A critique on ‘On the street and Other Revelations’:

Loose prose and feeble signs of poetry

By Ranga CHANDRARATHNE

Winning the Gratiaen Prize 2010 by wfor her collection of poetry titled On the Street and Other Revelations offers an important opportunity to look back at the Gratiaen Prize which came into being in 1992. It also offers an opportunity to assess the predicament of Sri Lankan literature in English.

Sakuntala Mohini Sachithanandan

Before dealing with the subject at hand, which is the collection of poetry by Sakuntala Mohini Sachithanandan that won the Gratiaen Prize of 2010, it is pertinent to read a poem by Pablo Neruda as a model lest we might soon forget the very meaning of poetry given the fact that most of the Sri Lankan ‘poets’ write loose prose in lines and sometimes in Haiku structure so that they look like poems.

‘Carnal apple, woman filled, burning moon’

Carnal apple, woman filled, burning moon,

Dark smell of seaweeds, crush of mud and light

What secret knowledge clasped between your pillars?

What primal night does Man touch with his senses?

Ay, love is a journey through waters and stars,

Through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain:

Love is a war of lighting,

And two bodies ruined by a single sweetness.

Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity,

Your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages,

And a genital fire, transformed by delight,

Slips through the narrow channels of blood

To precipitate nocturnal carnation,

To be, and be nothing but light in the dark.

- Pablo Neruda

Although the poem is in English, the world renowned Chilean poet Pablo Neruda expresses not love-making in an English countryside but love-making in Chile in a moon-lit night. It is a universal experience in an authentically country-specific and culture specific setting. One of the principal characteristics of a gifted poet is his or her ability to convey a universal experience in an authentic country-specific or culture specific setting in English if he or she opts to write in English ( the same principle is applicable to any language).

In essence, a good poem should be subject to multiple readings from equally diverse perspectives. The fact that should be borne in mind is that the blank verse does not mean that a passage of loose prose can be turned into a blank verse by merely breaking it into lines or putting it into Haiku structure.

It is the standard assumption that the literary awards should be given to the best piece of literature or to the best collection of poetry if the poetry has been chosen for the award.

Other Revelations

Sakuntala Mohini Sachithanandan’s collection of poetry entitled ‘On the Streets and Other Revelations’ make many a revelations not only about the kind of loose prose which can pass by as ‘poetry’ among the gullible audience who primarily go by ‘awards’ in making their decisions to purchase books but also the degree of appreciation on the part of the panel of judges who shortlisted and gave the Gratiaen Award for the collection. For instance the ‘poem’ On the Streets can aptly be described as loose prose rather than poetry.

On the Streets

My mother, I remember, had her hair tied in a knot

and was always chewing betel-lips as red as the May –flowers

fallen by the roadside I love to stick

in my matted hair.

Around her neck hung a necklaces of multi-coloured beads

and I remember that they called her Kamala

They said that she had many men

my father had been one of them and

they said my sister was from

Someone else

One night, as always, when she’d gone

All dressed up in her new blue cloth

Sakuntala Mohini Sachithanandan

We were left there all alone on the barber-shop verandah.

We were busy eating some stale rice in the dark,

When we heard her scream and everyone was running.

No more did we have our mother, she was dead,

Because she’d had a fight with someone who

Refused to pay and throttled her, they said.

We never saw her, never had her hugging us or kissing us

Or screaming at whoever hurt us, again.

Kalu Nenda then took charge: she set up Akka who

Was just fourteen or so,

In what she said was Good Business,

The only business lowly like of us

Would ever know.

And Akka passed from man to man

(“We’ve got to live!” Kalu Nenda planned)

While we ate our bread and maalu hodi

In the barber-shop verandah in the night.

It’s morning! Time to hurry to our “Place”

Outside kindly Martin Maama’s “Kadey”,

To set up our flimsy patch of existence for the day

Where we raise shrill voices, begging.

First I lay the polythene and then I spread the papers-

Hurry, there she comes, my Akka,

With her baby on her hip.

And Martin Maama likes me,

and at times he stroke me here and there

and up and down and gently pats my hair

He gives me a maalu paan and smiles

a secret-looking smile,

and he murmurs: Hey, this little girl’s now

growing up just fine!

2008

Maama –uncle (both Sinhalese and Tamil)

Maalu hodi- the watery gravy from a fish curry

Maalu paan-bun stuffed with a dry curry of vegetable and/or fish

Language and grammar

The above ‘poem’ with its endnotes, apart from its poetic diction, raises serious issues in language and grammar. The poet’s attempts at explaining some of the Sinhalese words which have been italicised in the poem and in endnotes, render rather a comic effect on the reader. For instance, Maalu hodi (fish curry) has been translated as the watery gravy from a fish curry. There are many instances where the poet’s attempts at transforming Sinhalese expressions in their rudimentary form (almost taking the superficial meaning in Sinhalese) have made the poem un-English.

There are instances where the poet has used possessive pronouns ‘my’, ‘our’ over and over again (my father, my mother, my Akka and my hair, her hip, our bread). Expressions such as ‘we ate our bread’ are a direct translation of Sinhalese expressions. The poet could have expressed it in a different manner as “We had bread and fish curry”. It should be stressed that inserting Sinhalese words into an English poem or a text would not bring about any magical effect on the reader. Words such as Akka, Kadey (Elder sister, and shop or boutique) have not been translated giving the impression that a non-native reader would understand them.

The poem On the Streets has three Sinhala words which are explained in English as an end note. The three words are –Maama, Maalu hodi and Maalu paan. The first word does find a proper context since it is used to refer to a person –Martin whom the poem’s speaker knows as Martin maama which if it had been presented in the western term as ‘Uncle Martin’ would sound very pretentious and in fact unconvincing. However, the term Maalu paan and Maalu hodi cannot be seen as having sufficient justification. The term Maalu hodi is explained as –'The watery gravy from a fish curry'. This seems very inaccurate since the standard term in English for the Sinhala word (Maalu hodi) is in fact “fish curry”.

Was the Sinhala term inserted to add a certain exoticism to what should be an authentically Sri Lankan voice? Similarly, the word Maalu paan is explained as –bun stuffed with a dry curry of vegetables and/or fish. But the standard English term for Maalu paan is ‘fish bun’ which is very much the convention. If it was used in a dialogue perhaps it would have offered more authenticity to depict the realistic situation of language use.

However, while the poem’s speaker uses English terms for other things like ‘papers’ (which could have been written as paththara/kola) ‘hair’ (which could have instead been called konde) and so on. The word ‘Kadey’ (for shop or boutique) has been used in a similar context where the perfectly comprehensible English word is well known. In addition it must be noted that the word ‘kadey’ is not explained in the small end note for reasons best known to the poet. While the rest of the phrases and terms represent a well developed English diction it is incongruous to have such words which have established English terms.

In the line ‘Outside kindly Martin Maama’s “Kadey”, ‘, the adverb ‘kindly’ has no function. What the poet wants to tell is that the shopkeeper (Uncle Martin) is a kind-hearted person. If one would replace the adverb ‘kindly’ with ‘kind’ it would refer not to the shop keeper but to the shop itself. The poet’s unsuccessful attempts at translating Sinhalese expressions in their raw forms into English have produced un-English expressions with little or no meaning. For instance, the expression ‘a secret-looking smile’ may be the unrefined word for word English translation of Sinhalese expression hora hinava (cunning smile). What is obviously absent in “On the Streets” is poetry. When the lines put together with slight changes the poem “On the Streets” would make a passage of prose.

“My mother, I remember, had her hair tied in a knot and was always chewing betel-lips as red as the May –flowers, fallen by the roadside which I love to stick in my matted hair. Around her neck hung a necklaces of multi-coloured beads and I remember that they called her Kamala.

They said that she had many men. My father had been one of them and they said my sister was from someone else. One night, as always, when she’d gone, all dressed up in her new blue clothe

We were left there all alone on the barber-shop verandah and were busy eating some stale rice in the dark when we heard her scream and everyone was running.

No more did we have our mother, she was dead, because she’d had a fight with someone who

refused to pay and throttled her, they said. We never saw her, never had her hugging us or kissing us or screaming at whoever hurt us, again.

Kalu Nenda then took charge: she set up Akka who was just fourteen or so, in what she said was Good Business, the only business lowly like of us Would ever know.

And Akka passed from man to man (“We’ve got to live!” Kalu Nenda planned) While we ate our bread and maalu hodi in the barber-shop verandah in the night…”

A prominent characteristic of the collection is that the poet has attempted to write poetry out of yarns, stories and anecdotes. The ‘poem’ entitled “The True Tale of the Stolen Potatoes” is such an attempt.

The True Tale of the Stolen Potatoes

The wind blew through the cold courthouse

as the Case of the Stolen Potatoes was called,

The Policeman prosecuted, belly thrust out, standing tall

The accused had actually

Crept into So-and-So’s land, and,

Stolen a Load of Potatoes! Your Honour!

he proclaimed , sonorous, for the hearing of all

And when were they apprehended?

The genteel magistrate inquired, wincing,

As he glanced at the Accused in his threadbare rags,

Standing there in the dock, head hung low

They were actually boiling the lot on a fire!

Your Honour!

Thundered the policeman-

In their little hovel out there on the hill!

He burped, hefting his production:

a pot of potatoes, boiled in their skins,

sodden, their smell

causing his Honour’s nose to wrinkle

And who were they?

The Magistrate could hardly bear to look,

Such a pitiful sight were They, looking like a handful

Of mouldy tubers, themselves:

The emaciated lonely man in the dock

With his five raggedy, frightened children

Huddling below

Audi ulteram partem,

and Hear Other Side, of course,

Although hunger was no Defence

The Magistrate turned his eyes

To the man in the Dock

Who said Haamduruwaney,

My children were starving for days-

There’s a sixth too, so ill I had to

leave him at home with his mother

Did you eat any? His Honour inquired,

His thitherto sheltered heart shaken

And the man wept looking down at the floor

No, Haamuduruwaney!

We had boiled them but

When we were about to eat,

They came in and our pot was taken!

He and the children, shrank now, remembering

The aroma, warm and inviting,

Of the potatoes they had almost eaten

Having heard The Other Side, His Honour

Warned and discharged the man,

Seeing to it that he got some cash

To bus it back home with his brood

1977

Audi ulteram partem- Latin for “ Hear the other Side”

Haamuduruwaney- respectful term for a senior official (Sinhalese)

Superficial discription

The ‘poem’ The True Tale of the Stolen Potatoes is truly a story in lines. It is nothing but superficial description or rather reporting of a story. Some of the Sinhalese expressions have been turned into English in their rudimentary form rendering them un-English. For instance, expressions such as ‘causing his Honour’s nose to wrinkle’( Nasaya Hakualagatta) and ‘The Magistrate turned his eyes to the man in the Dock’ (Eis haravala beluva) are direct translations from Sinhalese.

It is a prosaic narrative of an incident which has neither metaphors nor similes. This can certainly have been built into a more empathetic narrative which could have dwelt deeper into the pathos of the victims. Could the poet have used metaphors and similes to better develop the image? It is very much prosaic and lacks notable poetic devices that set prose apart from the poem as a genre.

The poem ‘X and Y’ is a prosaic piece which lacks a very basic fundamental element that defines poetry –metaphors and similes. It is very starkly an account of events narrated as a prose. It is obvious that the poet has not made use of her creativity which she amply demonstrated in the poem “Kalu” .

“ X and Y

Time was when

Soma and Wimala were class mates:

Inseparable…”

The poem riches are very much a children’s type poem which doesn’t appear to carry a ‘deeper’ metaphor other than the obviously stated abundance of a mango tree’s yield. Certainly it may have been a delight to the poet but what depth of human existence and psyche can one deduce from it? It is almost childlike in its content and focus, and comes out as a superficial work.

The Crows

How cheerfully croaks the crow,

Conversational and low-

What says he, as from branch to branch he goes

Of what concerns he speaks

Only he knows

“Kw-a-ak, Kwo-o-k” he asserts

Again and yet again

On the Jambu twigs unfurling grey –black toes –and lo!

From yonder kos trees, comes an echo!

“Kw-a-ak?, Kwo-o-k! Kwo-o-k! “

Conversational and low-

Back and forth between

The Jambu and the kos

Friendly and inquiring, croak the crows

From the Jambu tree now comes

A louder note-a glad, resounding “CAW?”

-he waits in hope

A happy “CAW” rebound from

the lichened kos

And, CAW for CAW, the conversation grow

2009

Kos-jak

Jambo-rose apple

The crows is very much an account that seems to be an observation which is all too banal. What is the deeper philosophical sense in it? It is like an image of simple everyday occurrences that one may find in the backyard that is recorded in written lines. How does it stimulate the reader to think of unravelling a nuanced form?

There simply isn’t a poetic craft in it, but a document of observations. Does the mere documenting of an incident, an occurrence, a phenomena qualify such a piece of writing to be poetry if it is disjointed into lines when it seems essentially a prose narrative? Sakuntala’s collection of poetry is full of such prosaic pieces in lines.

Criteria of Gratiaen Panel of Judges

The entries for the Gratiaen Prize of 2010 were shortlisted by a panel of judges comprising Feizal Samath, Chairperson of the Panel of Judges, Sunethra Bandaranaike and Dinithi Karunanayake and statement by the panel hints out as to what the criteria it has adopted in selecting winner for the Gratiaen Prize of 2010.

“The judges took a considerable length of time to read each entry and all our decisions were unanimous and based on extensive discussion. We evolved our own sense of criteria which we believe in no way disadvantaged entries we received:

* How each work sustained the readers interest through a theme or things a reader could relate to

* Originality in the theme selected

* The manner in which the narrative unfolds

* A judicious use of language – fresh non-hackneyed language

* Detailed nuanced character portrayals.

* The use of innovative literary techniques and creative devices.”

“For the writer’s unembellished writing style and use of appropriate literary techniques and devices, for the writer’s creative use of Sri Lankan English and unique ability to use words from both Sinhala and Tamil. To create an atmosphere and lend authenticity to what is described, for the vivid portrayal of characters and their situations which impact strongly on the reader, for focusing attention on inhuman situations, for invoking in us a need to reassess our behaviour and realign our practices.”, Chairman, Panel of Judges, Feizal Samath..

Given the above criteria and the chairman’s statement, it is not clear whether the ‘creative use of Sri Lankan English ’ mean the use of strange expressions such as “a secret-looking smile” ( On the Streets) or “ The Magistrate turned his eyes to the man in the Dock” as in the poem “The True Tale of the Stolen Potatoes ” . This lofty literary criteria and “The use of innovative literary techniques and creative devices” have apparently not been applied to selecting entries for the prize.

Kisses

In an impossible city

on a street lined with rare emotions

on forgotten clotheslines and heart-sleeves

hang incandescent smiles,

I am told;

not for all eyes, no

but those that are lipped

and are themselves lost

in oblivion. “

For instance, the above poem containing in a collection of poetry, though has been submitted for the Gratiaen prize of 2010 and has not been shortlisted. Comparing the above poem with the poem ‘On the Street’, it is obvious which poem is written according to the very criteria adapted by the Panel of Judges of the Gratiaen prize.

Shortlisted entries for the Gratiaen Prize of 2010 are Colors of the Sun (Published Novel) by Rozaine Cooray, Dalada (Unpublished Novel) by Shyam Dissanayake, The Suicide Club (Published Novel) by Herman Gunaratne, Breaking News (Published Short Stories) by Shirani Rajapakse and On the streets and other revelations by Sakuntala Sachithanandan.

Throughout the history of the Gratiaen prize, a salient feature of the prize is to select literary works of questionable literary quality and crowning them as winners and shortlisted works. It is pathetic that a literary prize which should be an award for excellence and outstanding literary work has now apparently been reduced to mere label on book covers.

Startling revelations

The statement by Chairman, Panel of Judges, Feizal Samath , in close examination , make startling revelations which are interesting than the ‘Other Revelations’ Sakuntala’s collection of poetry.

Feizal commences his statement which is akin to justification of the selection, with ‘For the writer’s unembellished writing style and use of appropriate literary techniques and devices’. In other words, what the business journalist trying to say is that creative writer’s language should be ‘unembellished’ similar to that of a reporter. The embellishment in creative writing comes not only the turn of novel phrases but also of diverse tropes, metaphors and similes. If the writer’s style is unembellished, he or she cannot use ‘appropriate literary techniques and devices.

A reason cited by the chairman of the panel is ‘For the creative use of Sri Lankan English’. The important fact that should borne in mind is that one of the judges Dinithi Karunanayake is a lecturer in English at the University of Colombo and one of her major research interests is ‘Sri Lankan English Studies’.

What is clear from the above statement is that the unscrupulous elements in the withered academia are hell bent on creating a sub-variety of English and that they make use of literary awards such as the Gratiaen prize to promote such usages of English to create a canon of specimens to carve out such an area of linguistic studies in Sri Lanka even at the expense of the masses. Creation of so called ‘Studies’ would eventually entail expensive study tours, lecture tours around the globe and conference rounds.

The agenda is to encourage more and more such ‘creative use of Sri Lankan English‘with liberal use of Sinhalese and Tamil words which can be interpreted as ‘unique ability to use words from both Sinhala and Tamil’. The objective of English literary prize such as the Gratiaen Prize is to judge the writer’s ability to use English language in the domain of creative writing rather than such ‘unique’ abilities to use Sinhalese and Tamil words in English creative writing.

‘Unique’ abilities of writers in the use of Sinhalese and Tamil words should best be left to Sinhalese and Tamil literary prizes and their respective panels of judges. Ultimately, what matters for the reader is not the label award or prize which tagged along with the price tag of a book but readability and the literary value of a book. If the book irrespective of whether it is poetry or prose is in English, readers from any part of the globe who read English literature should be able to appreciate it.

If a literary creation does not meet this fundamental criterion, it is nothing but a monumental failure. Given the dubious nature of literary awards and prizes, it is advisable that readers should think twice before making a decision to purchase a book, particularly such as those with Gratiaen prize-tag as it appears that ‘prize’ is no longer an insignia of literary quality and integrity.