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Kate Kellaway<\/strong>\n The Observer, Sunday 31 July 2011
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The 18th-century automaton that inspired Nagra’s title poem. Photograph: V&A Images \n <\/p>\n
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Even the title is a pick-me-up: animated, garrulous, entertaining and breaking an unwritten rule (since when were three exclamation marks welcomed in poetry?). Daljit Nagra’s 2007 debut, Look We Have Coming to Dover! (only one exclamation mark in those days), was received with joy and won the Forward prize for best first collection. (Anyone who hasn’t read it should prepare to be wooed and wowed.) It described life in the UK for British-born Indians, and also a cheerful resistance to assimilation, an irrepressible spark.<\/p>\n
In this second collection, Nagra, a secondary school English teacher, is concerned (as perhaps might be expected) with linguistic identity (how and where his work fits in). A handful of poems touch on this in the context of literary tradition and colonial history. But these seem nervously honourable offerings in comparison to the unselfconsciously brilliant poems that tell a story – written in a mix of Punjabi English (or Punglish) and an adopted mother tongue. No special pleading is necessary for the wonderful, contradictory combination of broken English and runaway fluency or the sheer exuberance with which words hit the page. It is a delight: brokenness made whole. Here is the opening of "Raju t’Wonder Dog!":<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
First good penny I spent in<\/p>\n
‘uddersfield<\/p>\n
after t’shop, were on a sweet-as-<\/p>\n
ladoos<\/p>\n
alsatian, against me wife, Sapna’s<\/p>\n
wishes.<\/p>\n
Reet from t’off there were grief cos<\/p>\n
Beena,<\/p>\n
what’s Sapna’s friend, were visitin’ –<\/p>\n
showin’ off her reet bonny aubergine<\/p>\n
sari<\/p>\n
t’spit o’Meera Syal.<\/p>\n
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There is much going on here: the English slang "grief" and "t’spit o", all wrapped up in erratic grammar as the narrative gathers pace with Alsatian and aubergine sari converging. The poem becomes a moving overview of a childless marriage: beautiful, sad and tenderly comic.<\/p>\n
Nagra is particularly attuned to domesticity and to the absurdity that is sometimes the flipside of love. His rumbustious "The Balcony Song of Raju and Jaswinder" is a modern Asian version of Romeo and Juliet. This is how Jaswinder sees off Raju’s advances:<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
Go away dirty boy, yoo is bad bad<\/p>\n
lover<\/p>\n
we danced in di car to Bally Sagoo<\/p>\n
on di way from Henley to Sutton Hoo<\/p>\n
and I luv it up di flumes or di Alton<\/p>\n
Tower!<\/p>\n
These poems beg to be performed (or filmed – the Alton Tower scene too good to stay on paper). The reason for Jaswinder’s rejection turns out to be that Raju has "… bin through di ladies\/ like a rickshaw round New Delhi". It ends in a mutual recollection about losing more than hearts in Hampton Court maze.<\/p>\n
Other lovers are at large (although large appears not to be the word) for the meanly endowed author of "Phallacy", who confides:<\/p>\n
To tell the truth, I’m really not<\/p>\n
well hung,<\/p>\n
And thus I hide from mates my<\/p>\n
prince’s state<\/p>\n
This conk is king of my poor<\/p>\n
frame, no trunks<\/p>\n
Would lunchbox find to bank a<\/p>\n
lady’s gaze.<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
The combination of delicacy, sauciness and nicely crafted verse is delicious.<\/p>\n
The title poem is inspired by an 18th-century automaton at the V&A that belonged to an Indian ruler and was made in symbolic opposition to the British. The tiger sinks his teeth into the neck of a supine wooden soldier. The witty inspiration is to translate the lion’s last roar into a message. But make no mistake: Nagra’s own fabulous "career in poems" has never been built on the "coolly imperial diction" he describes. His blood runs hot.<\/p>\n
TIPPOO SULTAN’S INCREDIBLE WHITE-MAN-EATING TIGER TOY-MACHINE!!!<\/p>\n
To flesh a career<\/p>\n
in poems you rifle<\/p>\n
through your stash<\/p>\n
of coolly imperial<\/p>\n
diction. Dying<\/p>\n
to blood that hoard<\/p>\n
swotted since foreign<\/p>\n
kid of the class<\/p>\n
who chewed the fat<\/p>\n
of the raw meat minty<\/p>\n
tongue that English<\/p>\n
is<\/p>\n
nowadays your wrought<\/p>\n
state. You’re awfully<\/p>\n
scary once in your<\/p>\n
stripes! You claw<\/p>\n
at the mirror – overcome<\/p>\n
by the camps of history!<\/p>\n
Thus<\/p>\n
when that top-hat sahib<\/p>\n
screams, O God<\/p>\n
your eyes are ablaze<\/p>\n
observing themselves<\/p>\n
in the cull you’re<\/p>\n
no longer mankind<\/p>\n
once you’re the Sher<\/p>\n
of Punjaaab on the wallahs of the<\/p>\n<\/p>\n
rrrrraaaaaaaaaaaajjj!!!<\/p>\n
Daljit Nagra\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":71234,"template":"","language":[],"class_list":["post-71233","articles","type-articles","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/apnaorg.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/articles\/71233","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/apnaorg.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/articles"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/apnaorg.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/articles"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/apnaorg.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/71234"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/apnaorg.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=71233"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"language","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/apnaorg.com\/wp\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/language?post=71233"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}