Bringing into focus a forgotten crisis
K. Ajith Kumar
KOZHIKODE, MARCH 14, 2017 20:45 IST
UPDATED: MARCH 16, 2017 19:10 IST
Leena Manimekalai is all praise for women’s film fest held in Kozhikode
In 2010, a cargo ship named Sun Sea landed in troubled waters in Canada.
The ship, with 492 Sri Lankan Tamils on board, had reached British Columbia from Thailand after a voyage of three months. Their detention of the asylum-seekers was criticised by the Amnesty International. Leena Manimekalai is making a film on that incident. She will begin shooting Sooryaregai (The Sunshine) later this year.
“Talks are also on with International producers. S.R. Prabhu is the Indian producer.”
It is the poet-director’s second feature film. Her first, Sengadal, was screened before a full house at the Women’s International Film Festival, which concluded here last weekend. “I am glad that the Kerala Chalachitra Academy and the Federation of Film Societies of India decided to organise a film festival for women,” says the Chennai-based director.
“It was nice to meet other female film-makers and to see so many women in the audience. This was certainly one of the best screenings Sengadal, which I made in 2011, has ever had in Kerala.” The film was about the plight of the fishermen of Dhanushkodi. “Nobody seems to care about those people even now,” she says. “In virtually every family you meet there, there would be men who have been killed or jailed in Sri Lanka.”
She had hit the headlines a fortnight ago when she said that director Kamal was planning to make an English film on Kamala Das in which she was supposed to play the bilingual author.
“It was after a lot of deliberation that I decided to write about it on my FB page,” she says. “I don’t know what is happening with Kamal’s film in Malayalam. Yes, I have heard that Vidya Balan backed out of it. I will start my film on Kamala Das right after I complete Sooryaregai.”
At the moment, she is busy giving finishing touches to her documentary, The Rape Nation.
I will direct a film on Kamala Das: Leena Manimekalai
DECCAN CHRONICLE. | MERIN JAMES
Published Mar 3, 2017, 12:00 am IST
Link: https://www.deccanchronicle.com/entertainment/kollywood/030317/i-will-direct-a-film-on-kamala-das-leena-manimekalai.html
Filmmaker Leena Manimekalai is all set to direct the biopic of the Indian English poet and writer Kamala Das aka Madhavikutty.
When Malayalam film maker Kamal announced that he would be directing a biopic on the late poet Kamala Das, it piqued curiosity among audiences everywhere. Earlier, it was reported that Bollywood actress Vidya Balan would reprise the role of Kamala in the film titled Aami. But recently, the actress walked out of the project for unknown reasons. Later, the director roped in Manju Warrier for the same.
Now, Chennai-based filmmaker-poet Leena Manimekalai has come into the picture and declared that she will also be directing an independent film on Kamala Das! Apparently, Kamal had approached Leena with the idea of a biopic three years ago. “He called me and said that I resembled ‘Madhavikkutty’ (Kamala) and whether I could act in the movie. By that time, inspired by the book Love Queen of Malabar and her complete works, I had co-written a script with my Malayalam translator Ravi Shankaren. I had informed Kamal of this and even sent him a copy of the script,” reveals Leena, adding that the director had commented that it was too radical for the Malayali audience.
“He asked me to learn Malayalam and get prepared to essay the role in the script he wrote instead,” she adds. After a few months though, Kamal called Leena and informed her that the film was being made on a larger scale — and that Vidya Balan had been roped in for the Malayalam version! “Kamal said Vidya would be the heroine in the Malayalam project — but I’d be taking on the onus in English. But when Vidya backed out due to pressure given by right-wing groups, he roped in Manju Warrier for the Mollywood film, and dropped the idea of the English project altogether!” Leena exclaims.
“Kamal is a senior filmmaker and he might have his own reasons. But what bothered me is that after discussing the script and other details, he couldn’t keep his word. So I’ve decided to go ahead and direct an independent film on Kamala Das. I would like to focus on the film I left behind three years ago. Only an independent expression can place a poet’s soul ahead of market interests,” quips the filmmaker.
So, what’s next ? Leena shares, “I had put aside my script which I originally wrote, as I was promised to be cast in Kamal’s Aami (Malayalam) initially and Kamala Das (English) later. But now, I am not interested to collaborate with him on any level. I am going back to my original script — which is more of a fictional take on Kamala Das’ life, works and the memories she left behind with the people who were close to her. I have to start from scratch now!”
Leena has sharpened the story draft and started looking for production. “I will go through my own independent filmmaking route, by searching for international co-producers and make the film on a global level. for an international audience. As my film The Sunshine is on the roll now, I will be patient with Kamala Das. It will be nuanced and layered with the essence of a poet’s soul,” she signs off. The film will be shot in Kerala, Mumbai, Kolkata, and Canada and will be finished by the end of 2018.
Jallikkattu Protests – My article in The News Minute
I was skeptical of the protests at Marina, it all changed when I witnessed it
“People finally have become bulls to reaffirm their self-respect, determination and identity. I, too, could not escape becoming a bull”
Saturday, January 21, 2017 – 22:38
The moment I posted that I checked into Marina #JallikkattuProtest on Facebook, my messenger started pinging with loads of questions. One of my journalist friends wondered if I had become a populist. Another Marxist poet quickly judged that I am getting disillusioned. My timeline was full of tweets mocking the protests as some circus of jobless youths. I am a pure non-vegetarian but still, the constant sloganeering by the protesters to ban PETA that’s been broadcast in all the channels in a repeat loop, was making me very uncomfortable.
How can we protest against a ban demanding another ban? And words like “culture”, “ethnic pride” and “bravery” glaring from banners all around were making me taste sand in my mouth. In our society, all we do in the name of culture is to subdue women, oppress dalits, cast out sexual and gender minorities and continue the cruel practice of untouchability. “Valour” in Tamil legacy since 2000 years of traceable history just means feudalism and machismo. Another hyped idea is “Love” and all it stands for now in the current sociopolitical situation in Tamilnadu is honour killings.
I am a native of a small village down the slopes of the Western Ghats and grew up with six cows in the backyard. But I detest glorifying nostalgia because I always have felt ashamed of the caste system that characterised Tamil villages. As an artist, I have been sharply critical of any kind of anthropocentricism, parochialism and chauvinism and abstained from symbols promoting politics of exclusion. I was even targeted and name-called as a traitor for being vocally anti-nationalist. Hence, though awed by the ground swell in the past few days, I was honestly at a loss for words to understand and articulate what was happening in the name of jallikkattu.
But when I personally witnessed the protest that is now being described as #ThaiPuratchi and #TamilSpring, I realised that it is just not about bullfight or its ban. It is just a signifier. When someone says #IdoJallikkattu, it means she or he does resistance.
From my childhood I have been part of rallies and mass protests conducted by the Left parties. I have myself organised campaigns and street meetings as a youth leader and writer. But I promise, in all my life, I haven’t seen families, women, children and youth rallying like this on streets irrespective of caste, gender and creed. Not one face is a usual suspect I normally encounter in progressive spaces. They are not politicised in an organised manner but they are not just a “crowd”. They are angry. They are fearless. They are united. They are non-violent. They form human chains to regulate traffic. They kiss the hands of the police. They clean their own trash. They are not gender biased. They are compassionate. Anti-establishment slogans one can hear at the protest site are straight from the hearts (not from the pamphlets) and the language is blood and flesh(not perfect).
Of course, there is no ideological backing and the wrath in display cannot be phrased in political correctness. The dissent is neither appropriated by the black of Dravidian political lineage nor by the red of the Marxists. Not by the blue of dalit movements either. But, the collective spirit of resistance is so compelling and it embraces you. It is absolute chaos and erratic. But its rawness overwhelms you. Ideological puritans can reject this whole outburst as some tamasha because it doesn’t fall under any category of protests that we are used to. It is more of a “thiruvizha”(celebration). Nobody is calculating steps but they are dancing. Who am I to evaluate this, is the question that struck me hard.
All I could reflect is, jallikkattu is just the mascot for all the pent-up rage in people’s minds. Modi is paraded dead with the youth dancing for parai drums. Demonetisation has finally made him emerge as a demon. Panneerselvam and Sasikala are hanged as mannequin sacks and beaten with chappals. The rulers are given gaalis in the language used by the so-called underclass and not the political class. Anti globalisation is finally the subject of the real masses. LTTE and Prabhakaran are not yet in the past. Eelam is still a reality in people’s minds.There is a strong sense of betrayal regarding the central government on key matters like the Cauvery water issue, farmer suicides and fishermen’s rights.
People finally have become bulls to reaffirm their self-respect, determination and identity. I, too, could not escape becoming a bull. I happily lost my “self”, felt less important and became one among them. Leader-less, ideology-less and agenda-less and where “cause” is everything.
This is the lesson I learnt from the youth who jumped out of the mobile screens, selfie sticks and malls to make this Tamil Spring or say, Thai Puratchi possible. It cannot be singled out. The youth who came out in large numbers as volunteers for flood relief last year, played a key role in mobilizing more youth in the initial days of the jallikkattu movement. Now it is a state-wide movement. Looks like they are practicing resistance on a large scale. Resistance is addictive and I want to believe that it is a multiple beginning.
‘Women in India need to explore their sexuality’-Leena Manimekalai
by Neeti Jayachander| May 22, 2016, 7:26 AM IST
https://www.femina.in/achievers/author-leena-manimekalai-on-why-she-is-unafraid-5280.html
In a time, space and society when the notion of love still conforms itself to the man-woman relationship, Chennai-based poet, filmmaker and activist Leena Manimekalai has caused quite a stir with her unconventional ideas and out-of-the-box thinking. She’s frank about her own sexuality, as well as the way she views the world.
“In my second poetry collection Ulakin Azhakiya Muthal Penn, which literally translates into The First Beautiful Woman In The World, I penned down my thoughts as a bisexual woman. Unfortunately, I was attacked from all quarters, and people called me all sorts of names. They called for a ban on my book. There was so much abuse on social media, particularly in Tamil. At least when someone harasses you in a bus, there is an identity. Online, I didn’t even know who these abusers were. But I decided long ago, that these so called critics and ‘saviours of our culture’ were no one to accuse me. I would myself claim the title—and so my third poetry collection was called Parathaiyarul Raani or Queen Of Sluts.” Leena laments that women in India are not encouraged to explore their sexuality, or even have one of their own! Their bodies are never for themselves—they always belong to someone else. “Most women don’t even know what their private parts look like. They are even told to bathe with their clothes on. A lot of the words in Tamil which refer to breasts, or vagina, have all become swear words. I needed to reclaim those words for my poetry, and of course, there were people who objected to this.”
There has been a severe backlash to her work, but Leena’s notions of love, which she believes should transcend gender and social norms, remain unchanged. “My poetry collection, Anthara Kanni has queer poetry with its roots in myths, legends and stories. It’s ironic that there are so many references to lesbian, gay and transgender characters in Indian mythology, but we gloss over it in more recent literature. I have tried to bring these age-old stories to the fore. The book also features Tamil translations of poems by Russian lesbian punk band Pussy Riot, and of bisexual American poet June Jordan’s About my Rights.”
Leena grew up in Chennai and Trichy and studied engineering in Madurai, though she was always interested in the arts. “As a bright middle-class student, I was told to finish my engineering, and only then think about life.” After college, she was introduced to film director P Bharatiraja, a family friend, and started working in his creative team. “I worked for a few months as an assistant director, but because of family pressure, left for Bangalore to work as an engineer. My passion was always literature and cinema. So I resigned and went back home to Chennai.”
Realising that cinema didn’t pay very well, Leena chose to work in television for sometime, where she mostly worked behind-the-scenes, sometimes even landing anchoring jobs when the regular anchor didn’t turn up. “I worked in about 11 companies. Women were not common in television then, but in cinema, they were practically unheard of a decade ago.”
Leena was involved in politics till 2004, and at one point, the idealist in her wanted to become a full-time Communist Party of India worker. But she soon realised she was too independent for them and there was no platform to grow. Also, as a woman, she felt out of place in a male-dominated bastion. It was around this time that she began to find mainstream work in the media unsatisfying, but it helped her subsidise the independent work she had started. “When I assisted in commercial cinema with Bharatiraja, it felt like a feudal set-up. From the content to the filmmaking process, everything seemed so far away from me. Good cinema is an alchemy of how you blend human resources with technology and your imagination, and I initially thought if I was part of a film crew, I could learn this. But that wasn’t the case.”
Then the digital revolution came along, and, as Leena puts it, really democratised the process. “Suddenly, cameras, microphones and software were available at a moderate cost. So I started learning on the job—making community films, involving like-minded people, getting them to pitch in and work for free. You’re making something non-consumerist, about real issues, and it is completely non-profit. You can use it for advocacy, to raise awareness, create a discourse, take it to the relevant authorities and demand attention. A piece of film becomes a relevant political tool.”
Leena attracted controversy from her very first film Mathamma. The 16-minute film delved into the practices of the Arunthathiyar community on the Andhra Pradesh-Tamil Nadu border, which offered young girl children to the deity, so they become Mathammas, the deity’s wives. The girls can’t go on to marry or have any sort of social life, and are eventually exploited. “People said that the film would affect sentiments, and should be banned. If bans are the solution, each and every film should be banned, because they all affect women’s sentiments and portray them shabbily. I have had many run-ins with the Censor Board, who seem to think every film of mine will start a riot. However, I manage to get my films cleared and there has only been a positive impact.”
Mathamma was showcased from street corners to film festivals, and the National Human Rights Commission took note and visited villages to take action. “The problem is, the market doesn’t want people to think. When I realised how efficiently a film can be used to get people into a dialogue, I realised what a powerful tool it was.”
Leena has made 13 short and feature-length films in 10 years, spanning across genres—fiction, non-fiction, poetry and experimental. Her films like Goddesses, Sengadal and White Van Stories have won multiple national and international awards including Golden Conch for Best International Documentary in Mumbai International Film Festival and NAWFF Award for Best Asian Women Cinema in Tokyo. Goddesses is about the uncelebrated women in society, like graveyard workers, mourners and fish hunters. Sengadal is on the plight of Dhanushkodi fishermen, while White Van Stories is on enforced disappearances in Sri Lanka during the ethnic war against Tamils.
Leena’s own experiences with love have been turbulent. She was expected to marry her maternal uncle when she was barely an adult, in keeping with the family tradition. “I found the idea incestuous, so I ran away from home. I was brought back, and after much coaxing on my part, the marriage was called off. Today, he is happily married.”
Leena was married once as well, but contrary to speculation, it wasn’t her bisexuality that sounded the death knell of her marriage. “It’s hard to say what went wrong, but when I think back, it’s probably because I’m too independent and free-spirited to be boxed into an institution. I guess I just outgrew my marriage!” She’s also acting in and producing a feature film in Malayalam and English on poet Kamala Das’ life. “She is portrayed as a passionate bisexual polyamorous woman who is absolutely free spirited in terms of her sexuality. It’s exactly my cup of tea!”
Here is an excerpt from one of her poems:
{Whore}
Translated from Tamil to English by Nisha Kommattam and Sascha Ebeling
the first time I heard the word whore
I must have been ten
I didn’t have breasts yet
the word burned me
like hot blood gushing out
when a razor blade slits open
a vagina
that has not yet come of age
why did they call me
a whore?
because
I stepped out of the front door
without panties
when I came home late from school
in the evening
when I forgot the rice cooking
on the stove
while I was playing
when i put on too much kaajal
when I gave in to romantic advances
or when I did not
when I made my own decisions
as i got older
there were more and more reasons
for being called a whore
these days
writing poetry is reason enough
Muse India – Issue 54: March – April2014
Leena Manimekalai: In Interview with Rajaram Brammarajan
Leena Manimekalai is a poet, film maker and activist committed to social justice. She has made a dozen films about the dynamics of caste, gender, globalization in contemporary Indian society, art therapy, student politics, and environmental issues. Specifically, her films have dealt with the subjects of eco-feminism, indigenous rights, water rights, and fishermen/refugee rights in the background of Tamil ethnic cleansing in Sri Lanka. Her films have been acclaimed critically in both national and international forums winning several awards in prestigious international film festivals and civil rights circuits. Leena has received the Charles Wallace Art Award, the EU Fellowship and the Commonwealth Fellowship so far. She has published four poetry collections and is currently editing a feature length documentary on enforced disappearances in Srilanka.
This interview with Rajaram Brammarajan took place via e-mail.
RB: Which is the exact moment when a poem begins to form in your mind?
LM: When time and space explode into word, some mystery is unraveled. It is the repose of that ecstasy that is what poetry is, I used to muse. Apart from those moments inherently and involuntarily stirring, sometimes I do write to relieve me of some issues or to go beyond them, wade through them. When the links and chains of power such as family, society, gender, religion, caste, nation, philosophy, ideology etc interfere with the wanderings of the self, the ‘I’, at that time also I attempt to write to resist, disturb and protest. Thus poetry comes to me of its own or I go seeking it.
RB: Do you have any specific themes beforehand, to write poems? If so what are they? If not, what trigger you to write poetry?
LM: With all my hate and love with existence, with all the contradictions and congenialities, writing takes place. I have penned poems to burst open and tear apart my own self. With the desire to taste my own blood oozing out of those scratches and wounds I have written poems. I have written to love as well as to betray. For, writing should be inclusive of both the noble and ignoble things of life. One’s pride, hunger, deceit, sins, heights and abysmal falls, celebration of life – writing should mirror, reflect everything.
When I write winning over self-censorship, I experience the bliss of freedom. And, I am enslaved by this bliss.
RB: In your view, what is the role played by style in modern Tamil poetry?
LM: I resist any control exerted over me by language. I rebel against it. I sincerely feel that my literary activities are openly declared war against the rules and norms of language. My first and last objective and goal in writing poetry is to act against the dos and don’ts of writing poetry, that one should write this way and words and expressions should be used in certain ways alone. Language is a subtle and novel rope of power. It is all over me, entwining and crushing like a deadly snake. I make love to it and deactivate its poison and so proceed with my life as a poet. If there is a path that stands in stark contrast with all the styles and expressions found in Tamil poetry so far, there will be my imprints for sure.
RB: How do you choose the words for your poetry? Or, does the poem instinctively select its own choice of words?
LM: I choose each and every word with utmost consciousness. As language stands as memory, and that memory remains deep down, etched in all the divides and disparities that exist in the society, I have to handle it with utmost care and caution. For, if we choose to be a little indifferent about it, it would change the poet as an agent and henchman of power. The poet can never stay away from the challenge of language. That’s his curse or bliss.
RB: There are those who complain that modern Tamil poetry has the element of ambiguity in it and that it is not easily comprehensible. What do you have to say about this?
LM: The poet is at liberty and is entitled to indulge in all sorts of mischief and surprises in handling a language. Comprehension, ambiguity, everything is the poet’s choice. It is absolutely unnecessary to be afraid of anybody’s complaints and condemnations in this regard. The very claim that everything can be dissected, examined and given a verdict is but power mongering. Aren’t we still unraveling the mysteries of those poems by publishing so many books of commentary which the poets of the Sangam era had left behind in their poetry. I am one who always wishes to keep something or other hidden and concealed in my poems.
RB: Do you write poems when they come to you? Or, have you written any poem on having been asked by some magazine? If so, which one gives you more satisfaction?
LM: In the initial stages I have obliged several magazines and given them poems. but, they are not satisfactory to me and I have made it a point not to include them in my poem-collections.
RB: Of all your poems which one[s] is[are] your favourite[s]? Why?
LM: I am yet to write such a wholesome poem.
RB: As a discerning reader which are the plus and minus points that you find in your poems?
LM: With my poems I am always at a conflict. Whenever I read them those emotionally charged moments and the passions of it all overwhelm me making it impossible for me to get into the poem objectively, as just a reader. As far as my poems are concerned I am one who has miserably failed as a reader.
RB: Who is your favourite among the contemporary poets? What in their poesy that draws your attention most?
LM: My favourite poets are Yavanika Sriram, Selma Priyadarshan, Madhivannan, Sahib, Ilango Krishnan. Among the Eelam poets Karunakaran, Nilaanthan. The self-examinations and micro politics appeal to me a great deal.
RB: As for as the Tamil pop magazines are concerned has the space and demand for good poetry increased now?
LM: Pop-magazines have always been and will always be against intense and serious poetry. A few of my poems did get published in that space and they too must have possessed some sort of consumer aspect in them.
RB: As a woman writing poetry do you feel that your poems should focus on women’s issues or they should have women as their prime theme?
LM: Gender bias and oppression is the origin of slavery. Its wail and scream would invariably be heard in art. Till the time the shackles are removed for good we cannot write the voiceless words of it all. Keeping the doors and windows tightly shut, you cannot inquire why we peep through the key-hole.
RB:In the 80s and 90s, why, even now modern Tamil poems have found and are finding place in little magazines or alternate magazines alone. This being the case, when all those who function in this alternate magazine circle do not get the recognition due to them, is it a valid accusation to say that women writing poetry were/are suppressed and sidelined?
LM: For 2000 years writing has been only by men. Except the women poets of the Sangam Era and Andal and Karaikkal Ammaiyar writing and history were in the hands of men. And, now when after 2000 years women have surfaced in significant number in the field of poetry it is but natural that the focus and attention are more on them. And it is a myth to claim that men’s dominance and control over the realm of literature and the recognition due to them have come down. For, most of the women who have come into this field function as betrayers of their fellow women writers for the sake of being safeguarded and promoted by the male bastions. And also for publication and critical assessment. In short, a good number of women writers and poets are like characters in a play on Feminism directed by man.
RB: There were those who criticized and condemned the poems of women writing poetry on moral grounds and poetic grounds. Is it right to club the two together and brand them as male-chauvinists?
LM: The text written by women, even when it centres around sex and sexuality, man who has been the oppressor down the years has no right to critically assess it or morally decry it. Surely, he can’t have such right. First and foremost, man should approach a text written by women without his several crowns of ‘male-consciousness’ and ‘socially and historically accorded supremacy’. There can never be another oppressor like the much acclaimed Grammarian Tholkaappiyan. And, a person who happens to be a woman and a writer need not adhere to the rules and regulations laid down by him. This very question is born of a traditional, conservative mind. It is my magnanimity that I chose to answer this.
RB: Is it wrong to review the poems of women at all? Are they to be considered above criticism? Is it a healthy trend? In your view which is a healthy review or criticism of the poems of women writing poetry? How should it be?
LM: Here the texts written by women are viewed as those very women themselves. This is done both by men and women. The text is lost and the body is what is displayed. In the name of assessing a ‘female text’ all kinds of violence is heaped upon the body of the female who has authored the text. Even those women who have been functioning as stooges to male dominance and power coolly partake in this violent assault.
A text written by a woman should be viewed as a separate entity from the concerned woman’s existence and physique. Unfortunately our society has not yet reached the psychological heights for this.
RB: Don’t you think that the very coinage ‘women poets’ gives room for any man, whether he knows poetry or not, to sit on a pedestal and speak about women writing poetry in a patronizing tone? Or, do you think that this coinage is essential? If so, why?
LM: The adjective woman’s poetry is not required for the text. When I am referred to with such an adage it makes me cringe in shame.Perhaps such identification and classification is needed in a society ridden with gender disparities. But, when it turns into a favour or concession I would like to stand diagonally opposite to it.
RB: History is twofold: the history of the past and the history of the present. So, even if you genuinely feel that women were suppressed and oppressed in the literary field in the past which is not the whole truth, today women writing poetry get more attention than men. Can we call this as injustice meted out to your male contemporaries?
LM: I think I have already answered this question.
RB: It was when magazines like Kalachuvadu encouraged and promoted women writing poetry, on a continuous basis the number of women writing poetry increased. Of course, even before that women interested in writing poetry were writing. Now you can see that there is a lull and not many women entrants have appeared in the field of poetry? So, can we say that it is not suppression but lack of encouragement and promotion that come in the way of women writing poetry?
LM: Kalachuvadu is a corporate firm that brings under Brahminist surveillance the various trends of literature such as Feminism, Dalithism and the writings of the marginalized sections of society, gender-wise and sexual-orientation wise. The way it goes about doing this is condemnable and yet writers without spinal cord allow this to go on. This publishing house habitually sabotages those who refuse to come under its dominance and function as unfettered writers, whether they be men or women, with continued campaign against them filled with lies and abuses. So it keeps striving hard to establish its supremacy and dominance as the ‘Throne of Tamil Modern Literature’. True, it has brought to the fore quite a number of women writers but equally so it has wiped out the existence of several women writers. What do you say to that?
RB: What should be the relationship between poetry and life, both on an individual level and on a social level?
LM: As far as I am concerned if I am separated from my poetry I am just a lifeless body. That’s all. But, I don’t agree with referring to poetry as merely an expression of the inner world. Throughout history it has been poetry which has energized people and made possible many new social movements. So, in my view, poetry is the conscience of mankind.
RB: As a woman writing poetry how far have your personal space and social space expanded?
LM: Thanks to my poetry I have been celebrated, loved, and also much abused, attacked. Dragged to court, cursed, hated, subjected to sexual assault, thanks to poetry, I have gained and lost a lot. Yet, it is poetry which holds my hand with all the love in the world and takes me along the magical pathway of life!
RB: It is said that more than writing about sex and sex related issues it is writing about one’s own jealousy, deception, arrogance, ill feelings in one’s poetry as a confession which is more difficult. How do you view this observation?
LM: I have dealt with my jealousy, wrath, arrogance, bitterness, weaknesses, filth, deceptions – everything in my poetry. Sure, I will write more in the coming days. Can there be sex and sexuality without all these?
RB: Is it a must that a writer or a poet should also function as a social activist? Isn’t it enough to use one’s writing as the tool for initiating social change?
LM: The very act of being a poet is being an activist. For, what is the use of any art if it is not driven by social concern? Though there is no need to go into the streets and fight, writing itself is an expression of dissent. It is the veritable weapon for change.
RB: There are absolutely no new Tamil rhymes, songs or poems for children. As a poet, tell us a way to set right this scarcity.
LM: We should become children. We should retrieve the child in each one of us. We should write a lot. How else can we compensate for this awful deficiency in the real life of Tamil Literature?