Before I divulge into the intricacies, a few pointers:
- Poetry can be reviewed if it is published for the world to read and critique
- Yes, Vrinda Sood is working with The ‘Zine too
- This is the first time I have read a book of poems by an Indian author
Three Feet Taller, a book that will set you free. Since we will be talking about poems, allow me to be my rawest form with you today, and my rawest form is extremely philosophical (unfortunately/fortunately?). When in conversation with the author, she said something truly bewitching to me- “For the two and a half minutes my poem plays in their minds, I am responsible. They forget everything for that short span of time and I hold their moment”- (forgive me if these weren’t the exact words; my memory fails me these days) and that was true to its deepest core. Having spent three days reading this twenty-page book and analyzing each of the pieces with the sharpest of my capabilities, I can surely tell you this- Vrinda Sood does hold your life in those moments, but her clasp is gentle; almost like a rocking chair or a lullaby lulling you into a sweet sleep. Of course my previous statement does not mean it is exceedingly boring, get a little poetic!
Most of the poems happen to religiously follow a rhyme scheme, which is quite a rare phenomenon in new age writers who prefer disjointed sentences. Amongst these marvelous pieces a few that we’d recommend, and a few lines from them for a glimpse, would be –
‘As a kid I was taught the difference between a comma and a full stop.
A comma signified that something more was yet to come.
A full stop instructed me to stop expecting. And I did.
But I never felt that fullness from the former than I did from the latter.’
The poem- justifying its title- is very haphazard, as if undid at the ends but very roughly tied together.
‘No love is lost and no love is found,
it’s the love inside you that you hold
for yourself and for the world around,
that, my son, is your mould’
The gripping thing about these poems is that Sood does not have a constant melancholy; for a worse, there is a better, and vice versa. A perfect balance engages the reader rather than pushing him/her into the depths of existentialism. The most beautiful part about her poems is that they are honest, and this honesty is even more prevalent if you have the privilege to know her personally.
A perfectly organized set of poems, of the different age groups she was a part of, Vrinda Sood paints the journey of her growth. And with each poem I see her chin rising.
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