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I don’t understand that… what else are you going to write about if not your own experiences? And unfortunately, when there is so little representation, you become a voice for the community there is,” she says. “When a person of colour, or one from a minority, writes about themselves, it gets boxed in that. She says that she finds it amusing when her work is singled out as rallying for greater diversity. With verses like ‘skin the color of earth my ancestors planted crops on to feed a lineage of women with thighs as thick as tree trunks’, Kaur also spoke to the experiences of the South Asian diaspora. She soon joined the ranks of other women of colour who became ‘Instapoets’, like Lang Leav, Nayyirah Waheed and Warsan Shire. For a generation accustomed to consuming bite-sized information on social media, Kaur’s work was instantly relatable-busting the perception of poetry as inherently complex and analytical. It was this easy-to-read, pared down style in her debut book milk and honey that catapulted her to early fame. The new collection follows Kaur’s now familiar brand of poetry-deeply personal verses written in a distinct lowercase style (like the Gurmukhi script), and steeped in themes of love, loss, healing, femininity and empowerment. If my future self had told me this, I would’ve never believed it,” says Kaur, over a phone call from Toronto. Now I’m writing poetry full-time, performing, and travelling the world.
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“This time three years ago, I was designing the cover of milk and honey and getting ready to self-publish it.
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According to recent reports, milk and honey, her first collection of poetry, has sold enough copies to put her ahead of ‘the next-best-selling work of poetry-Homer’s The Odyssey- by a factor of ten’. Today, Kaur is a New York Times bestselling poet and a spoken-word performer. Her father had fled to Canada as a refugee a month after she was born, joining numerous Sikhs who left their home state fearing persecution after the 1984 anti-Sikh riots. In the mid 90s, the then-three-year-old, along with her family, left her small village in Hoshiarpur to reunite with her father in Montreal. THE POEM, FROM Rupi Kaur’s new book the sun and her flowers (Simon & Schuster pages 256 Rs499) is a fitting depiction of her own journey as an immigrant from Punjab. Some of us just happen to leave entire countries