Posted by: tsopr | December 10, 2012

Ranu Uniyal, Indian Poet

Ranu Uniyal -Ranu Uniyal is a Professor of English at Lucknow University. She has an MPhil from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. She was awarded Commonwealth Scholarship for PhD in English from Hull University, U.K.

Her main research interests are in Indian literature, Women’s writing and Post colonial literatures. Her research papers and book reviews have been published extensively in India and abroad. Her English poems have been translated into Uzbek, Hindi, Urdu and Malayalam. She is Associate Editor of The SPIEL Journal of English Studies (Lucknow).

She is the author of Women and Landscape: The fiction of Margaret Drabble and Anita Desai (Creative Books New Delhi 2000); Poems Across the Divide (Yeti Books, Calicut 2006); Raja Rao’s Kanthapura :A critical study (co-edited )Asia Book Club, New Delhi 2007); Women in Indian Writing : From Difference to Diversity (Prestige Books, New Delhi 2009); December Poems (Writers Workshop, Kolkata 2012).

She is currently working on a book of poems in Hindi. She is also one of the founding members of “PYSSUM” a charitable organization for children with special needs in Lucknow.

Featured Poetry of Ranu Uniyal

Confession

My silence
can never beat
the rhythm of
your stare
Disenfranchised
I discard
all my virtues
for your love’s sake.

Ahalya to Ram

I was once young and beautiful
Until I turned a stone and hid my forehead
On the clumsy grass hallowed and brown
I stumbled and lost my form and face
I turned my speech into ashes and withheld my sighs.
How easy to hurt the woman who was cheated by gods?
Deceit and pride did anger invite
Such shame and loss is mine.
Aged with envy, and unmindful distrust
He crossed my legs and left me with a curse
Until the gods intervened
And I came back to life.

But was it the same husband that I aspired for
The same house with its cropped up mats
No I choose to be a stone than a mate
To a man whose eyes believed what he could not see
Yes I’d rather be a stone that leaves neither aches nor flutters.
I carry within a heaviness that has curled with the weight
Of their angry feet and elsewhere sticks like an old habit.
Without form without face and ashes for speech Hey Ram!
I am now quite uncomfortable with the knowledge
Of knowing a curse would soon fall on her who
Stands beside you in these troubled times.

Radha to Krishna

Come Krishna and be my self
Dressed in a woman’s attire
How beautiful it is to see my
Longing for you as I comb my hair
In front of the mirror

Come Krishna and be my kohl
Black and brimming with light
How wonderful it is to read my
Ecstasy as it beholds the joy of
Oneness with you

Come Krishna and be my anklet
Silver embossed and naughty
How full of tease the tinkle is
Knowing it will meet you on the
Banks of Yamuna shielded by cows

Come Krishna and be my scarf
Ladled with shades of red and green
How restless as the wind it flows
Delighted with fragrance of Jasmine
Feet rush in haste to travel with you

Come Krishna and search me now
Not by any name a whisper or a song
How futile it is to call me by any
Name now that I have lost myself
Please let me know in case you find me

Woman To Woman
(Kamala Das to Judith Wright)

You tell me of a sorrow
That was mine
Yesterday
I brushed my hands
The rough edges of my nails
Had another sorrow and underneath
It was all wet, wet with a sense of despair
Are they all the same the men we loved?
The one who promised and walked away
And the one who married
And the one whose seed I held inside
With such unholy patience and longing

You share with me a joke
That is yours
Today
I laugh with you
It is another tale of a woman
Who like us
Did odd jobs, a house, a husband and a child or two
Or none what difference would it make?
Yet in place and she danced to the tune
Until it soured her bones and soiled her blood.
But she smiled and hugged her tears as if
Nothing at all had happened.

There she was at the bus stop,
At the post office
In bed and the kitchen
Beside the computer and the bath room
Unlike Clytemnestra unlike Draupadi
Unlike Medusa unlike Anusuya
Kicking her angst afraid
It would not just eat her inside out
But follow her like a ghost and then
They would all know
These smells of the sweat
Only dead possess.

Copyright © 2012 Ranu Uniyal

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Responses

  1. Interesting with good rhythm and realism as metaphor in the moment.


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