Book Review: Easterlies

Author: Sonnet Mondal

Format: Paperback 

Language: English 

Pages: 245

Price: Rs. 350

Publishers: Cyberwit.net

ISBN Number: 978-81-8253-245-8

about the book:

If you are to put the best composition of a man, a poet by his very name- you are likely to feel the flavour of the seasons brushing across your face. Easterlies, is thus rightly titled, as it is worthy to be called a bouquet of verses- some of it might have been published earlier and some perhaps had till now stayed in hurried notebooks of a man of many wonders. Sensibility and practical observations fuse together as you pour through the pages. To begin with I liked the style of getting a new poem to read from a fresh page. Sonnet Mondal is pragmatically drawing parallels between the illusive mind and the one his vision captures with the passing days. Therefore to understand what lies in between his measured words- you need a fresh mind and inner peace- something you will be able to get only when you see a tale ending at the bottom of a page and giving way to the new one from the fresh. 

Ashes won’t claim Honour- and rightly said so; it is your deeds and your smile, more so laughter, to build up that pyre on which you are rested. The poet seem to speak in favour of the ashes-

“They even need air,

To fly and yet

Fly so irrelevantly’.

A sense of helplessness echoes through much of the volume of verses I have in my hand. For instance, the lines from the poem- “Howling Night”-

“My limbs tied up with

Moving ropes over the pulley of life”-

It informs you that you can do hardly anything to the course you are set since the day of your birth. Similarly- the poem in the adjacent page- “Blacksmith and his diamonds” is tinged with magic realism. Never so poignant pleasure in creation has got protected in very few words as this: “He smiles/ his toil vanishes!”- it is as if the plight of hard labour gets a new meaning in the revelation of a treasure that the finder can’t even keep for long. (Reminds me of the argument- “God lies not outside, but inside our very soul”.) Those diamonds would adorn the illiterates- and the seeker is least bothered about it – to his the initial thrill is enough to surplus the material gains. “The lamenting soldier” on the other hand, is ached out of pathos of a soldier who is yet to forget the true meaning of humanism.

Easterlies give you a brazen look of life but with words to weave a mystic coat over the harshness it keeps referring to from time to time. It is a face within a face or an Escher mirage with stairs pouring in and out of the house of mind.

about the author:  

Born and brought up at the industrial city of Asansol of West Bengal in India Sonnet’s childhood was marked by visiting several places with his parents. His father Mr. Kajal Mondal is a banker and mother Mrs. Sima Mondal is a housewife. His schooling was carried out at the St. Michael’s school, Durgapur till class ten and he completed class eleven and twelve from the Hemsheela Model school of Durgapur in India. However he used to pass his holidays in his maternal house in a village named Jahidpur. Jahidpur is a village surrounded by dense ‘Sal’ forests on all sides segregating it from the busy city life and pollution. The green flora and fauna, the dense forests and wide spreading fields of paddy and rice in Jahidpur were surely some inspirations that later got reflected in his poems. He also passed much of his initial days of childhood in the coal belt area of Sripur and destiny later turned him towards Mining engineering. He was never too fascinated by his poetic name and took least interest in the genre of poetry. further details:http://www.cyberwit.net/publications/315

Book Review: The Dancing Leaves Create Music Dust is Blowing...

Author: Mousumi Roy
Format: Hardback 
Language: English 
Pages: 65
Price: Rs. 200
Publishers: Cyberwit.net
ISBN Number: 978-81-8253-238-0












about the book:

When I took Dancing Leaves Create Music Dust is Blowing...in my hands- I felt like a desert breeze flowing through my crazy traces... And was strangely reminded of Keki Daruwalla's "Love across the salt Desert". As I flipped through the pages, I found stalwarts of literature whispering into my ears- “go on! She has treasures buried under the sand.”

Mousumi or rather- I would call her sand maiden from distant shores herself murmured,” Enjoy the present”-It felt soothing to know

‘’wanted to give you

 A sky with

Full of stars...”

-is this the way we should always commensurate our relationships. Perhaps, yes- you should quieten down your worried soul to listen to –

“...The song of cicadas/

 And thrushes...”

With Libya beckoning a new dawn-her “Future Image” gathers small snippets of how a race had issued as an undercurrent to a sombre society- as if within its gurgling belly you could hear the war cry reverberating-the words cataclysmic shudder- is most threatening creation so far. Hold on, you don’t really need to look far trying to fit your social milieu into the womb of a mother- just look deep- Roy would help you see

 “In all caves of desires/

And possession...”

-that’s-“Life’s Unjust” according to her.

Incredulity of an age lost in the struggles of the human mind both within and without- Roy tries to speak nothing euphoric- she simply states- what she feels she simply has too. Like the rugged terrains or the merciless deserts, like the perilous thick groves and the dense outgrowth- it’s all a mirage from pure poetry to poetic prose- wielding its way through the kaleidoscopic visions of free verse. Oscillating in stoic imagery- least will you wish to get rid of “confusion”- as you take a stroll down the “Mountain Roads”- you meet with your fragile identity-or is it the mountain herself calling out to you through the lines:

“Seeking solace

Quiet and silence

Distress in tears

Rested together...”

Something comes in between weaving on the remnants of your dismantled memories – enclosing it in the cast of-

“a cycle of

Unalterable seasons...”

Like a frolicking maiden, Mosumi Roy seems to follow her maiden muse through the worlds of knowing shadows- opening her “visual acoustic world” in front of our eyes, reminding us about “

“Mother’s mind and Women’s Mind

She vowed that never to forget

That again..”

I have been so long talking about phrases from her book The Dancing Leaves Create Music Dust is Blowing...simply because until you understand the way to pronounce the letters properly you fail to read the words perfectly- the poetess in question is too deep to give away her fleeting thoughts- to know her mind- you will have know her words.

about the author:

Born in Kolkata, Mousumi Roy, lived mostly in Kolkata. She is presently living in Muscat, Middle East. She is an ardent lover of poetry and literature. Her Poems already published in Brown Critic, South African Journal and other international Journals including in Middle East. Her Articles had been also published in Journals in India and in Gulf Region.




further details:


http://www.cyberwit.net/publications/306