Kothmale Sirisena: Essence of feeling and economy of language

• Kothmale Sirisena’s six books of verse are proof that the short poem has its adherents and staying power 

Every office has a poet, and newspapers are no exception. But such talent rarely finds a means of expression, getting swamped under the daily routine. Kothmale Sirisena whose newspaper career started at the now-defunct Dawasa newspaper in 1980 (Since 1991, he’s part of the Daily Lankadeepa staff), is the author of sixteen books, including six books of poetry. He deserves to be taken seriously. 

His books, ranging from short stories to non-fiction subjects such as history, general knowledge, notes on politics and cinema, reflect his varied interests. But poetry has to be the binding material that holds his heart and intellect together, and his short verse shows the two in synthesis.

His latest collection of poems titled ‘Mediam Reyath Gevunu Wagai’ (It’s past midnight) and ‘Magaherunu Rathriya’ (The night we missed) published last year with its even shorter, haiku-like verse, showcase his talent for focusing on the essence of thought and feeling with great economy of language. It’s tempting to say this is word painting in miniature, but this is not poetry which describes beauty, manmade or natural. His poems describe emotion in almost abstract terms, for the poet is usually viewing things from a distance.

Many of the poems are untitled. In ‘Mediam Reyath Gevune Wagai,’ the poems range from philosophical ruminations to laconic social comment. In the untitled poem No. 2, the poet examines the vagaries of body-mind relationship (translations mine):

“The body waits as the mind, wanderer in the universe, finds a happy corner to linger on before returning.”

In poem No. 14, he gets philosophical – “Rain washed out the now, and yesterday’s seeds sprouted over the empty ground” -- while in poem No. 16, he divulges an unpleasant truth: “True…, it’s the hand which savoured the body’s wonder most, not the eye.”

But poem No. 17 is cryptic and devastatingly satirical. It reads almost like a slogan: “Budusarana for the bus, abasarana for the passengers.” 

This biting satire crops up again and again in varying degrees. In poem No. 33, one of those rare titled ones has a news item as its title: ‘The shrine (devalaya) catches fire with the guardian (kapuva).

‘The deity voluntarily took responsibility for the fire.”

The so-called lower forms of life do not escape his scrutiny. In poem No. 24, he speaks on behalf of those mice and frogs who give up their lives, without any hope of merit or salvation, for the sake of civilization.

In poem No. 29, he uses images of light and darkness to create contrast and forceful imagery: “The tinny lights which shone when the lights went out brought to the mind a forgotten past.”

But the lightning he writes about in poem No. 30 has nothing to do with electric currents caused by thunderstorms: “Lightning which struck suddenly ran through the body and began to flicker through one’s entire life.”

In poem No. 37, the poet offers us a universal truth when he says “when religion dominates the head in defiance of the heart, the philosophy disappears, leaving just a name.”

In poem No. 40, he continues with philosophical thought: “The river flows despite all obstacles while someone who’s messed up his life meditates, his eyes fixed on the flowing river.”

In poem No. 47, the poet takes a fresh view of carnal love, or lust: “But her heart was safe with him while she leased her body to someone else.” 

The shorter poems in ‘Maga Herunu Raathriya’ capture different moods and vagaries of human emotion with the poet’s habitual analytical eye and common sense. Even the cycle of day and night does not escape his poetic appraisal: “The sun, having the spying to the moon, is fast asleep.”

The poet is nothing short of scathing when he dismisses, in poem No. 7, the Sinhala New Year as ‘giving artificial respiration to the village via television.”

In poem No. 71, the poet gives us an obvious truth which escapes the superstitious: “It’s nothing but ink which flows from pens blessed by the gods.”

Kothmale Sirisena’s six books of verse are proof that the short poem has its adherents, readers as well as staying power.