Dr. Brian Mendonça
Abstract
Travel-writing has usually been
confined to prose. In this inquiry, I place my poems on Goa written during my
sojourn so far as a traveller-poet.
Though identifying with the larger matrix of India, the Goa poems have
nimbly yielded a collection of a book of verse by itself. The last decade from
my debut volume Last Bus to Vasco: Poems from Goa (2006) to my blog
writings today have tried to mediate what it means to be a traveller in Goa. In
this pursuit I have shifted genres from poetry to prose, reviews to
reportage. Always the subject has been
the shifting signifier - Goa. The first
poem, ‘Requiem to a Sal,’ (1987) lamented the hacking down of a tree, a
horrific reality even today, thirty years on. Similarly there are poems which
are descriptions of the places I have spent time in like, ‘Good Friday in
Cuncolim,’(2003) or the march of the tides in ‘May Queen,’(2004).
This is a poetic documentation
of a rapidly changing Goa, of a landscape under erasure. The prose narratives
are more based on incidents, like the killing of a man by villagers in Pernem,
or the vast untamed outback one sees when one travels in Dharbandora taluka for
example. Along the journey several social oddities of each place are noted and
merged in the creative canvas. These minute observations give a sense of
rootedness to the reader with that place. This paper will explore the terrain
of my published writings on Goa and attempt to theorize Goa through its lens.
It will also consider in its purview critical studies on my work so far.
Living away from Goa for most
of my life, I have been fascinated by the way Goa was /is configured. In so
many ways it defied description. One way to set about understanding its
projection was to write about it. Though I primarily write about Goa now in prose,
through my weekly column in the Gomantak Times Weekender, I begin my
foray in poetry with my debut collection of poems titled Last Bus to Vasco:
Poems from Goa self-published from Delhi in 2006.
To document Goa’s social
reality in verse was something new. There were no takers, in terms of
publishers, and whoever I approached was inclined to bin it. When I decided to
self-publish the work, I was drawn more intensely into my poetic practice,
since I was the author, the editor, the publisher, as well as the salesman for
my own work. The canvas, however, was not Goa initially. The canvas was India,
written during my years in Delhi from 1997 to 2010. From those poems I culled
out the Goa poems for a volume on Goa with which I made my debut as a Goan
poet. The enterprise came to the attention of an aide to Menino Peres, then
Director of Information and Publicity who was travelling to Delhi on the same
train as me, the iconic Goa Express. Mr. Peres later released an
advertisement by the Government of Goa, which was featured on the back cover of
the book.
As has been mentioned in the
theorizing of this seminar, this seminar seeks to look at the ‘curious’
perceptions of ‘outsiders’ about Goa. In some ways, as Sushama Sonak observed,
I am both an ‘insider’ as well as an ‘outsider’ to Goa. This vantage point has
enabled me to distil my experience of Goa and offer it up on a palette, as if
it were, a unique slice of India.
The years since the publication
of Last Bus to Vasco (2006) were the years of rapid change in Goa. However
the volume contains poems on Goa from two decades earlier. My title poem ‘Last
Bus to Vasco’ (1986) was written when the bypass was being built at Agassaim to
Panjim. In it I described the quaint road the Kadamba bus used to take as it
laboured on from Panjim to Vasco. It was also the year that there was a move to
rename Vasco-da-gama as Sambhaji Nagar. Even if that materialized, I thought,
the name would be preserved in my volume of verse. It was my attempt to
preserve the status quo.
‘Last Bus to Vasco’ the opening
poem in Last Bus to Vasco exemplifies the themes which will underpin my
later work. The opening itself is one of dissolution, a yielding, a melting
away into the cosmic universe:
Cool zephyrs of night
Under the canopy of the western sky,
Everything dissolves,
Places, smells, memories, distances.
Interestingly, the volume takes
it first breath with the ‘brooding Goa Velha cemetery’ in the second verse of
‘Last Bus to Vasco.’ It ends with the poem ‘The Bells of St. Andrews’ (2005)
with fond remembrance:
Those whom we love
Sleep nearby.
Goans have always to mediate
loss and they do so in elaborate ways. From the burial of the dead to the
observances at the funeral and after, the deceased are always and memorialized.
The liquidity of the poem ‘Last
Bus to Vasco’ comes across with the merging of the mighty river Jamuna from
North India and the river Krishna from the South. As compared to these the
‘lambent Zuari’ from Goa, in an act of intimacy ‘receives the prow of the ferry
boat in cosmic harmony.’ Goa evokes the image of ‘Vasudhaiva kutumbakam’ the
Sanskrit phrase meaning ‘All Creation is one family.’ Today though we do have
souls who profess themselves to be digital nomads working on the beaches of
Goa, at one time even for a phone call home to say you were going to be late
was a trying experience:
Must call home. It’s late.
‘All-lines-in-this-route-are-busy. Please-call-after-some-time.’
Village rhythms are evoked in
‘Fr. Joseph Rowland Salema’ (1999) written at the feast of St. Anthony of
Siolim. Through the persona of a priest, the poem comments on the historicity
of the moment. There is a melding of the past and the present here, a hint of
the colonial encounter:
Like channels of peace, the rivulets run by
As marigolds of saffron set aflame a wayside khuris.
The tulsi manch metamorphoses into a plinth for a cross
As an old man in kaxti walks with a stick on a bridge.
In ‘Sonya’ (2002) the quest for
Sonya becomes a journey of discovery, retracing her steps on the sandy
shore. It is a poem which sees Sonya as
a citizen of the world with no fixed destination. It is possible to cultivate
the art of aimlessness in Goa:
Basel, Setubal, Goa, Madras
Homes of the self, anchor of the fugitive
Where are you going? Where are you now?
The construction boom in Goa
has wiped out vast areas of green cover in Goa. At what price development? On
my furtive visits to Goa from Delhi I summed up my lament in ‘Homecoming’(2000):
Gone are the trees
From the hillside green
As the sons of the fathers
Seek homes of their own. . .
Houses of Goa
Thy death-knell is nigh
As the axis shifts
From squat to high.
Though there are many poems
anchored in Goa, there are almost an equal number written in transit. ‘Ei or
ie’ (2005) tries to capture the incorrect pronunciation of names of places in
Goa by migrants in trains coming in to Goa:
Trouble with the vowels
One the 2450 Dn.
‘Mud-goa comes before
Thi-VIM. Mad-goa is later.’
ii.
Goa and India
Though I have self-published
two books of verse to date, the other being A Peace of India: Poems in
Transit (2011), the fact remains that the poems in the two volumes were
written concurrently. I did not sit down to write the Goa poems first and then
in another session do the India poems.
This binary between Goa and
India, ‘insider’ and ‘outsider’ has struck me as curious. Living more than a
decade in Delhi which is culturally very inclusive, I am curious about Goa’s
narrative of ‘we’ versus ‘them.’ A rail track does not change its complexion
when it crosses the state boundary, nor does the river change its course as you
travel over its bridges. Being in a third space like Delhi helped me to use my
angst, my saudades to mirror Goa in my lines. The ache of leaving Goa
and loved ones, was only made more bearable by forming a supportive community
away from Goa – one that welcomed me as their own without distinction of caste
or creed.
So my poetry is imbued with the
spirit of India, while writing about Goa. There is a larger canvas out there, a
different reality, with a different set of questions which need to be
addressed. Some of these questions are the abject poverty of people in
Jharkhand for example; the eerie silence of dusk in Srinagar, with its
disturbed conditions, and the several instances of havoc along the coastline of
Tamil Nadu due to the wrath of nature. All these moments have been enshrined in
my poems across this country. And in the same breath, it is possible to see Goa
as with its beauty, its peaceful living conditions and the many times a cyclone
has passed over it, leaving this tiny state untouched – as devout Catholics
believe, through the intercession of Saint Francis Xavier.
Sometimes for a poet boundaries
melt away. All that remains is the immensity of nature. One’s destiny is
bounded by the elements, viz. the sea and the land. We are all fugitives,
travelling from one destination to another trying to find our meaning. Here is
a poem written in Portuguese by me:
Fugitivo
Fugindo
A cidade
Para o mar
O mar
Para a cidade
Sempre.
(Enroute Goa Express
2001)
The theme of the fugitive was
expanded in an article I wrote from Delhi for Goa Today in 2001. When it
was published I pressed it into the hands of family and colleagues in Goa and
Delhi and was amazed at their responses. It also brought to the fore the
disconnect between the capital of India and the nuances of Goa – or the poetic
life for that matter. Like Breughel’s painting ‘The Blind leading the Blind’
each reader confronts his/her own aporia [blindspot] while engaging with the
text. I sewed them all into a quilt and called it ‘On the Run.’
On the Run
‘It’s about the dialectics of self and location.’
‘Hmm. Colourless city.’
‘Carl Sandburg – is that a beer?’
‘Ravished – has my name on it!’
‘Who’s Souza Lobo?’
‘How can you talk about passion with a married woman?’
‘It’s in the clouds. Can’t you write like the others?’
‘You live in the past.’
‘It’s like Icarus being burned.’
‘Delhi, shitty of shitties?’
‘Did Pessoa have a PhD?’
‘I like the way you always write about Goa.’
‘Needs polish.’
‘Aapne Dilli aur Goa ko bilkul mila liya.’
‘It’s so lyrical – reminds me of Kalidasa!’
‘Mention of Saramago adds weight and beauty to your remarks.’
(New Delhi, 2001)
My poems have in fact always
been ‘on the run’. Whether in Goa or out of it, I am a poet in a hurry to write
a poem to capture a moment as it were, as in a photograph. I have done several
studies of places when I do a photo-shoot of the area. I then look at the
pictures and then piece together the lines of poetry on the train on the way
back. The impulse to travel is always there:
Yes I Will Go
Yes I will go
To see my ‘friends’
The rivers, the birds
And the trees
Where the wind calls
And the forests wait
In the stories of an India
Yet to be told.
(Delhi, 2007)
To continue to write is to
begin to mediate the equation between Goa and India. People flock to Goa in
search of nirvana. How they get it is anybody’s guess. As a
traveller-poet I sometimes identify with those tourists who come hoping Goa
will not disappoint them. But in marketing Goa, we seem oblivious to the
treacherous trenches we lead our young and youth to. With new technology poetry
is now being WhatsApped. On the occasion of the BRICS summit I WhatsApped these
lines and sent them off ill at ease with the state of affairs in Goa:
Good Morning from Goa
Good morning from Goa
The land of bricks,
Where many are gallant
But others just pricks.
Where you can take a ride,
With time on your side,
Get stoned, get honed,
With nowhere to hide.
The hillside is barren
The workers disaffected,
No jobs, no food
Is it rhyme, wine or mine?
Come the pretty girls
Their allure holds sway.
When the night is done
Keepest thy deed at bay?
Enjoy the season
The charters have arrived.
It’s festive time, enGALFing times.
Goa’s greener – not anymore
Prithee, hark now, the rents do show.
(Goa, 2016)
The current vision of Goa,
having moved to Goa seven years back is more pungent and hard-hitting. Gone is
the romance and nostalgia. There is a new concern for Goa and its predicament.
iii.
Time / Space
Life can be looked at as
existing on the time/space dimension. Both these realities are acutely
experienced by the traveller. Whether s/he has to catch a train or board a bus,
an awareness of time is essential to get you from one place to another. The
sense of time is different in different places. In Goa time moves slowly – at
least that’s what tourist brochures would have us believe. Life in Bombay – or
Delhi – is different, and faster. Time is associated imperceptible with place.
Like they say there are many ‘Indias’ in India, so too I would say there are
many ‘Goas’ in Goa – each with their unique sense of time and space. The
village road of Nagoa-Consua is not the same ascent as the six-lane highway
from Old Goa to Panjim. With faster connectivity on land and on social media,
space becomes surreal – because you are always in transit. Everything is
happening at the same time.
The lens of the traveller is
not single. There are many lenses. The first one is the humanistic – the
traveller looks with a benevolent eye on humanity around her/her. S/he may not
be able to do very much to lessen their burden, but at least a recording of
their predicament or utter poverty will establish solidarity with their
condition. The second lens is the practical. If one is too busy courting the
muse one is likely to miss the train. The more a traveller travels, both inside
Goa and outside it the more rarefied and distilled the lens becomes. The world
indeed is his/her canvas. It is up to the traveller-poet to make his/her
contribution to the world in his/her lifetime.
References
Primary Sources
Mendonça, Brian. Last Bus to Vasco: Poems from Goa. Self-published, New Delhi, 2006.
----------------- . A Peace of India: Poems in Transit. Self-published, New Delhi, 2011.
----------------- ‘A Peace of India: Narrative of a Nation,’ Tribune,
Chandigarh, 22 January 2012; Uploaded on www.lastbustovasco.blogspot.in 22 January 2012. http://lastbustovasco.blogspot.in/2012/01/narrative-of-nation_22.html
---------------‘A Traveller’s Take on Goa,’ Blogpost. www.lastbustovasco.blogspot.in Uploaded 4 April 2017. http://lastbustovasco.blogspot.in/2017/04/a-travellers-take-on-goa.html
----------------‘Saptah, Sonepur and Snows,’ Blogpost.
Uploaded 13 August 2017. www.lastbustovasco.blogspot.in
http://lastbustovasco.blogspot.in/2017/08/saptah-sonepur-and-snows.html
----------------‘Nagoa to Nerul: Thirty-six Years After
School’ Weekender, Gomantak Times, St. Inez, Goa, March 2017.
----------------‘Dharbandora’ Weekender, Gomantak
Times, St. Inez, Goa, 2017.
----------------‘Caitan-ya’ Weekender, Gomantak Times,
St. Inez, Goa, 2015.
---------------- ‘Fugitive: On the Run’ Goa Today, Goa, August
2001.
Secondary Sources
Manjushree, K. ‘Interview with Brian Mendonça: A Popular Goan Poet.’ Ashwamegh.
August 2016. http://ashvamegh.net/author-poet-interviews/brian-mendonca/
Malik, Monica. ‘Dr. Brian
Mendonca: Inspiring Journeys,’ atblink.blogspot.in 1 March 2014. Hosted at www.lastbustovasco.blogspot.in at http://lastbustovasco.blogspot.in/2017/10/brian-mendonca-travel-lines.html
Mendonca, Brian.
Destination India. www.lastbustovasco.blogspot.in. http://lastbustovasco.blogspot.in/2008/11/destination-india.html
14 November 2008.
---------------------
R-Day Eves. www.lastbustovasco.blogspot.in http://lastbustovasco.blogspot.in/2017/01/r-day-eves-2017.html 26
January 2017.
Anant, Ambika. ‘Poems of a Pan-Indian Itinerant.’ Book Review. Muse India: The Online Literary
e-journal. http://www.museindia.com/regularcontent.asp?issid=39&id=2856
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Published in Goa Through
the Traveller’s Lens. Ed. Nina Caldeira. Saligao: Goa 1556, 2018. ISBN
9788193423653. Presented at state level seminar on “Goa Through the Traveller’s Lens” organized by Department. of English, Goa University, on 30 March 2017. Pix courtesy Nat Geo Traveller Goa India
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