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Deborah Treisman
Well, that's how Geico gets 97% customer satisfaction.
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Deborah Treisman
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Grainger Narrator
This is the story of the One as head of maintenance at a concert hall, he knows the show must always go on. That's why he works behind the scenes, ensuring every light is working, the H Vac is humming, and his facility shines with Grainger's supplies and solutions for every challenge he faces. Plus 24. 7 customer support. His venue never misses a beat. Call quitgrainger.com or just stop by Grainger for the ones who get it done.
Maggie Smith
I'm Maggie Smith, and this is the Slowdown. You've probably heard the adage, write what you know. I remember as a young writer feeling limited by that. I remember thinking, as someone who grew up in the suburbs of central Ohio. But nothing interesting has happened to me. Nothing about my life seemed worthy to write about. One of the things I've done to combat that feeling is to revise the advice. Write what you know is fine, and sometimes it's just what the piece of writing calls for. But most of the time I prefer write what you can imagine. The assignment is, is to think bigger and wider, to think beyond your own experience. If you think about it, your imagination actually knows quite a bit. And however much you write from your own experience, the speaker of the poem is a creation. I think we're accustomed to this idea. In fiction, we know that the narrator of a story is not the author herself. But the same goes for poetry. Even if I write I Walked my Dog in a poem, the reader shouldn't assume that the I is me, Maggie Smith the poet. The reader shouldn't even assume that the dog in the poem is Phoebe, my incredibly cute and slightly ornery Boston terrier. No, there's at least some artistic distance between speaker and poet, even when we know that the experiences and details are semi autobiographical. To take the imagination even further, we call the Persona to the stage. The word Persona is from the Latin for mask, and it refers to a character taken on by a writer to speak or narrate a poem. When I write a Persona poem, I'm writing in first person, from the point of view of someone or something other than myself. My goal is to say something fresh and unexpected, to shed new light. Maybe in the Greek myth, Medusa is deathly afraid of snakes. Maybe Sleeping Beauty is horrified or just plain disappointed by the world she finds when she awakes. Maybe the wolf eating the grandmother debacle in Red Riding Hood was simply a misunderstanding and the wolf would like to tell his side of the story. Today's poem is a Persona poem from the point of view of a Hindu goddess, Sati. The practice of a widow throwing herself on her husband's funeral pyre is named after Sati, who in this poem gets to speak. I think you'll be moved by what she has to say. Sati by Vandanakana My heart is no lantern. No matter what they tell you, it's not all marigolds and ram ram like some Hindu cheerleading chant. At first all I wanted was fire, soot, lined skin, my hair in needles of light and heat, the tight fist of lungs like a blazing hive, Red flame, blue flame, it was all the same. But then right before my bones flared like torchlight, singed flower fingertips smoothed to a shine, I thought of the cool cusp of the moon, river water soothing my throat contracting around me, a muddy womb, muck and silt lining my mouth like a new word for smoke, for freedom. Instead I have cinder, all this useless ash cupped into the curve of my body, sitting on my skin for an eternity. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter and find us on Instagram @downdownshow and blueskylowdownshow.org.
Deborah Treisman
Hi, I'm Deborah Treisman, fiction editor of the New Yorker and host of the New Yorker Fiction Podcast. On the podcast, I ask a great contemporary writer to select a favorite story from the magazine's almost hundred year archive to read and discuss. Together we delve into the story, exploring its themes, its style, and what makes fiction work. You can listen to authors like Ottessa Moshfegh talk about why we write story.
Maggie Smith
Or attaching a story or creating a story. Is this inclination that we all have.
Deborah Treisman
To stop spinning and you can hear writers like George Saunders discuss the nature.
Geico Customer
Of storytelling on the first read. You accept these things as descriptions and they make you see the scene, but every line is a chance to inflect the reader's mind.
Deborah Treisman
You'll discover new favorite authors and read old favorites in new ways. Episodes of the New Yorker Fiction Podcast are released on the 1st of every month. Listen and follow wherever you get your podcasts.
Podcast: The Slowdown: Poetry & Reflection Daily
Episode: 1349: Sati by Vandana Khanna
Date: September 10, 2025
Host: Maggie Smith
In this episode, Maggie Smith invites listeners to contemplate the power of persona in poetry. She introduces and reflects on Vandana Khanna’s poem “Sati,” a persona poem voiced through the perspective of the Hindu goddess Sati. The episode explores the boundaries between writer and speaker, the potential of imagination in poetic voice, and the illuminating possibilities of stepping into another’s experience through verse.
“Write what you can imagine. The assignment is, is to think bigger and wider, to think beyond your own experience.”
—Maggie Smith (01:15)
“Persona is from the Latin for mask, and it refers to a character taken on by a writer to speak or narrate a poem.”
—Maggie Smith (02:10)
“Even if I write I walked my dog in a poem, the reader shouldn’t assume that the I is me... There’s at least some artistic distance between speaker and poet.”
—Maggie Smith (01:39)
“Maybe the wolf eating the grandmother debacle in Red Riding Hood was simply a misunderstanding and the wolf would like to tell his side of the story.”
—Maggie Smith (02:32)
“Today’s poem is a Persona poem from the point of view of a Hindu goddess, Sati. The practice of a widow throwing herself on her husband’s funeral pyre is named after Sati, who in this poem gets to speak. I think you’ll be moved by what she has to say.”
—Maggie Smith (02:43–02:50)
(All delivered by Maggie Smith, quoting Khanna):
“My heart is no lantern. No matter what they tell you, it’s not all marigolds and ram ram like some Hindu cheerleading chant.”
(03:00)
“At first all I wanted was fire... Red flame, blue flame, it was all the same.”
(03:15)
“But then right before my bones flared like torchlight... I thought of the cool cusp of the moon, river water soothing my throat contracting around me...”
(03:35)
“Instead I have cinder, all this useless ash cupped into the curve of my body, sitting on my skin for an eternity.”
(04:10)
In this episode, Maggie Smith opens a portal to understanding poetry’s power to transcend individual experience by inhabiting another’s perspective. Through the lens of the persona poem—specifically Vandana Khanna’s “Sati”—Smith challenges “write what you know,” urging listeners to trust imagination’s depth and the creative distance between author and poem. The reading of “Sati” is haunting and evocative, inviting compassion for a mythic voice. This offering encapsulates The Slowdown’s mission: poetry as a conduit for reflection, empathy, and connection.