The Type Of Modern Indian English Poetry It Is Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

There is nothing as Indian English
Or Indian English poetry,
Actually, in the past
Closer to the British
Tried to write in English
In imitation
Or influenced by
The Orientalists and Indologists
Little verses
They could afford to put on paper
As for getting recognition
Or moving out to England.

As much of our literature was oral
Or written on palmyra charts
Dipping into the vegetable colours
Difficult to be preserved in mud houses
And the rock-built temples for the gods
To house in, not the men,
Which but recorded we not
Our expertise,
The builders of those unknown temples
With unknown architects and masons
Cutting rocks,
Huge chunks and boulders of
And transforming.

Today after marking them write laboriously
And getting fame easily
In comparison to vernaculars,
They too have started to write,
I mean,
The all and sundry,
Jack and Jill,
Tom, Dick and Harry,
All striving to be poets and poetesses,
Not of India,
But of the world.

The wisps and whiffs of modern poetry
And the desire of
To be Shakespeare, Donne, Herbert, Marvell,
Milton, Spenser, Herrick,
Pope, Dryden, Johnson,
Gray, Blake,
Wordsworth, Shelley, Keats, Coleridge,
Tennyson, Arnold, Browning,
Davies, Mare, Masefield,
Eliot, Auden, Yeats, Pound,
They could not subdue it,
Hold their temptation
Refreshened by English studies.

There as a time when there were not many
To read the works
Of the Indian poets and authors,
Even the researches on Indian matters
As for English faculty
Used to be third-rate,
Substandard, below the mark,
Derivative and copious
And the classic-professors
Of our own too
Used to frown upon
Them, their colleagues
Of such a sort.

Leave it today, as the UGC has made it compulsory
So they are doing their Ph.Ds.
Otherwise would not have,
Just for career advancement
Even putting on low researches
Just for namesake
And on nowhere Indian poets and critics,
Whose books out of stock
And inaccessible,
Some definitely wrote good
But they took to not
Taking if t for British English
In the past,
But today the people of our generation
Writing shamelessly
Copious English
Derivative things.

Many of those who never wanted to be
Professors
Have become profs miraculously
Though luck and good fortune
As their had been time,
Fortunate enough,
Many strove to be,
But could not be,
But those who never wanted to be
Are submitting their Ph.D.
To be doctors
Somehow
Without any compounders
To attend to.

Many stake-holders’ Ph.Ds. false Ph.Ds,
They have not,
But their guides have,
Even the rustics
Have turned into professors,
Now learning to speak English
For fear of insults,
Unable to take classes,
Returning from,
Requesting the colleagues
To take
If there are good students,
Learning from.

The small teachers wanting to be
Poets, critics and reviewers
After editing journals
And the students
For paper-publication
And poetry trials,
All wanting to be
After marking it
The authority is absent,
There is none to claim over
The luggage lying.