While commenting on The Earthen Flute, Lorna Dee Cervantes, who is “probably the best Chicana poet active today,” wrote, “”Prayers carry lives within” as do these luminous and varied poems: some, brief as a firefly’s single pulse from the darkness, some, brightly lit as the long bridge between cultures. In these poems “an enormous God steps in” and reveals. The world is multi-valenced, multifaceted and multi-layered. “Live in the layers,” another poet, Stanley Kunitz, advises us. These poems dwell a language beyond the many borders of languages. Something else speaks: Truth—of the known, the unknown and the unknowable. “A wonderful world opens up deep inside.” You owe it to yourself to read these poems right now, not so much as to get out of your “self” as to come inside. Just as the old maps of the new “India” would label the margins, “There Be Demons Here” within these pages of Kiriti Sengupta: Here Lives The Angelic, right here on this “Earth…where I wish to live.””The Earthen Flute was formally launched in Calcutta by Sanjukta Dasgupta and Sharmila Ray on February 21, 2016.
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“In The Earthen Flute Sengupta has added all-encompassing meditation of the East. His poetry will go a long way for sure!”
-Bibhas Roy Chowdhury (West Bengal, India)
“In his newest book of poetry The Earthen Flute Kiriti Sengupta has compiled a selection of poems-in-passing taking note of the daily details of budgets and abandoned playgrounds. He presents things you can hold in your hand: a bird’s nest, a wedding ring, a lotus flower, as if to say, “Remember me!” But the majority of poems are an offering of things eternal. When the little boy “rushes to the veranda and stretches his brown arms in the sunlight” in “Let The Flowers Bloom” Sengupta seems to be asking the reader to suspend our practical beliefs and go into the center of imagining. He is a poet who seeks to impart wisdom, often taking the reins of the poem rather than letting the horse run free. I believe the book’s poetic thesis comes in an early poem, “Moon – The Other Side” where he writes, “A tombstone may ask for/ flowers and your tears/while frank hunger can only be fed/by some food to eat.” Sometimes his poems meander loosely and at others he offers a solid chair to sit in while we turn the pages.”
-Mary Torregrossa (California, USA)
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