I was born a foreigner. He unhooks the velvet rope. You might pray that the paper whispers your story to the water, that the water sings it to the trees, that the trees howl and howl it to the leaves. Besides, you could also write a poem, or give a new shape to the paper into any inanimate thing that you can play with, and entertain you. Sometimes even within families of mixed backgrounds conflicts arise making some members feel like an outcast. Dharker is putting the reader on the spot; these questions are now directly put to us.
I carried on from there to become a foreigner everywhere I went, even in the place planted with my relatives, six-foot tubers sprouting roots, their fingers and faces pushing up new shoots of maize and sugar cane. Imagine the drip of it, the small splash, echo in a tin mug, the voice of a kindly god. He uses his son as an inspiration in this poem and describes his different stages that he has gone through by using language and structural features in this poem. In Purdah published in 1989 and forming half of her Bloodaxe collection Postcards from god 1997 she is a traveller between cultures. In this stanza, the idea of wind carrying paper becomes the image of freedom within the poem. The E-mail message field is required. And so I scratch, scratch through the night, at this growing scab on black on white.
Knowledge can be acquired from these two different types of language, in different ways depending on how a person learns and also which area of knowledge the language is being conveyed in. Everyone has the right to infiltrate a piece of paper. He looked right at me with his bleared eyes. Each stanza is a moment of visiting our home. Blessing is a poem which creates a celebratory scene as well as being ominous and disturbing.
The remaining taste is the one of non-affiliation. Imtiaz is foreign where she was born and in her own country. The poet shares the introspections of his new beginning as an immigrant. The novel begins in Queensland which is abundant with raw, untouched nature, and changes to Europe where the war is taking place. Though all that I have written about may not be relevant with the poem, but it does reveal the various uses of a paper. I think this is very clever, the way the poet draws a parallel between financial wealth and the water.
She says the light that shines through the paper is actually the representation of god. In all, the poem suggests how fragile and important a paper is, but unfortunately we take it for granted and throw it into the dustbin after its use by just considering it a piece of paper. I think this is the second poem by Imtiaz Dharker that I have posted on this blog. He projects it on the little boy on the train to Manhattan. All kinds of places and groups of people who have an admirable history would, almost certainly, distance themselves from me.
The subject of the next stanza if language, and this is something that I can relate to personally, having lived, studied and worked in abroad for several years now. Stanzas 7-9 Through this section of the poem, the speaker says if an architect makes builds his buildings with tissue paper, she will be able to bring light even through the buildings and will not again think of making the buildings with breaks. There is an exultant celebration of a self that strips off layers of superfluous identity with grace and abandon, only to discover that it has not diminished, but grown larger, generous, more inclusive. In this situation, many people understandably feel incredibly displaced and victimised, as they find themselves facing prejudice from both the country they were born in, as well as the country of their parents and relatives. I was born a foreigner. A page doesn't fight back.
It reflects the alienation and loneliness of the immigrants. There's always that point where the language flips into an unfamiliar taste; where words tumble over a cunning tripwire on the tongue; where the frame slips, the reception of an image not quite tuned, ghost-outlined, that signals, in their midst, an alien. This is one line in length, and draws our attention to it. Displacement here no longer spells exile; it means an exhilarating sense of life at the interstices. Because of it, the foreigners see the world around them differently. I will do such things, what they are yet I know not, but they shall be the terrors of the earth, he said.
In her poem , Imtiaz Dharker reveals the confusion about her own identity as an immigrant. Notice how different the similes in the third and fourth stanzas seem. It has the names of all those heroes who glorified our history. Thomas Hardy has done this to show how the bird is at peace with nature and other animals and human involvement disturbs the ordinary harmony of nature. The thin paper represents old age; as we grow in our age, our skin also becomes thinner, and when this starts happening things around us also begin to alter.
The way each is different and they come one after another shows how it is happening in that moment. She is writing to make sense of a wound, or even to heal it. Or is she talking about being unable to find the words for something? So why the angel with the flaming sword bringing in the sheep and waving away the goats, and the men with the binoculars, elbows resting on the roll bars of jeeps, peering into the desert? There are also real life references to other lasting uses we have for paper in our lives, for example; maps, receipts and architect drawings. I carried on from there to become a foreigner everywhere I went, even in the place planted with my relatives, six-foot tubers sprouting roots, their fingers and faces pushing up new shoots of maize and sugar cane. She then goes to another idea of a paper. And so I scratch, scratch through the night, at this growing scab on black on white. She moved to Scotland, Glasgow as a little girl.
On Immigration by Prageeta Sharma After being humiliated one continues the manuscript of identity. Stanza 3 In the third stanza, the speaker tells that a paper is useful to keep a record of all those who were born and died. If you keep still and do not speak, you might hear your whole life fill the world until the wind is the only word. It has the date and time of all of us. The touch of breaking bread brings us back into her homeland. She attended university in Glasgow before eloping with an Indian Hindu and moving to Mumbai, India. This familiar image could suggest something larger about socioeconomics.