Serpents Under My Veil

It is quite remarkable that in her very first volume, Serpents Under my Veil, Asiya Zahoor sounds like an accomplished poet with reams of poems behind her. From Medusa to Yusuf and Zulekha she cherrypicks what she wants from Greek or West Asian myth, and moulds it to her heart s desire. As helicopters fan civilizations on her head she flies with her verse, and most poems are stamped with her spontaneity. Her imagery is striking, for instance Zulekha holds the moon as a mirror, what a wonderful image. Her very first poem in the book reminds me of Imtiaz Dharker. In her sombre moods she mirrors her darkness, Kashmir s darkness, but seldom into despair. Even as she traverses a militarized zone where they lay barbed wire across my tongue , she wants to think of almond blossom. Indian poetry in English is richer for her arrival.