Rediscovering One’s Love

“I celebrate myself, and sing myself,

And what I assume you shall assume,

For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.”

I was introduced to Walt Whitman when I joined first year of my PG course in English literature. One of our papers was American Literature. In those days the professors who had been brought up on British literature never gave the Americans much importance (“what history do they have?” said my professor who taught us Chaucer!) Nevertheless I fell in love……

I had always loved poetry as a means of expressing myself and here was someone who did exactly that. I hated the discipline of English poetry and here was someone who laid his own rules. I believe that anything with beauty and form is poetry and here was someone who had believed in this, years ago. I devoured his “Leaves of Grass” with fervor that one would devour a lover’s letters with. I read up his history; was a little uncomfortable with the fact that he might have been gay; stopped reading about him and concentrated on his works.

Other than the lines that I have quoted in the beginning, there was another – “A child said What is the grass?” is something that even now has the capacity to make me feel elated. “..The smallest sprouts show there is really no death,” is something I identify so strongly with that I feel a chill down my spine. Maybe I knew him when he was alive and the cosmic string that ties me with him is strong and one day we will recognize each other. Does that sound very mushy and romantic?

I had his book and it always had a pride of place in my book shelf. Over the last twenty five years it has reposed as an article of decoration in all the many houses that I have lived in; the pages have yellowed and become crisp yet I have always lovingly dusted it and kept it down with more gentleness than the other  treasured books. But the years have passed by and I have not really read my songs of love!

Yesterday everything changed! My TT wanted help with a poem- to understand and analyze it. Having taught poetry for some years I was not too daunted with the task. When I opened the page and saw it was a part of “the song of myself” my heart stopped for a moment. In that single microsecond, thoughts raced to outrun each other.

 Twenty five years just dissolved into thin air and here I was again in rapt attention listening (for you have to listen to his poetry!), I read it out, I don’t know whether my TT really felt my voice throb with emotion but I felt the adrenaline rush and I was just as love sick as I was twenty five years ago!

I now had the daunting task of introducing this enchanting poet to my own daughter and to incite within her an interest so that she would be able to appreciate the beauty, power and bewitching play of words and its meanings. Would she be able to understand a poet who was born almost two hundred years ago? I was further appalled to hear that she had told her teacher that the poem confused her!

This followed one hour of my peeling off the dead and thickened skin which had enveloped me. I just read the printed paper aloud, I lovingly took out my sacred books and read the lines of interpretations that I had written years ago and the flow of thoughts came back. I needed to write my thoughts…. I was again a first year student….

The pleasure, thrill and excitement that engulfed me cannot be expressed or explained but I was on a roll! Words just flowed from my fingers and I was ready to do my tutoring.

As I explained and exhibited my interpretation of the poem to my TT, I could see the glint of excitement being ignited. I don’t know whether she appreciated the poet or she was excited that some of her interpretation was similar to mine but it is a beginning and that’s what matters. I was, I think partially successful in my mission.

I hope the interest that I ignited turns into a fire (a tiny fire) and brings the surge of interest and knowledge to make her explore, search and find the rich world of words and poetry. This I truly believe is the best support system in today’s world where psychological wars are constantly raging in all spheres of existence. Now is the time when Whitman’s song never rang truer!

Wish me luck as I venture into an old world of thoughts which holds true even today.

*TT- Terrible Teenager