Kamla Kapur

Interview by Dr. Nilanshu Kumar Agarwal

Kamla Kapur is a sensitive poetic voice, who lives half the year in a remote Kullu Valley in the Himalayas and the other half in California. Her poetry and short stories have been published in the original English and in Hindi and Punjabi translation in several journals and magazines. In 1977, she won the prestigious Sultan Padamsee Award for Playwriting in English. Her full-length play, The Curlew's Cry, was produced by Yatrik, New Delhi. A Punjabi translation of her play, Clytemnestra, was produced by The Company in Chandigarh. Her award-winning Zanana was produced at the National School of Drama, New Delhi. Seven of her plays were published in Enact, New Delhi.

Since 1985, Kapur has been commuting between the USA and India. Her full-length plays Hamlet's Father, Kepler Dreams, and Clytemnestra were showcased at the Marin Shakespeare Festival in San Francisco, at the Gas Lamp Quarter Theatre in San Diego, and by the Dramatic Risks Theatre Group in New York, respectively. She was selected by the New Mexico Arts Division as the playwright in residence for two years. She has recently completed her first novel, The Autobiography of Saint Padma the Whore, a chapter of which was published by in Our Feet Walk The Sky (Aunt Lute Press, Berkeley, California, USA), and a fantasy novel, Malini in Whirlwood.

Kapur has published two books of poetry: the critically-acclaimed As A Fountain In A Garden (Tarang Press, Del Mar, California, USA; Hemkunt Publishers Private, Ltd., India, 2005) and Radha Sings (Rolling Drum and Dark Child Press, USA, 1987).

She was a member of the faculty of Grossmont College in San Diego, California, for 18 years and taught creative writing courses in play writing, poetry, creative non-fiction, fiction, and courses in mythology, Shakespeare, and women's literature. Kapur was also a freelance writer for The Times of India, The Hindustan Times and The Tribune. She taught English literature at Delhi University.

This multi-faceted literary genius talks to Dr. Nilanshu Kumar Agarwal in an illuminating email interview.

Pain is of paramount importance in As A Fountain In A Garden. For example, the expression "and left me/ here, / with this absence, this gift/ of grief" emotionally presents a glimpse of the seething volcano of grief inside. Has the production of the just-mentioned poetry collection helped you in the release of your emotions of grief, anxiety and pain? I suppose, by the creation of this collection, you must have found some release, as literature is cathartic and therapeutic. What do you say?

I don't know how I would have survived the experience of my husband's suicide without processing it through poetry. It's not to say that people who don't write poetry don't survive, or survive well, but without the outlet of poetry, I might have fossilized in my grief, or developed a chronic habit of sorrow or even bitterness, and certainly a debilitating regret and guilt. Poetry that is not merely release — crying is also that — is an adventure of the soul in its journey towards itself. It demands an utter honesty of experience and expression, without which writing remains only cathartic and does not touch the depth at which it becomes art. The discipline of crafting a poem with patience and honesty gave me the perspective and the detachment to pursue a subject that was very painful for me. Making art in this sense is the highest spiritual activity of humans, for it takes one through suffering, beyond it.

Besides this despair, caused by the husband's suicide, are there certain other factors too, responsible for your poetry?

I was writing poetry long before Donald's suicide. Despair is not the only subject for poetry, though the passion of despair is always strong enough to make poetry well up if one is so inclined. Who can tell what the original impulses for poetry are? It is a mystery, though some causes, superficial at best, can be isolated. From the time I wrote my first poem at the age of sixteen, I loved the intense introspection and inversion, the dialogue with my soul through words that the experience afforded. I think the impulse to make poetry — to express one's inmost self, to connect and commune with the universe that is bounded within our souls, to give words to the amorphous stuff of our experience and thereby own it in some ways — is common to all human beings, a basic instinct. What distinguishes the poet is the discipline and the life-long dedication to the craft which allows her to express the inexpressible.

I write in many genres, but poetry — which goes deeper than any other modes — is nearest to my heart.

What are the important literary works of Donald? How will you describe him as a poet?

Most of Donald's work is still in manuscript form, and though he was published in many poetry journals, he was never published in book form. He has a long poem called "Trace" which is as fine as the best of poetry. He combined narrative and lyrics and was very influenced by Ezra Pound, who he considered his poetry Guru.

One day when I have the leisure, I want to put a book of his poems into the world. It is the fate of most poets to live and die in obscurity. Unfortunately, good poetry requires a highly-educated, introspective, sensitized and aware sensibility, which is not very common and getting more so in our busy and fast-paced world. This has always been so, and may never really change.

How has your association with the Kullu valley of Himachal Pradesh assisted you in your career as a creative poet? The glittering scenic beauty of the place must have provided your poetic heart with a lot of literary fodder. Please comment.

I wouldn't say it has helped my career, though it has certainly helped in forming, or rather, in-forming me as a writer. Our home here in the Kullu Valley is a retreat from life in the city, which tends to be — whether one likes it or not — anxiety-ridden. We don't even realize how the noise and the crowds affect our psyches, drain and devitalize us. Being here — we live six months out of every year here in this remote and beautiful valley — being connected with nature, its beauty and changing moods on a daily basis, helps us (my husband, Payson R. Stevens, is also a writer and an artist) to connect with ourselves more than with people, and allows us a contemplative and reflective life which is always best for creativity, for me especially. Though I have written some poetry here, and hope to write more in the future when my other writing projects are complete, I have in the last two years completed two books, Ganesha Goes to Lunch: Classics from Mystic India, and Pilgrimage to Paradise: Sufi Tales from Rumi. The first book was published in 2007 by Mandala (USA), and the second will be published in 2009 by Mandala and Penguin India. But I must add that I am not dependent on geography for creativity. Given time and solitude, I can write wherever I am.

You have been commuting between India and the USA since 1985. Any special reason for this movement? How has this mobility affected you (positively/ negatively) as a creative writer?

Till 2006 I was teaching English (Composition, Literature, Creative Writing) in a college in California, and I would come to India very often — sometimes taking a semester off, during my sabbatical, and summer and winter holidays. I reduced my workload to 50 percent in 2001, and my husband and I began to look for a place to settle in India for half the year. My husband is American, and we have up till now not wanted to shift to India permanently. We began work on our house in the Kullu Valley in 2003 and have continued to come here since then. I love this double life that we lead for many reasons, many of them quite personal. But I feel it has brought me into contact with India, which is fertile in terms of subject matter. It has allowed me to explore my Indian-ness further. I am currently working on a novel that is set both in India and the USA. The characters are both Indian and Western (though mainly Indian). This double life used to be hard, but in coping with it, I have learned some essential lessons — being flexible, being at home wherever I am, being detached from place and, in a way, time. This shunting back and forth has also compressed my time, put boundaries around it, so I am very conscious of its passing, and thus more disciplined about writing.