(images of ‘the other side of hope’ are from the website: https://othersideofhope.com/)

 

Mahima Kaur in Conversation with H Kalpana Rao

Often derided as a ‘stealthy guerrilla’, Mahima Kaur enjoys wielding the power of her words, mostly written, to challenge the dominant narratives of gender, race, class and caste. She has had, among other things, experience of teaching at the University of Delhi, being a fiction editor for an internationally acclaimed magazine, writing and working for an art collective and being a Deputy Editor for a national media agency in the UK. She is currently gearing up for her next crusade.
When not writing or reading, she can be found taking long walks around London, indulging herself in riveting conversations about almost everything over a cup of coffee or reading news to her husband. Apart from the above roles, she also volunteers for a national charity. 
Her works have appeared in magazines (both print and online), an anthology and journals and she has over 200 national print and online news publications to her credit with some of them appearing in newspapers like The Guardian and The Times.
She also is on the Translation advisory board for the magazine ‘the other side of hope’ with specialisation in Punjabi and Hindi. She discusses her views on poetry with the editor, Kalpana Rao.

Kalpana Rao (KR): Hello Mahima, can you tell us a little about your writing and your background?
Mahima Kaur (MK): After completing my Master’s in English from the University of Delhi, I taught briefly post qualifying for NET. I started sending my works to journals and magazines around the same time and saw success with my work getting noticed in national and international journals. For someone who started writing as early as nine years old, albeit rhythmic scribblings, I was elated.

KR: Did studying literature help you recognise the value of poetry?
MK: Absolutely. I had always been a literature lover, hence, the choice of studies. My experiences and studies at Hindu College (BA) and Miranda House (MA) helped me dive deep into literature. I also had the opportunity to be taught by some of the kindest professors at both colleges who recognised my yearnings for the subject.

KR: I believe that you write fiction and nonfiction too besides poetry. How are you able to write across genres? Have you had any difficulty in doing so?
MK: I do write across genres but it’s not always a smooth sail. I have often found myself circling back to poetry, so I’d probably call it my safe space. I resort to non-fiction when I have this sense of urgency to speak up about something. I believe it has a lot to do with a person’s state of mind and the narrative at hand.

KR: I seem to think that you like to address issues of marginality in your poems. If so, why do you think that these aspects are important?
MK: I can’t think of a reason why the discourse of marginality shouldn’t be addressed with utmost gravity.
Everything about my existence is about battling from the margins of society.
I am not just a woman (wherein lies and begins my struggles for existence) but a South Asian woman in the Western world that feels free from the marginalisations of caste, class and religion that I grew up with but boxed within a new set of categories like race and colour. It is truly humbling to realise that the moment you feel like you have understood the entirety of marginalisation, it shows new potential.

KR: How would you like to label yourself: a diasporic writer/a woman poet/a creative artist/a feminist voice?
MK: I think my previous answer is evidence enough of my staunch stance against being labelled. It is almost like putting a label on me wouldn’t allow me to flow freely between forms, genres, subjects etc.
I’d put it like this- I want to be everything on most days, and nothing on some.

KR: How would you like to view the interconnectivity between feminism and poetry?
MK: All literature has been entrenched with feminism and people (women) writing about it. The fact that it never saw the light of the day is a discussion for another day.
Words are and have always been one of the most powerful weapons in the fight against patriarchy and the dominant male narrative.
From Sappho to Emily Dickinson and of course, my favourite Sylvia Plath, women have spearheaded the feminist voice using poetry as their tool.

KR: In the piece, ‘The Pen and Lipstick’, you state: For as long as I know, I have been offered fixed models of ‘femininity’ – an already problematic word. Who defines femaleness? Why are certain behavioural aspects ascribed exclusively to ‘femininity’, expected to be followed, without noise (unsurprisingly) by women? A woman is either an ‘angel’– the perfect woman, or the ‘seductress’– a neat opposite of the former. Every existing mode of behaviour is either rejected or comfortably bracketed under these two.
How do you identify as a woman and what are your views about feminism?
MK: The above extract is something I still stand by but I’d like to expand on it since I now have the answers to a few of the questions I put down earlier.
The models of ‘femininity’ that I spoke about earlier have been prescribed by patriarchy in a way that suits them. Women are offered models of existence early on in their life leaving little to no space for them to think, let alone question, them.
I’d like to point out why it is nearly impossible for women, especially women in Indian societies to break free from the shackles of the misogynistic discourse that dictates our life. It is because the system is designed and run as such that we women, have been pitted against each other while the men enjoy the fruit of our labour. Before fighting against patriarchy, we need a strong call for sisterhood.
As a feminist, I’d like to make two simple points.
The movement is and has never been straightforward as it is inexplicably and deeply twisted with many other ‘isms’; racism, classicism and sexism among others which makes it a difficult battle.
Secondly, as amazing as social media is to be a tool for powerful dissemination of issues and resolutions, it is way easier now to vilify feminists and feminism. It is a tightrope to walk on that makes it way more complicated than it is.

KR: I believe you know several languages. Can you tell us what languages you know and how they play a part in your creative writing?
MK: I am indeed a linguaphile. While I am proficient in English, Punjabi and Hindi, I have also studied Latin, Urdu, Scottish Gaelic and French.
Knowing multiple languages is at once a blessing and a curse.
During my writing process, I sometimes feel like I can’t choose between the array of words in front of me while at other times I find myself standing in a barren desert, devoid of words.
Like Jhumpa Lahiri writes in her book In Other Words, “The unknown words remind me that there's a lot I don't know in this world.”
But this has allowed me to attempt translations, an art I didn’t appreciate fully, to be honest.
It was amazing to be recognised and commended by the Stephen Spender Prize for my very first attempt at translating Amrita Pritam’s poetry into English.

KR: What would you like to see happening for women poets?
MK: What my predecessors have always wanted. To be heard. To be seen. To be celebrated.

KR: How far are the present-day/upcoming women poets different from earlier ones?
MK: I think all women poets across all ages are one in spirit. Our battles look the same from afar but with the advancements of technology and now AI, the present-day poets have countless invisible beasts to fight.

KR: Which poets/writers have influenced you?
MK: It would be unfair to myself to pick favourites, as it always has been. It is knackering for me to pick one when I know I have collected bits and pieces from so many of them.
But I think it is safe to say that an all-time favourite is Sylvia Plath. I have just finished my fifth reading of The Bell Jar.

KR: What is important to you? The form or the content of a poem?
MK: You can’t choose between the heart and the brain for a body to function.
I believe in this now more so than ever with the advent of ‘Instagram poetry’ and ‘Hashtag poet’ where two words flagrantly put together are hailed as poetry.

KR: Do you think that we need to publish anthologies for Indian women poets? Are you aware of any?
MK: Absolutely. Anthologies are not just beautiful compilations and collections but a great way to sustain, encourage and celebrate Indian women poets.
Indian society is still centred around the idea of exalting doctors and engineers.
All forms of art, including poetry, are margined and derided as merely passing time. Having an anthology for modern women poets will give them visibility and hopefully the respect they deserve.

KR: Tell us a little about your forthcoming works.
MK: I am currently working on editing and compiling some of my older works while giving myself time and space to write new ones. Coincidently, it is about womanhood and they’d probably be able to answer most of your questions today.

KR: Anything else you would like to share with us?
MK: I would like to talk more about the magazine where I am a fiction editor than the art collective at the moment.
Working as a Fiction Editor for the acclaimed refugee and immigrant magazine the other side of hope has been an honour. ()
I have had the opportunity to read countless works of incredibly talented writers from around the world fighting to break free from the ‘margins’.
The issues raised by the magazine and its global presence are more important than ever with everything that is happening around the world and the un-receding wave of the right wing.

*****
 

THE SHEDDING

-- Mahima Kaur

I slither through the folds of days one and nine
a veil of dirt
leaves a wringing trail behind

I slip past the corners
of roads and streets once traversed of noons scorching hot
mornings where sorrow lurched

I twist and turn
through years and decades of vacations spent in frocks, bows, pigtails and braids

I peep inside the chamber
of hazed and eclipsed memories when strings of shame and ignominy once filled me with worries

I chant the names of misplaced, forgotten and old
of friends who once clenched my smile in a strangling hold

I whisper curses to centennial trees
old, high and upright unable to slide up,
unable to grasp their teasing light

I rest in between the
worn-out tyres of an old silver Santro yearning for the May-days
whose loss once hit me with a hard blow

I crawl up to the floor
where buried deep behind the tiles lie evidence of every shred of tear of every slurred virtue and tale vice

I worm up on the legs of the warm and ragged bed still frayed yet sharp
looking to balance its acacia head

I creep faster and faster till it all sinks away from every inch of my
shedding skin with every sway

I pause to taste the air
but fail to smell and nibble anything other than morphemes of multiple tongues that dribble

I skunk yet again
but in a motion backwards enduring the wafts of swift air that strain me ahead and upward

I slither through the folds of days one to nine
my veil of dirt and skin leaves a second trail behind.