Kamala Das is one of my favourite poets of all time. Her writing dives deep into themes of female sexuality and pain, into the haunting Indian landscape, and her identity as an Indian woman. Born in Kerala in 1934, Das was a trailblazer and one of the first Indian women to write with such boldness and honesty about sex.
Her poems on love and sex slide back and forth between the hazy line separating love and lust. They are sensual and evocative but pulse at the core with pain. Her vivid descriptions of India invite the reader to sip from the glass of Calcutta’s April sun and stand under Bombay’s yellow moon.
Reading a Kamala Das poem evokes more than empathy; she makes you climb through each searing word she writes and truly absorb her emotion and experience. Her style is brazen, clear, and uncluttered. If the emotional weight of each poem hadn’t forced me to sit back and allow the intensity to bleed out before I moved on to the next, I would have inhaled the lot in a sitting.
The introduction by Devindra Kohli takes up a good third of the book, and is a fascinating exploration of Kamala Das’ life. I especially recommend the poems Glass, In Love, and Summer in Calcutta.