Reminders on the Path - Sheniz Janmohamed in Conversation with Natasha Ramoutar

When my first poetry collection Bittersweet was released in 2020, my mentor Sheniz Janmohamed published our conversation about full circles and first books with Open Book.

Sheniz has been so instrumental to me finding my writing voice and navigating the publishing journey. Whether it was bumping into her at literary festivals or sitting on the floor organizing my poems in her home, she brings a special light to each and every interaction. Sheniz is a beacon for so many emerging writers, and it felt right to give back that same warmth and light to her.

To celebrate the publication of Sheniz’s third poetry collection Reminders on the Path, we decided to have a conversation similar to the one we had in 2020 — except this time, it’s me in the interviewer seat.

NR:

Congratulations on your new book! Let’s start at the beginning.

In your author’s note, you state that Reminders on the Path honours “this sense of unknowing and seeks to explore the relationship between the journeys of my ancestors and my own journey as a settler and a third culture kid.” I feel like your collection balances both looking to the past to carry traditions forward and, as written in “Words from a Fellow Traveler,” permission to “drop the weight of/ stories that don’t belong to you.” Can you tell me about this balance?

SJ:

Thank you! I always return to the question, “What does it mean to be a future ancestor?” Being a future ancestor is not limited to the biological, of course. So this book started as an exploration of the narratives I’ve inherited, and the ones that need to end with me. It’s impossible to speak about legacy without understanding what has been given to you. I have a sticky note above my desk that reads, “Is this story yours, or is it the one you’ve been told?” Sometimes we claim other people’s stories as our own without even knowing it – and commit ourselves to lives that aren’t ours. Reminders seeks to reclaim our own stories, in ways that are nuanced and complex – just like our own histories.

NR:

Reminders on the Path is divided into 4 sections: Inheritances, Embark, Re-turn, and Home. Although it appears to have a linear narrative based on these titles, you mix past, present, and future in poems like “Salt” and “Four Seasons.” Why did you choose to separate this collection into these four parts? Do you feel like it follows a linear narrative or do you think it eschews the linear path?

SJ:

There are two narratives happening here — the physical journey of the poet walking on a path, and then the metaphysical journey that moves between time and space. The journey begins with honouring ancestors, then moves to the threshold of “home” to the unknown. In order to make the journey lighter, the poet has to discard parts of herself, and stories she’s been told. She has to accept the fate of being lost from time to time. So when she “re-turns” into herself, she’s gathered up the past, present and future to weave a cloak that keeps her warm as she continues on her journey. The last section, “Home”, is when she encounters an elder (or her future self) in which she’s able to recollect all that she’s gleaned upon the path so far. Home has a subtitle which reads, “The path begins upon arrival”. So while the book may read as a linear path, it is, in fact, a cyclical one.

NR:

In all three of your collections, you’ve worked with the ghazal form. I really loved the way that “You Beside Me” changes the way the repeated word “me” is invoked – starting with “I feel you beside me” and by the end morphing into “I am you, beside ‘me.’.” What drew you back to writing ghazals in this collection and how did you use the form to explore the sense of unknowing?

SJ:

Thank you! Some of these ghazals were written quite some time ago, as part of my National Poetry Month challenge to myself – The Ghazal Project. Every week in April, I’d send out a prompt to my social media followers, and then randomly pick one of their responses to use as a refrain for my ghazal that week. “You Beside Me” was a result of one of those experiments. I think the form itself accommodates a sense of unknowing, and trust in the unknown – when I write ghazals, I have to surrender to where the refrain might take me, and it is often somewhere unexpected.

NR:

Speaking of journeys, I know that I’m not the only mentee who has had the honour of working with you on my first collection. Can you tell me about your mentees and about being a Writer-in-Residence at the University of Toronto Scarborough?

SJ:

Thank you! It’s such a gift to be able to work with a new generation of writers, because it reminds me to stay humble and teachable. When I worked with you, I was reminded of the discipline required to make it in this industry. I was moved by your commitment to the craft, and your enthusiasm and courage. I had forgotten to take those big risks because I became comfortable with where I was. That’s why I think it’s so vital to have a link to a younger generation of writers. You’re more nuanced and brave in different ways. I’ve learned so much just from listening.

My residency at UTSC has been such a gift! One of the most difficult moments in my teaching work is when I have to leave after a very short time of working with writers. With the WIR position, I was able to work with the same students week after week, and in ways that are meaningful, reciprocal and rich. It has added so much joy to my life, and I’m grieving the fact that it’s over!

NR:

Recently, I got the opportunity to be a mentor on the Wave Art Collective’s fellowship program which was both exciting and scary. It was my first time being a mentor and I felt grateful to know I could reach out to you with questions about mentorship. Do you feel like you have the same support and mentorship in your work as a mid-career writer and a mentor yourself?

SJ:

Oh, I’m so glad! They’re lucky to have you.

I have some wonderful peers who I can look to for support and advice, but in terms of a mentor within my field– not so much. It’s a question I’ve explored with other artists from a variety of disciplines, and interestingly enough, many of us feel similarly. Mid-career is a strange place to be in – we are expected to mentor but often don’t have the support of mentorship. I also think it’s important to acknowledge that it’s challenging to find WOC mentors who are both established and available. It’s one thing to be an established writer, and another to have the desire, space, resources and energy to mentor!

NR:

As a follow-up question to that – do you feel like there’s a pressure for mentors to look polished and put together all the time? Do you feel any pressure to maintain that front to your mentees? Why or why not?

SJ:

Yes and no. On one hand, I think it’s important to model vulnerability. We need to show up in ways that are meaningful and *human*, which means we will not always be put together. That said, it’s important to know where we’re at so that we don’t unintentionally cause harm. So if we don’t have capacity, or we’re having a challenging day, it's important to disclose that.

I think the veneer of success is very dangerous and unrealistic. Just the other day, I showed students in Daniel Scott Tysdal’s poetry class pages from my notebook, which became poems in Reminders. So often, we see the result of process and not the process itself. It’s important to demystify that.

There’s another element here that is important to acknowledge. As South Asian women, we experience further levels of scrutiny. There’s an expectation that we’ll fall short, and there’s such immense pressure to have it “all together”. So I think it’s important to approach this question from a situational perspective. If I’m speaking to another brown woman, I may model vulnerability. If I’m in a space where I do not feel that level of safety, I will have stronger boundaries.

Do you feel similarly? What were some of the challenges you encountered in your mentorship journey?

NR:

I felt similarly about the veneer of success while I was working with the Wave Art Collective. It helped that my co-mentor was someone I had known since high school. Even though both of us have had some measure of outward success, we also have seen each other’s messy first drafts and obstacles in our creative journeys. Our mentees were fantastic and eager to learn and receive feedback. It felt really natural and safe to talk about the messy, difficult parts of our writing journeys, especially since we knew they would benefit from it.

On the topic of mentorship – mentorship is often framed as a one-way relationship with the mentor giving to the mentees (whether it’s feedback, a network, or resources), but I personally believe that the best mentorship relationships can thrive on reciprocity. Is there anything that you would encourage mentees to do to support their mentors?

SJ:

I’m so glad you had that sense of familiarity and safety with your co-mentor. I agree, the perception of mentorship is that it’s one-way, when the richness of the experience lies in reciprocity.

I think it’s very easy to assume that your mentors are on solid footing and don’t need support, and perhaps they may be too proud, or too giving, to admit that they need support.

So I think the first step is offering support without being asked. Start with the simple question, “What can I do to support you?”

It’ll be different for each mentor.

That said, it always helps to spread the word about their books, recommend them for teaching positions, share resources you know they may also benefit from, post poems/lines/work that resonate without being asked to– there's something really lovely and unexpected about that.

The best relationships are ones that are built on the consistency of care. Care doesn’t mean providing financial support, time you don’t have, or overextending yourself. It just means that you care, in whatever capacity you’re able to at that moment in time.

NR:

Lastly, I wanted to ask you if there is a poem from Reminders on the Path that you would recommend to readers?

SJ:

Perhaps in the spirit of reciprocity, we can recommend a poem from each other’s collections instead! I love so many of yours, but given the topic of our conversation, I think Cartography I is a nice ancestral nod, isn’t it? I found it so powerful and moving, it had me thinking more deeply about the ways in which we define borders- within us and outside of us.

NR:

I think that’s a perfect one given the topic of our conversation!

I’d like to recommend two. The first I’d recommend is “You Beside Me,” which I mentioned in one of my earlier questions.

The second I’d recommend is “Signs” because the imagery is so beautiful. The way it ends with “frogs sing their song/ and time/ time goes like water.” has echoed in my mind for weeks.

The views expressed by Open Book columnists are those held by the authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of Open Book.