An Introduction by Kamala Das

An Introduction by Kamala Das

I don't know politics but I know the names
Of those in power, and can repeat them like
Days of week, or names of months, beginning with Nehru.

I am Indian, very brown, born in Malabar,
I speak three languages, write in
Two, dream in one.

Don't write in English, they said, English is
Not your mother-tongue. Why not leave
Me alone, critics, friends, visiting cousins,    
Every one of you? Why not let me speak in
Any language I like? The language I speak,
Becomes mine, its distortions, its queernesses
All mine, mine alone.
It is half English, half Indian, funny perhaps, but it is honest,
It is as human as I am human, don't
You see? It voices my joys, my longings, my
Hopes, and it is useful to me as cawing
Is to crows or roaring to the lions, it
Is human speech, the speech of the mind that is
Here and not there, a mind that sees and hears and
Is aware. Not the deaf, blind speech
Of trees in storm or of monsoon clouds or of rain or the
Incoherent mutterings of the blazing
Funeral pyre. I was child, and later they
Told me I grew, for I became tall, my limbs
Swelled and one or two places sprouted hair.
When I asked for love, not knowing what else to ask
For, he drew a youth of sixteen into the
Bedroom and closed the door, He did not beat me
But my sad woman-body felt so beaten.
The weight of my breasts and womb crushed me.
I shrank Pitifully.
Then … I wore a shirt and my
Brother's trousers, cut my hair short and ignored
My womanliness. Dress in sarees, be girl
Be wife, they said. Be embroiderer, be cook,
Be a quarreller with servants. Fit in. Oh,
Belong, cried the categorizers. Don't sit
On walls or peep in through our lace-draped windows.
Be Amy, or be Kamala. Or, better
Still, be Madhavikutty. It is time to
Choose a name, a role. Don't play pretending games.
Don't play at schizophrenia or be a
Nympho. Don't cry embarrassingly loud when
Jilted in love … I met a man, loved him. Call
Him not by any name, he is every man
Who wants. a woman, just as I am every
Woman who seeks love. In him . . . the hungry haste
Of rivers, in me . . . the oceans' tireless
Waiting. Who are you, I ask each and everyone,
The answer is, it is I. Anywhere and,
Everywhere, I see the one who calls himself I
In this world, he is tightly packed like the
Sword in its sheath. It is I who drink lonely
Drinks at twelve, midnight, in hotels of strange towns,
It is I who laugh, it is I who make love
And then, feel shame, it is I who lie dying
With a rattle in my throat. I am sinner,
I am saint. I am the beloved and the
Betrayed. I have no joys that are not yours, no
Aches which are not yours. I too call myself I.

 

Kamala Das

Kamal Surayya (madhavikutty after marriage Kamala Das) was born in Malabar Thrissur, Kerala, India, on 31^st march 1934. She is well known for her poems and autobiography.   She spend her childhood in Calcutta and punnayurkulam.  Her father was a senior officer in the walford transport company.  Her mother and great uncle Nalapat Narayana Menon influenced her in poems and her love for poems started at an early age.  After marriage at the age of 15, her husband Mahav Das motivated her towards writing.  She was known for her short stories and poems in English.  Kamala Das was noted for raising her voice for women’s issues and child care.   She wrote on love and betrayal.  Her first work was “Summer in Calcutta.”  “An introduction” is a bold out pour where the poet has expressed her true feelings about men.  She gives a message to the women society to raise their voice for their individuality.   Kamala Das was converted to Islam in 1999.  She died on 31^st may 2009 at the age of 75 in Pune. She suffered with Pneumonia.  She was laid to rest at the Palayam Juma Majid at Thiruvananthapuram.

 

Summary of the poem

The poet starts the poem by stating her awareness of the mentality of the politicians of her country from Nehru to the one of her times.  She knows the name of the politicians as the names of the week and the names of the month.  She expresses her agony towards the power and the influences of the male society of India.  Democracy exists only in words in India.  The poem is a detail study of the poet and her life and her struggles against the male domination.  Her personal bitter experiences are expressed honestly in this poem.  It is a confessional poem about her personal struggles in life. 

 

Detail analysis

The poem has been divided into few parts to give a better understanding.

 

Stanza 1

“I don't know politics but I know the names
Of those in power, and can repeat them like
Days of week, or names of months, beginning with Nehru.”

 

The poet starts by confession.  She knows says she doesn’t know anything about the politics and the strategy they use in politics for a successful but she very well knows the names of those in power and she could say their name as the days of the week or months starting from Nehru to the politicians of her time.  The rulers of the country.  Men rule the country.  There is now way for women to enter into political arena as they didn’t give any rights to them.  Also the rulers are few, Democracy exists in words but in reality the powers are in the hands of the powerful men who think they are the permanent rulers of the country. 

 

Stanza 2

“I am Indian, very brown, born in Malabar,
I speak three languages, write in
Two, dream in one.”

Now the poet describes herself. She is an Indian, brown in complexion, born in Malabar.  She can speak three languages and she knows to write in one language.  She dreams in one as the dreams have no particular language.  It has a universal language.  This stanza reveals herself as an Indian, and the one who knows three languages, an educated woman of those days of India where there was no access for woman for education.

Stanza 3

“Don’t write in English, they said, English is

Not your mother-tongue.  Why not leave

Me alone, critics, friends, visiting cousins,

Every one of you?  Why not let me speak in

Any language I like?”

 

She is fluent with the English and she uses English in her writings.  But she wonders why Critics friends and visiting cousins ever one of them criticize and pressurize her to leave English and to go with her mother tongue. Every one of them condemn her for writing in English.  She feels why she is not given freedom to use the language she prefers.

 

 

Stanza 4

“The language I speak,

Becomes mine, its distortions, its queernesses

All mine, mine alone.

It is half English, half Indian, and funny perhaps, but it is honest,

It is as human as I am human, don’t

You see”

 

The poet in this stanza says that the language she speaks is her own expression.  The imperfections and the strangeness all hers. Hers alone.  It could be half English, mixed with Indian, or it could be funny.  But it is an honest expression of hers.   It has the touch of human like her.  She wants all to feel her expression. But she wonders why society accept all the mistakes of the men and doubts and questions the mistakes of women.  No one could be perfect is the simple truth.  

 

 

Stanza 5

 

“It voices my joys, my longings, my

Hopes, and it is useful to me as cawing

Is to crows or roaring to the lions, it

Is human speech, the speech of the mind that is

Here and not there, a mind that sees and hears and

Is aware. Not the deaf, blind speech

Of trees in storm or of monsoon clouds or of rain or the

Incoherent mutterings of the blazing

Funeral pyre.”

 

She expresses her joys, grief and hope.  It is like cawing is to crows or roaring is to lions.  It is the human speech and the speech of the mind.  The mind sees and hears and is fully aware as it is not deaf and blind.  The speech is not the sound of the trees in the storm or monsoon clouds or of rain or the meaningless muttering of the funeral pyre where the dead voices could not be understood.

 

 

Stanza 6

 

“I was child and later they

Told me I grew, for I became tall, my limbs

Swelled and one or two places sprouted hair.

When I asked for love, not knowing what else to ask

For he drew a youth of sixteen into the

Bedroom and closed the door”

 

She recollects her past, her childhood, and her married life. She was informed that she has grown and matured enough to long for love and was drawn to a youth of sixteen into the bedroom to quench his own love and lustful desires.  The poet has expressed the griefs and sorrows of each women who are forced to enter into marriage life.  The marriage life is a painful and not a happy one for women in India as they are forced to marry.  The young girls who marry the older men could not accept that they have grown up to accept the duties and responsibilities.  They were treated as slaves to satisfy their desires.

 

Stanza 7

 

“He did not beat me

But my sad woman-body felt so beaten

The weight of my breasts and womb crushed me

I shrank pitifully”

 

He didn’t beat her but her body felt so beaten and she felt that the weight of her breasts and womb have been crushed and she started to hate her body as it gave so much pain.

 

Stanza 8

 

“Then ….. I wore a shirt and my

Brother’s trousers, cut my hair short and ignored

My womanliness.  Dress in sarees, be girl

Be wife, they said.  Be embroiderer, be cook,

Be a quarreler with servants.  Fit in. oh

Belong, cried the categorizers.  Don’t sit

On walls or peep in through our lace-draped windows.

Be Amy, or be Kamala. Or,better

Still be madhavikutty.  I is time to

Choose a name, role.  Don’t play pretending games.

Don’t play at schizophrenia or be a

Nympho.  Don’t cry embarrassingly loud when

Jilted in love…..

 

She further explain that to hide from her pain she changed herself as a tomboy wearing a shirt and brother’s trousers and cutting her hair short.  But it was ignored and she was forced to wear sarees, to be a girl, be an embroiderer (to learn stitching) and to be a good cook and to be a typical house wife. Her in-laws too commanded her to be quite and take all responsibilities and here pain.  Typical Indian life style of a woman of the past is exposed here.  She is forced to be a typical Indian bride, wife and daughter in law.  Although she does her work with devotion and sincerity she is scolded and abused and  not allowed to express her pain.

 

Stanza 9

 

“I met a man, loved him.  Call

Him not by any name, he is every man

Who wants a woman, just as I am every

Woman who seeks love.  In him the hungry haste

Of rivers in me… the oceans’ tireless

Waiting.  Who are you, I ask each and everyone

The answer is, it is I.  Anywhere and,

Everywhere, I see the one who calls himself i

In this world, he is tightly packed like the

Sword in its sheath.  It is I who drink lonely

Drinks at twelve, midnight, in hotels of strange towns,

It is I who laugh, it is I who make love

And then, feel shame, it is I who lie dying

With a rattle in my throat.”

 

She meets a man and loved unconditionally. Calls him not by any name.  He is a man who wants a woman just as a woman wants love.  There is a hunger in him which a woman waits for.  When she asks him name the only answer he gives is I. He is like the sword in its sheath.  He rules his own world. As does what he likes.  His freedom takes him as a feather in the air.  He drinks midnight, he drinks lonely, and he satisfies his thirst of pleasures. His ego gives him the pleasure when he gets what desires. But he too feels ashamed of his inability and his I (ego) dies when he dies and shows the death is common both to men and women.  There is no difference and it pricks as a rattle in her throat.  Pain of disappointment is well expressed.

 

 

Stanza 10

 

“I am sinner,

I am saint.  I am the beloved and the

Betrayed.  I have no joys that are not yours, no

Aches which are not yours.  I too call myself I.”

 

Now she too feel the same I to herself.  Like men she is also a sinner and saint, beloved and betrayed.  Her joys and pains have no different than that of men. All are same.  So she elevates herself to the level of I.  now she too entitles to the same freedom and liberty

 

 

Literary Devices

The poem reveals the attitude of Kamala Das to her works and life.  She shares certain issues she faced.  It could be said as a confessional poem about past and present.

The title is quite phenomenal as it is an introduction about her to the poetry world and also the introduction introduces the issues of the female society.

The form of the poem is quite lengthy.  The poem contains sixty lines and it is a single stanza poem with no formal metrical pattern.

It is a free verse poem with no proper rhyming scheme.  Certain half and internal rhymes could be found in this poem.

The tone of the poem is quite confessional.  She confess her past with pain and represents the whole female society who are suppressed by the male society.

Theme of the poem is freedom of women, equality for women and feminism.

First person narration to give more understanding of the pain of the personal experiences.

Allusions are used to mention the power of India in the name of politicians.

Imagery: color imagery “very brown” is used to bring the difference of color too matters in certain situations.

Enjambment:  the continuation of the poem without any pause. The whole poem is single stanza.

“It is half English, half Indian, funny perhaps, but it is honest” the poet compares and contrasts her identity.

 

“Of trees in storm or of monsoon clouds or of rain or the

Incoherent mutterings of the blazing

Funeral pyre.”  It is a visual imagery which makes the readers to feel the bitterness of the poet.

 

“It is useful to me as cawing

Is to crows or roaring to the lions,” the Auditory imagery which helps to show the poet’s comfortableness to the language. English to her is like a breathing process which make her alive.

 

“He didn’t beat me/but my sad woman-body felt so beaten” she feels ashamed for loosing herself to male chauvinism.

 

She shares her pas as flash back.

 

Repetition “Don’t” expresses her contradictory views.  “I” is repeated to represent egoistic attitude of male, they take what they need and it is easy for them to throw the same when they don’t need it.  Later the “I” changes into herself who wants to fight for her freedom.

 

Metaphor- “The hungry haste of rivers, in me… the oceans’ tireless/waiting.”   She wants to fulfill her desires.  She is hungry as a rivers to swallow her thirst for emotional desires.

 

Simile “he is tightly packed like the sword in its sheath.”  The position of a male and his power and his position are given a good priority in the society and he is well positioned. The society is his sheath and the position he is possess and enjoys is like the swords.

 Symbolism the poet represent the week women and the lover symbolize the power and position of the society.

Conclusion

Thus the poet Kamala Das uses the poem as her voice to raise against the blind society. She rebels against the society which is full of restrictions and taboos, pointless rules and regulations.  She is harsh in her sincere confession.  She is well-known in the literature world, as one of the best controversial Indian female writers.