This is the evening of the 5th of February 2010, the curtain of the Poetry Festival Kritya 2010 has just been dropped and we are all together, but in a mixed mood.

We have been blessed by the golden glows of the most powerful poetry expressed. We are all bound by a feeling of fulfillment and bliss. We are all ready to journey back to our nests. Though we come from different parts of India and even the world, speak different languages, are torchbearers of diverse cultures, we are bonded as though we are one.

Israel's Diti Ronen and Shyamla Nair from India are conversing as if they are long lost friends. I patiently tell them there are other people too from other places, to which Norway's Bjorn smilingly replies, "They will talk until world's Peace is  resolved".

The young Tibetan, Tenzin Tsundue, had claimed at the beginning of the festival that he was Tibetan not Indian, but he changed his thinking pretty soon. He said, "I belong here, I cannot leave this country." His pain hurt us also:

"When I was born
My mother said
you are a refugee.
your tent on the roadside
smoked in the snow.

On your forehead
between your eyebrows
there is an R embossed
my teacher said.

I scrubbed and scrubbed,
on my forehead I found
a brash of red pain.

I am born refugee.
I have three tongues,
The one that sings
is my mother tongue."

Tenzin Tsundue

Alicia Partnoy's experience was not different from Tenzin's, she had her own land, but it was snatched away from her. She said-

"They booted my home land
Out from under me
-what they call exile-
That is- all of a sudden
The ground was gone
And distance laid every where before me"

But she herself got energy from this pain

"And yet
I still remember the day the military
Put my home land behind bars
On that day, I had too much courage
And the fear was gone

That's where it all began"

In poetry, exile is not only from land, but even from life. Kabir Das has already said-

"Rahane nahi des paraya he", I don’t want to lie here, this place does not belong to me."

Zingonia of Italy created for us a distinct aura of exile –

"Birth:
Mother faith
That trusts the world
A generous womb.

The small cry
Announces
That from light,
Slowly comes death;

Every age arrives
Punctual,
Celebrating the remembrance
That stillness approaches."

The most senior poet of Costa Rica, Osvaldo Sauma says-

"do not fear
as soon as you cross the passage of light
the houris will restore your child heart
you’ll play again in the sun of the departed
and I will give my Father
the embrace I could not give in his death
to my Father who lies now
alone in Port Father"

Blessed with poetry we are like honeybees, a little tired but very fulfilled. In this journey we had poetry films from Sadho from Delhi, and from Odveig Klyve. These films gave a different angle to the whole idea of the festival.

In another part of CIIL, talented young artists were giving colorful expressions on canvas to the poems that had captivated them, in an art camp organized by Pranjal Arts.

Friends, this is a common issue for February and March as we are providing a lot of poetry to be read.

You can read the very inspiring speech of our chief guest Mahesh Elkunchwar in the section 'In the Name of Poetry' and lose yourself in the timeless, beautiful poems of the Dalai Lama in "Our Masters.' Besides, we offer a feast of poetry in our segment 'Poetry in Our Time'--this time highlighting the poems of the poets who partook in the poetry festival.

Hope to see you at our coming festival in Nagpur.

best wishes

Rati Saxena