Unearthing the poetess unknown | Review of anthology ‘Wild Women’ by Arundhathi Subramaniam

Discover sacred subcontinental poets in Arundhathi Subramaniam's Wild Women, a collection spanning centuries with love, wisdom, and resilience.

In her new collection Wild Women, poet Arundhathi Subramaniam delves deep into the far past, discovering some hitherto unknown subcontinental poets, mostly sacred and divine. The volume is divided into three parts — ‘Mystics, Seekers, and Devotees’; ‘Women as Protagonists’; and ‘Goddesses’ — and Subramaniam traverses these different worlds with dexterity. Putting together the work of multiple translators must have been quite a task; over 20 are featured in the book. The poetry ranges from those of Buddhist nuns and Sufi poets to the wisdom of Tantrikas and Vedantins, spanning several centuries.

Subramaniam begins the collection with poetry from Buddhist nuns (6 to 4 BCE). Among them is Amrapali, and here is how she describes herself, on age changing the physical self: Smooth in their lines, like an elephant’s trunk,/ both my thighs were once splendid./ With age, they were like knotted bamboo.

Here is another verse from Mirabai (6 C.E.): Dizzy, ecstatic/ my soul goes into her bedroom./ Five companions converge,/ five senses/ to give him unparalleled pleasure./ One glimpse of his form/ dispels anguish,/ all my erotic longings bear fruit./ Shyam, the ocean of pleasure,/ has come to me.’

Apart from love and erotica, there are other unusual features in the collection. In the 18th century poet Muddupalani’s ‘A Manifesto for New Poetry’ are these lines: Can your poems stand in the field, girl/ alongside all the great poems of all the great poets? Absolutely./ Doesn’t the bee gorged on honey/ from the great lotus still savour/ the humble flower’s nectar?

But the main theme still remains love, and the loss of love. Here are verses from a poem by a male poet (very few of them in this collection), Amir Khusrau, of Turkish and Indian origin: Khusro, this game of love/ played with my beloved/ If I win, he’ll be mine,/ If I lose, I’ll belong to him.

The last poem, ‘Goddess II’, translated by the editor, provides a fitting conclusion to the collection: In her burning rain forest/ silence is so alive/ you can hear/ listening.

The compiling of this monumental anthology must have taken Subramaniam several years but the ultimate result is a very fine collection covering unknown territory, and unearthing several obscure poets. This book is indeed a labour of love, persistence and resilience.