with her creations:

…so I marooned you to an island.

When you were gone

I quacked to call you back,

My ugly ducklings. (89)

In the end, she is content that although her poems would never be beautiful and become “swans, they will continue to carry the message of her poetry and thereby remain a vital part of her existence:

My being shrinks at the thought of coming out, Of facing the commotion outside.

Your pages shelter my essence. (89)

As she probes the depths of her mind to find an answer to the question: “Am I a poet?” (90), she finds solace in the fact that perhaps definitions do not matter to her anymore. She is content in the sufficiency of her “ugly ducklings” to communicate her thoughts and emotions: “What matters is how I look at you, poetry” (90). Her poetry is as much as part of her as the hyacinths that are found all over the plains of Assam, an enduring symbol of the land and the region.

Perhaps, through her poetry, she has uncovered not just her cultural identity but also her poetic persona. It has given her “a new birth…amidst the concord of the muddy soil”. Free from the overwhelming obligation to be a voice of her community, she can trust her inner voice, her “ugly ducklings” being her messengers, and allow herself to be carried forward on the undertow of her poetry, her “body floating with the hyacinths” (77), no longer resisting the current of change but surrendering herself to her faithful craft:

You tell me everyday that I’m yours and even that I am you… (90)

In conclusion, My Body Floating on Hyacinths stands as a significant contribution to contemporary literature, particularly in the context of Northeast Indian poetry. It presents a rich and nuanced exploration of identity, ephemerality, and the human condition. The innovative poetic framework, a passionate and sophisticated probing of thoughts and emotions and profound thematic inquiries invite readers to engage in a reflective examination of their own lives and the broader existential questions that permeate human existence. The author’s commitment to exploring these themes with a high level of academic rigour ensures that the text resonates on multiple levels, making it a compelling read for those seeking to delve into the intricacies of the human condition.

Ultimately, the implications of this literary work extend beyond the confines of its pages, prompting a re-evaluation of how individuals navigate their identities in an ever-changing world.

As readers immerse themselves in the narrative, they are encouraged to synthesize their own experiences with the philosophical inquiries presented, fostering a deeper understanding of the self and its relationship with the broader tapestry of existence. The journey through My Body Floating on Hyacinths is not merely an exploration of the text itself but also an invitation to engage with the complexities of life, encouraging readers to confront their existential questions and embrace the beauty of their unique journeys.

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