Borrowed Pellets

Sir
While browsing through PNR 113 my eye quickly picked up the two poems by Rose Sujata Arora. Drawn to the name Sujata because of my familiarity with the poetry of Sujata Bhatt there was something sinisterly familiar about its terrain; its glaring juxtaposition of syntax and imagery were subtle reminders of journeys I had taken before through Ms Bhatt's poetry: of cravings for fish and cloves of garlic. Is this only symbolic coincidence? To paraphrase from 'The Night Watch', 'How does one revive… a work of art?'

Surely the journey travelled requires more than identical passports. To give birth to a Bach Variation is as arduous a process as the delivery of one's first born. And what if one miscarries? Does one seek a surrogate mother who resembles not only the physical characteristics but the spiritual landscape as well out of whose mouth words fall like borrowed pellets? The answer is no, or should be. The answer is to struggle to find one's own voice.

NANCY FERRAGALLO,
New York