To my readers who have given life to me, who have kept me alive- with a look, a word, a reading, an acknowledgement, during my poetic journey.
As I present this compilation of my poems before you, I would like to reveal to you, only you, what poetry means to me.
All the Purusharthas (Dharma, Artha, Kama, Moksha) are poetry to me. Life and dreams are poetry. Poetry is my friend and my love.
Following the Dharma of the Living, I entered into Grihastashram too. To make a living, I worked for a monthly pay.I have failed in Dharma, in my duties; I have been vulnerable to all human failings. Poetry was my refuge during all these travails. The outer aspects unravelled slowly, from all experiences. Like a faded flower, that still leaves behind a perfume, the poetry of those experiences remain.
In a very ordinary life, my days are my footsteps. In a desolate garden, in a secluded corner, like a spider weaves its web with fragile, delicate threads, enthused by an instinct- I have merely woven together the sky, water, wind and the sunlight that I have seen; creating this work- albeit with limited word power.Perhaps a few dew drops must have shone bright , caught in these web threads. A mid night star must have occasionally checked its reflection in the mirror of that dew drop.The rare sun ray that crept in, must have dazzled the web with a magical rain bow at times. Enough. That is good enough for me.
From dust emergeth, to dust returneth…In this unending flow, unable to distinguish either the speed or strength of an ineffable Creation, almost falling into the deep void, one moment! This life is but that moment- uncoveted by me. And poetry, like a life-breath, has given this momentary existence a radiance. Poetry and you, my readers- my exclusive fortune.
(In the preface to her award winning poetry collection (1980-2010)….my most favourite vernacular poet writes thus)