Ashok Thapa
“You don’t know English,” she said. I have been acknowledging this for a long time. As a Nepali language teacher, I have been welcoming that for the past ten years. We basically believe that Nepali teachers are not always proficient in English. It’s OK. But it is not good to think they have forgotten even the ABC of the English language. Yes, Nepali language teacher should have good Nepali rather than English. Some exceptional cases may also come while exploring the truths. Truly speaking, the beliefs of society cannot be changed or forced to change easily. Probably there are two types of truths: one empirical, and the other convenient.
In fact, my English language was not up to the mark, and this is as true as the sun rising every day. In English, I failed in my tenth grade. This fact completely prevented me from claiming that I know Basic English. Yes, I did not learn good English for half of my lifetime.
There was yet concern inside me that began teasing me. Now in the second innings of my age, my English language skill is sure to be worse than what it was like in the past. Spontaneously, from time to time, I also think that I am going to die without good English in my life.
One fine day, I was sleeping with all these thoughts in my mind. The dogs were barking with a loud noise. So my dream broke in between. Suddenly my right hand reached under my pillow. I turned on the mobile and lit the torch in it. Incidentally, a book came out in my hand. It was Notes of Silent Times, a collection of poems by Mahesh Paudyal. It was in English, a language I was never friendly with.
I had enjoyed reading these poems in their Nepali version before. I had already read reviews on the book by many critics. Suddenly, my hand flipped page 5, with the curiosity of what my favorite Nepali book would be like in English. There was something that touched and made me feel different. Was there really something I could find about? I either understand the language or understand rather too much. For a moment, I was confused. Since I do not understand English, what I have realized may be fake. Did I do it with a lack of meaning? Was there anything like missing the key? Or did I get the opposite?
Similar experiences I had, when I read three other titles. I enjoyed the holidays much more excitedly than while reading the Nepalese version.
The next day I went to TU. I entered quarter number 7. I asked my brother who was a PhD from the UK: “Can you explain what this poem has to say?” Two English-speaking girls came near to me and turned their heads toward me. My brother recited the poem aloud and told me what it meant. The meaning was no different from what I had conceived the previous. In the parable, the images were the same. Even though some of the layers of meaning were as familiar as I had found, I could not say that I understood English poetry. How can one understand English poetry, when he had failed the subject in grade ten? How a grade ten failed Nepalese Guru understand English anywhere? Again, I returned to my room, carrying this curiosity, and a handful of green vegetables.
At that time, I did not remember the rules of poetry. Because I had to dive deeply into the poem. During the reading, probably no one was looking for what the choreography of the poem was. I did exactly that. I also do not care for the famous theorists who have talked about poetry. I realized that poetry is flowering on the stone. Those little fractions seemed to open the door to familiarity with unfamiliar emotions, like a firefly finding its existence in the night in poetry.
I have forgotten many other things myself, but I still remember that the poet is moving in a completely different way from the mainstream of traditional poetry.
These poems are the hidden truths within a society that do not come out easily. Identifying the center of social disorder, the poet shoots an arrow in the middle point of it.
Firefly
Perhaps it’s time that writes our existence No matter how much you try To glow in broad daylight You need to wait for the night To make yourself visible
Nepali literature is famous for its figurative poetry with a lot of rhetoric. Together, this can combine colors, flowers, war, widespread imagination and bizarre emotions at the same speed. Perhaps Mahesh is giving similar techniques to English poetry. His well-known rhetorical title is enough to gauge what kind of poet he is i.e. “Men and Butterfly”, “A Festival of Love”, “Life, and Death”, “The Pond of Poetry”, “Two Halves of the Moon”, “An Ocean of Clouds”, “The Melody of Creation”, “The Burden of Pride”, “Love and Rain”, “A war for Truth” and “A Cultivation of Darkness” for example.
The poems written in memory of the childhood period seem really interesting. The fascination with the beauty of the past comes in such a poignant way that the reader likes to read it again and again.
The topics of poetry are not new but different presentation and tasteful restraint have been developed, and this deserves praise.
A lot of things have been going on in my mind. Mahesh’s poems feature messages from a local image that carries universal meaning. Symbols that are easy to scan for most readers, which are not complicated, are certainly used to create a wave. The meaning of the poem is made unique by using metaphors related to our locale, village, toll, river and stream. Classical rhetoric is not used, but Mahesh’s poems seem like cultural ornaments worn by an unmarried woman. Perhaps it should be a key indicator of the success of poets around the world, not just him. There is sweetness in the word. The style is dynamic. The feeling is fluent and tasteful. So I have to say, ‘These poems have the power to stay in the readers’ heart for a long time.’
Is it a matter of pride to be proficient in a language? I am looking for the answer in Mahesh’s magical writing.
[Ashok Thapa, PhD, is Assistant Professor at the Central Department of Nepali, Tribhuvan University. An acclaimed critic, he has several publications to his credit. He is also an expert of the theater, and occasionally features as a theater artist. He is the author of the award-winning story collection Santapko Dhoon. He lives with his family in Kirtipur.]
