Sumana Roy writes from Siliguri, a small town in sub-Himalayan Bengal. Her website can be found here. A superstar poet is just as much an oxymoron as a wealthy poet. Since a literary critic, in spite of her nosey detective instincts, has access only to a writer's words and not their bank records, it is difficult to say whether the Bengali poet Joy Goswami is the latter. The film is about a man who is terribly and stereotypically a 'poet': absent-minded, lacking in worldly wisdom, social skills, and emotional intelligence, indifferent to his wife and household and yet dependent on her income and housekeeping skills.

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He is the author of twenty-five collections of poetry, ten novels one of which is in verse , and a book of critical essays. He is also assistant editor of the important literary periodical, Desh , and is in charge of the poetry section. Stylistically innovative, sensuous and imagistic, his poetry shot to prominence in the s.

Goswami has won numerous awards, including the Ananda Puraskar in and as well as the Sahitya Akademi Award in However, he remains wary of such recognition and the false sense of entitlement it can bring.

Joy Goswami was born in Kolkata and moved with his family at the age of 5 to Ranaghat, a distant suburb of the city. His father died when Goswami was just 8 years old, and his mother who was the principal of a school was to remain a vital presence in his life until her death in After completing his high school education in Ranaghat, he gave up formal education altogether.

At the age of 19, his poems were published simultaneously in three little magazines. In the next decade, his poems were to appear in several influential literary journals. In he started writing for Desh Patrika , an important literary magazine in Kolkata. His first collection of poetry, Christmas o Sheeter Sonnetguchcho Sonnets of Christmas and Winter , was published when he was After thirty years in Ranaghat, Goswami returned to Kolkata where he has continued to live ever since.

Once in the course of an interview, Goswami offered a fascinating biographical insight into the centrality of the image in his work. He recalled that he regularly maintained a journal as an introverted young boy. However, one day his brother happened to chance on one of these diaries and read his poems aloud to his friends. Deeply humiliated, the young poet decided to give up writing. On reflection, however, he resolved to continue, but in a manner designed to perplex any snooping sibling.

That is what I would call the birth of metaphor. I just managed to stroke her hair. My poems, like my strokes,. They have been translated by short fiction writer and poet, Sampurna Chattarji. A lot was going on that was affecting me. The Kargil war, Kosovo, images of millions of refugees fleeing. I put it away and 6 months later, when I submitted my manuscript to the publishers, I found that I had been cured.

Ananda Publishers, Kolkata, ISBN: Received the Sahitya Akademi Award, Kabita-Songroho in 3 Vols. Ananda Publishers, Kolkata. Suryo-Pora Chhai. Ananda Publishers; Kolkata, Horiner Jonyo Ekok. Received Ananda Puraskar, Dada-Bhaider PaaRaa. Snaajhbaatrir Rupkathara. Wikipedia Biographical note on Joy Goswami. Bengal on the Net. The Little Magazine. In Bengali Calcuttaweb.

A dream-dead peacock, moon light on its skin A prickly-pear room on the roof Dried and …. A mound of earth a heart Crowned by a set of bones playing Bones.

A mound of earth, a …. I have brought the sacrificial goat To the heap of grass, leaves and bark He has forgotten his last …. Ma comes and stands by the window The river swift below Leaping out of the water rows of burning …. On the roof a senseless child.

Growing long its neck goes off to drink from a faraway pond. On the …. Out the hull of the boat falls the scull into the water One heave of the ashblack water and then ….

The heat prises open my eyes. Pushing away a layer of sand I emerge. No ice on the mountains the trees standing …. They are the ashen ones. They are the extinguished. They are smouldering wood Half-burned and buried under …. Wars march into the past Peak upon peak rising Towards tips of frost Behind them the little houses …. About Poetry International Archives. The Word as Sanctuary. Joy Goswami. Nederlands Letterenfonds. Gemeente Rotterdam.

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Joy Goswami: Selected Poems

In the evening sadness comes and stands by the door, his face Is hidden, from the dying sun he took some colors and painted his body The sadness comes in the evening, I stretched my hand and he caught my wrist, in an iron-hard clasp He caught me out from my room, his face Is black, he is ahead of me and I follow him I crossed from the evening to the night, from the night to the dawn, then the morning, the noon, the day, the month Crossing water, tree, boat, city, hill Crossing blows, stumbling, poison, suspicions, jealousy, graves, genocide, the bones and ribs of civilization, swamp and grass Then crossing my own death, death after death, going on and on The bony fingers holding nothing but a pen Nothing Since then always the sound of the bird beating its wings in his skull, When he tried to hear someone instead he heard that sound, When he looked in someone's eye he always saw the eye of the bird, Waking up every morning he cut off one friendship, In the night when he lay beside his sleeping wife, checking his own body He wants to examine it to be sure that his wife is not sleeping with anybody else. By pressing your own throat you strangled many times the shout of delight You restrained the shout of delight when death was near Are you dead?


Joy Goswami

Joy was born on 10 November in Kolkata. His family moved to Ranaghat , Nadia West Bengal shortly after and he has lived there ever since. Goswami was introduced to and encouraged with respect to poetry by his father, Madhu Goswami a well-known freedom fighter in the area. He lost his father at the age of six, after which the family was sustained by his mother, a teacher. She died in Goswami's formal education stopped early, in grade eleven.


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