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Neem ka ped - amol ranjan

Today, I'm extremely excited to bring to you another young, unpublished poet and friend whose intense aspect hides a quiet perseverance. a gaze that finds itself wedged between various forces of modernity, the absurdity of media and a mohalla in Patna.

Amol sees the extraordinary in the mundane. His measured, conversational account of the persona's space hides in its folds comments about society, media and popular culture. the narrative echoes a kind of schizoid relationship between the self and the world, nature and the city.


It's not despair that dogs his words, but a wry longing for a time gone by; a familiarity that is associated with childhood, and a reality that seemed more straightforward to navigate. This return to innocence is what I find deeply fascinating. Because I feel it too.


The end reminds me of Wordsworth's daffodils:


For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude;


The tableux that amol has disdained into life is real. You can feel the subtle humour that punctuates his meandering monologue. and you laugh uncomfortably with him, uncertain together about a world that is just beyond your reach.








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