Sharanya Manivannan (b. 1985)
Sharanya Manivannan writes and illustrates fiction, poetry, children’s literature and non-fiction. She received a South Asia Laadli Award for her short story collection The High Priestess Never Marries, and her books have been nominated for many other honours. In 2015 she was specially commissioned to write and recite a poem at the Commonwealth Day Observance in London. Manivannan grew up in Sri Lanka and Malaysia and has lived in India since 2007. Her family is Batticaloa Tamil, and her work – such as her illustrated Ila duology, consisting of the graphic novel Incantations Over Water and the picture book Mermaids in the Moonlight, and her novel-in-progress Constellation of Scars – brings into the English language the culture of this lesser discussed part of the island. Her creative worldscapes are often shaped by ecological, mythological and feminist themes, and her personal experiences of forced migrations and surviving abuse also influence her work across genres.
The Mothers (Easter 2019, Sri Lanka)
A mother wearing glass beads looking for
another handkerchief, the melted candy
in the one she is carrying as sticky as
the nose being wiped on her arm, under
church fans too slow for this April heat.
A mother whose only existing photograph of him
was borrowed permanently by someone who
told her they could be trusted with her story,
praying to the saint who restores what has
been lost, on her knees again
– again, as many times as it will take.
A mother whose own countenance howls
in frames the whole world scrolls past,
captured by someone who did not care to
learn her name or the names of her dead.
A mother who is Amma, her other name forgotten –
the word a scream in the room at the morgue where
bodies beloved are identified by wedding-rings
and blood-splashed shoes on a projection screen.
A mother who wishes they could have gone for a swim
first, but they are so hungry she has to stand between
them in the buffet line so they don’t break into a fight.
A mother with a baby keeping time
inside her body, a mother with a bomb.
A mother in the kitchen measuring the sugar
generously, preparing this Easter’s feast,
waiting for the little ones who must just now
be saying grace in a circle at Sunday school,
waiting for the little ones
to come home.
Arji Manuelpillai (b. 1981)
Arji Manuelpillai is a poet, performer and creative facilitator based in London. Influenced by poets including Deborah Landau and Wayne Holloway-Smith, Arji continues to advocate for poetry as a tool for change. He was the Jerwood/ Arvon Mentee mentored by Hannah Lowe. His poetry has been published in magazines including Poetry Review, The Rialto and bath magg. He has also been shortlisted for prizes including the National Poetry Competition, the OutSpoken Prize and the Winchester Poetry Prize. Arji’s debut pamphlet Mutton Rolls was published by Out-Spoken Press in 2020, and his new book Improvised Explosive Device by Penned in the Margins in 2022. It was a Poetry Book Society Recommendation, was noted in The Telegraph’s top 20 poetry books of the year, and was named in The Guardian’s best recent poetry section in December 2022.
after the Sri Lankan bombing that kills 360 (after the 20-year war that killed significantly more)
after the news my skin feels darker prayers for thoughts
for texted condolence but the majority of my relatives are
long dead mostly from natural causes I’m only Sri Lankan
at weddings and funerals or for inquisitive white people
Uncle Prithi is marked as safe no damp tissues in this house
buffering only slow moving heads like watching slo-mo ping
pong like when my brother had a splinter I knew wouldn’t
come out on its own downloading everyone on the news
looks like my uncle or aunty cousin or nephew but poorer
or dead ‘aahh back to the ol’ days’ Ammama would say
buffering bathed in sun and blood Raj Kumar marked safe
my uncle tells me typing… they don’t need therapy in
Sri Lanka they just get on with it typing… like taking out
the trash last seen 05.47 or burying a body or detonating
a bomb in the buffet line of the Cinnamon Grand Hotel
from here (on the toilet) it’s all just a cluster of tiny red faces
wailing in a language I don’t understand in a country I can’t
but look! that’s where Mama and Appa first met
(Excerpted with permission from Out of Sri Lanka: Tamil, Sinhala and English Poetry from Sri Lanka and its Diasporas, edited by Vidyan Ravinthiran, Seni Seneviratne and Shash Trevett, published by Penguin India; 2023)
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