EIGHT YEARS AGO, an accidental turn in the YouTube maze led me to Speakeasy NYC, a channel showcasing spoken-word poets from across the country. One blurry video here featured a pixellated, bespectacled young woman perform an enchanting, raw piece addressed to her future daughter. The poem was B, by Sarah Kay. I decided to reproduce the piece entirely for a college festival: hand gestures, voice intonations, and all, memorised down to the last syllable. It was a disaster: I forgot the words halfway through, stumbled to the finish and hurried out, my spoken-word hobby consigned to the trash bin.
At the National Youth Poetry Slam (NYPS), held in the massive Lotus Convention Centre in Bengaluru on 17-18 September, the stakes are much higher: colleges and schools compete in rounds—or ‘bouts’—to…
