We do not know what the poet wants to describe, silence or somebody’s appearance? What is it that he is attempting to represent? Let us go deep into the lines as for an interpretation; an explanation, as poetry is dripping out of silence, poetry composed in silence is on the table and to put it in different words, poetry of silence is as thus. Poetry of silence! What to say it about!! Who can but read silence? 

Silence, how to describe or penetrate deep into it? The silence which does encompass the hamlets littered across a vast secluded and isolated landscape full of flora and fauna, the silence of the lurking horizons, the blue hills shining under a sunshine, how to break the lull, the circle of silence and loneliness playing? A persona, protagonist, mouthpiece, spokesperson speechless, less-talker, how to make a portrait of?

How to break silence? How to articulate it?

The presence carries a mystery of own, troublesome to be divulged. Hiding within, what does the character want to reveal? God knows. Who can but intrude upon silence?

The deep sunken eyes echo the ghosts of memories. Thoughts and sounds are no matter of it.

Instead of there is no response. Let it be what it was. Why to disturb it with our presence?

Whatever do we, hair cannot be twisted, whatever the mien reveals it, words cannot say that, met with revulsions as any attempt from our end will fall back the moment we seek to explain it. 

What does one turn into time? How does a character lose its verve and warmth? Scarecrows and mummies, have you seen them? The wrinkled old men, have you? The wearing of time, you can mark in them, the wear and tear of things. How do we turn hollow and shallow?

Listeners are, but the house is a haunted house. Who is it to say about the smile of Mona Lisa? How the last duchess of Browning? The picture is like that of a model millionaire or the painting of the last leaf. See it otherwise, it is but a portrait of a lady, the artist as a young woman. 

Scarily dark and deep sunken eyes add meaning to the poem and refresh the ghosts of memories transporting us into a mythical world of thoughts and sounds. But even after attempts, we fail to break silence; words come it not out of silence.

One thousand lines
on a once silk-smooth mien;
a million revulsions,
but no twisting of a straight hair:

Scarily dark,
the deep sunken eyes echoing
ghosts of memories;
thoughts and sounds clashing
in some mythical heaven----

but yet, not a word, not a twitch---
turn back it will never.

Romen Basu is one of the best new signatures of Indian English poetry if one has really a flair for sound and sightseeing to feel it about, if one seeks for newer avenue and plethora of thoughts and ideas. His poetry is not for to mean, but to read. As Shiela Gujral talks of signature of silence so is the case with him and we love to see his initials writ large on the scape of silence

If you do not read and critique, what book of modern poems will you critique it? Romen Basu is of course a modern voice of modern times. And if he is not a poet, where will poetry be found? A reading of contemporary will not be complete if you come to not finish his studies. Poetry has not come to a close with R. Parthasarathy's anthology of some Indian English poets. Poetry is still there in Romen Basu. We think he must get his due.

Image (c) istock.com