The Right Word, by Imtiaz Dharker

THE RIGHT WORD

by Imtiaz Dharker

Imtiaz Dharker's poem “The Right Word” focuses on a figure that is in the shadows outside the narrator's house. It is noticeable that the word “outside” appears in the first seven of the poem's nine stanzas, and the word “shadows” or “shadow” in the first six. Because the figure is in the shadows, it is difficult to make out who or what he is, and so the narrator is searching for the right word to identify him.

The first stanza describes the figure as “lurking” in the shadows and states that he is a terrorist; the image is therefore a very threatening one. In the opening line of the second stanza, Dharker wonders if that description was an incorrect one. This time the figure is said to be “taking shelter,” making him seem more vulnerable, and Dharker identifies him with alliteration as “a freedom fighter.” The connotations are much more positive than those connected with a terrorist. In the third stanza, however, the narrator still feels that the figure has not been correctly identified. He is now described as merely “waiting” in the shadows and is seen as “a hostile militant.” This identity obviously labels him as an enemy.

Dharker uses enjambment to link the first two lines of the fourth stanza to extend a question about the definition of words. She uses the alliterative metaphor “waving, wavering flags”, asking if words are no more than that. Wavering conveys the idea of hesitating, changing an opinion, and waving creates an image of constant movement or fluctuating ideas. The words we use to describe people or things can change from one moment to the next. In this stanza, the figure is “watchful,” therefore alert, in the shadows; this time the narrator identifies him as a “guerrilla warrior,” in other words an aggressive fighter.

The fifth stanza opens with the words “God help me,” signifying the fact that Dharker is in a state of shock, perhaps. Now the figure is “defying every shadow,” and so his identity becomes more apparent. He is “a martyr,” in other words a person who dies for the sake of his faith. The stanza closes with the line “I saw his face,” so there is now no doubt as to the figure's identity. Dharker opens the sixth stanza with the comment that words can no longer help, as the realisation of who the figure is dawns on her. Now the figure is “just outside” but is “lost” in the shadows. This time, rather than a fighter or a warrior, he is described as a “child” who resembles the narrator's own.

In the opening line of the seventh stanza, the poet says “One word for you,” seeming to address the reader directly. The figure is still outside; his hand is “too steady” and his eyes “too hard.” These descriptions convey a sense of purpose and confidence. The “word” for the reader is the comment of the stanza's last line, which states that the figure is “a boy who looks like your son, too.” The implication is that a terrorist, a fighter or a warrior is someone's son. He belongs to a family, and there are people who love him; he is not necessarily a person to be feared or shunned.

Having identified the figure, Dharker begins the eighth stanza with the line “I open the door,” marking a turning point in the poem. She invites the figure to come into the house and eat with the family. This underlines the idea that the figure, even if he is a fighter, is part of the family and not a threat. In the opening line of the ninth and final stanza, the figure is referred to as a “child”. He enters the house and “carefully” takes his shoes off. This action shows respect for the household as well as politeness, especially since the action was performed with care rather than brusqueness.

Dharker's poem “The Right Word” makes us question the labels that we give to people and the attitudes that we have towards terrorists and militants. The poem's stanzas are of uneven length as the narrator reacts in different ways to the sight of the figure and thoughts go through her mind. Rhyme is not used, but the phrase “Outside the door” recurs with the word “the” replaced by either that, your or my. The situation could therefore happen outside anyone's door. Repetition of the phrase “in the shadows” allows for the figure's exact identity to remain a mystery until the narrator sees his face in the fifth stanza. The shift in attitude once the figure is identified as a child or a son is emphasised by the repetition of “come in” in the penultimate stanza and “comes in” in the final stanza.

“The Right Word” is a fascinating look at the way we react towards people's identities. How does a mother feel if her son becomes a terrorist, a freedom fighter, or a martyr? A militant or a warrior still has a family and does not necessarily pose a threat. Such a person is capable of respect and politeness when welcomed into a home. Words are labels that have strong connotations, but we should not allow them to influence our judgement of people without looking at all the alternatives that we can perceive.

First published on helium.com

Presents from My Aunts in Pakistan

Moniza Alvi was born of mixed parentage, her father being Pakistani and her mother English. She was born in Pakistan but moved to England at a young age. The poem 'Presents from My Aunts in Pakistan' expresses her confusion in her search for her identity. The traditional clothes that her aunts sent her from Pakistan are a symbol of a part of her, but only a part of her, and one that she does not feel entirely comfortable with.

The first stanza describes the clothes that were sent: two 'salwar kameez' outfits, which consist of a tunic dress and trousers. The beautiful vivid colours are described, the second one with the simile 'glistening like an orange split open'. Alvi tells us that the style of the salwar trousers changed, just as fashions in England change: they were 'broad and stiff, / then narrow.' The aunts also sent oriental pointed slippers, described as 'embossed', 'gold and black', as though they were very decorative. There were also bangles that were 'Candy-striped', but Alvi relates how these broke and 'drew blood'; this seems to be symbolic perhaps of the fact that her life in Pakistan was cut short. The first stanza ends with a description of a green, silver-bordered sari that the writer received as a teenager.

The second stanza relates how Alvi tried on these clothes – 'each silken-satin top' - but felt 'alien' in her sitting-room. There is a definite sense here that the two cultures conflicted. Alvi seems to have felt a degree of inferiority when she says 'I could never be as lovely / as those clothes'. She wanted the 'denim and corduroy' that were typical of England. She describes how the Pakistani clothes 'clung' to her and uses the metaphor 'I was aflame', but, unlike the phoenix, she could not rise from the fire, and thus could not take on the Pakistani identity. She contrasts herself with one of her aunts, emphasising that she herself was 'half English, / unlike Aunt Jamila'.

The shorter third stanza focuses on a camel-skin lamp owned by her parents. Here again, there is a conflict of ideas: Alvi wanted the lamp, but looking at it in her room she simultaneously thought of the cruelty involved in making the lamp and admired its colours which she describes with the simile 'like stained glass'.

Stanza four switches to a comment on Alvi's English mother who 'cherished her jewellery'. The jewellery was Indian, and it was stolen from the family car; this perhaps symbolises the fact that the mother did not belong to the Asian culture. Alvi then alludes once more to the Pakistani clothes that were 'radiant' in her wardrobe. This stanza ends with the irony that the aunts who sent the traditional clothes themselves wanted 'cardigans / from Marks and Spencers'.

Alvi then relates how a visiting schoolfriend of hers did not appreciate the salwar kameez or sari when shown them. This leads into Alvi's expression of her admiration of the mirror-work in the Pakistani clothes. She tells us 'I / ... tried to glimpse myself / in the miniature / glass circles', but the fact that they were so small leads to our realization that Alvi would not have been able to see her whole reflection, just a fragment of herself, which underlines the idea of a split identity. She then tries to remember the journey she made from Pakistan to England at a very young age. 'Prickly heat had me screaming on the way' emphasises the idea of pain and the difficulty of being torn between two cultures. She recalls being in a cot in her English grandmother's home, and stresses being alone with a tin boat to play with after the long voyage.

Stanza six focuses on memories of Pakistan. Alvi looks at photographs taken in the 1950s to help her remember the country of her birth. Later, she read about the 'conflict' in Pakistan in newspapers, seeing it as 'a fractured land', which again reflects her own feeling of having a fractured identity. She can still picture her aunts in Lahore as they wrapped presents. They would have been hidden from 'male visitors' by a carved wooden screen – this idea again adds to the sense of not being able to see clearly, of fragmentation.

The final stanza opens with memories linked with poverty: 'beggars, sweeper-girls'. As though it were a dream, Alvi pictures herself as part of the scene, saying 'I was there - / of no fixed nationality'. This phrase tells us exactly how feels, in that she does not belong wholly to any one country. Like her aunts, she is behind a screen, or 'fretwork', looking out at the Shalimar Gardens. This echoes the image of her trying to see herself in the mirror-work of the Pakistani clothes, as in both instances a complete picture would have been hard to see.

The language of the poem is quite informal, appearing to flow from the writer's mind as many of the lines are indented in an irregular pattern. The visual aspect of the poem adds to the sense of uncertainty. The lines seem to move backwards and forwards on the page, echoing the idea of going to and fro between two cultures. This is a creative way of underlining the theme of the poem, the feeling of not really belonging to any one particular place, of being unsure of one's identity.