Debmalya Bandyopadhyay is a writer and mathematician based in Birmingham, UK. His poems, translations, and essays have appeared or are forthcoming in Ghost City Review, LEON Literary Review, Couplet Poetry, Ballast, Propel, and Anthropocene Poetry, among other literary journals. He has been nominated for Best of the Net and was a finalist for SweetLit’s 2024 Poetry Prize. He can often be found in parks confabulating with local birds.
You can read Turning a mirror in the January 2025 issue.
Would you like to tell us a little bit more about your poem? For instance, how or why you wrote it, or perhaps provide some extra context?
‘Turning a mirror’ was part of an ecopoetic reflection of myself as ‘just another member’ of the natural world, a theme that my poetry explores. I wanted to write about how the lack of willful movement renders obedience to plants— an obedience to the treatment of the surrounding world. I felt that this also relates to the experience of growing up in a conservative household, making the poem somewhat of a self-portrait.
Why was the poetic form the best fit for this particular piece of work?
I thought short couplets would be optimal for this poem since they restrict me to be minimalist, parallel to the restriction in the poem’s content, and visually similar to the leanness of a tree.
If you didn’t write poetry, how do you think you might access the same fulfillments that poetry offers in your life?
Professionally, I’m a mathematician. There are some parallels in both the abstract world of mathematics and that of poetry. For instance, both involve an ‘act of metaphors’ – substituting something for something else in a way that produces a more profound way of observing it. I enjoy this process of dipping into my mind and coming up with new images, reductions, translations. Mathematics therefore provides me with similar pleasures as poetry, if not the very same.
How do you revise your work?
After writing the first draft, I usually forget about it and return to it a week or two later. This distance sharpens my editorial lens and lets me better understand how much of the draft works and what does not. Sometimes, I sit with drafts for several months, trying to find the poem they want to become rather than the poem I’m trying to write. For me, editing is about building a relationship with my poem, so that eventually we know each other quite well.
As a poet, what does creative success or achievement look like for you?
The act of writing is inherently lonely, we spend a lot of time in our own heads listening to our thoughts. To hear someone else say they found my work relatable and beautiful provides me with a renewed sense of purpose and makes me incredibly happy. So does any kind of creative recognition – a publication, the prospect of an award, of getting my work read by someone new. There is also the pleasure in being able to write a great line, the standards for which keep rising but the payoff for which is always great! I enjoy this entire process and work towards it.
What are you working on now?
I’m currently taking a short break from writing, and reading a number of collections I had been putting off for later. I am also reading more non-fiction these days than before, trying to take some of its craft into myself to better my toolkit.
How or where or with what does a poem begin?
Poems arrive from anywhere. I’ve found the beginning of a poem in strange places – before surgery, in the middle of a mathematics exam, in a dream, or during an intense game of badminton. I usually start with an image or just a phrase and follow it from there. They often turn out to be entirely different from that first note of inspiration, a Ship of Theseus process that I really enjoy.
How do you make space for poetry in your daily routine?
I work during the day and write at night. Most of my evenings are spent writing and editing old drafts. I spend my weekends reading poetry from books and literary journals around the world, trying to absorb the great things my contemporaries are coming up with. Other than that, I read and share poems on social media every day, I read my poems at open mics, and read poetry for Verdant, a Toronto-based literary journal.
How do you know when a poem is finished? / Is a poem ever really finished?
It is just as Valéry says – poems are never finished, only abandoned. It is quite tricky to know where to end a poem, I definitely haven’t mastered it yet. When I write, I have a vague narrative in my mind and try to follow it to the end. Sometimes, I am dissatisfied with how a draft ends and resume it from multiple places to see what feels more natural. This is where form plays an important role, it can be chosen to create space that allows the poem to expand.
Have you ever received advice (or has there been something you’ve learned on your own) about writing or revising poems that has made you a better poet? What was it?
In a workshop with Ben Jahn, I learnt to open my ears to the sonic impact of words. Since then, I’ve been paying more attention to the musicality of language, trying to engage with the sounds in my poetry. Even the act of reading a poem out loud could inform us something more about it than what the page projects. I admit – it feels a little embarrassing at first, but it unearths new possibilities for the poem when one hears it in their own voice.
Do you belong to a writer’s group? If not, where do you find poetry community and feedback?
I’m a part of the 2025 cohort of the Brooklyn Poets Mentorship Program. I’m also a part of the 2025 Unislam team for the University of Birmingham. Other than that, I love engaging with poets on social media, reading their work and making new friends. Community is a very important part of writing and I don’t think I would have kept at it had it not been for the encouragement I’ve received online.