Keki N.Daruwalla even in his definition of poetry makes it clear how he has taken poetry along, into the stride and thud of his, never to be taken over by sentimentality and loose overflow of emotions. He is what that forms a base of the chunk of his poetry, making poetry closer to observation and landscapic presentations. Disease, death, epidemics and the morgue, the post-mortem house, autopsy and stench with the kites, hawks and vultures hovering over are the things of his poetry and he keeps himself abreast of all that going. But we are very sorry to say that the number of the birds has fallen very miserable and they are scarcely to be sighted over. The Cheel Ghars too lie in short of the birds of prey dwelling inside or perched on its walls, almost abandoned and without the visits and flutter of the birds. Dead bodies, accidents and tragedies speak in his poetry and the shells of his make a mockery of the people peeping through the curfew-clamped towns and its barren streets. He is not a simple man to take poetry simply, but a lover of bombastic words and shells, weighty, laden and carrying in.
The poem, Wolf from The Glass-Blower: Selected Poems may be quoted and cited in to dwell upon and delve deep into the psyche and space of his own. Daruwalla as a poet is of a hunter’s penetration, telling of the duality, ever present in this creation, the contraries and contradictions which G.M.Hopkins comes to mark it in the poem ‘Pied Beauty’. Fears lurking within human mind, gripping and grasping, striking by surprise, the unthought-of and the thought swapping positions continue to allure and strike us. Wolf, a run-on poem of one stanza, has the verve and dark imagery of its own. The tiger, tiger, Blakian tiger vision, the villagers calling aloud, Hopkins’ creation contradictory and conflicting, Shaw’s anti-thesis, Hughes’ animal imagery, Corbett’s man-eaters, Orwell’s animal farm and the shooting of the elephant, Shelley’s description of the creator, preserver and destroyer in the message and thunder of the cloud, Eliot’s depiction of the waste and barren land standing in unison with man for a vegetation and the rains and son on take over the consciousness of the poet. Though Kipling talks of the friendship of Moglie and Bagheera, but the Jungle Book is a jungle book. Nature red in tooth and claw will always evade, is the Tennysonialn truth. Wordsworth too feels the same when he describes Lucy taken over a whirlwind. The laugh and thunder of the passing clouds with the bolts from the blue in The Cloud, Brahma, Vishnu and Maheshwara with the shantih, sahntih, shantih of the waste land of Eliot and the penance of Sagar’s sons, are the things of reckoning. Nature being varying and fickle is also there in Wordsworth’s untitled poem, but read as The Education of Nature and wild, swift and proud as Shelley says it to the wild west wind, fluttering and passing by strongly, by lifting it all overhead too sometimes.
There is nothing as that to say with regard to his presence into the domain of modern Indian English poetry. Daruwalla has definitely come a long way to reach the pedestal of glory, but there should be something like that of Jaynat Mahapatra's Door of Paper, a colection of sketches, reflections and memoirs, reviews, opinions, sppeches and lectures and some clarifications on his part which the poet has reminisced about and these we too seek for from Daruwalla. Had he an autobiography, it would have aded to our critical verve. Bijay Kant Dubey
There is nothing as that to say with regard to this modern Indian English poet who has come a long to reach the pedestal of glory, but as Jaynata Mahapatra has reminisced about in his Door of Paper, a collection of memoirs, sketches and reflections, reviews, lectures and speeches, annotations and explanations gathered in, there should be something on his part to clarify his point of delving. An autobiography will be very helpful in understanding his mind and feeling. Bijay Kant Dubey
If you want a cage, my dear you do not have to travel far. If you want to feel hemmed in, you'll be hemmed in. Look for scars you'll be full of scars. Even light can turn into a cage. The cage of light has seven bars.