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The poetry of Kushal Poddar is a feast of imagery that glides seemingly effortlessly across the consciousness of the reader until it finds its way to our center. Just when he lulls us into thinking we have him figured out, he reveals something more, something deeper, something we can use to improve our daily lives. Often cryptic, at times mischievously humorous, always illuminating, Kushal draws from the world around him. He takes ordinary objects such as the icebox or the door, and breathes life into them. Nothing finds its way into a concise Poddar poem by chance. Everything is a clue. Every word matters.


Here is a poet writing from a culturally and traditionally rich albeit troubled homeland, so one can‟t help looking at these pieces as an attempt at serializing man‟s voyage into some inner space – more perhaps into the mind of the universal man as a passive spectator rather than as active instigator of actions – as he invariably takes into detailed cataloguing of the clear and present dangers that shake our existence. Of equal importance is the poet‟s dissociative behavior towards the standard nuances of common metaphors and allusions as he fearlessly layers each of his pieces with them. He will boldly mix, mold, and cut them until a new nuance evolves for the unsuspecting eye to discover. Or relish. Poddar is not one who will blink away from a metaphor – cliché or mint fresh – with the way he sculpts them skillfully into a poem – just about the right working mindset for a poet who must love spectator sports.


SPIRACLE JOURNAL Volume I Issue No. 1  

Re. In. Vent.

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