Between the Poet and Her Pencil: Bondina Elangbam

 SPECIAL FEATURE

(As appeared in The Morung Express on 5th December, 2016)

Born in the beautiful valley of Imphal, Bondina Elangbam has inherited both the Meitei and Mao-Naga cultures of her parents and this cross-cultural bonding and conflicts at times is also reflected in her poems. Between the Poet and Her Pencil is her first collection of poems, the foreword of which has been written by Kangana Ranaut, the award winning Bollywood actress and will be launching it this year end. Painting is her passion, she loves writing short stories and poems too. Her poem, My Fear has also won the Winner’s title in the Varsity Week of NEHU, Shillong in the year 2010. She received her Doctorate degree in English literature from North Eastern Hill University (NEHU), Shillong.

 

What is the central theme of your book and how long did it take for you to complete it?

It’s about life as a whole and the elements involved in it. It took few years for me to compile this poetry collection.

When it comes to writing poetry, do you feel there were add advantages of being an English literature student?

It has helped me in certain ways but it isn’t an advantage because poetry is about one’s creativity and anyone can be a poet without having to go through certain studies.

Quite recently in one of the interviews, you stated that you are not a feminist, which made an uproar among the readers. Were your words misinterpreted or there is a reason behind your choice of not being a feminist?

I would say, the term feminist has been put out of context so many times and that’s the reason why I wanted to stay away from the tag since I am a female writer. But I strongly believe in equality of women in all sectors, I am definitely a feminist in its essence but I believe more in equality without having to be tagged by a “term”.

Which identity of yours has defined you the most as a poet and to your poetry?

An unconventional woman inclined towards the artistic facets of life defines me as a poet and my poetry.

Apart from being a poet, you are an excellent painter, how do you connect this two fields?

Thank you for the compliment. See, my poems are about life and the various occurrence one experiences in life. My painting again is about the varied elements in life, the different emotions and various other aspects of life. Life in its essence connects the two and in one or the other way it is intertwined.

What are the future projects you are considering to engage on?

I’m currently working on a collection of short stories, hopefully with collaboration. In this book, I would like my readers to get a glimpse of the rich culture and the love and friendship that exists between the diverse communities of the region that I belong to.

Special Feature: A Note of Gratitude

I started off with the blogging in the year 2011. It started with a phase in my life when I was low and filled with so much of unspoken hatred towards a particular being. I would not possibly murder anyone so I channelized my anger in producing posts which were worth reading. Initially, I made so much of typo errors as I did not give much time for editing, making the Grammar Nazis to degrade my writings. Now, I think I have improved a lot, these days, we have software so this is not an issue, I believe. However, lack of ideas is something which cannot be fixed by any software and God has installed a good programme of ideas in me, it’s inbuilt, that’s how my blog is still surviving.

Starting 2015 onwards I tried applying for AdSense, which means Google will post advertisements on my blog and through it I will generate some revenue. But, my application was rejected. It took me five years and half to get the congratulatory note from Google. This January, yes, 2021 is the year for me, my blog was declared eligible. You can see on the right side of the screen, what all ads are being highlighted. You know what? It would have not been possible if there were no readers, and when I say, readers, I mean dedicated readers, who not only read my posts although some of it were/are pure bore, but also shared the link of those posts. I want to thank those readers; they are my family members, friends, students, special ones or simply stranger readers. I might not be able to thank you personally but there is something called karma, the reason why our universe was formed, it will work on you too.

In the year 2018, I didn’t write anything on my blog, you can check the bar, it is empty. I thought of even deleting my blog such was the depressive stage. However, there were people who kept on appreciating my writing skills and complimented me for my old posts, even if they were not aware of my state of mind. They were angels in disguise, their words kept me strong.

Finally, I don’t know what future holds for me but one thing for sure, jab tak hai jaan, I will write and will even rewrite the stars…

Lastly, below is a poem…samajdar ko ishara kafi hai…wink!

 

Although you were hours late

-and the night was cold,

Thanks for the Kafka dreams,

-coffee, cake, the gifts.

Although I never painted your dreams

-and I was never a good liar,

Thanks for the gratitude, admiration

-happiness, memories.

Although you don’t have a castle to save

-and I am no damsel in distress,

Thanks for the royal chivalry

-befitting a King in Knight’s armour. 

Although we never had what it takes to be one

-and to have a love story,

Thanks for the hope and more hopes

-hope to see you again.

                                                                          Although We Never Had

 

                                                                                               

THE SMELL OF DEAD ORCHIDS

 First Post of 2021...

The sad truth is not the ones that harm us, it is those which reveals the real us. Hope wasted like a fine wine, drinking with the oil and the lust of candle. We yell and smile at the hook and the fish; little do we know we need fire to cook. What if there is a designed destiny, what if there is an umbrella to every rain that falls off season. We walk the road, we look at our shoes, we cry or we feel happy either for the road or for the shoes, never for the two at once. We are but little being appreciating the beauty of the universe but the universe does not give a rat care of what we feel. The oak tree does not have a smell to claim its worth, the rose has a smell but when it is often plucked we find a refuge at the altar of the Zion, not the zoo of course.

 

We have but a sense of ownership and are protective of what is ours. We have immense love stored in us but we are busy to know what we have. In the shores of the unwanted people, we try to establish our worth. Come today, go tomorrow, listen to no one, listen not to your heart. The screams from the street cracks the glass of our windows. Pay now, pay forever, fix now and they will ask you how you fixed the work at display, ring a bell, and toast a drink. We have so much of what is redundant; we care more about it than the ones created through our sweat and ideas.

 

In despotic times, we will find ourselves killing each other or might just end up killing ourselves. Clown down; clap sounds and the butterfly’s rage. The clock says, it’s ten o’ clock. What’s that? Country guns hidden under pillows of hope, breakfast so cold. What we have is nothing, what we want is everything. Never, never, will there be a sun; the moon will be darker yet brighter. Village doors are closed and the winter winds blow. Ravens are white, black is but our hearts. The stain, yes the stain…let me cry, sob, sob. Amen!