Patakshep is a collection of critical essay written in the fond memory of Swati Bindu, a young but potential poet who left this mortal world on 12th June 1999 at an early age of twenty. Her mother Dr. Taruni Karia, after four years of getting over the tragedy, one day pores over the pages of her diary of poetry and finds herself amazed to see the marvelous poems of Swati. Her poetry confers the Ananda of Sylvia Plath, Wordsworth, Coleridge or Khalil Gibran (as compared and felt by critics of the anthology).
The chap-book sized Patakshep is a tribute of a loving mother to a loving daughter. The book carries blessing note by ‘Swami Satyamitranandgiriji, the founder of Bharatmata Mandir, the editorial (or say memorial) note of Dr. Taruni Karia (along with a separate personal note) and many critical articles by stalwart scholars like Dr. Narendra Sharma ‘Kusum,’ Dr. I. K. Sharma, Dr. Usha Jha, Dr. Chandubhai Thukral, Dr. Mukund R. Dave, Dr. D.C. Chambial, (ed. Poetcrit) and Sandra Fowler who have discerned the wonderful poetry of Swati from many angles.
Though not much acquainted with Swati’s poetry, yet going through the small pieces of her poems, I can say without doubt that Swati is a born poet. Had she lived a bit more like Keats, she would definitely outshine all her contemporary artists! Her poetry is fragrant with the fume of emotions, love, courage, philosophy, thoughts, wonders, reminiscences, mysticism, skepticism, empiricism and so on. One has to take it for granted that ‘some poets are born not made’ after the perusal of the poetry of Swati.
At the last of the book, the letter of Dr. Ravi Bhargava (who is the doctor of Swati) shows the medical and personal observation of Swati when he says:
Having read a bunch of her poems now, I am thoroughly convinced that Swatri was a miniature of goddess Saraswati, bubbling with knowledge but finding herself an outsider in this selfish and materialistic world, god also needs intellectuals and goodly people. Hence they die young. (143)
A close reading of the book makes me realize that great poets have nothing to do with materialistic world. They are beyond any horizon of time and place and they live smilingly in our hearts in the summers and rains of our lives. Efforts of such types, to rejuvenate the memories of the poets who are now no- more physically) among us, yet present for all times, should be welcomed and even encouraged as with our each effort in reviving them we are revived and to some extent.
I am thankful to Dr. Mukund R. Dave for providing me the book as well as permitting me to review the book.