SEARCHING FOR A POET - Published The Statesman

Niki Seth-Smith takes us on a hunt for new literary talent in London and Kolkata.

As an editor of a literary publication, as soon as I stepped off the plane from London my hunt for Kolkatan poets began. Before arriving, I’d heard Tagore’s city praised as the cultural capital of India. But now I’d landed, where to begin my search?

My expertise, I should explain, lies in ferreting out authors from London’s labyrinthine literary scene. I know the smoke-stained pub corners where they bury themselves; the boutique cafes where they munch organic flapjacks. Not all poets conform to type, of course, but I can sniff them out, even through a well-tailored suit. In London, the first place I head in search for authors is the Poetry Café, off Tottenham Court Road. The hub of the National Poetry Society is a cosy one-room boho-feel café hidden down a back alley. In the day, coffee drinkers hunch over their poetry volumes and talk in intense, unhurried tones. By night, a widely diverse programme of readings is held in the basement, from evenings with the poet laureate to open-mike slam sessions where the beats rock and the beer flows. Was there a Kolkatan equivalent? My neighbour pointed me to the Little Magazine Library on Tamer Lane, tucked away off the vast book market radiating out from College Street.

I’d heard about the legacy of the Little Magazine and its strong roots in Bengal. From daily volumes to bi-annual tomes, Little Magazines are vital to the Indian literary scene as alternative vehicles of expression not bound to conform to the double pressures of commerce and politics. The Little Magazine’s hey day in West Bengal was undoubtedly the 1960s, when the Hungry Generation sought to birth a mode of avant-garde expression free from the shackles of the colonial canon. Sandeep Dutta, the guardian of the Little Magazine library, judges that there are 150 Little Magazines currently published in Kolkata alone and more than a 1,000 based in the state – but as the publications tend not to be registered, there is no sure way to tell how many have mushroomed over the decades.

Sandeep Dutta set up the Little Magazine library in 1978 on finding that there was no institution willing to keep a comprehensive record of the publications. Today, volumes upon volumes are stacked to the roof of Sandeep’s two-room library - rare editions from the ‘40s jostling for space with issues still in their envelopes, newly posted to the collection not only from Bengal but from all over India and the wider diaspora. While Sandeep showed me a Bengali language LM sent to him from Sweden, a stream of authors, editors, researchers and literary lovers squeezed in and out of the cramped, dimly lit rooms.

Thinking back, the calm retreat of the Poetry Café seemed suddenly staid and inhibiting in comparison to the bustling, chatty atmosphere of Sandeep’s library. It just isn’t the ‘done thing’ to address the café on the impact of politics on literature today or pass verdict on the latest emerging talent, as at Tamer Lane. Personally, I’d be too frightened that one of those dedicated scribblers was busy composing the next Waste Land and I’d put them off their masterpiece forever.

Don’t get me wrong. London’s literary scene is not all rosehip tea and reticence. The capital’s Spoken Word scene is buzzing and incredibly diverse. Poetry tends to be served with a twist: screamed from the rooftops (that’s literal); painted on the walls; accompanied (or delivered) by comics, burlesque dancers and avant-garde bands. But as for everyday literary dens – places where you might hang out and hook up with other writers – they’re almost always cloaked in reverential silence. It seems we Brits assume our ‘difficult’ poets like things peaceful, ordered and disciplined.

Take the capital’s Saison poetry library – my time-honoured plan B on any search for London poets. Situated on the fourth floor of the South Bank Centre, looking over the Thames and the Millennium Bridge, this incredibly well-stocked library is housed on stacked shelves with no spaces between. A browser simply pulls on a shelf which wheels out to reveal its treasures: the epitome of space-saving self-sufficiency. Any Sandeep-like guardian of the collection is made redundant by such a well-oiled machine. As an editor, I simply browse for upcoming poets, find their email address (the publication’s index or Google will do the trick) and shoot off a commissioning email. Easy as a slice of low-calorie pie.


Whereas, to find a Little Magazine poet, your best to consult those in the know - preferably the great librarian himself. I note the slight heaviness under Sandeep’s eyes as he tells me of the time he’s dedicated to the collection. For Dutta is much more than a living index of publications and authors. He is also connoisseur, critic, guardian and match-maker of this ever-changing alternative scene. Although constantly scouring the book stalls for rare and overlooked publications, today most material comes to him directly. In 1989 he set up a Writer’s Bank File, where authors submit their work to the library and editors from across the country can drop in and check out the new material. While I was visiting, the editor of a Durgapur-based political magazine ‘Socrates’ had traveled four hours to come have a rifle through.

Couldn’t the library misuse its power as an axis of the Little Magazine scene? After all, Sandeep only accepts into the Bank File what he deems to be ‘quality’ work. Doesn’t that judgment necessitate a certain amount of personal bias? My friend and editor of Kolkata-based comedy magazine ‘Self Employment’ is shocked that I should propose such an abuse. “He’s powerful, by circumstance,” he assures me. “It’s not about power, it’s about love.” Last year’s boycott of the state-run Little Magazine fair was a testament to the library’s ability to unite, not control, the LM scene. Taking a stand against the state government - its land acquisition policy in particular - the library had organized an alternative fair, attracting roughly 200 Little Magazine sellers. But Sandeep was adamant that this political intervention would not play a divisive role: “It wasn’t about ‘this is my group, that’s yours, and if you’re on their side you can’t be on mine’. Lots of editors came to both fairs.”

The strong ties that bind Bengal’s Little Magazine community, with the library seemingly centre of the web, ensured the success of my hunt for poets. Aside from the obvious road-block - my desperately poor Bengali – I’d been expecting Kolkata to confront me with many more difficulties than my native London. I soon learnt the benefit of the personal touch. After spilling my woes to Sandeep (and the dozens of authors and literati who happened to be passing through the library) I now have a list of Bengalis whose work can be found in translation as well as those who write in English. Now, I just have to muster my pitiful Bangla and dial their numbers.

Many London-based editors I know would balk at the prospect of consulting a figure such as Sandeep on the latest publications, or having to travel hours to a hidden back alley in order to scout out new talent. An institution like the Little Magazine library isn’t necessary in the Big Smoke. In fact, with UK publications and authors busy spreading feelers into the e-world, editors can increasingly do their work from the comfort of their home. But necessity aside, perhaps London would benefit from an establishment such as Sandeep’s library: an all-welcome base, where anyone and everyone can air views and share work – from the teenage lyricist to the seasoned editor.

Soon, I’ll be back in the Poetry Café, sipping my Earl Grey and pouring over a journal of prose poetry. After the crazed hubbub of Kolkata, I’m sure that I’ll savour the calm ambience of the café and the knowledge that my neighbour is unlikely to interrupt me with a passionate critique of my reading matter. That said, I’ll miss the free association and disciplined chaos of Tamer Lane. At least I’ll be flying back home with some impressive poetry tucked away in my backpack.

Niki Seth-Smith is a British journalist with The Statesman. ‘Searching for a Poet’ is the second in a series viewing Kolkata through a Londoner’s eyes.

Niki Seth-Smith edits the e-zine www.fingerdancefestival.org.uk. Poetry and art submissions are welcome at submissions@fingerdancefestival.org.uk.