Verse happens at a steady meter these days. Klang Valley residents with sensitive dispositions have a fair number of regular performance platforms to choose from -- though not everything is a guaranteed good listen: poetry readings can be anything from profound to profoundly painful, and predicting quality is a gamble.

Troubaganger’s “Wayang Kata” series is, perhaps, an exception to the rule. Organised by Jasmine Low and Jerome Kugan (of the Doppelganger Open Mic and Troubadours collectives, respectively), it’s consistently featured strong indigenous scribblers; augmented by the British Council, one may expect a Brit who is sufficiently well-liked at home to be considered for export -- and practiced enough to school aspirant amateurs; Malika Booker and Jacob Sam-La Rose conducted workshops when they were down.

The series’ latest incarnation featured six alumni of these classes, reading three poems apiece. What set that night apart from previous “Wayang Kata”s was that it was a contest; hoping to likewise pimp our poets for foreign consumption, the audience voted, judges convened, and now three budding rhymesters are off to the Singapore Writers Festival 2007. Come December 1st, they’ll be part of the Malaysian diplomatic corps.

Over email, I talked to Divya Jiwa, Liyana Yusof, and Priya K about who they are, what competing was like, and where they’re going; Kakiseni also reproduces their poems for your reading pleasure. Judge for yourself.

~

Starting

Tell us about yourself. Then tell us who you wish you were.

Priya K: I am a dissatisfied law student, trapped in suburbia -- but mostly I’m a cheery slacker.

Liyana Yusof: I’m a second year biotechnology student. I would have loved to be a neuroscience student, actually. I’m also a part-time photographer, writer, scriptwriter, and poet -- though that last one only really works when I’m alone; onstage, I just stutter and fidget. I guess I’d like to have been a neuroscience student who didn’t stutter or fidget.

Divya Jiwa: I’m a 30-year-old insanely wicked vegetarian writer / copywriter / brand consultant / trainer / photographer who’s learning how to play pool. I wish that I was a 25-year-old insanely charismatic vegetarian rock star.

Any writer worth salt is a reader; poets -- and I’m making an unauthorised value judgement, here -- are not exempt. What did you grow up reading, and what are you reading, now?

LY: Oh, I agree. You can’t write if you don’t read. My bedtime stories were from Greek mythology, and those are just as macabre as nursery rhymes. I read what was lying around the house -- which, luckily, was a lot: Rudyard Kipling, Victor Hugo, Rumi, Machiavelli.

PK: I grew up reading anything sparkly and fairy-filled (Enid Blyton, cereal boxes) -- or the direct opposite (Stephen King, Batman comics). Then there were the usual suspects of adolescence: JD Salinger, Jane Austen, JRR Tolkien, Neil Gaiman, Amir Muhammad. Right now I’m rereading the Bible.

DJ: Now I read the classifieds, because I’m looking for an apartment. These days I barely have time to read. I’ve been “reading” Oscar Wilde, Franz Kafka, Sylvia Plath, Pablo Neruda, and Paulo Coelho for the past six months, and have yet to finish even one of their books. But, in the past two years, my reading has veered towards books about things like mind manifestation and healing: “No Time For Karma”, “A Course in Miracles”, the works of Abraham Hicks, material on energy healing systems ...

Most of the poetry I read, I read online.

Why write poetry at all? Why read?

PK: Why? Why write novels, plays and songs? Why paint? Why write an article about poets for Kakiseni?

I don’t know; it’s some chemical compulsion of the brain, perhaps -- coupled with melodrama from the heart.

LY: For the piles of money. Obviously.

DJ: As a teenager, I wrote short stories and opinion articles about the state of the world, for my personal, anger-fuelled pleasure. Then I started writing lyrics for self-composed songs. Somehow, these metamorphosed into personal poetry. I still hesitate to call myself a poet. That, for me, describes a very focused talent -- which people like Pablo Neruda, Anna Akhmatova and our very own Nicholas Wong had / have. I’m just beginning to learn.

Poetry is a very individual experience; I feel that performing poetry is about reaching into someone’s heart through your words (and voice), and them feeling (or revisiting) the emotions they’ve had (or buried).

...

Divya, you’re the only one out of school. Between your two day jobs (advertising and teaching English to kids), which would you want to talk about, and why? Then talk about it. Does work have any effect on your poetic aspirations at all?

DJ: I can’t choose one or the other. I find both to be extremely creative.

While teaching, I often have to come up with passages and stories on the spot. So it’s been great practice for me. I love the energy, joy, and thought processes kids have, and I thoroughly enjoy my time with them.

I went into advertising years ago, due to my love of writing and comedy; being a copywriter is just in line with that. I love the whole process of creating an ad: coming up with a new image or idea to sell something old.

Having said all that, I don’t know if I’ll stay in either field for life. I get bored easily, and there’s just so much more I want to do, before I’m really old: travel, write, play in a band, et cetera. It’s another one of those never-ending lists.

Reading

Priya, you co-run Project OMG!. Tell us about that. (We know it’s a cheesy acronym for “Open Mike Gig” -- were you responsible for that?) Who is involved? Why did you people start it, in the first place? What Troubagangers does is somewhat analogous, yes?

PK: My partner in crime is Patricia Low (who also reads), and we get by with a little help from our friends.

Project OMG! is exactly what its cheesy acronym stands for: we organise gigs of readings / performance poetry / music / anything inspired that people would want to do onstage. (We draw the line at striptease and book-burning, though; we don’t want to be responsible for geriatric heart attacks and fires.) We came up with the name because it sums up the vibe of the whole thing: it’s unpretentious -- which is what our audience and performers react positively to. It’s about giving a safe space for these guys to get a feel of being onstage, and converting new audiences to the scene.

It seems redundant to compare Troubagangers to us; other open-mike nights have been popping up, and Sharon Bakar’s “Readings” has been running for ages. Each one attracts a different set of people -- and that’s fine. There isn’t going to be much of a scene if it’s just the same people throwing a party for the same guests.

What was it like, reading at “Wayang Kata”? Give us a run-through.

DJ: The first time I read in public was right after a workshop with Jacob Sam La Rose (who’s such an amazing poet and person). It was a nerve-wrecking, I-have-to-read-as-part-of-the-workshop deal. I just got a recording of that performance last week; I went home, put the DVD into my computer, and went through the performances; 30 seconds into mine, I took out the disc and hid it. It was scary, to say the least.

Reading at “Wayang Kata” was, comparatively, a breeze. Of course, I spent the entire day dreading it, turning myself into a knotted ball for my kitten to play with. All in vain at the end. I think the audience was just wonderful, and made it very easy for us poets to get up there and strut our work.

LY: I started off nervous, I was nervous in the middle, and I ended nervous.

PK: It was just storytelling and making sure that people were paying attention: trying to relate to them, and trying to get them to relate to me. Of course, at the back of my mind I was worried about swearing in front of my father (who was there) and my top falling off.

Time for some yes / no questions. Did you chemically alter your state of mind (alcohol, coffee, et cetera), just to cope with the anxiety?

PK: Yes.

DJ: Definitely.

LY: Yes and no; I drink a lot of coffee as it is, but if you saw me, it was painfully obvious that it was no help.

Did you think you would win?

LY: No.

PK: Depends. I might have thought about it. Or not.

Did you want to win?

LY: Yes.

PK: Duh -- no one competes to lose.

DJ: I didn’t quite see it as a case of winning or losing; I just knew I wanted to be in Singapore next month. The few seconds that I could that I could take myself away from anxiety attacks, I spent imagining being selected, to help myself in that direction. Thought manifestation works!

...

Do you think you deserved to win?

LY: People convinced me I earned it, thank you.

PK: Are you implying something?

Crossing

Liyana, you’ve proved yourself to be a pretty adept literary sportswoman; thanks to the Apostrophe Short Short Stories contest a few months back, you were at the recent Ubud Writers & Readers Festival. What was Bali like?

LY: In the festival’s feedback survey, I filled in every line they gave me. I suggested that they rename it. It was the Writers & Readers Festival In Ubud, really; almost everyone was expatriate, and if it wasn’t for the traditionally-costumed ushers and cultural dances, I would have forgotten I was in Bali altogether.

The festival could have been held anywhere. Most of the Balinese carried on with their lives, outside the venue -- so that was where I spent most of my time, too.

All three of you will be down south, come December, for the Singapore Writers Festival. Has the British Council told you what you are supposed to be doing, there? What do you plan to do, instead? What do you think the festival will mean to you?

LY: I have no idea what to expect, but I am excited.

PK: I’m curious about the scene in Singapore. Want to see what the neighbours are up to. So far, there’s no official schedule out, so we only know there’s a workshop we’re attending, followed by a performance. Everything seems pretty flexible, so the rest of the time I’d be either holed up in the library, or taking pictures of sidewalks.

DJ: The festival is an opportunity to be exposed to more Asian poetry; I’m really looking forward to meeting and listening to other writers and poets, and the experience I’ll gain. In fact, the other day, I was trying to convince those wonderful women at the British Council, Patriana and Sunitha, to extend our stay there.

What’s next, then? More agonised verse? Will you make your mark, or vanish into obscurity?

DJ: Que sera sera. But personally, more verse -- agonised or otherwise.

LY: I have no idea, myself.

PK: A book of nursery rhymes, perhaps. Maybe I’ll make my mark with obscurity, I don’t know -- let me know when the rest of my generation has an answer for that, and I will tell you mine.

~

The following poems were performed by their authors at "Wayang Kata IV":

Ways of You
by Divya Jiwa

You blink,
I am transported,

to an idyllic waterfall
drops trickle
down your nape
the curve of your back
Soma, the nectar of immortality
to my thirsting lips,
You make me a God
And I surrender

You smile,
I am taken, lost
in a movie of last night
the t.v. whispered
as the wind
dancing with see through curtains
made the moon
a witness to our hunger
caressed our matted hair
cooled the hot springs
we swam in

Now
bright black bee stings
Venomous
You glare
And I am forgotten.

...

Love Poem
by Priya K

This is not a
declaration of undying love
or a shopping list
of similes and metaphors
for searing eyes and luscious lips.

This is not a
hate-missile heat-seeking
ex-lovers, unsent flowers
or the corporate conspiracy
against singlehood.

This is dedicated
to those who spoon
their pillows to sleep,
trying to ignore
voices inside screaming
that this fluffy vessel
of tear-stained hope
is the most meaningful
relationship
they’ll ever have.

This is not for
desperados or drama queens,
or losers who think
that people are like
cheese;
to be sampled
and critiqued
while intoxicated.

This is for you.
You
who are withering
from the weight of dreams.
You
who are wishing
for a live-wire connection.
You
who know we breathe
the same space of air tonight.

This is for us.

We who screw up
our beginnings
by letting them end.

And I will say this now
because this glow of attention
makes me a poet;
and we all know that
poets
are creatures who feel
too much
for their own good,
never daring to admit
that our addiction
to words
is ultimately
useless.

I will say it
before this moment slips away
like the rest of life’s debris –

I love you.

I love you all.

I love you as much as I am able to.

...

The Girl in the Papers
by Liyana Yusof
(to be read aloud; in the context of recent events)

the trajectory of growing up is painless
turning from that timeline is not.

and as for me,
I crashed.

29 days is enough to disconnect 8 years
from everything
I belong to no one anymore, my identity zipped,
and no one will recognize me.

The seas take back their tears leaving salt around my eyes I am
complete
a child, any child
someone you've never met someone you'll never forget.

How small they must have thought I was, how harmless
in that bag I fit as perfect as a foetus
deformed by human hands, resurrected by their eyes,
their mouths,
born in an explosion of ink & tears with no worry left I'll
invade your fears your thoughts
I burst

No you won't recognize me now I am new, immortal, no wounds,
no words left, but I seep in somehow, I bleed between the
cracks
you can hear me in your mother weeping in the kitchen
you can see my smile in your daughters
my heart beats with those who saw my printed face

They were wrong, about how small I was.

I am not a sport,
no plaything.
this is dead serious and I am done with games.

I am waiting for you to forget
I am waiting for you to remember
I am waiting with my secrets my love my you can't hide
forever my why-why-why
I am waiting for you to surrender
what's left of me
what's left of me

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

~~~

Zedeck Siew writes for Kakiseni.

“Wayang Kata IV: An Evening of Spoken Word” -- organised by Troubagangers and the British Council -- happened at No Black Tie on October 24th, 2007 and featured Patricia Low, Priya K, Batsheba Zlikha Arsalan, Divya Jiwa, Liyana Yusof, and M Shanmughalingam; with guest appearances, including Fahmi Fadzil and experimental noisemakers Ciplak.

Poems reproduced with kind permission of the authors. Copyright is theirs, obviously.