Usha Akella
The Waiting
Poetry
New Delhi: Sahitya Akaedmi. 2019.

A colossal number of indecisive syllables escape from my fingertips onto the page as I attempt to describe Usha Akella’s latest collection. Unlike many contemporary influences in The Rosary of Latitudes (Transcendent Zero Press, 2015), The Waiting reverts to many a time period and location wherein mystical poetry was a tradition. For many first-time readers of Akella’s work, one should understand that she possesses a gift so rare and scarcely seen within contemporary writers: when one opens the first few pages of her books, you will not know what to expect. Her subject matter zigzags throughout the entirety of the book, as well as her multitude of writing styles. She leaves you with endless possibilities. After all, that is the true beauty of the arts.

In The Waiting, Akella does not title her pieces (aside from a brilliant prologue and a jaw-dropping epilogue that closes out the collection). They are instead dignified with numbers. Whether or not they are a straight sequence is an ambiguous decision that only she remains aware of. She does, however, make her presence known in particular locations that accompany the date of the poem. One that I found to be very curious was #9. This is one of many pieces that stands firm with the belief that very few words have the power to speak volumes. The text reads as follows:

Which is the palace of illusions?
this grief?
this heart?
this poem?
your silence?

Which one of these choices is this ‘palace of illusions’? Why are any of them the palace of illusions? She leaves the keys to the door in your hearts. Contemporary poets and many popular singers and songwriters have chosen the path of being blunter, more brutally honest, and more relatable with their work. Time and time again, however, Usha Akella has proven that symbolism and cryptic sayings can still be relevant in this day and age.

#27 makes note of the inevitable crises that present themselves as ‘invisible apparitions’. It haunted me since I first read it and I felt for the author within it.

My soul has become
a white widowhood of mourning:
a white silent scream
a white flame so controlled so hidden
it is burning me pit to tip…
 
it is a white road
a white cell
a white tunnel
a white oasis
a white wall
a white sky
a white page
a white silence
invisible
it grows
grows
grows

As a longtime reader of Rumi and Hafiz, among others, I noticed many elements of Sufism appearing in this particular book. Akella captures the spirit and places it in a place so serene that the typical person has not even a tenuous grasp of where they are. It is a place that few have dared to speak of. Sufism itself involves more inner soul searching than logic, more revelations and self-enlightenment than intellectual chatter. The style of writing involved in Sufism is very open to interpretation, though the words seem as plain as day on the exterior. Akella, among many others, seek their definitive version of the Truth. However, what is equally, if not more prominent in this volume is the component of Bhakti poetry. Mystical in nature, it is described as ‘the devotional genre of love poetry’. The word bhakti roughly translates to ‘a mystical devotion to God’. She blurs certain lines of spiritual ideology and speaks of the experience of what it was more than anything else. Both movements meet in this volume, pirouetting, and often find moments of inner peace, like in #12, where mysticism and religion meets the test of life.

So there’s an ocean,
and a kaleidoscope of devotees
casting nets, what aim! What force!
And there you are, in all of them!
A pike in this, a whale in that, a seal, a dolphin,
and something iridescent in that one over there.
Jubilant cries!
And here, there’s another fish,
inconsequential, tiny like a berry or half-shell
washed up, half dead, glazed on the sand, glassy-eye
turned to heaven.
She’s waiting for the wave that brought her
to take her back to—that,
where they are fishing for you.

Akella channels energies similar to her poetic ancestors, such as Andal of the Alvars and Mirabai, along with other spiritual women poets. Their chaotic verses speak in serene tongues and flow through the passionate words that are forever immortalized within Akella’s signature ‘ink children’. Andal was a Tamil poet who only composed two books of verse in her life, but both left lasting impressions that still speak true in the present day. Unfortunately, they are still very much underrated. Mirabai, on the other hand, was well known throughout India as a poet, singer, and saint from the sixteenth century. Influencing historical figures such as Mohandas Gandhi, she represented women who had a right to choose their own path, who sought liberation and crossed over to the other side with gusto and with might beyond thier years. As long as I have known Akella, her work exhibits such liberation, akin to one of her contemporaries, Naomi Shihab Nye. Akella’s message of liberation burns the heart with no pain, but with a firm reminder that anything on this planet is possible if one sees through the lines of dissuasion.

The Waiting is a thought-gripping, transcendent and blissful journey into the very spirit of the soul. After all, it is ‘waiting’ for you, Dear Reader, and no one else. May your copy assist you in your personal evolution and illumination. Poetry lives! Long live the arts!

(December 25-27, 2018, Houston, TX, USA.)