Streams of Consciousness

By Parvin D. Syal

This anthology of poetry comprises poems which were written in different countries over a span of almost fifty years. The poems, though an expression of personal sentiment, are also a commentary on the various ages and places the poet has experienced.
Being one of the first Asian Indian poets to be published in East Africa, Syal was widely written about. Professor Bahadur Tejani wrote, Syal has the spiritual courage to enter the dreaded labyrinth of the African pastHis precise versification hits the reader like a tank salvo
Noted African writer, Taban Lo Liyong, commented that Syals work is full of fire and passion and poetry and philosophyawake to the ripples of long ago and of shores past and passing.
STREAMS OF CONSCIOUSNESS deals with an array of human emotions - love, wonderment, angst, anger, resignation, frivolity, candor, spirituality and finally the search and attainment of eternal bliss.
Poetry has a vibrant and living soul, and as such is always a work in progress

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Sep 29, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477270189

Parvin D. Syal

HARSHI SYAL GILL HARSHI SYAL GILL was born and educated in Nairobi, Kenya, after which she has lived and worked in Canada, England and, for the last thirty years, in the U.S. Following her graduate and post-graduate studies in literature, she was a regular guest as a literary critic for the Voice of Kenya radio station and has since worked in multiple professions including teaching, technical writing, systems analyses and medical administration. Her creative efforts have found expression in various genres. In addition to contributions to several anthologies and literary magazines, she has published a poetry collection, “Reflections,” and has co-written several Indian serial scripts in L.A. and India. Her play, “Alka Alka,” among other short sketches, was staged in L.A., and she has performed as an actor in film and on stage. Harshi is also co-author, with her brother Parvin D. Syal, of a collection of stories, “African Quilt – Stories of the Asian Indian Experience in Kenya.” Harshi now resides in Granada Hills, California. PARVIN D. SYAL Born and educated in Nairobi, Kenya, Parvin D. Syal has made Los Angeles his home since the mid 1970s. A practicing physician, Syal has forayed into different fields; as a community activist he promoted the interests of people of Indian origin, as a journalist he wrote political and literary columns for the ethnic press, as a broadcaster he hosted a health program on radio, as an actor he performed in film and on stage for which he wrote as well. He is co-author, with Harshi Syal Gill, of an anthology of stories of the Asian Indian experience in Kenya, “African Quilt.” Following up on contributions to literary magazines, Syal also published his collection of poetry, “Streams of Consciousness.” His adaptation, in Hindi, of the Neil Simon play, “Barefoot in the Park,” was staged by “The Wandering Players” in L.A. Syal’s one act play, “Through a Handcuff,” won a prize in a competition organized by the University of Nairobi, where he was a medical student. “God Minus” is his second collaboration with his sister, Harshi Syal Gill.

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INTRODUCTION

Poetry, it is said, is a lazy person’s activity: shying away from writing good prose, where one would be confined by the rules of grammar; where poetic license would be declared null and void and a Yoda-like character, from Star Wars, would have to re-learn the construction of sentences. Poetry—a lazy person’s activity indeed!

But I had no such notions, nor inclinations, when I first wrote a poem. It was for a children’s radio program in Nairobi, Kenya, hosted by Ram Murti Maini. To make matters difficult, it was in Hindi. However, under the tutelage of my father, the late Dharam Pall Syal, and the encouragement of my mother, the late Samitra Devi, I wrote an original poem in the complex meter of Hindi/Urdu poetry and won the competition. It was exciting, at the age of eleven, to go to the Cable and Wireless studios in Kabete, Kenya, to recite my poem on air. My love affair with poetry began and flourished under the cheer-leading squad of my siblings—my brother, the late Kailash Chander, and my sisters Usha, Gaytri and Harshi. It was simple versification at that stage.

Since then, I have been accused of being sesquipedalian. I don’t exactly know at what juncture my poetry became complex, and when I started using long words. Perhaps it was the lazy person’s answer to prose—using one long word instead of a series of smaller ones.

Complexity was born out of a number of influences. There was the anger of teen age against political and social injustice; there was the angst of alienation born of discrimination in the country of my birth; there was the wonderment at discovering new thoughts—the influence of Rabindranath Tagore, the knock-out punch delivered by T.S. Eliot’s The Wasteland, which I have quoted from liberally in the ultimate poem in this collection, Moksha.

And then, there was the combined effect of different muses at different stages of my life. It would be indiscreet to name names, so I’ll combine all names under one—Priya—the Hindi word for Dear. This muse traversed miles and continents, through moments of elation and despondency; through personal loss and gaining new relationships; through the sinkhole of unrequited love and the epiphany of sublime realization.

But the writing was always intensely personal. Some poems were terse, some suffered from logorrhea. Some were surreal and some anchored in harsh reality. However, in the bravado of self-confidence, I submitted some for publication. I was panned by some critics. I was misunderstood by others. Then, as a medical student, I befriended the late Dr. Angus Calder, professor of English Literature at the University of Nairobi. He edited my poetry, taught me the art of imagery and encouraged me to maintain my style. Being published, and then being written about, was gratifying.

During medical school I was perceived to be joined at the hip with my buddy and co-student, Virendra Khoji Talwar. He became my alter-ego, and we shaped each other’s character; shared each other’s angst and anguish and became brothers, albeit from different parents. He has gone on to achieve great things, but the bond that developed in our formative years has survived and strengthened. Some facets of my character are a reflected image of his, and this reflection shimmers in many of my writings.

I met the legendary Indian thespian Dev Anand forty five years ago and our relationship gelled into a deep, unique, friendship ten years later. His inspiration and influence on my artistic endeavors is immense.

For the purpose of this collection I re-read works which had been sequestered in some corner of hidden memory. All recollection was not pleasant, all reading was not rewarding. I became my own worst critic