If all the lands and legacies in Southasia smelled of democracy, poetry in Southasia would undoubtedly be limp and sodden. While Nepal has striven to become a true Naya Nepal, work by the Nepali poet Manu Manjil paints an uninviting and foreboding Kathmandu that has yet to shrug off its tortured past:
Don't come, I said
The city abounds in troubles
Streets here stab and shock
The dream walker's steps…
The city, I said, is ungenerous to life…
Manu shares portraits of his Kathmandu screaming as day breaks, crows perched on its shoulders, of his being half-awakened to write. The anguish of this poet, who watches the disappointments of his country in transition and has trouble looking straight into the mirror, is engraved in his poetry.
I met Manjil at the SAARC Poetry Festival of Young Poets, which took place in February in several cities in Orissa – Bhubaneswar, Puri, Konark and Cuttack. He and I and the rest of the individuals that made up this roving festival were all traversing hundreds of miles to indulge ourselves in the many variants of current Southasian lyricism. Among us were inspired young poets, all of whom offer gifts to the region.