The Art of Unboxing | Poetry Collection | Neera Kashyap |
Red River Press (Jul 2025) |
ISBN-13: ‎ 978-9348111807 | Pp 164 | ₹315

Unified in idea, image, and word

Since I started reviewing professionally, I’ve realised that the only thing more deplorable than writing poetry is reviewing it. Let me expand on that.

If writing poetry, especially modern poetry, is the act of exposing one’s innermost self, then reviewing it is the act of scrutinizing and criticising a vulnerable, naked self. There is no nobility in the act, but it must be done. Therefore, it is a relief when one’s first poetry review is that of The Art of Unboxing, by Neera Kashyap, an interesting and intense collection of poems.

I’ll have to contradict myself now by saying that what impressed me first about this naked self, exposed in the form of poetry, was its cover. Red River press and Neera have chosen an image that draws the reader’s curiosity. What are eggs, that too blue coloured eggs, possibly that of a mynah, doing on the cover of a book titled The Art of Unboxing? But a careful consideration reveals that the design is indeed thoughtful because these poems are not the opening of a box by the reader when they are ready, but rather what came out of the egg box when the poem was ready.

A powerful and well-aligned cover image.

And this is the key strength of Neera’s collection of poems. Her best poems are unified in idea, image, and word. They are also vulnerable but strong and full of promise, like the eggs on the cover.

Poems like “Illusory Silver” are an example of how Neera combines her powers of observation with a unique personal twist. The image of “the sky in the puddle” as a “silver flash in summer’s mother-of-pearl” and the idea of “A koel’s song gyrating in her ears and nestling in her heart” (sic) are startlingly pleasant. There are further examples of this later in the book in “A continuumI” with the idea of carrying a dawn in one’s pocket and in “The River lost” when she writes “roads unspool bales of black silk”.

The eponymous poem The Art of Unboxing is a beautifully crafted contrast between the forced human unboxing and nature’s easy opening. To paraphrase Neera herself, in this poem, she “does things differently”, and that is delightful.

Poems like “Flat crack” and “Stories” bring a lump to the throat; “Flat Crack” with its direct unembellished writing of a stark tragedy and “Stories” with its beautiful connection between the poets’ mother and the pot. “My Crawlies” is a beautiful poem that leads with a soft build to a jagged ending. “Memory shaft” is a warm and endearing poem with the lovely expression—“spasms of love”. The similarly titled and similarly nostalgic poem “Memory keys” uses the analogy of keys for different memories effectively. “The Adultress” offers a fascinating juxtaposition of the myth of Heracles and Ahalya.

While the collection sags a bit in the middle, Neera has reserved the best for the last. Haibun and Haiku are her true gifts which is not a surprise considering her exceptional observation already on display in the free verse sections. Each of the Haibun in “Silent Frame” are the perfect bread with the perfect spread. The prose is very Ruskin Bond-esque—warm, simple, and sumptuously satisfying. The haiku is true haiku—meditative, flawless three-part poem with a cutting line, and with enough space for the reader to walk around. The best of this lost is the first haiku—

wild grass —
a scythe
rusts in a field

I would be a lover and not a critic if I were to only look at the book’s merits. And as much as I would love to be a lover, I must ensure the deplorability of the critic’s job is not lost.

So where does Neera falter? I found my mind wandering from the book when the poems got too preachy—poems in which the poet made prosaic observations of art work without adding any personal layers, poems of spiritual exploration that feel a bit too derivative. I would have loved to see more of Neera’s soul and wit than what I think are borrowed ideas. Even if the ideas were original, I wish the expression had been more layered.

Continuing on that criticism of originality, I also wish Neera had given herself more freedom in her history and myth themed poems. “The Adultress” shows the potential for what she can do with this theme. It would have been a delight had Neera blended her intuitive observation with an unshackled imagination in these poems.

There are two attempts at formal poetry neither of which hit their mark. “An Invocation” has rhyme but the meter is completely off. “Whence light, a villanelle” suffers worse from this problem. Further, with the focus on rhyme and structure, the idea of the poem loses its way. And this is an understandable flaw. I wouldn’t expect a poet that writes such high quality free flowing haibun to be fettered by rhyme and meter.

In conclusion, the box that Neera wants us to unbox is a bountiful one. If you throw aside the few not so great eggs, what hatches is a strong collection of observant expressive poems with intense images. I would like to unbox more of Neera’s work, especially if she filled one with her lovely haibun.

One final word of advice. Neera’s box of poetry is best unboxed slowly. As a reviewer, I had to read it within a fixed time, but I highly recommend leafing through the book at random moments. You might find that if artfully unboxed, her writing might “gyrate in your ear and nestle in your heart” (sic).