India has undergone significant socio-economic and politico-cultural changes in the past decade. The rise of the BJP in 2014 and Hindutva, under whose influence, further persecution of minorities and an increase in atrocities against the Left-wing groups. Post the CAA protests-turned-riots in 2020, India faced the COVID pandemic along with the rest of the world, which left millions of casualties and thousands of deaths in its wake. In recent times, the pro-Palestine protestors too face similar persecution as the CAA protestors. Citizens demanding justice and progress are treated worse than terrorists if they dare put their "right to speech" to use in a democratic country (heading towards pure, unadulterated fascism). These instances have made a larger impact on the political scene and remain visible to the naked eye. Yet, there remain numerous faintly discernible instances in the daily lives of the Indian populace which have worked towards the culmination of these larger socio-political events that become a part of history.
It is precisely these smaller, personal, individual experiences and resulting narratives buried under the regime that Meena Kandasamy gives voice to through her writing in her 2024 title, Tomorrow Someone Will Arrest You, published by Juggernaut. Kandasamy has been known to be a radical voice and a "one-woman political movement," and the same has often been reflected in her prior works like Ms Militancy, Touch, The Gypsy Goddess and When I Hit You. The same can be said for this collection as well, which has emerged over a decade after her last book of poems. But this book is also a homage to those who shaped her, her comrade and her lovers, and those who continue to shape the world we live in, her friends and fellow activists. Yet it is also a mourning of their loss and that of her country. It is a cry for help, a sigh of frustration, and a Kafkaesque prophecy of what may come to those who dare defy the powerful.
In Tomorrow Someone Will Arrest You, Kandasamy employs every technique and style at her disposal, making for an anthology that is equal parts activism and experimentation. The collection has been conveniently and aptly divided into five sections, namely "The Poet", "Her Comrade", "Her Lovers", "Her Friends", and "Her Country", reflecting what is mentioned above. She begins with a personal voice in "The Poet": a reflection of the poet's own angst and frustrations. What made the poet and her craft, and how it came to embody a voice is expressed through these poems. In the bi-lingual poem, "A Cat Closing Her Eyes", Kandasamy recalls the girl who was shielded only by her faith in words from a hostile world outside. In "A Sapphic Scar", she writes:
"She also told me, another day, that my presence on the
writing program was 'denominational',"
recalling one of the experiences that carved the poet out of Kandasamy. In "The Seven Stages", she experiments with typography and explores how, like the Sufi, a marginalised community too loves.
"Her Comrade", as evident in the title, is littered with Marxist references and revolves around her relationship(s) with her husband, Comrade Cedric. In poems like "Visa Gods" and "Finding You" Kandasamy demonstrates in verse and in prose (both poetry) how crossing the seas is a mammoth task for the common Indian and how to certain castes and genders, becomes even more inaccessible. It is also an exploration of how the same things become a trigger to a kind of violence that threatens to take everything away from a person. In a similar vein, the following section "Her Lovers" looks at her past romantic experiences and partners. These two sections are what I could term "feminist" as they put up a powerful display of fierce sexuality (the latter more than the former). Unabashedly, Kandasamy states the anguishes and agonies of love, which are tenfold when the love goes beyond the historically imposed caste barriers.
"Her Friends" is a message to the world for and on behalf of Kandasamy's fellow activists and artists: actively working against the violence of the state, from getting arrested and evading arrests to succumbing to paranoia, like a war veteran with PTSD, only without the recognition they deserve but are unable to receive. She writes for the cause of righteousness: for her friends Jaison and Tushar who were unlawfully arrested under UAPA in 2015; for people like Varavara Rao and Prof. G. N. Saibaba; for those who have been named on and off media; for those who are afraid of being named; and her readers subject to oppression by those they call their own. The regime then finds criticism in the final section of the book, "Her Country", culminating in a grand finale; a loud crescendo at the climax that emerges from the margins and rings the loudest at the centre. The poet voices her concerns in a rather violent manner, not in a way that threatens, but that which aims to protect; like a maimed animal attacking her pursuers to protect itself. She openly challenges the state and its ways, poses difficult questions and demands constitutional justice. Meena Kandasamy laments the conditions prevailing in India which she knows she can only write to fight against. She writes,
"Courage is in short supply these days.
Mine, I use for the war on the streets…"
- "The Old Trap"
Yet she is forced to maintain silence, which she does in a Wittgensteinian spirit, when the situation demands it. Though silences are at times powerful, they are often drowned in the noises of the world, and that becomes more evident at the end, and finds expression in the poem, "Process = Punishment":
"the process endless,
the progress pointless"
Tomorrow Someone Will Arrest You may not be the best of Kandasamy, but is, in every way possible, the quintessential Kandasamy. This collection, for someone who is yet to be tainted by the activism that Kandasamy stands for, is undoubtedly the gateway into her poetry. This is the prison that one must enter to be free. As in all her works, a prevailing counter-culture finds articulation through this anthology.
"Our friends in prison,
We meet for the first time
Walking inside a forest,
we try to find words
to remember the dead,
read the heartless future,
I walk in step with you,
And watch the leaves fall."
- "Process=Punishment"