I am thinking of this issue of “beautiful language” more and more now because I am working everyday to finalize my chapbook. I am re-visiting a lot of my old poems, stopping myself at places, and often asking myself, what was I trying to communicate here originally. Sure, it sounds nice and beautiful and poetic, but what else was I trying to say here. Was I engaging in this beautiful language because I wasn't exactly sure what I was trying to say? In short, am I using beautiful language here to obscure, obfuscate, and obliterate meaning? And if yes, what am I achieving here? I mean, I am not one of those poets/writers who would say “fuck the readers! I don't want to give them information!” I mean, first of all, it's not “information” I offer to them anyway. I offer them my insights, my readings, my interpretations, my version of a particular story. It's not “information” in that sense. [And if you're thinking, why am I taking pains to write about this stuff, and arguing with it, this is exactly what a young poet friend of mine wrote to me a couple of days back. I am not trivializing her feelings, but I don't think she was being too original here. Rather, she was repeating in her own way what I have heard and read in many many texts.] And even there, I know for sure that I don't always make sense to all readers. Neither do I want to. I have no intention of explaining myself or the world I am writing about. So, my work (and I believe, all works of art) excludes, precisely because it inhabits a world which is specific in terms of its historical, political, cultural, geographical connotations. But at the same time, I do want to communicate to some readers! And that's where, I believe, my responsibility as a writer comes into play. So, the question I am struggling with right now is, does my “beautiful language” facilitate that act of communication? Or does it impede and obstruct that work?
In short, what is the political significance of beautiful language in my work?
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