Where Are The Lilacs? Paperback – 2016
Frequently bought together
Customers who bought this item also bought
About the Author
Although SantoshBakaya has a doctorate in political theory, she is I passionate about Literature, having made a mark both in prose and poetry. Her three mystery novels for young adults were very well received. Recipient I of the International Reuel Award for writing and literature 2014, for her long poem "Oh Hark", now part of The Significant Anthology, she is a prolific writer, widely published. Flights from My Terrace, her e-book of 58 essays was published on Smashwords in October 2014, and critically acclaimed. So was Ballad of Bapu, a poetic biography of Mahatma Gandhi, Vitasta publishers, India. A featured poet in Pentasi B World Friendship poetry, her poems have appeared in many national and international anthologies, a few of them having figured in the highly commendable category in Destiny Poets, a UK based poetry website.
About the Book
Between the pages of the book, the reader will hear the notes of a petite flautist's peace song, the thrush pouring her melodies on the gore-drenched ground, the sweet cadences of a boat-girl in Srinagar yearning for the halcyon times of yore, in rhythm to the undulating waves of the river Lidder, all notes merging together to become the white-cheeked bulbul's plea for peace, and an end to the 'eternal notes of sadness'. It is a heartfelt prayer that one never has to exclaim like Pablo Neruda," come and see the blood on the streets", or to explain what happened to the lilacs in his garden. - Dr Ampat Koshy, Academician-Poet, Pushcart poetry Prize nominee, 2012.
Enter your mobile number or email address below and we'll send you a link to download the free Kindle App. Then you can start reading Kindle books on your smartphone, tablet, or computer - no Kindle device required.
To get the free app, enter mobile phone number.
Top customer reviews
There was a problem filtering reviews right now. Please try again later.
As one reads the poems, one can easily feel the great observation with which the poet has written them. The poet is a story teller and one can feel her as a protagonist of her poems who observes the scenes of war, chaos and peace from different locations; may it be a park bench, a boulder besides a flowing river or sands on the beach. As I read the poems, the scenes became alive in front of me and I felt as if I was one of the witnesses at the time of their happening.
There is a loud explosion
Chaos of confusion
The lullaby freezes on petrified lips
On a shard, a bird outside trips
The broken notes of the bruised bird
Limp into the clouded sky.
The child is in a sleep
The above few lines from her poem ‘The Happy Child’ are sure to leave one in a state of shock.
What have we done with our home? We are not even considered about the little lives that have just entered this world. The nations are only engaged in stocking their armory with lots and lots of deadly weapons and are feeling proud for the same.
Instead of teaching them poetry and arts, the haters of peace teach the children the art of using guns and grenades. What is the fault of these poor souls?
But in spite of all these hallucinating signs, the poet firmly believes in her feathery white companion, a dove who is capable of sending a message of peace and love even to the darkest corners of our planet. How insightful she is when she uses the various signs from nature to deliver her message to the troublemakers. Her belief that a new year shall dawn with a soothing and resonating symphony of humanity and peace ends the book on a positive note.
I began reading "Where are the Lilacs?" and have fallen for how imagery, situations and tendencies drive me to taste the emotion on offer in each poem (apart from the words and usages that I learn there). Of particular importance is the Santa Claus poem (I won't mention the title here), because of how the Santa pulls me along. There is hardly a figure in modern folklore that is as adorable as Santa Claus, his gusto is impermeable and the joy he brings to kids is absolute. To have used this powerful character to walk between sorrow and happiness, the poet must have had a flash of brilliance, or rather, she always is. The Santa Claus poem stands out magnificently as I begin my tumbling with the emotion of "Where are the Lilacs?". Madam Santosh Bakaya, Congratulations again for having written such beautiful pieces and thank you for the message!
Great work from a prolific writer
A collection of Peace Poems
Published by Authors Press
Dr Santosh Bakaya
In the world where ‘mere anarchy is loosed upon’, where the mighty man brings a train of melancholic songs into his mind like Sophocles did on the banks of the Aegean sea, where “two armies clash by night’, not with the traditional weapons but with nuclear warfare and weaponry, what will the poet’s reed write save the writhing pain and pangs? The canvas is sure to be smeared with crimson hues of the corpse of agony, inviting the reader to “come and see the blood in the streets.” Every poet mirrors the ziet giest of the age he belongs to, and in our age the canvas no more reflects the colours of rainbow, bowery boughs, serpentine waters and the ilk.
Wading through the profusely luxuriant garden of Dr Santosh Bakaya’s, “Where Are The Lilacs?”, the reader does not miss a painful but concerned heart of a human being nor is the memory of the chiasmic and peace-yearning songs of a tender-hearted flautist effaced from his mind as he recollects them in tranquillity always and ever. The poet seems to have given language to a long trail of dreams after waking up from her sleep on the banks of Lidder, the Dal, under the shades of lush groove of verdurous tree- the nightmarish dream of sanguinolent streets, broken promises and curtailed flights of birds of peace.
The book comprising 111 poems is divided into two parts. Coleridge and Southey set their youthful scheme of Pantisocracy on the banks of the Susquehama, and Santosh Bakaya does it on the banks of serpentine Lidder, in the company of sun and showers, flowers and cooing birds. And it is in line with this that in the first part Nature has been deified Wordsworthian way and in Tennyson’s words the poet has “uttered nothing base”, where Nature like a mother brimming with ‘mamta’ soothes the vagabond and unhappy children through all her manifestations, seen as well as unseen:
“The rain pours some more
Adding a new essence to my weary soul”
(And the Rain Pours)
“The moon was my friend, philosopher and guide
Willing to give my fantasies a ride
Then creeping to rest for the night
In my tiny heart”
(The Moon Hums a Peace Song)
are a few examples, among so many in the book, where Nature is portrayed as more bounteous than humans to foster peace and joy.
In the first part of the book, the poet gives us the idea of life that has been inundated by the deluge of sufferings, of a life laden with pain but still swimming in the sea of manifold bewilderments and benedictions of Nature.
The second part sets its painful tone that the auditory sense of reader is about to savour, albeit gnawingly, with the introduction by just two lines of HW Longfellow:
“Over the whole earth
Still is Thor’s Day”
The poet expatiates on the doom the whole humanity is heading to because of a mad rat race for arms and ammunition, nuclear war and colonial expansions, but simultaneously brings home a candid message to the reader and the world that if we don’t take the bull of the challenging warmongerings by its horns, the whole humanity is in for an irrevocable holocaust. The poet vociferatingly asks us why Thor should catch us unawares and why we should allow his destructive powers to unleash a reign of terror across all the crannies of the globe. The poet dares us if we have courage to tolerate the pain and shrieks in the refugee camps, in the blood-drenched streets, in the hospitals where scads of war victims and the oppressed lie bruised without eyesight, with their amputated arms and legs.
She proves a champion of peace and warrior against all kinds of tyrannical oppressions when she throws up the gauntlet and advocates the voice of a three year old Aylan Kurdi, Gowhar Nazir, Burhan, Danish Farooq and many others and protests:
“How can I remain mum
In the face of so many dead?
Will you order the chopping off of my head
Because I write...?”
The concluding line in the poem, “To Gowhar Nazir Dar”, “We have been unable to save ourselves too” sends shivers down the spine of all peace loving people with its forceful presentation seeping deep down our marrow.
Like Matthew Arnold’s way of saying “Ah, love, let us be true/To one another! for the world, which seems/To lie before us like a land of dreams,/ So various, ...”, to come to terms with the Victorian Dilemma, Santosh Bakaya too invites all the peace and ‘love-mongers’ to be the messengers and ambassadors of peace and love and tell the modern Thor to his face that the countdown of his days has started so that a ray of hope is harboured in the parched hearts of the forlorn and the oppressed, a golden and peaceful dawn cracks to usher in an effulgent era from the east to the west. Let love beat in all the hearts and let lilacs breed in profusion and fill the whole ambience with their soulful and salubrious fragrance.
Reading “Where are the Lilacs?” reminds one what Shelley wrote in his “Defence of Poetry” that “poetry is indeed divine” retorting to Stephen Gosson’s denigrating epithet that poets are the “caterpillars of the Commonwealth”. The book is written in a language that in I A Richards’ terms carries “sense, feeling, tone and intention”, in a language that “pleases all and pleases always.”
Would you like to see more reviews about this item?
Most recent customer reviews
They are strewn everywhere, their petals drifting with hope and birth of new dawns when they are not tarnished with the minds of bloodthirsty dogs of...Read more
A must recommended for all age groups... Young or old..Read more