Author: Tansy Troy
Pages: 94
Year of Publication: 2025
Price: ₹400
ISBN: 978-81-985733-2-2 (9788198573322)
 
About the Author
Tansy Troy is an India-based poet, educator, performer and artist who grew up in the heart of Covent Garden before travelling to Greece, Morocco, Wales, Japan and the Himalayas, stopping off en route to complete her Bachelor’s and Master’s degrees in English Literature at King’s College, Cambridge. Since then, Tansy’s creative quest has led her to schools, galleries, theatres and concert halls across England and Wales, France and India, where she writes and performs plays, songs and musical stories with the young people in her audience.
She has published two collections of poetry prior to this one, both with Red River: Ratnakosha (her first publication of verse in India, 2023) and With Earth as My Witness (2025). Her poems have been anthologised in The Yearbook of Indian Poetry in English (2023) and The Tagore Anthology (2024). Tansy also edits and curates The Apple Press, a young people’s eco-journal hand-bound and printed on khadi paper. The journal provides a platform for young artists and writers, as well as poets and authors known around the globe. She reviews the work of fellow poets, artists and theatrical creators in The Scroll, Open Magazine, Art Amour, The Chakkar and Setu.
During term time, Tansy teaches Drama in Bhopal. She is an ArtReach fellow for 2024-25, creating and curating work of young people in care homes in Delhi. When school is out, she nests with her family of many beautiful humans, birds and animals in apple orchards and pine forests of the majestic Himalayas.
You can join her on these many adventures at voice_of_the_turtle (poetry), the_adventures_of_tara (children’s theatre) and The Apple Press.
About the Book
Tansy says of her book:
“Amongst the books I’ve birthed thus far, Singing to the Eumenides feels like the love-child. Perhaps this is because I see so much of myself reflected in each poem. These are songs I recognise, of old tunes I wanted to hear echoed back, like those rebounding off the Barabar cave walls; these are reflections that correspond to the many I have been, to the one I am now.
This book is a journal, a memoir, a prophesy, a protest, a celebration, a homage, a whisper, a cry.
While its roots are in many places, in all those I’ve ever lived – London, Greece, Morocco, India, Wales, Cambridge, Japan, France – its home-key is undoubtedly that of India, where almost all these poems were composed (on a balcony in Manali), typed out (on an ancient school laptop in Rohtak) and produced (in style, in the capital of the literary world, Kolkata).”
Teaser
Cloudburst
For R.H.
Horned rainclouds, water-buffalo grey,
have buffeted the insensible
for long enough:
now they urge action,
jolting awake the untimely dead
to testify to wrongs.
As smell of lilac once opened graves,
and broken limbs hobbled
into another crooked story,
so this cloudburst begs to be heard.
Enlivening the outstretched tongue,
hoping to catch each quickened drop
before it bone-dries.
Contents
41 poems spread across 6 sections