Reading Time: 3 minutes
Mahua Sen’s “Nostalgia Crafting a Home Within” is a symphony of emotions, weaving memories of home, family, and self-discovery into a tapestry both personal and universal. A review by Dr Kumar, exclusively for Different Truths.
I was awestruck right from the very first page of the book ‘Nostalgia Crafting a Home Within’, written by Mahua Sen and published by Red River. The book reverberates with a multitude of emotions soaked in tears, smiles, melancholy, exuberance, and a profound sense of homelessness. Thus, the author has aptly selected the title of the book.
She is a little bird soaring to the sky, but her soul is perennially tethered to the loving casket of her home, her haven.
She recalls the pitter-patter of the first downpour of the season at her home with a nostalgic yearning in the very first chapter of “Echoes of a Fragmented Past”: “The faint staccato of raindrops on the asbestos canopy, a symphony of nostalgia.”
The author and poet, Sen, has such a rich sensibility imbibed in her blood that her love for her family…
The author and poet, Sen, has such a rich sensibility imbibed in her blood that her love for her family—her grandmother, grandfather, Maa, and Baba—is breathing in every word she writes. In the poem “Red,” she recalls the red bindi of her mother:
Red, a vivid reminder of Maa's devotion—blood red! Her forehead adorned with a bindi, a radiant North Star Guiding our familial constellation through the vast expanse of eternity. And as a little girl, she recalls her grandmother: Her lap, a sanctuary from life's tempestuous climb Basking in the warm hues of nostalgia's tender tears...
Such a sublime metaphorical expression is the signature of Sen’s poetic genius.
Her heart yearns for those bygone days of her childhood at her home, and she confesses:
"Nostalgia seeps through the crack of my heart, crafting a home within."
Those moments that she lived long ago are just:
“A symphony of flavours, a blend of meetha, khatta, teekha and chatpata.”
Yet another memory of her childhood is “Collecting Shiuli flowers in a woven basket with her grandpa and sister,” which resides in the deepest recesses of her soul.
The dimension of her nostalgia is not restricted only to her home and her kin, but it stretches out to embrace her entire hometown…
The dimension of her nostalgia is not restricted only to her home and her kin, but it stretches out to embrace her entire hometown, “Forbesganj,” a beautiful town in Bihar. She captures the picture in these lines: “I revel in the sheer joy of traversing my hometown’s lush landscapes, my car window rolled down, my heart serenading the essence of ‘being’.”
The book mirrors the author’s emotions and experiences, yet it has a universal tone. As a reader, you are swamped in the poetic delight of the verses and can resonate with each page as the author takes you on a roller-coaster journey.
In her poem “Ephemeral Echoes,” where she is drenched in a feeling of acute loss, she also realizes that life is transient in the following lines:
For life, it seems, is but a transient illusion, A fleeting mirage of existence.
As I journeyed through Sen’s lines, I was mesmerised by her expression on various subjects and the skill with which she makes her writing spectacular and vivid, which breathes life into it.
There are a few poems starkly different from the central theme of nostalgia, perhaps to break the monotony. These poems have indeed proved to be the icing on the cake. They are powerful and evocative. The language and descriptive powers of the author suggest a great talent.
Elegantly, she describes a woman in her poem of the same title:
For she, the stardust Of the blue empyrean, She, the creator. From her, through her, you exist With and within, not without
So pithy and so profound is her definition of a woman.
Every page of the book is an enlightening treat for literature lovers.
Every page of the book is an enlightening treat for literature lovers, and Sen has a spellbinding grip over her readers. A thousand shades of pain and longing still bear a note of optimism when she says:
My dreams may have lost their lyrics, But they continue to hum, nonetheless, An inchoate hope dances upon me, In the fleeting moments. For life is the semicolon, Between our breaths, Overcoming the pang of pain, A new dawn shall soon be born. We will bask in the embrace of life, Breathing, inhaling, savouring The pure, unadulterated air.
The book kept me arrested from its first page to the last, spurring my emotions as I could feel her words making dimensions deep within me, and I know that the aftertaste of the book will linger on for times to come.
I strongly believe that this book is a must-have for every literature lover.
Cover photo sourced by the reviewer.
