The notorious San Francisco summer fog steals stealthy nips at me as I walk briskly towards the North Beach. I am reminded how the Ohlone (a native American tribe who once inhabited Northern California) would not settle in this area believing that the fog stirred restlessness in one’s soul. San Francisco is indeed a restless city of immigrants and transient residents like me, and yet it has been instrumental in the crafting of the destiny of my own soul.

I am headed toward City Lights, the bookstore that overnight started a revolution and inspired generations. My friend, Ibtisam, an Eithopian woman, soon catches up with me, and though we are late for this unique event, the motley crowd of poetry lovers that are gathered in Kerouac Alley (yes, this is an alley that has memorial plaques dedicated to Jack Kerouac and other famous Beat writers) graciously part way to let us through. I am small, and I am happy to make my way to the front and squat down on the cobbled stones right under the makeshift stage.

When the next speaker is announced, Ibtisam and I look at each other in grateful disbelief. It is Taslima Nasreen, the one poet we were really hoping to hear at this 2nd International Poetry Festival at San Francisco. Taslima Nasreen is a Muslim woman poet from Bangladesh, who after being recently refused further political asylum in India, lives in exile in USA. She is regarded as a radical feminist who has openly called for changes to Sharia, the Islamic law, to prevent the oppression of women by Muslim (male) clergy. Her candid and often graphic descriptions of her sexual relationships in her autobiography earned her a controversial reputation, and not all writers and intellectuals support her cause. In 1994, given the "fatwa"  (death threat) issued against her, Taslima left her profession as a medical doctor and fled from her homeland. As she steps up on to the stage, I find it hard to believe that this seemingly shy, unassuming woman, not much older than me, has faced so much persecution in her life and is yet still so strong as to speak up boldly for the cause of women. 

Taslima, who was a poet first before gaining fame/notoriety for her novel “Lajja” (Shame), reads from her poems. And as I sit there huddled on the pavement, letting the mellifluous Bengali verses wash over me, I realize that I may be the only one in that crowd who can understand the original Bengali. The others politely wait for the English translation to be delivered. Above me, on a makeshift clothes line, a pair of clean socks, roomy cotton drawers, and an exquisite Chinese silk jacket flap in the fog,  writing their own verses to the wind. I smile at the seeming incongruity of the scene. San Francisco is not so much a melting pot as a salad bowl where different ethnic groups live next to each other without losing the flavor of their own cultural identity.

It is a question that fascinates me--the creation of an integral culture that it is at once universal and yet uniquely differentiated. The American translator, more brash in her demeanor than Taslima, has finished her rendition. And Taslima moves on to her next selection. Tears gather in my eyes as I listen to a real-life account of Noor Jahan, a young Bangledeshi woman who was stoned to death on the charges of illicit sex. I wonder, as I have so often in life, if it is truly possible to believe in and work for a world that is free of all such oppression. I wonder, as I so often have, especially lately, if it is even possible for the North and the South to find common ground in their struggle to build a better world. The issues that the developing world faces seem so radically different from those of the developed world. And then I look up and see my own emotions of shock and despair mirrored in the faces of all both men and women who are gathered there. And my heart is broken open by the realization of the creative power of poetry (and indeed of all other arts) to transcend differences and unite us one.

I have a few days left in the bay area before I head back home to India, and somehow or the other, my conversations with friends, casual acquaintances, strangers, keeps circumnavigating this one theme of how do we all participate in the building of a world that is environmentally sustainable, socially just and spiritually fulfilling. I do not have clear answers yet. Perhaps I never will. But I do know that part of the answer lies in our ability to walk our talk with courage, love, and creativity.

I am so looking forward to the coming months with you all knowing that our outer journey together will at the same time deepen our own personal, inner journey.