Discovering the Poetic Horizons: In Conversation with Yaseen Anwer

 
Yaseen Anwer, a young gentleman and poet is a well known personality in Delhi. He is the Founder of Kaafiya, a rapidly growing community of poetry lovers, bringing up the fresh flavor of poems written by both the old, well known poets as well as the present, contemporary ones. He was also the Founder and the Managing Editor of Poets Corner Group (Established in June 2011) and Delhi Poetry Festival (Established in January 2013) till mid 2015. He has been facilitated with Young Poet's Award 2012 by the Indian Poetry Society. His amiable nature and humbleness sets him apart from other connoisseurs of poetry. His sees Kaafiya as an endeavor to merge the old and the new, joining together one language to another, mixing diverse cultures, etc. with the aim to unite hearts with the beauty of poetry. He believes in creating a weather of poetry through Kaafiya, resonating with Delhi's weather and merging into it.

He began writing at a young age and attained proficiency in English, Hindi and Urdu. His work has appeared in more than 80 national and international magazines and journals and has been translated into different languages like Chinese, Portuguese, Hindi, etc.

Q. Is it really necessary to fall in love to write love poetry?

A. You need muse, don't you? Just falling in love, not sure, but yes admiring someone does, spending time with someone also does. It may not always be a girl, it can be a place you have fallen in love with. There are people who are inspired by mountains. Its more about being in the state of mind where you end up writing because of someone or something.

Q. Even little things excite poets, isn't it?

A. Depends. To some its beauty that excites, to some its pain.

Q. What do you think about a poet's 'burden' or 'responsibilities' with respect to society as a change-maker?

A. Seeing a poet simply as a change-maker and the power of poetry as an agent of change can be mythical. A poet should have a view on things happening around and if has, it will certainly reflect in his writing. A considerable amount of effort has to be made and one has to consistently work on it to observe the impact.

Q. With the current trend of Slam Poetry and an air of self-centered and distant writing, has the idea of poetry attained an enclosed, idealistic identity away from reality?

A. There are a segment of writers who grow distant from society and find an alternate world under the shade of nature, hilltops, etc. Slam poetry in itself is just a dot in the universe of poetry, there is lot more in poetry, why should we talk of just slam poetry!

Q. What do you think about the lost art of writing letters in this fast paced world?

A. It will be almost impossible to revive it. Things that have a relation with commerce can only stay alive. Languages die with time, what are letters!

  

Q. English, Urdu or Hindi, which is the most friendly and expressive language?

A. For a poet, the language in which he thinks is the best language to write in, precisely, one's mother-tongue. The natural beauty and personal instincts can be best expressed through it.

Q. How significant is writing for you?

A. For me, writing comes when nothing else is possible, when someone or something strikes me deep within to an extent that it will tear me apart. It forces me into some state that can make me go mad till it comes out. Writing can never go out of me. When I am not writing I am still writing something and erasing, those not erased come out for others to see.

Q. What are traits of excellent poetry?

A. Words compressed, speaking more in less words and depth, universality and timelessness that  surpasses all boundaries and reaches out to a wider audience.

Q. Is reading the most necessary thing to become a better poet?

A. Reading is certainly the most important thing not just for a poet but for a writer but yes again It shouldn't be limited to just reading, writing and then re-writing helps you to get better. Writing is almost meditating.

Q. 'You write too!', 'Poets are there in every lane' how should a poet face the negative vibes and stand apart in the budding community of fellow poets?

A. Here again I talk about Universality and timelessness. If it is there in your work, it will surpass all boundaries and reach out to a wider audience. Also, it takes time to prefect the art of writing. One has to cover a long way and stay focused to reach the stage of acclamation and appreciation.

Q. You favorite genre of poems?

A. Favorite is not an apt word since it's restrictive and creates boundaries. Poems showcasing reality, depth, unmasking the truth, and rich in relativity interest me.

Q. Which poets would you recommend to read (in Urdu)?

A. Daag Dehlvi and Basheer Badr are the must read poets to explore the vivacity of Urdu.  

Q. How distant is a poetic world and un-poetic reality?

A. For an honest poet, there isn't any dissimilarity between the virtual and the real. There's always a sense of restlessness. What's written is a reflection of prevailing realities. In fact, the presence of good poets is a sign of bad society.

  

Q. How important is vocabulary in poetry?

A. Vocabulary is not the most essential aspect of a good piece. It's more about the words that fit in and create an impact. A play on words and effective communication creates a long-lasting and heart-touching impression. It's also about how differently one expresses a particular emotion.     

Q. Comment on a poet's keen eye and observation power? Does a poet sees differently?

A. Good poets are great observers. Yes they see things differently and notice more. For instance, while looking at a motorbike, a number of stories can be spun around: a hard-working man dropping his kids to school on his way to work, etc. This is beyond an ordinary person's interest.     

Q. Short poems are more in fashion than long ones in the world of Social Media. Your response?

A. Short poems work as magnets to attract target audience's attention. Once that interest is secured, people can go on reading the long poems as well.      

Q. Does happiness create a similar effect on writing or the creation of best works is all about the pain that inspired it?

A. Well for me its restlessness that works more, and restlessness is mostly the result of pain. But at the same time I feel it's more about the feeling and thought that inspires the work.  

At the end, 

One of his beautiful couplet:

Ander tumharey dafn humara Jo hissa he

Zinda to bs wohi he, Jo baqi he qissa he

Sacredly buried in the depths of you, my part,

Lived, when the rest of me was so falling apart!

(Translated by Sadia Khan)

24th Feb, 2016

Let's Walk Along the Memory Lane (Part 1)

Some people write poems, some live poetically. I am but a string of simple pendulum constantly caught between the two extremes. Are you too? Let's tread together then, holding each other's hands, over the mud paved roads of childhood. 

 

The weight of individualism was heavy since attaining consciousness. I saw myself too different to the extent of believing that I might be composed not of flesh and blood but some magic sand, clouds and feathers. The first time I saw my X-Ray test report, there was a feeling of awe at the knowledge of having backbone and ribs, just like everyone else. That moment was necessary to bring forth the realization that we all are constituted of same stuffs and humanity unites us.

When I would look at the starry night sky, I thought that the most glorious milestone to be ever achieved is to succeed in counting all the stars twinkling over the vast canvas. Summer nights under the sky and cool breeze passing through one's soul felt heavenly, even though the idea of 'soul' remained mysterious. As a child, I was awfully curious and most troublesome of all my siblings. Brave mother of mine might have been really patient. I had a keen interest in collecting toys and drowned deep into the unreal world of thoughtfulness. The toys ranged from usual cooking accessories to empty bottles, to sharpeners, erasers, discarded jewelry items, and so on. There used to be a corner shop run by an old moon-like haired lady. The products ranged from a wide variety of churans, sweets of incredible shapes and sizes accompanied with minute plastic toys to tempt the kids even more. A tiny arrow and bow was one such thing. On losing the arrow somewhere, the quest for an alternative began. A new cherry colored table clock was found. At one secluded corner of the house, a few days later the clock was discovered in a shattered condition with a broken glass and needle missing. Near it stood the half broken brick smiling with mischief.

Memories dwelled over the two hemispheres: outdoor and indoor. The former was bound by time while the latter remained predominant. Outdoor sports involved a number of neighbourhood kids. One person would knock the doors of the houses of remaining friends as the afternoon sun dipped itself in the cup of evening. 3pm itself would add spring to our feet and our parents would be equally alert during that hour. Those days, an elevated ground was the hub of a number of activities, occupied by adults and kids alike. Some enchanting unreal sights showed two small ponds. One, where fishes lived once and gradually water evaporated and mud settled over it each year swallowing its depth. Another one was not a pond, but a well where kids couldn't pass without peeping in to find something interesting. Life was pretty equal and levelled up before the advent of adolescence. Annual fair brought a deep aura of delightfulness, melody of basuri, sweetness of puffed up khaaja, weird looking brown colored eatable of the shape of moon and stars, noise of mamira neem ka thanda surma, announcing the existence of a fair, kids running around in lanes with weird sounding gadgets freshly purchased from the fair like a cap with two horns that unfolded with every blow. Monkey shows and saanp-sapera shows happened at every comfortable corner. Luckily I could steal glances from my window or through a narrow opening of the door in case going out was under objection. Rooftop always provided that perfect view. Rumours of children kidnapped were effective enough to stop us from leaving the house. Still, the swing nearby often stole our hearts and the worth of 50 paisa was heavily acknowledged. I befriended one jhula wala who visited the place every year during the ten day fair. When he would rotate the round pumpkin like seats, we would shout with the top of our voices 'aur tez lambu bhaiya'. Ah yes he was tall, thus his name became lambu. Nobody knew his real name. One morning he took me to the mela grounds, a bit distant. We walked and chatted. He was careful to point out to me every object of awe around. On returning home and telling my mom about the fun morning walk experience I was surprised to find her shocked and aghast. She warned me against it. I was too young to know anything but friendship and affection, with everyone alike. A bundle of joys were those days, a round sweet candy that was slowly disappearing in my mouth and transforming into a memory.

...To Be Continued