In a conversation with the Editorial, Robin Ngangom offers his heartfelt opinion on various issues that matter to human lives today – from the dangers of climate change to the decadence of poetry and poetic audience. The following is a moderated version of the conversation:
Q. There is a strong presence of a poetic persona in your poems, a persona that floats through lyrics, violent happenings, and autobiographical elements. The persona sometimes takes the form of an adult remembering his childhood days and at other times a man that is consciously talking about his homeland from a faraway (at least metaphorically) place. If you had lived in Manipur, would this persona have been different? How would have your musings on violence appeared in that case?
Yes, things could have been different. In literary terms, we call it space and time. The spatial and temporal location of a person affects the text to a great extent. In my autobiographical essay, “Poetry in a Time of Terror”, I wrote about how I capture my subjective reality in a poetic world. Subjective reality keeps changing; nothing is constant in this frame. In fact, I have painted different roles. It is crucial to realise that one cannot typecast and compartmentalise a poet. A poet is a dodgy, slippery animal.
I am a romantic poet, but people have called me an overtly political poet. I have resented these labels. John Keats rightfully emphasised the chameleon nature of poets. Poets change their colours. Similarly, I may be a political poet today, but I will write about something else tomorrow. I need that freedom. For instance, I have started thinking a lot about environmental issues, ones that were missing from my observations earlier. The poems I have written so far have emerged from the felt experience. My soul has experienced those feelings, more than intellect could convey or experience.
I am aware of all the political issues – nationalism, marginalisation, identity, etc. However, my poems have never espoused anything at face value. I am questioning my community, my history, my people, and their politics and culture. When I respond to these conflicts, I feel them at a different level, one that unfolds at an emotional plane, transcending the robust concerns of politics.
This engagement creates immense conflicts within me. What W.B Yeats said about conflicts and poetry happens to me, too. He wrote, ‘ Out of the quarrel with others we make rhetoric; out of the quarrel with ourselves we make poetry.’ Nothing is fixed.
Q. You have been saying that you don’t document events and history without questioning. How perilous is the freedom of creativity? Are there frustrations?
First of all, abrupt expressions cannot make good poetry. Do not make statements. Statements tend to be propagandist. Through wit and humour, satire effectively deal with the problem of the unspeakable.
Your question is relevant because it is crucial to find an effective medium to express ideas and opinions. During the height of the Manipuri insurgent movements, a Meitei poet told me that writing Manipur poems (which he called the poetry of survival) in those times was akin to writing with guns pressed against your temples. You are balancing between state and non-state actors. Two Manipuri poets, Yumlembam Ibomcha and Thangjam Ibopishak are inspiring poets in this trajectory. They use surrealist and satirical elements in their poetry by way of showing resistance. Registering protest in literature is the key here. We can remember that Albert Camus emphasised the importance of telling the truth of what one knows and then resistance to oppression. Expressing truth and exercising liberty is vital for a writer. Thangjam Ibopishak’s poem “I want to be killed by an Indian Bullet”, is a classic example of what we are discussing – liberty and truth. The execution of humour and surreal techniques in this poem is stupendous. It is an iconic poem. Ibomcha also excels in this technic.
Q. You have created your art and artistic worldview as a poet. What would you conceive of yourself as a historian?
History is susceptible to prejudices. Hegemony, prejudice, selective memory, etc., are involved in historical constructions. New histories are emerging every day. History has to be revised from historical perspectives. This discipline is not cast in stone.
As a poet, I have talked about conflicts within myself. These conflicts are nevertheless productive because they are giving birth to new ideas. If I were to write history, it would be along the lines of questioning and revision from historical perspectives.
I would have been a revisionist historian.
Q. Do you think poets have more creative freedom?
A poet needs that creative freedom. Freedom is his lifeline. Without that freedom, he cannot survive as a poet.
Q. In which part of this country do you experience that kind of freedom the most?
That freedom does not exist. No place on the earth offers unhindered freedom in its pristine form. This is the irony is that friction and oppression create poetry. It is not about happy endings. Joys and sufferings are endemic to human life.
Q. How effective is poetry as a tool of protest?
People want slogans and quick fixes. Fortunately or unfortunately, slogans and quick fixes do not happen in poetry. But where do you find a deep reader these days? Only a few. These days, there are sub-genres such as slam poetry, and performance poetry that entertain the audience. But one cannot derive the essence of poetry from these kinds of poetry. Poetry pushes the boundary of thinking, towards deeper analysis and inspiration; poetry touches the soul and necessitates the readers to re-think, re-imagine.
Deep into the dead of the night, I read a poem and read it over and again. This is the kind of poetry that appeals to me. Postmodernists might ask who are you to decide? Who is a poet? What is a poem? I acknowledge the existence of such questions.
Personally, I am reading poetry that inspires and remains with me for a while. This is the kind of poem that you read to yourself in the dead of night.
Q. Metaphorically speaking, who are the women of your poem?
These women are oppressed women. Exploited nature are a parallel to oppressed women.
Q. What are your views on women’s movements in contemporary Manipur?
There seems to be missing a clear-cut agenda that informs a movement. Any rights-based movement, be it human rights or women’s rights, must be universal. This means that the rights being demanded should be for women in every community in Manipur. They cannot be called rights if they are demanded for a particular segment of Manipuri women. Exclusivity defeats the purposes of the movement.
It is also required to understand that class difference plays a crucial role. The divide between haves and haves not is still relevant. Women that are earning wages and feeding the family have different concerns than ones that are well off. Economic imperatives are harsh.
There is another consideration here. Women are asked to express solidarity in revolutionary movements. The demand that women abide by tradition and culture is an example. Invitation for solidarity is true of most movements. However, once the goals have been achieved, these movements usually lapse into facist mode. None of these movements is sacrosanct, they are constantly violated. Whether it is a movement for language or culture, nothing is absolute. So, revolutionary movements have to change according to changing times and places. Dereliction towards facist traits is worrying. Feminism must also guard itself against this trouble.
Q. What are your views on modern day literary festivals, publishing culture, and mainstreaming of poetry?
Literature has become mainstream art. Literature is also misappropriated by corporate elements in our times. There is nothing extraordinary or shocking about this. Publishing and organising festivals involve a lot of money. The patronage culture has been going on for a long time throughout the centuries. In the Elizabethan times, Shakespeare had patronage. Patronage supports the livelihood of authors and poets. Writers sell their art to support themselves. In our times, it is difficult to find publishers, it is even more so for poets.
My disappointment with the corporate misappropriation of literature has a crucial reason. Alexander Solzhenitsyn made a point in his Noble Prize acceptance speech, accordingly, if writers’ personal freedom and space were threatened, they had to fight and resist.
When I write about my rivers, trees, and hills, I want to see and feel them. If a certain destroyer of nature has befallen the trees and dried out the river, they are killing my poetry, too. And so I have to fight them for my own survival.
Q. Do you ever experience the pressure to be a political writer from your fellow Manipuri poets?
Actually, no. I rarely come across that kind of pressure. Maybe I mostly live outside Manipur. As I mentioned elsewhere, I am merely responding to my subjective reality. When I hear about violence and brutality unfolding in my homeland, I cannot keep my eyes and ears shut. I respond to these in my own way. I would have been writing about my subjective realities wherever I live and settle.
Q. Have you found your ideal audience?
Deep readers are a scarcity these days. This concern is not exclusively for poetry, it is true of literature per se. Many young poets are in pursuit of best selling race. Moreover, many are not writing about the issues that concern human lives; for example, environmental issues.
Also, I believe that the Humanities have failed to provide a moral guide to the people. We have come to face an impasse. Sadly we are behaving as though there are no dangers ahead of us. The Enlightenment has projected hums as rational creatures; I do not see this rationality happening. We are knowingly ingesting poison in our food, nuclear stock-pilling is wildly irrational. A war can wipe out humanity in its entirety. How are human beings rational? I acknowledge the presence of these dangers; however, I am also trying to find my heaven on earth amidst the chaos. Science, on the other hand, is amoral.
Q. You have expressed the Social Sciences ’ failure to be saver of humanity while science still remains amoral. Poetry is almost reaching an impasse. What is your utopia?
There are no utopias. Because whatever utopias there were in the past, they had disappeared. In every form of art, the excellence of earlier generations seems to be declining. Talking about poetry in Manipur, the present-day generation cannot write with the same flair and beauty. Manipuri poetry is facing a crisis now, namely groupism. The elders are pushing young and talented poets towards publication and reward. This attitude cannot produce good poetry. For me, songs and poems of the earlier generation are my utopias, which have disappeared now. Jorge Luis Borges wrote a beautiful line, ‘There are no other paradises than lost paradises.’ I also similarly look at utopia. There are no utopias, there are only lost utopias. Arundhati Roy says that literature provides shelter; it is a place of refuge. But I do not subscribe to this wholeheartedly. I find solace in Pure Land Buddhism’s idea about finding rebirth. My quest is more about finding heaven on earth through imagination and thinking.
Q. Is poetry a vocation?
I do not want to attach that tag that to poetry. Whether it is a vocation or a calling or a spiritual thing, I do not want to claim these for poetry or literature. I do not even want to say that literature provides shelter in this generation. I feel that poetry is an autonomous means of exploring and interpreting life and the world. Poetry is a way of exploring and interpreting the known world. It can consciously create a myth. I realise that it is possible to find new worlds. Reading poetry makes me discover the hidden worlds within myself. It is, therefore, an autonomous means of exploring the mystery, hidden world, in fact, everything. So I will not make those claims for poetry.
Q. What do you have to say about the process of creating poetry or good poetry and poetic inspiration? Is it the same as a spontaneous overflow of powerful emotions and Wordsworthian inspiration?
Yes, I do have inspiration. Inspiration can ambush you anywhere and anytime. At that very moment inspiration ambushes me, I can note down a few lines, but this is not enough to make good poetry. The poem is incomplete at this stage. One needs craftsmanship to complement inspiration – the conscious and the unconscious have to come together. It is not merely a spontaneous overflow of inspiration. One cannot merely rely on inspiration alone. They said that poetry is twenty per cent inspiration and eighty per cent perspiration. It is hard work. The best poets revise their works many times. Even after the poems had been published, they kept revising. Yeats revised his poems many times. The first draft is never enough, continue revising and polishing. But when the poem appears on the published page, it has to look spontaneous and effortless. The labour cannot be shown on the printed page. Young poets have no patience to revise. They cannot ascertain their worth as poets. Elders should inspire them, rather than push them towards publication and rewards. Rewards can stunt talent. The hunger for reward cannot produce good poetry. One has to be absorbed in the thought of the poem they are writing, do not think about other things for a while. Craft is the key here. Once it becomes easy for a poet to write poems, he is a dead poet; it is over for him. The more one writes, the more arduous and demanding it becomes. I can write a poem to read for the time being, but this is not good poetry.
Do not be in a rush while writing poems.
You cannot become a complacent poet.
