Re: [Goanet] Who exiled the Goan Intellectual? (Jose Lourenco)
Dear Jose, Let me first thank you for your scintillating presentation on writing and its inspiration(s) at the workshop on fiction for advanced writers end-April. Somehow when I read this poem, I could almost imagine you reading it out to us in your measured pace. Can we feature this poem in Muse India's special issue on Goan Literature? Muse India is a literary e-journal with a presence world-wide. May I request you to write an essay on reading Goan literature? You may choose any other topic of your choice relevant to the theme. Kindly send the poem, your essay, and any other work of yours by 31 May to museindi...@gmail.com Looking forward to hearing from you. Brian Dr Brian Mendonca Editor Issue 50 - Goan Litrature Muse India www.museindia.com museindi...@gmail.com From: Frederick Noronha Who exiled the Goan Intellectual? by Jose Lourenco joselourenco1...@gmail.com Did the gauddis and kunnbis toiling In yonder fields throw you out? Or did the kharvis on sandy shore Weigh you with fish scales And find you wanting? Did the escrivao frown Over horn rimmed glasses? Did the posorkar hold back his sugar And did the toddy tapper fail To read your footnotes?
[Goanet] BRIAN READS AT ST STEPHEN"S COLLEGE, DELHI
--- *** Follow Goanet on Twitter *** http://twitter.com/goanet --- A day before Ash Wednesday, Brian shared his poems with students of St Stephen’s college at the SCR lawns, St Stephen’s College, Delhi University, North Campus, New Delhi. As daylight dripped into dusk, students silently filed in and occupied chairs – as if in a performance play – as Brian softly plucked ‘Greensleeves’ – the Elizabethen tune -- on his classical guitar. Robinson Raju, Final Year BA student at Stephen’s and the coordinator of the event, introduced Brian as a traveller-poet at 6.30 p.m. -- the scheduled time for the event to begin. In tribute to the synergy which made the gathering possible, Brian opened with the hymn ‘You are my hiding place’ on the guitar. BLOG : The first clutch of poems were from Brian’s blog and included the Udaipur/Jaipur poems (Forthcoming in Journal of English Studies, University of Kashmir, Srinagar, 2010) and ‘Morning Walk- Delhi South’ and ‘Autumn Woman’ -- two poems recently published in the debut issue of South Asian Ensemble (Canada, Autumn 2009). Brian invited the students to contribute to the Ensemble for which he is on the advisory board. The Stephen’s reading of 16 February 2010 is Brian’s 90th blog at www.lastbustovasco.blogspot.com POEMS for CHILDREN: ‘Hymn to Ravi’ (Published by Oxford University Press, Delhi, 2009) and ‘Barefoot Child’ (OUP, 2007) were read by Brian, bringing up the rear with ‘Childhood’ (Parmal, Goa, 2009). The little boy in the poem who pushes his tyre up the hillside and watches it roll down with glee recalled, observed Robinson, the myth of Sisyphus. LAST BUS to VASCO (Self-published 2006, reprinted 2007): Next, the group set sail for Goa via Brian’s first poem ‘Requiem to a Sal’ (1989). ‘On the Run’ and ‘Sea in the Sky’ brought giggles with its staccato style leading on to the lyrical ‘Sonya’ and the acceptance of ‘Bells of St Andrews.’ ‘Fugitive’ was recited in Portuguese followed by the translation. ‘Praxis’ recalled the search for the poetic voice. Social issues were showcased in ‘Londa Station.’ The last poem in this section was ‘A Peace of India’ which was promptly followed by a Portuguese song ‘En Costa tua Cabecinha’ and the riotous Konkani medley ‘Undra Mhojea Mama.’ A PEACE OF INDIA (Forthcoming): A request for a poem from Bihar took us to Brian’s poem on the Sonepur mela and its ‘absent elephants.’ The pungency of ‘Kamariya lachke lupa lup’ made many blush. ‘Kali Gandak’ on the ‘black river’ followed. Nainital was next with the pathos of ‘Gargia’ lamenting the tragic death of a village girl to a speeding mini-truck in the hills: ‘You went away /when we came to love you’, the first lines, made a deep impression on the listeners. ‘Kundun’ an early poem, written in Dharamshala, evoked ‘The oracle [which] warns / of imminent danger.’ ‘Deep South’ took us all South of the Cauvery and a memorializing of the tsunami dead. SAHITYA AKADEMI (2004): The moment of truth in Brian’s poetic career was the 14 poems published in the SA journal Indian Literature. From here Brian read the much-loved ‘I am not alone’ and ‘Traveller’- a manifesto to his destiny. Fellow-travellers were impressed with the plenitude of Brian’s themes. Among his influences Brian mentioned, TS Eliot, Yeats, Pessoa, Sofia Andresen, and a host of Romantic music composers with Schumann leading the charge. ‘Do you write full-time?’ one student asked. Brian replied that he need to work so that he could travel. Asked where he saw himself in the tradition of Indian poetry, Brian replied, ‘I enjoy writing. Let’s leave the theorizing to someone else.’
[Goanet] Goodbye Noel
Goodbye Noel - brian mendonca Ah! Noel You leave us Much too soon When the sun is shining And the birds are in the air. The funeral cortege Makes its solemn way With its string of mourners. Too much to bear – a young boy Has a fit near the street – Arms and torso flailing wildly As the hour of entombment draws near. Surely this cannot be true! Then why does the choir intone a dirge? A few hours more and you would have been On the flight back home. ‘He is resting’ – the hotel had said When calls to you went unanswered. Sleep now in Eternal Rest But remember this was without fair warning. Sport was your passion, the people – your pride. You will be remembered dearly For, the game of life You played with zest. You gave your life You gave your best. (Vasco, 16-17 September 2009) Noel Lima Leitao (51) Goan football commentator and patron of Vasco Sports Club, Vasco was buried at St Andrew’s church cemetery, Vasco, Goa on 16 September 2009, after a massive heart attack in Kolkata. He had gone there to provide the commentary of the finals of the IFA shield. (This poem was published in the 'In Verse' space of 'Navhind Times' of Sunday, 20 September 2009 in Goa)
[Goanet] Goodbye Felcy
- Goanetter Francis Rodrigues (Vasco/Toronto) book launch in London, England @ the World Goa Day festivities on 15 Aug at 7pm Details http://www.konkanisongbook.com - GOODBYE FELCY -brian mendonca www.lastbustovasco.blogspot.com Felcy died this morning in Goa. Felcy was the mother of Raymond (26) her only son who, as she put it - when I had gone for a condolence visit - was done in by bad company last month. (See my blog 'In Memoriam - Raymond Fernandes) It was too much for her. As life sometimes becomes too much for us. When my sister in Pune called to give me the news I found it ironic because i was minutes away from attending the 3 p.m. funeral service of Mrs D'Souza, of Alaknanda parish, New Delhi. No I don't/didn't know Mrs D'Souza. I had just gone to offer my prayers- staying across the road from the church as it were. 'Felcy' was in many ways home for us. I, at least, used to constantly find her stationed in the kitchen on my so brief sallys home from Delhi, with mum at the kitchen door supervising the proceedings. I used to marvel at the fact she used to cook on all four burners at the same time. Even when I visited Felcy last she recalled how mum was so meticulous planning our meals, and how for the Christmas lunch of 2004 she had instructed Felcy about each and every dish . . . as though - I think as a premonition - she knew she would not be there. So much was the presence of Felcy in our lives. Her sorpotel, with mum's touch was super; her fish, curry, and rice, to die for. She hit bad days when her excessively spirited husband passed away. And then she fell ill and did a stint at the Goa Medical college. Felcy is also the name of a tiatrist whom I know from Vasco. In many ways our Felcy's life was the stuff of a tiatr [local Konkani play]. Only, her tragedies were for real. she had a life of unprecedented suffering but always used to smile. In her simple ways she touched our lives. Even when I called from Delhi while on the bus home, to condole, she asked me if I was eating well. Felcy developed complications this morning and she was taken to GMC. The funeral mass will be at St.Andrew's Church, Vasco tomorrow at 3 p.m. May her soul rest in peace. Amen
[Goanet] Poetry Wrap: Goan travels through India
Poetry Wrap: Goan Travels through India Besides readings in Delhi in 2008, Goan poet Brian Mendonça made whirlwind visits from Delhi to mop up a few more states, viz. Kerala and Jharkhand to include in his second volume of poems 'A Peace of India: Poems in Transit' (Forthcoming 2009). This autumn Brian was welcomed at Jamia Millia Islamia, Central University, at New Delhi. The event was the annual Talimi Mela or Educational Fair. Professor Shyamala Narayan, Head, Department of English, who graciously extended the invitation, had also reviewed Brians debut volume Last Bus to Vasco: Poems from Goa in the prestigious 'Journal of Commonwealth Literature' published by Sage, London (Dec 2007, vol 42.1). [Brians] first book of poems . . . owes a lot to his travels through India. Goa is at the centre of the poets sensibility, even as the poet faithfully captures the colourful variety of multicultural, multilingual India, she writes. Arriving at Jamia, Brian presented Prof Narayan a set of Mario Mirandas exquisite Postcards of Goa done in sepia as a souvenir of Goa. Dr Baran Rehman, Coordinator Book Fair, met them at the venue which was a warm pandal sprouting from the road itself, amidst the lush greenery of the campus. Brian seemed quite at home among the University students. He had interacted with the students of Portuguese, at the Luso Fest organized by the Department of Romance Languages, University of Delhi, same time a couple of years back. After being introduced by Prof Narayan, Brian began by reading his poem Last Bus to Vasco following it up with Requiem to a Sal, UIMCF, and May Queen. He then played a mando and dulpods on his guitar. A new feature this time was a preview of the poems from his forthcoming book 'A Peace of India.' Brian had brought a wall map of India. He then asked the young audience to look at the map and call out the name of a State he would then supply them with a poem written in/on it! Haryana was the first called out and Brian read out NH 1 earlier published by the Sahitya Akademi; UP [Uttar Pradesh] said another and they were not disappointed with Mathura. Kolkata said a third, and Down by the Hooghly written at Prinsep Ghat regaled the listeners. Prof Narayan, not to be left out, said Kerala. Brian rose to the occasion with Chingam 1written in Trivandrum. Time, of course, was running out. In the open session Brian read out a rarely-read poem In Conclusion after which he sat on the platform of the dais and strummed Goa Dourada in Portuguese which had all clapping their hands and humming the tune. The unforgettable event ended with a sumptuous repast at the Jamia dining hall where succulent shammi kebabs, mutton do pyaza, pulao and gobi awaited us. Welcome to Jamia wrote the Vice Chancellor, Professor Mushirul Hasan, who was having his lunch. Come again, he added, beaming. It was more than Brian could ask for on that 3rd of November! Brian looks forward to a reading in Anjuna, Goa before the year is done. www.lastbustovasco.blogspot.com
[Goanet] AIR Delhi interviews Goan painter Rajan Fulari
AIR Delhi will broadcast an interview with Goan painter and curator Rajan Fulari, tonight 4 December 2008 at 9.30 pm, on its Rajdhani channel, i.e. 450.5 metres corresponding to 666 khz. The painter is interviewed by Goan poet Brian Mendonca. The dialogue dwells on aspects of the painter's artistic development, his exhibitions in India and abroad; his equation with Goa, and his recent projects with installation art, not omitting to mention his new-found inspiration - his little daughter. brian mendonca @ www.lastbustovasco.blogspot.com
[Goanet] Goa CM Takes the Last Bus to Vasco
* G * O * A * N * E * T C * L * A * S * S * I * F * I * E * D * S * ANKA SERVICES For all your Goa-based media needs - Newspapers and Electronic Media Newspaper Adverts, Press Releases, Press Conferences www.ankaservices.com [EMAIL PROTECTED] GOA CM MEETS GOAN POET IN DELHI On his whirlwind trip to Delhi, Goa CM Digambar Kamat took the time to share a moment with Goan poet Dr Brian Mendonça - author of the self-published Last Bus to Vasco: Poems from Goa. With this rare gesture Mr Kamat showed in action what he said in his address on Sunday 9th November - the concluding day of the Goa Festival 2008 - on the spacious lawns of the Goa Sadan, New Delhi. I want Goans to know that the Government of Goa is with them wherever they are, he said to loud applause. Though a Goan may be settled elsewhere, his heart always yearns for his land, Mr Kamat said. Brian, who compered the widely appreciated cultural evening curated by Blanche Gomes, articulated this yearning: My heart is roaming in the wild blue yonder /But where I lie will always be Goa / Between the black soil of the plains / and the red mud of the coast / There for me is Indias peace. These lines from the poets poem A Peace of India, form the title of his next book A Peace of India: Poems in Transit (forthcoming). Brian presented a copy of his debut volume Last Bus to Vasco containing A Peace of India to Mr Kamat as a souvenir of the moment. The previous evening, the poet hauled his personal collection of books on Goa over the last 10 years and displayed it at the venue in an elegant upright bookshelf sourced from FabIndia. He also brought a 'moonda' (bamboo stool) for book lovers to sit by the shelf and browse a book - so chic in the crisp autumn air! - while munching on a sprig of chicken cafreal from the food stall across. The initiative generated a lot of interest.
[Goanet] Stabat Mater (Poem)
STABAT MATER - Brian Mendonca Mauve on mauve Carnations for the grave A lone boat battles the sea at Sankval Prawn curry rice at 'Claudia's' Bogmalo At Chicalim grounds the novitiates play St Andrew's. Uncle Joe is stuck at Karwar Felicity says 'I cannot come' Chicken cafreal, sorpotel for dad's 79th birthday A priest, a dog and a lamp set out but do not return Valencio offers his blessing from the roof Fog horns in the sleepy morn - a ship readies to sail. 'Adeus korcho vellu paolo' at the end of the repast. The rosary at the end of the day before the midnight hour. (Sunday, 14 September 2008 Vasco, Goa) Glossary Stabat Mater: 13th century latin hymn of 20 couplets describing the sorrows of the Blessed Virgin Mary at the cross. Sung for the 6.30 a.m. Mass of the feast of Our Lady of Sorrows at St Andrew's Church, Vasco on 15 September 2008. Translated into Konkani - 'Dukhest Avoi dukham borit / Put umkolltalo tea velim /Ubi ahli khorsa mullin.' Adeus . . . : (Konkani) 'The time to say goodbye has come'. Konkani folksong.
[Goanet] Hands across the world
Good post rico, on overseas Goans/book lovers buying books from Goa. Yes it is easy to send books overseas from India in small quantities. Ben Antao, in Canada, has been specially helpful in receiving a few of my copies of 'Last Bus to Vasco' at his address for display and sale at the Toronto meet. I also regularly post copies of my book (usually 4 at a time) to Strand Book Stall, Colaba, Mumbai to the proprietor, the venerable Mr Shenvi from Mangalore (He's delighted if you speak to him in Konkani). Following a suggestion from a friend I posted some of the poems from the book on my blog - so it could be accessed by Goans where my book was not retailing. Sure enough, it was spotted by a Goan in Dar, Tanzania, who is now having someone recite the poem 'Last Bus to Vasco' for a social event of the Goan society there. Since my book is self published, I am most grateful to these 'hidden hands' for supporting original creative writing from Goa - that too, poetry. The other big chains in India are more interested in pushing Potter. brian mendonca new delhi www.lastbustovasco.blogspot.com
[Goanet] The Smell of Burnt Leaves
--- http://www.GOANET.org --- The Rape of Goa - A photo documentary by Rajan P. Parrikar Venue: Menezes Braganza Art Gallery, Panjim, May 21-24, 2008 http://www.parrikar.org/misc/doc-notice.pdf --- A previously unpublished poem on Goa 'The Smell of Burnt Leaves' by Brian Mendonca, author of 'Last Bus to Vasco:Poems from Goa'(2006) is on view at his newly created blog www.lastbustovasco.blogspot.com The blog post uploaded today by the title 'Last Bus to Vasco' also includes 5 selected poems on Goa written between 1987 to 2005. These poems were published earlier in the book. All poems come with notes and glossary. After an evening of poetry and dinner at Souza Lobo Calangute, the poet's father recounted to his grandchildren how he used to love the smell of burnt leaves when his mother used to keep the water for him on the fire for a bath at Parra. This poem is dedicated to dad.
[Goanet] The artist and the market
--- http://www.GOANET.org --- 5th Annual Konkan Fruit Fest Promenade, D B Bandodkar Road, Panaji, Goa 16-18, May 2008 http://lists.goanet.org/pipermail/goanet-goanet.org/2008-May/073789.html --- Thanks Rico for your reflections on Wendell and Remo in your recent riposte. I agree. An artist has to encounter the market at some time on his creative journey. Wendell and Remo are outstanding Goan artists because they produce art/music/fashion inspired by Goa. Whether it sells, and how much, i think, comes later. 'Last Bus to Vasco-Poems from Goa'(2006) too had no sponsors initially. But an inner drive saw it self-published. The Government of Goa stepped in to help. Now requests for the book are being received from various corners of the globe. Now my second book 'A Peace of India: Poems in Transit' has no sponsors,or they have backed out. But I am going ahead with self-publishing it anyway.'Ars longa, vita brevis'[Art is long, life is short] said the Roman poet Horace. To create art, one has to be a visionary. To think beyond one's time. So time will remember one's art. Brian Mendonca -lastbustovasco.blogspot.com
[Goanet] Jose Saramago - Prophet of our Times
--- http://www.GOANET.org --- 5th Annual Konkan Fruit Fest Promenade, D B Bandodkar Road, Panaji, Goa 16-18, May 2008 http://lists.goanet.org/pipermail/goanet-goanet.org/2008-May/073789.html --- JOSE SARAMAGO - PROPHET OF OUR TIMES -Brian Mendonça Portuguese writer José Saramago is considered today one of the most outstanding writers in the world. Not only for his commitment to his art but also because of his espousal of social causes and of the amelioration of the condition of the human being in this world. Awarded the Nobel prize for Literature the first writer in Portuguese to do so -- Saramago has been undeterred by fame or fortune and remains the person he always was. He says -I am the same person I was before receiving the Nobel Prize. I work with the same regularity, I have not modified my habits, I have the same friends. This nonchalance was however not shared by his Portuguese editor Zeferino Coelho. When the Nobel announcement came in October 1998 Saramago was just about to board a plane out of Germany after the Frankfurt Book Fair. With his characteristic wryness he said, I was not born for all this glory. Zeferino however replied brightly You may not have been made for this glory, but I was! Since then Saramagos work has been translated widely from the Portuguese into English and several other languages giving him a globalized following. Born in 1922 in the village of Azinhaga in the province of Ribatejo about 60 miles north-east of Lisbon, Saramago had to abandon his high-school studies to earn a living as a mechanic. But he never forgot his land, his roots, nor, sometimes on hot summer nights, after supper, sleeping under the fig tree with his grandfather. With sleep delayed, night was peopled with the stories . . . my grandfather told: legends, apparitions, terrors, unique episodes, old deaths, scuffles with sticks and stones, the words of our forefathers, an untiring rumour of memories that would keep me awake while at the same time gently lulling me. In his Nobel lecture he says, If my grandfather had been a rich landowner and not an illiterate pig breeder, I wouldnt be the man I am today. If I could choose my own background even with the cold of the winters, the heat of the summers, sometimes going hungry I wouldnt change a thing. It is difficult to define Saramagos work - because he is so polyvalent, playful and creative. He has published plays, short stories, novels, poems, libretti, diaries, and travelogues. Almost always, the backdrop is Portugal. Saramagos first book was a collection of poems Os Poemas Possiveis / Possible Poems (1966) when he was 44. His first novel was published 11 years later. In this novel, Manual de Pintura e Caligrafia /Manual of Painting and Calligraphy (1977) he spans the canvas of a painter as well as a writer, unfolding the genesis of art. Italian composer Azio Corghi based his opera Blimunda on Saramagos novel Memorial do Convento / Baltasar and Blimunda (1982). With sounds from Domenico Scarlattis harpsichord, the story is about three Portuguese fools from the 18th century in a time and country where superstition and the fires of the Inquisition flourished. In O Ano da Morte de Ricardo Reis / The Year of the Death of Ricardo Reis (1984) he resurrects the Portuguese poet Fernando Pessoa (1888-1935) and uses the aliases of Pessoa to comment on historical events of the time, viz. Francos crushing of Spains Republican government, Mussolinis conquest of Abyssinia, Hitlers invasion of Czechoslovakia all this while under the dictatorship of Antonio Salazar in Portugal, a regime which lasted 48 years since 1926. Portugals exclusion from Europe is the subject of Saramagos next novel A Jaganda de Pedra / A Stone Raft (1986). A series of supernatural events results in the Iberian peninsula (Spain and Portugal) breaking free so that it starts to float into the Atlantic initially heading for the Azores. Saramago is not bound by traditional conventions of the novel as one can see, The novel is not so much a literary genre, he says, but a literary space, like a sea filled by many rivers. Saramagos writing is sometimes referred to as magic realism. This is because he has combined in his work, myths, the history of Portugal and a surrealistic imagination. Consider his delightfully bizarre opening of Viagem a Portugal / Journey to Portugal (1990). Almost in the mock-heroic vein of Cervantes Don Quixote, Saramago stands exactly on the Spanish-Portuguese border over the river Douro, to address the fish beneath, and he, being atheist asks for their blessings fo
[Goanet] 'Goan Nite at Coco's'
GOAN NITE AT COCO'S -brian mendonça I went for a couple of hours (2) And met a couple of people (5) I sang a couple of Goan songs (2) And had a couple of beers (2) Andrew did a couple of covers (lost count) The lights went off a couple of times (5) I tasted a couple of Goan dishes (1) And was photographed eating them a couple of times (5) I went over to a couple of tables (3) And read out a couple of my poems (3) I strummed my guitar a couple of times (2) and sold a couple of my books (2) Saw a couple of firm breasts on FTV (lost count) And spoke about a couple of babies due June (2) I think itll take a couple of Thursdays (>2) And Ill need to make a couple of calls (who knows?) To make a Goan nite what it could be For he and she, and yours, mine and ours. (Cocoa Cafe and Bar Citywalk mall, New Delhi 3 April 2008) Glossary Andrew Ferrao is a Goan musician who sings and plays on his Korg casio at Cocos covers: 70s EaglesHotel California, 80s MLTRs Paint My Love Goan dishes: Chicken xacuti My books: Last Bus to Vasco: Poems from Goa (2006) FTVs Midnight Hot Babies: a lady at one of the tables was in an advanced stage of pregnancy Thursday nites are Goan nites at Coco He and she: in that gigantic mall there are so many types of selves - each searching for a kind of meaning
[Goanet] Hanv Saiba Poltoddi Vetam
Hanv Saiba Poltoddi Vetam -brian mendonca Come next weekend I shall be going to the other side of the river in Goa. I shall be doing what the maiden in this beautiful dekhni from Goa does. Composed by Anna Jacques 400 years ago and sung in Konkani, the verses describe how the maiden implores the boatman to ferry her across the river to attend Damus wedding. The popular refrain by the maiden Ghe ghe ghe ghe ghe, ghe ghe saiba had also been deftly worked into the lyrics of Na chaahoon sona chaandi, in Raj Kapoors 70s hit movie Bobby starring his son Rishi and Dimple Kapadia as the lead pair. Goa has always looked kindly on lovers and those who want their space. And in quest of discovering the place and finding themselves, they set out on a journey always unfinished, leaving a trail across road and river. Road and river share an intimacy the sea cannot. There is always the crossing of rivers in Goa, be it the Mandovi river across Caranzalem to Divar island by ferry-boat, the Zuari river between Cortalim and Agasaim, or the Chapora river skirting the banks of Camurlim. Crossing the river to the other side implies a journey inward, a sense of being transformed when you get to the other side. When people make remarks about Goa I wonder whether they have done a river-crossing in Goa. I wonder if it is only the media which is the barometer of Goas health. Does the entire state and its diaspora have to stand trial because of an incident? Is it the only place these incidents happen? Why arent similar incidents occurring in Delhi reported with equal zest in the Goan media? A sunset in Goa has hues besides scarlet. We are not condoning anything here the sooner the mess is cleared up the better. But scarlet is a glamorous colour, my friend had said. And I had to agree. On the one hand the media drools over Goa as a tourist destination. On the other, they cry themselves hoarse when events which are an outcome of the very things they hype, are perpetrated. These mornings before I rush to work, I practise Goan folk songs, viz. dekhnis, mandos and dulpods on a Yamaha C40 classical guitar I picked up near Manneys, Pune. This is for a Goan nite every Thursday at Cocoa café at the swish new Citywalk mall at Saket. Chicken xacuti and pomfret reixaddo will also be on offer. I am told that Shailesh the proprietor is head over heels in love with Goa --inspite of reading the papers. I am also throwing in two Portuguese songs Eu Daria Minha and En Costa Tua Cabecinha. Some of my friends still swoon whenever I tell them I am going to Goa. Veronica, this morning has asked me to get her Goan sausages from Goa and Shobhan has asked for the irresistible Portuguese dessert bebinca. It helps to cross the river to know where your roots are. As I listen to Lucio Mirandas sonorous Hanv Saiba Poltoddi Vetam the last of the troubadours, as he accompanies himself on the guitar, I am humbled by our songs, our river-crossings and our quest for truth on the skirts of desire. --- Brian Mendonça is a Goan poet who lives in Delhi. His self-published debut volume Last Bus to Vasco: Poems from Goa (2006) has been reprinted. His second volume, also self-published, A Peace of India: Poems in Transit is forthcoming this year.
[Goanet] Footpath Poet at the World Book Fair, New Delhi 2008
World Book Fair, New Delhi 2008 and the Footpath Poet -Brian Mendonça Poets are the soul of a country. Sometimes they can also be treated as pariahs by a country. As if self-publishing my book of poems 'Last Bus to Vasco: Poems from Goa' (2006) were not enough, I was also warned not to display it at the World Book Fair by the organisors the marshals of the National Book Trust who were scouring the various halls. All they needed of me was Rs 38,000 for a weekend since I work on weekdays. They said they could give me a concession. I had priced my book, inclusive of audio CD, at Rs 150. The day the World Book Fair opened in New Delhi, was also the opening day of the Carnival in Goa, 2nd February. I put my Goa T shirt in the biting cold and packed some books in my canvas bag. None of the stalls at the 14 Halls had a 5 x 8 space on their racks to display my book. I sold one book to an ex-colleague at one of the stalls. Having been listed in the India chapter of the international Journal of Commonwealth Literature (December 2007), cut no ice with a prominent distributor who I went to see at Daryaganj. See me in April, he had said, We dont take new books in the current financial year. Ill do my best for you. So on the following Saturday morning, on the penultimate day of the Book Fair, I decided to brave the odds. If only to prove something to myself. To prove I had some space in this ancient land, however tiny, which would bid me welcome. The carnival was over. I was also buoyed by the exuberance of the Kolkata book fair, which had artists selling their paintings on the lawns, and where I had once played the guitar. This 'nasha' (spell)was sadly lacking at the World Book Fair. I packed the foldable wooden minitable I had picked up from Tilonia, the Barefoot University in Rajasthan and decided to display my book on the footpath. As I steadied it on the footpath opposite hall No 1, I covered it with the beautiful off-white crochet doily I had bought at the Mapusa bazaar a tribute to so many Goan ladies who had spent their lives knitting. On top of that I placed the 16 postcards of Goa done in sepia by Mario Miranda all around the doily. These were a collection made possible by Museums of Goa, Salvador-de-Mundo, Goa. On top of that went 10 books with a stand on which I displayed one book. At the end of the 3 hours that Saturday from 2 pm to 5 pm I had sold 5 books. After 5 pm the wind grew cold and the sunlight was receding. The exposure was thrilling to say the least. A publisher friend from Agra bounded across to meet me saying he was keen to know what 'junoon'(madness) it was that made me sit there. A bevy of young female journalists thrust their ID cards in my face and said Sir we would like to ask you some questions. They opened with, Why are sitting here? I said, To display my book Because they wont let me do that inside. We have been watching you. Many people just walk past. Does it bother you? they persisted. I replied No, I am here to display my book. It is a shame that Goa has no presence here at the Book Fair, at the State Pavilions at Pragati Maidan, nor at DelhiHaat. I am doing what little I can. Besides, these books already have clients abroad in the UK and Canada. It was wonderful how the footpath, wiped clean by some dexterous sweepers, began to exert its own energy field once the books were placed there. How its quiet space made the world book fair more egalitarian. A world with a human face where those left out could cock a snook at those ensconced right inside. People who stopped for an ice cream at the stall nearby looked at me curiously. Others, exhausted after doing the rounds just plonked down beside me, for want of a proper space to sit. An elderly gent from Chennai gamely sat on the footpath beside me and shared his nostalgia with me for his hometown and I exchanged notes with him about my recent trip to Coimbatore and Mamallapuram. Suddenly that wee space became a mini-India where I was embraced by the warmth of India and its people. A teenager came up and browsed through the book very thoughtfully. When he was joined by his friends he said in Hindi, He is asking for Rs 150. It was apparent he could not afford the sum. Ask him to lower the price his friend suggested. The boys answer still rings in my ears, He is a poet. He is free to quote his price. He resignedly gave the book back to me. I asked how much he was willing to pay. With great effort he took out a crisp note of Rs 100 and gave it to me. And walked away with the book. What humbled me about my experience was that I could know my readers on a one to one basis, and what my poems meant to them. It is unfortunate that prominent publishers in India today do not publish fresh new Indian poets writing in En
[Goanet] CHRISTMAS IN KOHIMA
KOHIMA CHRISTMAS - Brian Mendonça Asked to head to Nagaland from Delhi, I was wondering if it would be Christmas in Kohima. Visions of the lovely time I had in Jorhat two years back at the invitation of WaxEloquent --a poetry group -- came flooding to my mind. I was still in touch with some of those friends, the high point of that trip being translating the poetry of Portuguese poet Sophia Maria Andressen for a Professor at Regional Research Laboratory (RRL), Jorhat, where I was put up. This was all arranged by an SP of Assam Police, Jorhat with whom it has been impossible to stay in touch with owing to the necessity of him having to go underground, to ward of militant attacks. I remember we traveled from Jorhat to Dibrugarh and enroute stopped at Sibisagar to take in the tranquil Brahmaputra. His firm 'No' when I wanted to step across to visit Majuli island, still makes me smile. Later I leafed through Sanjoy's Assam to know the story of how Sanjoy Ghose an NGO activist disappeared during his work with the people of Majuli. Pop sensation Zubeen Garg's song 'Majuli' first resonated in my ears on the NH 37 from Guwahati to Jorhat as we stopped at a wayside eatery exquisitely crafted in bamboo and where Bhupen Hazarika himself had eaten to demolish the food. Well-fortified, we could take anything even the rhinos as the highway heaved through Kaziranga with repeated warnings by the forest rangers enroute to guard against them. Later I was to see Bhupen¬da live at his Bukhu Hom Hom Kore concert at Siri fort auditorium, New Delhi. Once more in rhino land, after an early morning dash from Delhi, we found ourselves breathless at Guwahati station after spending a charming morning at Abhijit Nath's place catching up on the two absent years. The delicious hilsa which was prepared in mustard for lunch almost detained us as we clambered on the 5665 Guwhati-Dimapur train. Talk was rife about the recent bomb blast on Dec 13 on the Delhi-Guwahati-Dibrugarh Rajdhani, near Dimapur. The same group, self-styling themselves the All Adivasi National Liberation Army (AANLA) were responsible for the street violence at Beltala, Guwahati on November 26 to push for their demands for Scheduled Tribe status. An inordinate halt at Lumding station saw me meandering along the platform, when I heard sweet strains of music coming from a group of young Manipuri girls singing soulful praise and worship songs in Manipuri. One of them Daffodil Kahmee strummed the guitar. It wasn't long before I had jammed up with the group with my guitar and we were joined by the other boys in their group -- one of whom was also a guitarist. They were delighted when I taught them the 'Galilee Song.' Kahmee and the other girls were all working as nurses in Bangalore and were proceeding to Imphal from Dimapur. Ensconced in Hotel Tragopan, Dimapur, as night fell it was nice to see a lit-up Christmas tree welcoming us. Yes, we were already in Nagaland. In a short while NDTV, Dimapur was announcing a bomb blast near Imphal as a passenger bus hit a landmine meant for the security forces of the Assam Rifles. This was while the channel was crowing about Chinese and Indian military leaders having a historic meeting at Tawang on the Northern reaches of Arunachal Pradesh. This was the land which Temsula Ao had written about in her recently published book These Hills called Home: Stories from a War Zone (2006). As we commenced our climb into the hills and the ceremonial archway of Kohima district came into view, Nagaland Police asked us for our Inner Line Permit mandatory for travel in this region. After I had sat a while in the cramped taxi halfway from Dimapur to Kohima, the capital of Nagaland, we disembarked for steaming tea and poori-bhaji, as sunlight seeped through a eucalyptus tree. Could this idyllic place, with the 'Peace Cradle' of bamboo constructed by the Assam Rifles 'to promote better understanding among the hill peoples' warrant the long convoys of foot soldiers with their LMGs walking single file to ward off casualties in case of ambush? A pork-mushroom stew at Flaming Wok, Kohima city saw young Nagas speaking carefully into their mobiles and enjoying music which sounded like Celine Dion. Naga elders sold hand-woven Naga shawls (for which the village of Mon is renowned) desultorily by the wayside. Night temperature had been 7 degrees. Incredible though it may sound, I was told Nagaland is a dry state. On paper. Having a CM with a name like Rio doesn't help. No spirits seems to be the diktat of the powerfully entrenched local Christian leaders. What is genuinely in short supply here is water. In the early days the precious water used to be transported through hollow bamboos shoots among the Naga hills. As we hurtled homeward down the Naga hills towards Dimapur airport to take IC 7702 to Kolkata, I was also aware that in the states of Nagaland and Manipur, injecti
[Goanet] BAHIA to Manhattan: Book Review 'Dona Flor and her Two Husbands'
--- http://www.GOANET.org --- Support growing the reading habit among Goa's next generation of achievers Bookworm Library and Magazine Bluebelle, Tamba Colony, St Inez, Goa Contacts: Tel: +91 9823222665 Email: [EMAIL PROTECTED] --- Hey Jim, Thank you for your breezy invitation to the Samba evening. I am sorry I can't be at SOB (Sounds of Brazil) at Manhattan tonight but I am sending in something about another big boy of Brazil - the Brazilian novelist Jorge Amado. This is a review for all of you out there about his novel 'Dona Flor and her Two Husbands' set in Bahia, North Eastern Brazil. If you or your friends can publish it somewhere, I am sure Jorge Amado and the Brazilians would be delighted. and remember me whne you sip the caipirinha! Brian --- BOOK REVIEW Jorge Amado, Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands. Translated from the Portuguese by Harriet de Onis. First published in Portuguese in 1966. This edition, London: Serpents Tail, 1999. Happiness leaves no History. A happy life is not the subject for a novel this pronouncement by Professor Epaminondas Souza Pinto to Chimbo could well be the sentiments of Brazilian novelist Jorge Amado with respect to his craft in Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands. After a riotous romp through the first 400 pages of this 550 page novel, Dona Flor (or Floripedes Paiva Madureira) the wife of the good Dr Teodoro Madureira, who has everything she could possibly want in life feels empty in her fullness. Should she succumb to the vile attentions of her first husband, the passionate and happy gambler and rake Vadinho? Or should she remain faithful to her Dr Cough Syrup who has carefully set aside Wednesdays and Saturdays for lovemaking? A novel set in Bahian society of North-Eastern Brazil, from where the author hails, Dona Flor and Her Two Husbands is a sustained interrogation of the institution of marriage. The iron bed on top of which most of the action takes place is the barometer of a happy or unhappy married life a detail significant when Dona Flors first runaway marriage is in her teens and the next when she is 30. Her opening gambit in the wiles of Bahian society is aided by her shrewish mother Dona Rozilda who oversees a stream of suitors for her, some come as far as Amazonas and Belem -- only to be repulsed by Dona Flor (I dont like him Hes as ugly as a dog.). The surreal dream sequence later when Dona Flor, in a ring-a-round-a-rosy has her suitors around her pleading their suit as her second husband --while she holds them transfixed with her sluttish movements -- lays bare, marriage as a proposition in exchange for the cherry. Much like Isabella (played by Penelope Cruz) in Woman on Top (2000) directed by Venezuelan Director Fina Torres, Dona Flor teaches Bahian cooking at her Cooking School for Savor and Art, in Salvador. It is her financial independence (and her savings) which bail out both her husbands at critical junctures the first to pay off a gambling debt, and the second to mortgage their house. At every stage Dona Flor, makes decisions about her own life, many of which fly in the face of established wisdom. And she is ready to take the consequences and grow. But while this, at times meager, plot line runs its course, what redeems the novel is the uncountable number the virtual panoply-- of endearing characters the novel is peopled with. These are vignettes of Bahian society which are as lovingly delineated as the places which feature their activities. In their hopes, their foibles, their joys and their sorrows, the novel transcends its milieu and achieves a universal significance. In the idyllic Saturday afternoons the members of the amateur orchestra, make it a point to come together for rehearsals (considered as the ultimate in boredom by Dona Gisa) setting aside all social differences losing themselves in their instruments. The sons of Orpheus include the harassed surgeon Dr Venceslau Veiga with his violin, the lonely bachelor Dr Pinho Pedreira on the flute and Adriano Pires who grew humble in the presence of his mighty violincello. Madame Claudette, practitioner in the oldest profession, the sensation of Paris, now pushing seventy, is described reduced to desperation, sharing a filthy tenement with roaches and rats. Like Saramagos dark vessel, the Highland Brigade which crosses the Atlantic between London and Buenos Aires, she had disembarked in Salvador in the full vigour and charm of her forty years via Buenos Aires, Montevideo, São Paolo, Rio. Isabella, like Cuban director Umberto Solass heroi
[Goanet] Philomen
--- http://www.GOANET.org --- Support growing the reading habit among Goa's next generation of achievers Bookworm Library and Magazine Bluebelle, Tamba Colony, St Inez, Goa Contacts: Tel: +91 9823222665 Email: [EMAIL PROTECTED] --- Dear Albert, Thank you for the moving story of Philomen. You have deftly captured the essence of a Goan lifetime in a few brush strokes of your pen. It has a quality of an African fable, because it is so simple, so true and so tragic. It confronts us with what constitutes our meaning in life. Parents never leave us, in life or in death. Parents, specially in the evening of their lives, need to be assured of love in their lifetime. Little can replace the virtues of a mudhouse, or the love of a mother. Thank you for sharing this with us. Brian Author, 'Last Bus to Vasco:Poems from Goa' (2006) Cited in the Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature
[Goanet] IN MEMORIAM: Laura Dias (1917-2007)
* G * O * A * N * E * T C * L * A * S * S * I * F * I * E * D * S * GARCA BRANCA VACATION ACCOMMODATION LOUTULIM, SOUTH GOA. For R&R; modern/clean amenities; serene, healthy and wholesome location Visit http://www.garcabranca.com for details/booking/confirmation. In Memoriam LAURA DIAS (13 February 1917 -- 5 October 2007) Mrs. Laura Dias (90)of Miraton Gardens, Chicalim, Goa passed away on Friday, 5 Oct 2007 at 11.30 p.m. at Salgaocar Medical Research Centre (SMRC),Chicalim, Goa. The following is the text of the funeral oration at the funeral Mass held at St Andrew's Church, Vasco, Goa at 4.30 pm on Saturday, 6 October, 2007. --- Dear brothers and sisters, 'The Holy Book tells us that in Death Life has not ended But changed. It also tells us That to gain Eternal life One must be born again. To be born again One must die.' We have come together here today to pay our last respects to Laura Dias and bid a fond farewell to one who truly touched the lives of many. Her life was simple, warm at heart, and helpful in nature. Charity was very much a part of life with her. The poor and the needy received material help through her which she could collect from generous donors. For the youth she helped find employment, the old the poor and the invalid found succour and solace in her. A member of several institutions and social organizations, she was actively involved with the Red Cross society, the Lions Club, Zuari Club, 'Maya Mog' and the Senior Citizens group. She was felicitated by our local governing bodies as a prominent Senior Citizen. She loved life and lived it to the full, never too old to join in the fun. She loved to have people around her and was the life of every party she attended. A dedicated wife and loving mother, she will be missed by her near and dear ones. We pray that the good Lord will comfort and console her sorrowing family and give them the strength to accept His holy Will. We the members of the Senior Citizens group of St Andrews parish, Vasco, will miss her presence and her active participation in all our group activities. Though old and feeble she refused to accept age as a barrier. Always young at heart, her all-time refrain at every get-together was, You will never grow old / While there is love in your heart . . . and true to her belief she stayed young -- young at heart -- and gently faded away. Old age, according to the Bible is Gods benevolence. There is an old Chinese saying, 'Life is a dream, death is going home.' Laura's pilgrimage on earth has been done. Its time to say goodbye. Farewell friend, may the choirs of angels welcome you. Merciful Jesus, be not her judge, but her Savior and grant her Your pardon and a place in Your heavenly kingdom where she may join the choirs of angels and sing Your praises forever. May her soul rest in peace. (Funeral oration by Mr A G Mendonça of the Senior Citizens group, Vasco, Goa)
[Goanet] GOAN BABY NEEDS HELP
CHRISTOPHER NEEDS HELP 8 month old Christopher, son of Felix D'Lima and his wife requires immediate liver transplantation for his survival. Christopher's liver is cirrohotic. He already underwent Kasai's surgery when he was 2.5 months of age. Gangaram Hospital, New Delhi has estimated the cost for the liver transplant to be Rs 12 lakh. Any help would be welcome to sustain treatment. With many thanks, Love and prayers for the baby. Posted by, Brian Mendonca (For the parents) References: Dr Neelam Mohan Consultant Pediatric Gastroenterologist,Hepatologist, Ganga Ram Hospital, Delhi [EMAIL PROTECTED] 09811043475 Contact persons: Felix D'lima New Delhi [EMAIL PROTECTED] 9891232753 Dr Brian Mendonca New Delhi [EMAIL PROTECTED] 9818432507 -- next part -- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: http://lists.goanet.org/pipermail/goanet-goanet.org/attachments/20070725/a7c67c45/attachment.htm
[Goanet] 'Das Areias do Tempo' [The Sands of Time]
--- CONVENTION OF THE GOAN DIASPORA FROM GOA INTO THE WORLD Lisbon, Portugal June 15-17, 2007 Details at: http://www.casadegoa.org --- LOVE, ABSENCE AND POETRY: 'Das Areias do Tempo' [The Sands of Time] In a moment held in time as it were, Luis Filipe Castro Mendes, poet and Ambassador of Portugal to India shared some of his lyrical poetry with Goan poet and musician Brian Mendonça in Delhi. The evening was made possible through the dynamism of Constantino Xavier, Editor of www.supergoa.com, now reading towards his M.Phil in International Relations at Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi. His gracious presence lent an added charm to the evening. As the evening melted into dusk, a poem of His Excellency was read (translation below): FALTA Alguns poemas: esquecidos entre a cinza dourada do quotidiano e a margura das intenções. A falta do teu corpo: os sentidos perdem-se Da realidade, a explosão colorida das coisas. Alguns poemas são como folhas de journal arrancadas, ideia de um corpo ou de uma casa, música apercebida entre nuvens. Outras vezes o silêncio das crianças corrompe a noite como as cigarras cantam junto às cidades marinhas do sul, mais perto da morte, das areias. Ouve: os poemas são alusões dolorosas, infinitas. A outros poemas, a Deus, a pequenas obesssões pessoais: corpo, choro, casa. Ouve. Se és tu, se és tu enfim. Que me ouves. [Absence Some poems: unremembered between the golden embers of the everyday and the bitterness of intentions. The absence of your body: the senses lose themselves from reality, the colourful explosion of things. Some poems are like sheets torn from a newspaper, an idea of a body or a house, music glimpsed between clouds. At other times the silence of the children taints the night as the cicadas sing by the southern seaside towns, closer to death to the sands. Listen: poems are but painful, endless allusions. To other poems, to God, to little personal obsessions: body, cry, house. Listen. If it is you, if it is you, finally. Listen.] -Translated by Andrew Benson After reading the poem Brian embellished the mood with the soulful Eu Daria Minha Vida plucking the strings of the night on his Yamaha classical guitar. EU DARIA MINHA VIDA (with chords) (Translation below) (Plucking) Dm Bb C Dm Eu daria minha vida para te esquecer Gm A Bb Dm Eu daria minha vida pra não mais te ver Gm Dm Já não tenho nada a não ser você comigo Gm DmA7 Sei que é preciso esquecer mas não consigo Eu daria minha vida para você voltar Eu daria minha vida pra você ficar D F#m G A7 Digo ao todo mundo nunca mais verei D F#m G A7 Aqueles olhos tristes que eu tanto amei Gm D Bm Mas existe em mim um coração apaixonado Gm Bb A7 Que diz só pra mim. [I Would Give Up My Life I would give up my life to forget you I would give up my life not to see you anymore I have nothing but you with me I know I need to forget you but I cant. I would tell the whole world that I would never see again Those sad eyes which I love so much But there exists in me a passionate heart Which is only with me.] After a rousing burst of Goan dulpods the sands of time across two continents merged once more in Brians poem Sonya from his debut volume 'Last Bus to Vasco: Poems from Goa'(reprinted 2007)which he presented to the Ambassador: SONYA >From the whistle to the kiss I have known you for many lifetimes In the afternoon shade of Panjim church In the dusky waves of Calangute Over the winding roads of Sinquerim To the pitch dark waters of Betim, Basel, Setubal, Goa, Madras Homes of the self, anchor of the fugitive Where are you going? Where are you now? Dawn girl, gazer of sunsets, Sand in your shoes, moonlight in your face Aqui o mar acaba e a terra principia. [Here the sea ends and the land begins- (from Saramago)] -- next part -- An HTML attachment was scrubbed... URL: http://lists.goanet.org/pipermail/goanet-goanet.org/attachments/20070605/812d7351/attachment.html --- Goanet recommends, and is proud to be associated with, 'Domnic's Goa' - A nostalgic romp through a bygone era. This book is the perfect gift for any Goan, or anyone wanting to understand Goa. Distributed locally by Broadway, near Caculo Island, Panjim & internationally by OtherIndiaBookStore.Com. For trade enquiries contact [EMAIL PROTECTED] ---
[Goanet] A Poet and a River: 'Last Bus to Vasco' Refuels in the Heart of India
http://www.GOANET.org This month's Goanet operations sponsored by an Anonymous Donor A POET AND A RIVER: 'LAST BUS TO VASCO' REFUELS IN THE HEART OF INDIA Fascinated by the lore of the Narmada river, Brian Mendonça author of Last Bus to Vasco: Poems from Goa (2006), now reprinted, set off on Mahashivratri from Nizamuddin station, New Delhi at 4 pm on the 2190 Mahakoshal Express bound for Jabalpur. South of Nizamuddin, 2190 is scheduled to halt at Jhansi at 10.40 pm. 2779 Goa Express labouring north from Vasco, bound for Nizamuddin is scheduled to leave Jhansi at 11.55 pm. As the Mahakoshal was delayed, both trains 'met' at Jhansi station at midnight. On that midnight hour . . . a poem beckoned: Origins -brian mendonça In the heart of India at the midnight hour one can always return to where one started from if one wishes. Vasco or Delhi, depending on what you consider your point of origin at that point of time. on the margin of night or the break of day (Jhansi stn, Uttar Pradesh 2190 Mahakoshal Express NZM-JBP, 0100 hrs 17 Feb 07 >From Jhansi, 2190 swings east via Mahoba-Manikpur-Banda towards Jabalpur, whereas 2779 presses on towards Nizamuddin via Agra. Transfixed by the immensity of the Narmada at Bhedaghat and its awesome cascade, a tribute to the only river in India which flows East to West was made. The title was inspired by Bill Aitken's chapter in Seven Sacred Rivers (New Delhi: Penguin, 1992) Sweet Narmada -brian mendonça Yes I came to pause by your waters as you collected yourself in limpid clarity. Your terrifying descent made me almost merge with your being but your soft sheepish eddies carried my soul to shore. (17 Feb 2007 Dhuandhar Falls Bhedaghat, near Jabalpur, MP) Brian's affair with Madhya Pradesh had begun almost a decade ago with his 'To the Ragini of Parsvanath Temple' (Khajuraho, 1999) - a poem which was published by the Sahitya Akademi in 2004. The more recent 'Budni' (2004) included in Last Bus to Vasco, describes the moment when the 2779 Goa Express crosses the Narmada in the dense twilight. His other MP poems have been written in Gwalior, Dharakhoh and Ujjain. One spring evening, an ecstatic Manu Dash, an Oriya poet, now in Shahdol, MP called Brian in Delhi and declared that he wanted to anthologize Brian in his forthcoming collection of contemporary Indian poetry. Manu moved from Shahdol to meet Brian at Jabalpur to co-host a poet's meet at the residence of Mr Gyanranjan - the renowned editor of the Hindi literary journal'Pahal'. After avid discussions on poetry and translations into Hindi of poems from 'Last Bus to Vasco' Brian left for Delhi clutching a Penguin paperback from their 'Yatra Books' stable by Amrutlal Vegad entitled 'Soundarya ki Naddi, Narmada' (2006) ['Narmada-The River of Beauty'(trans from the Hindi)]. It was time to brush up his Hindi. But not before he had a taste of the woman from Satna: To the Maiden from Satna -brian mendonça And you night-woman with the faraway eyes bedecked in bangles 'ardhanareeshwara' Why do you scoop your belongings into a small travel bag carefully folding your black shawl? Are you fleeing from or to love in such precocious haste? You keep the 'vrat' of Shiva obeisance to the Destroyer Life or Death -what have you decreed today? as you stretch yourself on the berth besides mine. (17 Feb 2007 Sat Satna, Madhya Pradesh 2190 Mahakoshal Express Nizamuddin-Jabalpur) Note: night woman: dark lady ardhanareeshwara: Shiva is often referred to as "Ardhanareeshwara", and the feminine part of him embodying Parvathi, his consort, is thought of as being more powerful. vrat: fast observed the previous day by devotees of Shiva on 'Mahashivratri' i.e the night of Shiva. Married women fast for the well-being of their husbands and sons. Each new moon is dedicated to Shiva, but Mahashivratri is especially important because it is the night when he danced the 'Tandava', his cosmic dance.
[Goanet] Drawing for Kids
ILLUSTRATORS' DAY (2007) Editors, publishers, writers, illustrators and translators met over a cup of coffee last weekend to celebrate 'Illustrators' Day' in the little hall adjacent to the library of the Children's Book trust (CBT), Nehru House, New Delhi. The meeting was hosted by the Association of Writers and Illustrators for Children (AWIC)on Sat 17 March 2007 and was scheduled to begin at 10.30 a.m. When Dr Brian Mendonca, Editor, Educational Division, Oxford University Press, stepped in, Mr Pradyumna Kumar was sharing his experience of winning the grand prize at the Noma Concours, Tokyo meet in December 2006 for his painting illustrating his story 'How the Firefly Got its Light'. The painting can be viewed at http://www.accu.or.jp/noma/english/e_index.html This is the first time an Indian has won this award. The Noma Concours for Picture Book Illustrations has been organised biennially by the Asia/Pacific Cultural Centre for UNESCO (ACCU). This Concours is to discover up-and-coming illustrators, graphic designers and artists in Asia (except Japan), the Pacific, Africa, Arab States, and Latin America & the Caribbean; to provide an opportunity at which they can present their work, and to offer incentives for their creative activities. Kumar displayed exquisite samples of his work which is totally immersed in the Madhubani style. Perhaps the best known genre of Indian folk paintings, the Mithila (also called Madhubani) paintings are from the Mithila region of Bihar state. For centuries the women of Mithila have decorated the walls of their houses with intricate, linear designs on the occasion of marriages and other ceremonies. The contemporary art of mithila painting was born in the early 1960's, following a famine in Bihar. The women of Mithila were encouraged to apply their painting skills to paper as a means of supplementing their meager incomes. As with the wall paintings, these individual works are still painted with natural plant and mineral-derived colors, using bamboo twigs in lieu of brush or pen. For examples of Madhubani art see http://www.indigoarts.com/gallery_asianart_indiptg1.html Initially a preserve of women Pradyumna Kumar now takes on the mantle. Mr Joshi, also at Tokyo for the meet said he was told by his counterparts there that he was lucky to be in India which had so many languages. The same artwork published in 1 language in a children's book could appear in several translations of that work. Much thought was given to picture books and how these books really give scope to the artist. Joshi said that an unwelcome trend was emerging in which the text i.e. content was being given more importance than the picture - which should be the other way round actually. Acknowledgement of the artist in the book was called for, though there were some publications that even published the photo and a short bio. The Tokyo meet felt that as a child changes the page the colour scheme should change. Others who spoke were cartoonist Ajit Narayan who shared how his book 'Cartooning with Ajit Narayan' took 10 years to print before Scholastic publishing house accepted it. He was told the book would only succeed if it is a series. As a 'cartoonist' it was difficult to be accepted. He shared the fact that often the illustrator is caught between the publisher and the author. Unless it is explained what is wanted specifically, the artist has to draw from 'pure text.' 'There have been many cartoonists before,' he said 'All were self-taught. But none of them have shared their knowledge. I feel this should be done.' His two books in black and white done with markers were doing very well in the market. Subir Roy, illustrator for CBT said that today the book was a product and market-driven. The story should have scope to be illustrated. One book of his was selling for 25 years only because of its simplicity. There should be more information books for children. Saurabh Pandey shared with the group how he had to use his ingenuity to make a lifeless topic, seemingly in one colour, come to life in his book 'Counting Clouds.' He tried low angle shots, top angle shots, and introduced an aeroplane to break the monotony. And he gave the clouds faces. He felt that in children's books produced in the west the child's psychology is simplistic, whereas in India there is far more diversity. A book loved by a child in one part of India may be rejected by another in another part. Rajeev Banjara said there should be a similar conference such as this one, but on a national scale. Madhavi Menon was impressed with Brian's work and proposed that Brian speak at the end. Brian said he felt he was among friends. He said that from the point of view of a publisher, having a different colour scheme on the next page may raise the cost of the book and make it unaffordable for children. However to meet this need there are various colour combinations of books i.e
[Goanet] 'Patios do Curacao': Brian at Lusofest 2006, Delhi
'PATIOS DO CURACAO': BRIAN AT LUSOFEST 2006 IN DELHI UNIVERSITY era o sopro distante das manhas sobre o mar e eu disse sentido os seus passos nos patios do curaçao [there was the distant breath of mornings on the sea and I spoke, feeling its steps in the courtyards of the heart] Eugenie de Andrade Portuguese poet (born 1923) Goan poet Brian Mendonça was invited to read his poems and play songs on his guitar at the ongoing Portuguese Cultural Week at the Lusofest 2006 being held between 20-24 November 2006 at the Arts Faculty of the Delhi University. The festival is being held in collaboration with the Instituto Camoes, Portuguese Cultural Centre, New Delhi. The event on 21 November was the outcome of a synergy between Brian and Dr Moura, Director, Instituto Camoes, New Delhi to whom Brian had presented his book 'Last Bus to Vasco: Poems from Goa' soon after it was released, in May this year. Sitting on the lawns in the afternoon, Brian felt at home in the midst of a score of Portuguese language students and his teacher of Portuguese Ms Manjulata Sharma in 2000. Delighted to be there, Brian presented a copy of Camilo Albuquerque's Portuguese songs 'Respigando: Cançoes Populares Portuguesas' from Goa to Ms Sharma. He also distributed copies of a flyer on Last Bus to Vasco and his article on the state of contemporary English poetry entitled 'The Palette in India' (Tehelka 19 March 2005). Ably supported by the young Pedro, visiting from Portugal, the moment opened with everyone launching into 'Nasce Selvagem' the 1970's hit song by Resistencia with Brian on the guitar. The students enjoyed Brian's reading of 'Sonya' and particularly the final lines from Nobel-prize-winning Portuguese novelist Jose Saramago 'Aqui o mar acaba e a terra principia' [Here the sea ends and the land begins] which seemed to flow so naturally from the preceding lines, though in English. 'Room No. 9' which followed made a reference to azulejos, 12 of which also made up the border at the top and the bottom of the invitation to the festival and the various programmes. 'Fugitive' was a favourite and Ms Sharma had supplied the last line herself. Brian admitted to the delight of the students that he had actually composed that poem during Ms Sharma's class in order to help him remember the Portuguese prepositions! Brian showed students the article inspired by that poem and published in 'Goa Today' in August 2001. When one of the students made bold to ask whether Brian used to do Ms Sharma's homework, he answered 'Sometimes'! Guitar music followed with the racy 'Malhao Malhao' and 'Mama eu Quero' and students tapping their hands. "'Venha Mais Vezes' says Mrs Noronha" - the line which appears in 'May Queen' illustrated how Portuguese is woven effortlessly in Brian's English poems. The flavour of Goa was brought closer with mention of Portuguese dishes like Xacuti and reixadde. The Goan dulpods sung by Brian provided the caramel on the bebinca with students wanting to learn about uncle rat in 'Hundra mhojea mama . . .' When they asked for more Brian obliged with the stately mando 'Tujea Utrar re Pateaneum' [Depending on your word . . . . I remained unmarried] 'You made us sad, now make us happy' said Ms Sharma after the mando. So we sang some more. And as autumn leaves scattered in the distance, Brian read 'Sea in the Sky' inspired by Portuguese poet Sophia de Mello Breyner's poem 'Day of Sea'. The quest for one's destiny in space and time, whether in Delhi or Goa continues to be explored on the run . . . like the fugitive. Breyner's work is also showcased in the breathtaking exhibition on display at Lusofest 2006 entitled : 'Lingua Portuguesa: Um Oceano de Culturas' [The Portuguese Language: An Ocean of Cultures]. The quotations from poets from Portuguese-speaking countries appear against the backdrop of a surging sea in its countless moods . . . As crianças brincam no praia dos seus pensamentos E banham-se no mar dos seus longos sonhos [Children play on the beaches of their thoughts And swim in the sea of their endless dreams] Fernando Sylva (1917-1993) Timor-Leste ___ Goanet mailing list Goanet@lists.goanet.org http://lists.goanet.org/listinfo.cgi/goanet-goanet.org
[Goanet] MAHARAJAH OF KACHCH Savours 'Last Bus t o Vasco'
* G * O * A * N * E * T C * L * A * S * S * I * F * I * E * D * S * House for Sale: Recently restored and renovated 350 sq. mtr Antique Type House on 1,125 sq mtr property in Coimavaddo, Aldona No brokerage offered. Serious buyers only Visit http://www.goa-world.com/goa/aldonahouse for details MAHARAJAH OF KACHCH SAVOURS 'LAST BUS TO VASCO' 'Delightful poems, very penetrating. Wishing you great success' - wrote the Maharao Pragmulji IIIrd of Kachch when Brian Mendonça called on him at his Ranjit Vilas palace in Bhuj, Gujarat earlier this month. He invited Brian to stay at the sprawling palace --lush with greenery -- and write poetry. In a private audience with the erstwhile Maharajah of the state of Kachch (now Kutch) on Sunday, 1 October, 2006, Brian read out poems from his self-published book 'Last Bus to Vasco: Poems from Goa' (New Delhi, 2006). Brian had taken the opportunity to meet with the Maharajah when he travelled from his Vijay Vilas palace at Mandvi to Bhuj during Navratri. The meeting was coordinated by Dr Namrata Singh, Brian's local host and school friend in Adipur. The Maharao was pleased to know that Brian was born in Mithapur, in Jamnagar, Gujarat and did his early schooling in Mt Carmel High School, Gandhidham. The Maharao quite swept Brian of his feet by insisting on paying for a copy of the book and asking Brian to sign it for him. The Maharao said he understood the effort it takes to publish a book. Brian opened with his poem 'Last Bus to Vasco.' On hearing 'Requiem to a Sal' and 'Homecoming' he observed that the cutting of trees in the name of development continues unabated in Goa because Goans have given developers a mandate to do so. Progress was a double-edged sword, so to speak. 'Budni' was specially dear to his heart, describing as it did the course of the Narmada river which runs through Gujarat, but which Brian had crossed at Budni while travelling on the Goa Express train from Delhi to Vasco. Brian read his poem 'Epsilon' written on an an IA flight from Goa to Delhi, after which a plea was made to increase IA flights to and from Bhuj. He asked Brian to also read a poem which was not in the collection. Brian readily complied with his new poem 'The Smell of Burnt Leaves' inspired by his trip from Vasco to Candolim in August this year. During his trip to Kachch, Brian visited his old school Mount Carmel and was warmly welcomed by his teacher Sr Alvina AC who was also present at the launch of the book in April this year in Vasco, Goa. A poem he wrote on this visit appears below. 'The Face of Kachch' -by Brian Mendonça On the Anjar road The ceiling hangs like a curtain 'Kamal ke phool Raste ke us paar' The pir of the wayside Over looks the Rann In the tremor of tomorrow A hand reaches through the dust Jesal-Toral 'tyon pralaya aave' 'Chak De' for the children Allah ko pyare Kukma's biscuits Wean smiles at Bhujori On the Surajbari bridge The blue ribbon of Sayaji Lignite from Panandro On the Sarkhej road A caravan of camels Stitches in kantha Mandvi or Bhuj 'Koteshwar is not going anywhere.' (Kachch, Gujarat 29 Sep -- 2 Oct 2006) Glossary Kachch: old name for modern day Kutch one of the princely states merged with the new India in 1947 Anjar: Epicentre of the devastating earthquake of 26 Jan 2001, on the Adipur-Bhuj road 'Kamal ke phool raaste ke us paar':(Hindi)'Lotus flowers on the other side of the road' Jesal-Toral: Jesal, a medieval bandit reformed by Toral a Kachchi woman. Unable to be together in life their graves lie apart at Anjar in a 452 yr old memorial. Legend has it that the graves are inching towards each other. 'Jyon Jesal-Toral ni samadhi bhega thai, tyo pralaya aave' i.e. (Gujarati)'When the graves of Jesal and Toral touch each other, then, will the end of the world be near' Chak De:memorial to the children who lost their lives in the earthquake - 'In the Everlasting Memory of those who died in the earthquake at Anjar town' 'Allah ko pyaare': (Hindi)'Dear to Allah' (euphemism for having met with death) Bhujori: Children's village near Bhuj, to rehabilitate children of the earthquake Surajbari: The name of the crucial bridge on NH 8A connecting Kutch to the rest of Gujarat, and which spans the little Rann of Kutch Sayaji: 9115 Bandra-Bhuj Sayaji Express. Referred to by the locals simply as 'Sayaji' Sarkhej: Near Ahmedabad. The poet travelled by road from Ahmedabad to Adipur - a distance of about 6 hours Kantha stitch work on counterpanes made by villagers in Banni village in Kachch Mandvi, Bhuj: The official residences of the Maharao of Kachch - The Vijay Vilas palace in Mandvi and the Ranjit Vilas palace in
[Goanet] AIR Delhi hosts Brian's Poems on Goa
* G * O * A * N * E * T C * L * A * S * S * I * F * I * E * D * S * Enjoy your holiday in Goa. Stay at THE GARCA BRANCA from November to May There is no better, value for money, guest house. Confirm your bookings early or miss-out Visit http://www.garcabranca.com for details/booking/confirmation. AIR DELHI HOSTS BRIAN's POEMS ON GOA Last Sunday evening at 9.30 pm (September 24, 2006) Brian Mendonca was heard reciting his poems on the Rajdhani Channel of AIR Delhi. The frequency is 450.5 metres Medium Wave(AM), corresponding to 666 kilohertz. The crisp capsule of Brian's poems paints a canvas of idyllic Goa, against a backdrop of his encounter of the eternal truths of life, viz. life, love, beauty and death. The script is provided below. Since this broadcast may not be picked up by stations beyond transmission radius of 300 km. The poems were recorded earlier in AIR studios. This programme was made possible through the initiative of Vijendra Sajwan, Programme Exective, AIR Delhi. SCRIPT FOR POETRY RECITATION ON AIR DELHI Tonight I am going to present 5 poems for you bringing you the flavour of Goa in its many colours and its many moods. The poems I will present are: 'Last Bus to Vasco' 'Requiem to a Sal' 'Father Joseph Rowland-Salema' 'Sonya' 'The Bells of St. Andrews' 'Last Bus to Vasco' was written on a bus journey from Panjim to Vasco in 1997. In the early days when this poem was written, the last bus to Vasco from Panjim bus stand used to leave Panjim as early as 8 pm. Whatever ones business in Panjim or beyond the river Mandovi one was always anxious to make it in time to catch the last bus home to Vasco -or risk getting left behind. LAST BUS TO VASCO I Cool zephyrs of night Under the canopy of the western sky, Everything dissolves Places, smells, memories, distances. Orion smiles in benevolence. Full-busted fisherwomen urge their pantulems onto the bus. "Maincho gho" seethes the conductor. Mandovi bridge lights kiss me farewell As I gaze down, >From Bambolim slope. "2213," "PAGE ME" scream the hoardings. "Fulancho Khuris," spires doffed in benediction Matrimandir of the faithful. "O Lord, hear my prayer" "Siridao Siridao, vos vos." Ancient palm trees, lonely sentinels Penetrate the inky darkness. "Kingfisher Bar and Rest." Shrouds the brooding Goa Velha cemetry. II Zuari crossing Sodium lights shimmer on the Styx. Tourists whistle; "Iea maray!" Hurry up please it is time. Here time stands still. Unlike the stormy Krishna, or the restless Jamuna The lambent Zuari Receives the prow of the ferry boat In Cosmic harmony. Must call home. It's late. "All-lines-in-this-route-are-busy. Please-call-after-some-time." III Crossroads Cortalim Watermelons galore. "Ieta?"says the matador van. 9.05 pm. Red tail lights flicker, Cavalcade of vehicles head for home. DEA, MH, GAO-2 "Vasudhaiva Kutumbakam." The rim of land parleys with the river. Goa Shipyard. Pothole crater ahead!! Where tyre wheels measure The undulations of social interactions. KTC bus stand, Vasco. My two-wheeler sulks at my inattention. On the road once more, The short ride home . . . To Goa, my own Ephraim. My next poem 'Requiem to a Sal' was written in Mangor Hill in 1987. The poem is about the timber-providing Sal tree which is much sought after for construction purposes. REQUIEM TO A SAL They came Armed with axes And split its bark with gashes In a frenzied madness The glistening blade Laying bare The oozing gum, the ebbing life . . . Stroke after stroke They hack relentlessly, Until, With a mighty shudder What was, ceases to be 'New building coming up' -- they said. O hear my cry piteous Mankind! As years roll by, and you multiply, Will we be bereft of Nature's supply? REST in Peace, dismembered One, Condemned to oblivion by thankless sons. Your sprightly shade, your laden boughs The carefree twitter of morning birds. Forgotten. We will miss you. The world is too much with us! Alas Man! You exact too high a price To fashion yourself shelters through ruthless device. The next poem is composed on a little village in north Goa called Siolim. 'Fr Joseph Rowland-Salema' was written in 1999 during the parish feast of St Anthony of the church of Siolim. FR JOSEPH ROWLAND-SALEMA Fr Joseph Rowland-Salema Is parish priest of St. Anthony's, Siolim 'That's what they call me,' he says as he listens to Bach on CD. He roams the chambers of his 16th-century church With a grave poise, you'll have to agree Holding a finger on his lips, and a furrow of a frown To silence the pixea of Siolim. Of St. Anthony and his icons - the brown habit, the lily, the tonsure, the Child The village people know little Save that in Padua he was born, in the 12th century (I think) At t
[Goanet] KATOR RE BHAJI: Sequeira Signs Off
* G * O * A * N * E * T C * L * A * S * S * I * F * I * E * D * S * Enjoy your holiday in Goa. Stay at THE GARCA BRANCA from November to May There is no better, value for money, guest house. Confirm your bookings early or miss-out Visit http://www.garcabranca.com for details/booking/confirmation. 'Kator re Bhaji!': Sequeira Signs Off (1930-2006) On a rain-swept evening on 29 July this year at the Secunderabad Sailing Club I met with Sir - he was always 'Sir' to me - for the last time. To the tempest of the angry Hussain Sagar lake in the background, Sequeira was to introduce me on behalf of the Poetry Society of Hyderabad to read from my debut volume of poems 'Last Bus to Vasco: Poems from Goa' (2006). In some ways Sequeira's life was pretty poetic itself. The youngest of 5 children, he lived on his own terms, did what he most enjoyed - made a career of it, in fact - and was loved and respected by one and all. Though he hailed from Sequeira-vaddo in Saligao, Goa, Sequeira was born in Abids, Hyderabad on 5 Jan 1930. All his life he travelled widely. 'He was a true humanist, a teacher, multifaceted and rare,'says Professor Rana Nayar, University of Panjab. At ease in Latin which he quoted that evening, Sequeira would often regale us in the ASRC auditorium, Hyderabad, in its heyday in the 90's, with passing quotations from Italian, Greek and Portuguese. From there it was a short distance to his whipping out his mouth organ and playing a blues tune, for the by-now unforgettable lecture-dems on American music. Though he had over 80 research articles to his credit it was his book 'Popular Culture: East and West' (1991) which best defined him in the scope of its discussion from the Goan carnival to Bob Dylan. He had the gift of making you believe in yourself. His twinkling eyes made everything seem alright. He spurred you on to what you could become - to perfect yourself. In Chandigarh for the MELUS conference at Panjab University in March 2005, after playing for him the customary Goan dulpods which he loved, he pointed out that my guitar recital of a Giuliani 'Andante' needed brushing up. He was a connoisseur of the arts and everything of taste. Sequeira was a father-figure for so many of us. And on the 29th evening he quipped that he had now achieved 'grandfather' status since he had taught Professor Lakshmi Chandra, CIEFL Hyderabad, my own PhD supervisor, back in '71 at the Nizam college, Hyderabad. 'His dedication to the ASRC, his willingness to listen and to help,' are fondly remembered by Professor Chandra. 'An era ended with him. He was a person of the first magnitude, an institution by himself,' says Ms. Tanutrushna Panigrahi, Fulbright scholar and Assistant Professor of English, Bhubaneshwar. 'Books, music and food, these were his loves - in that order. He used to encourage people who wanted to study and helped them financially too,' recalls Mrs Marie Sequeira, wife of Sequeira's nephew Hector. 'On Sunday mornings he was part of the church choir; in the afternoon he would visit the Widow's Home to spread the sunshine of his bonhomie,' reminisces Manju Jaidka in her moving tribute on the net ( http://dearer.blogspot.com/). And on the 29th I left the company of those partaking of the banquet of snacks and hastened into the plush hall. I wanted to compose myself for the reading from my poems which he had enjoyed immensely for the 'sights and sound of Goa.' There in the vast hall was Sir, a lone figure, in his light grey safari, proud in his ideals and life long values, already sitting on one of the chairs. Always conscious of time, Sir was there before time near the dais. Alone-ness, however, was no stranger to Sequeira - he remained a bachelor. I seized those precious moments with him and he asked me about my work. I told him about my poetry reading in Calangute, Goa the week before. And of the earlier reading at Cafe Literati of 'Kator re Bhaji'. He was saddened by the dwindling numbers who actually spoke or understood Konkani these days. So full of his joie de vivre, he once more urged me on to write more and continue what I was doing. And after a pause he burst out in Konkani 'Kator re bhaji!' the colloquial idiomatic expression to roughly mean 'Carry on! Press ahead with what you are doing!' (I am most grateful to Daniel F de Souza of Vasco for his insight on the expression.) Sequeira would mean that for all us who knew him, to realize our dreams as he would want us to. The partial lunar eclipse on the night he left us on 7 September must yield to a new day imbued with the spirit of his vision and his values. Brian Mendonça [EMAIL PROTECTED] 9818432507 New Delhi ___
[Goanet] Sequeira's 'Arietta' : Hearing the Silence
* G * O * A * N * E * T C * L * A * S * S * I * F * I * E * D * S * Enjoy your holiday in Goa. Stay at THE GARCA BRANCA from November to May There is no better, value for money, guest house. Confirm your bookings early or miss-out Visit http://www.garcabranca.com for details/booking/confirmation. Sequeira's 'Arietta' : Hearing the Silence Spending a quiet morning in Delhi in memory of my mentor and friend. Going down the years thinking how much he meant to me. Helping me through are Beethoven's last 3 piano sonatas (Rudolf Serkin, pianist). How much Sequeira would have enjoyed listening to them. As the notes cascade over each other I realise Sequeira was an interpreter of life like Serkin is of Beethoven's music. Music moved him, pushed him, challenged him towards the absolute. 'Beethoven's thirty-two sonatas were written over almost 30 years, in the manner of a gigantic clash between Beethoven and his instrument, in which his creative genius expressed itself condensed, decanted, like nowhere else,' writes Andre Tubeuf. Sequeira's life too was a constant encounter with music, whether seeing similarities between music and literature, teasing out the jazz forms of Vachel Lindsay, or speaking on the cadence of an urdu nazm or ghazal. On October 10, 1991 I shared the dais with him at the Golay Memorial hall at the University of Poona, Pune. He was to speak on 'Literature and Music' and I on Mozart. This was to commemorate the bicentenary of Mozart's death in 1791. Though we did play the sprightly opening movement of Mozart's '40' i.e. Symphony Number 40 in G minor, Isaac's favourite was always Albinoni's stately Adagio for strings and organ in G minor. In my MPhil days when he breezed in to the Department of English of the University of Poona to speak at the refresher courses, he strode like a colossus, having a distinct penchant for that deep blue shirt of his. He filled the room with his presence. Awed by his deep appreciation of music as an elixir of life -- I used to pick up cheap cassettes of compilations of western classical music from Alurkar music house, Karve road, to listen to, in a bid to develop my fledgling interest. When I showed one of these to him he rubbished my purchase saying I should listen to the entire work, not fragments of it. We somewhat made amends by taking in 'Ghasiram Kotwal' when it was staged at Nehru Memorial hall, Pune after which we settled down to hearty sizzlers at 'The Place' (Near Manneys) with Sequeira holding forth on the finer points of venison and lamb. In Hyderabad he helped me with my paper on 'The Use of Music in TS Eliot's Murder in the Cathedral' (CIEFL Bulletin, 6.1 June 1994). At one of the various sessions discussing the role of the Chorus in the play he promptly started singing the 'Dies Irae' (Day of Wrath) in Gregorian chant in Latin with the emphasis at the appropriate places: doh si doh la si sol la la QUAERENS ME SEDISTE LASSUS He took a keen interest in opera. But his attempts to cultivate a liking for this form in his students met with little success as he recounted to me. All he got once after a sublime aria was a shocked silence among the class and a brave voice which perked up and said 'Sir, yeh aurat kyoon chillah rahee heh?!' When I moved to Delhi in 2000 and worked Sundays as an announcer on AIR I used to host the 'Music for Leisure' slot in the afternoon. Oftentimes if we were broadcasting a piece I knew he'd enjoy, I used to call him up and press my mobile to the playback speakers in the studio. Vivified and in a hearty post-prandial mood he would hold forth on the piece in question - Wagner, Delius or Brahms - and garnish it with an anecdote. Though I had begun my working life, our interaction never waned. Whenever I used to buzz down to Hyderabad I would make it a point to see him. And take a photo with him. And lately I noticed, depending on which side of him I was standing, his arm used to reach behind me holding me close to his side. Yet taking the utmost care that his hand was not caught on camera. The infinite vision of Beethoven's Arietta of Sonata No.32 in C minor, Opus 111 (CD, Sony 5128692000) helps me cope with the absence. In its melding of polarities, from the limpid to the ethereal, it is the work of a genius. Roughly 18 minutes, it seems to span a lifetime of purpose. A heroic statement, a bridge across the river of time, a meditation on the lanes, between this world and the beyond: Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when the earth shall claim your limbs then shall you truly dance. -Kahlil Gibran 'The Prophet' brian mendonca [EMAIL PROTECTED]
[Goanet] Sequeira's 'Arietta' : Hearing the Silence
* G * O * A * N * E * T C * L * A * S * S * I * F * I * E * D * S * Enjoy your holiday in Goa. Stay at THE GARCA BRANCA from November to May There is no better, value for money, guest house. Confirm your bookings early or miss-out Visit http://www.garcabranca.com for details/booking/confirmation. Sequeiras 'Arietta' : Hearing the Silence Spending a quiet morning in Delhi in memory of my mentor and friend. Going down the years thinking how much he meant to me. Helping me through are Beethovens last 3 piano sonatas (Rudolf Serkin, pianist). How much Sequeira would have enjoyed listening to them. As the notes cascade over each other I realise Sequeira was an interpreter of life like Serkin is of Beethovens music. Music moved him, pushed him, challenged him towards the absolute. 'Beethovens thirtytwo sonatas were written over almost 30 years, in the manner of a gigantic clash between Beethoven and his instrument, in which his creative genius expressed itself condensed, decanted, like nowhere else, writes Andre Tubeuf. Sequeiras life too was a constant encounter with music, whether seeing similarities between music and literature, teasing out the jazz forms of Vachel Lindsay, or speaking on the cadence of an urdu nazm or ghazal. On October 10, 1991 I shared the dais with him at the Golay Memorial hall at the University of Poona, Pune. He was to speak on Literature and Music and I on Mozart. This was to commemorate the bicentenary of Mozarts death in 1791. Though we did play the sprightly opening movement of Mozarts 40 i.e. Symphony Number 40 in G minor, Isaacs favourite was always Albinonis stately Adagio for strings and organ in G minor. In my MPhil days when he breezed in to the Department of English of the University of Poona to speak at the refresher courses, he strode like a colossus, having a distinct penchant for that deep blue shirt of his. He filled the room with his presence. Awed by his deep appreciation of music as an elixir of life -- I used to pick up cheap cassettes of compilations of western classical music from Alurkar music house, Karve road, to listen to, in a bid to develop my fledgling interest. When I showed one of these to him he rubbished my purchase saying I should listen to the entire work, not fragments of it. We somewhat made amends by taking in 'Ghasiram Kotwal' when it was staged at Nehru Memorial hall, Pune after which we settled down to hearty sizzlers at The Place (Near Manneys) with Sequeira holding forth on the finer points of venison and lamb. In Hyderabad he helped me with my paper on The Use of Music in TS Eliots Murder in the Cathedral (CIEFL Bulletin, 6.1 June 1994). At one of the various sessions discussing the role of the Chorus in the play he promptly started singing the Dies Irae (Day of Wrath) in Gregorian chant in Latin with the emphasis at the appropriate places: doh si doh la si sol la la QUAERENS ME SEDISTE LASSUS He took a keen interest in opera. But his attempts to cultivate a liking for this form in his students met with little success as he recounted to me. All he got once after a sublime aria was a shocked silence among the class and a brave voice which perked up and said Sir, yeh aurat kyoon chillah rahee heh?! When I moved to Delhi in 2000 and worked Sundays as an announcer on AIR I used to host the Music for Leisure slot in the afternoon. Oftentimes if we were broadcasting a piece I knew hed enjoy, I used to call him up and press my mobile to the playback speakers in the studio. Vivified and in a hearty post-prandial mood he would hold forth on the piece in question Wagner, Delius or Brahms and garnish it with an anecdote. Though I had begun my working life, our interaction never waned. Whenever I used to buzz down to Hyderabad I would make it a point to see him. And take a photo with him. And lately I noticed, depending on which side of him I was standing, his arm used to reach behind me holding me close to his side. Yet taking the utmost care that his hand was not caught on camera. The infinite vision of Beethovens Arietta of Sonata No.32 in C minor, Opus 111 (CD, Sony 5128692000) helps me cope with the absence. In its melding of polarities, from the limpid to the ethereal, it is the work of a genius. Roughly 18 minutes, it seems to span a lifetime of purpose. A heroic statement, a bridge across the river of time, a meditation on the lanes, between this world and the beyond: Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing And when the earth shall claim your limbs then shall you truly dance. -Kahlil Gibran 'The Prophet' brian mendonca [EMAIL PROTECTED] -- next part --
[Goanet] BRUTALLY BRUTUS -- 6 POINTS
rico, i really liked your crisp report on the mandar killing at vasco. i read your piece this morning on VU. the questions you raise are so pertinent. your reader-friendly take off point with riza, the fact that mandar was a DJ, the headlines in konkani . . . made me, sitting in delhi, feel as if i was on NH 17 - on the bus as it were, participating in an avid discussion among the passengers . . . Allow me to itemize the issues you articulate so eloquently: 1. 'But is it an indicator of a society in turmoil, unable to cope with change, struggling to cope with affluence?' 2. 'As we move from our outdated traditional value-system are we caught in a vacuum till we find new ones?' 3. 'Is this just a story of who killed whom and why, or a wider one of where our society is going wrong?' 4. '[Have]we fail[ed] to build the coping mechanisms? 5. 'Why in the rush for "excellence" our institutions are failing to take care of the very people [they create]' 6. ' . . . who don't need to wait till they commit a murder to get some meaning out of an often meaningless life.' if goanetters can post some reactions to these issues point-wise our search will have begun. if i can help in any way to assist our search as we grope for answers . . . on this sad day . . . my poem, 'Good Friday in Cuncolim' came to mind where Gina Peters commits suicide in Cuncolim by burning herself (?). death comes in various guises . . . but today brutus has his day. let caesar rest now. brian new delhi ___ Goanet mailing list Goanet@lists.goanet.org http://lists.goanet.org/listinfo.cgi/goanet-goanet.org
[Goanet] POETRY BY THE SEA, PLAINS AND HILLS
POETRY BY THE SEA, PLAINS AND HILLS Goan traveller-poet Brian Mendonca is just back in Delhi from a whirlwind sea- plains-hills poetic tour, reading and writing poems in the rain at calangute near the sea; at the secunderabad sailing club overlooking the angry Hussainsagar lake on the deccan plains and at Nainital among the idyllic lakes of Bhimtal and Naukuchiya Tal. Choreographed over 3 consecutive weekends brian seized the day stealing red hot monsoon fares on low-cost flights to goa and hyderabad. Cafe Literati, Calangute hosted Brian on Sat 22 July as rain beat down on Diviya Kapur's old Goan house and the windows swayed to the breeze. Renowned author Maria Aurora Couto introduced brian by candle-light in the absence of electicity. She later wrote in the Visitors's Book-'Deeply moved by Brian's passionate and and wistful evocation of the Goa we love - his deep feelings for the environment, the liveliness and wit that binds the community, the poetry of life on the move!' Brian's PhD supervisor Prof Lakshmi Chandra and her mother Ms Ruttonsha hosted brian's poetry reading at the prestigious secunderabad sailing club the following weekend on sat 29th July. Brian also read at his alma mater the Central Institute of English and Foreign Languages (CIEFL),where brian did his PhD on madness, on Sunday. The lakes at Bhimtal and Naukuchiyatal beckoned the last weekend 3-5 August. This was an official chillout and Brian came away with 3 new poems - the latest being 'My Innisfree'. For recent net reviews of Brian's 'Last Bus to Vasco: Poems from Goa' see the links below: 1. Muse India - Current Issue- Neeti Sadarangani: On 'Last Bus to Vasco' Last Bus to Vasco is a first book of poems by Brian Mendonca, a Goan poet who works with a publishing house in New Delhi. ... www.museindia.com/showcon.asp?id=337 - 7k - Cached - Similar pages [ More results from www.museindia.com ] 2. Heartfelt and very Goan - Deccan Herald - Internet Edition Deccan Herald Now Available Globally in Print Format ... Brian Mendonca looks at Goa with the same passion, love and respect. ... www. deccanherald.com/deccanherald/jul162006/books1858522006714.asp - 46k - Cached - Similar pages ___ Goanet mailing list Goanet@lists.goanet.org http://lists.goanet.org/listinfo.cgi/goanet-goanet.org
[Goanet] 'Last Bus to Vasco' goes to Frankfurt
'LAST BUS TO VASCO' GOES TO FRANKFURT After being displayed in Toronto for the Viva Goa festival last week, Goan traveller-poet Brian Mendonca's debut volume of verse - 'Last Bus to Vasco: Poems from Goa' - now heads to Frankfurt for the Frankfurt Book Fair between 4- 8 October 2006. The happy news was conveyed to Brian this morning by Sushama Sonak, Editor, National Book Trust, New Delhi. NBT which will showcase the India pavillion at the event sees 'Last Bus' as an apt representation of 'Today's India' which is the theme for this year where India is the Guest of Honour. Come October the organisers are expecting 280,000 people to come to the book city. On 13 hall levels, around 7,000 exhibitors from 100 countries will introduce more than 350,000 books. The guest of honour for 2007 is Catalonia. Brian is also working on linkages for translation of his work in Spanish and Portuguese at this mega event. ___ Goanet mailing list Goanet@lists.goanet.org http://lists.goanet.org/listinfo.cgi/goanet-goanet.org
[Goanet] Last Bus to Hyderabad
* G * O * A * N * E * T C * L * A * S * S * I * F * I * E * D * S * Enjoy your holiday in Goa. Stay at THE GARCA BRANCA from November to May There is no better, value for money, guest house. Confirm your bookings early or miss-out Visit http://www.garcabranca.com for details/booking/confirmation. Brian 'Last Bus to Vasco' Mendonca read his poems yesterday evening Sat 29 July 2006, at 6 pm, in the picturesque environs of the Secunderabad Sailing Club. Brian is here at the invitation of the Poetry Society Hyderabad. The event was hosted by Mrs G N Ruttonsha and Prof Lakshmi Chandra. Overlooking the angry Hussain Sagar lake, with crests of white foam, the rains beat over the banyan tree as the drenched crow swooped overhead. After an elaborate high tea, a goodly crowd of 50+ poetry lovers gathered under chandeliers to hear the sound of the last bus on its way to vasco. Prof Isaac Sequeira a goan and UGC professor emeritus introduced brian. a terrific CD system recreated the ambience of NH 17 and 'pantulems' received high praise for its fishy allusion. the deep hall echoed with laughter at 'On the run' and 'UIMCF'. discarding the dais, brian yanked his chair just upfront near the seated semicircle, and read his poems to a mesmerized audience, who hadn't quite seen anything like it before. the interaction was spirited and one gent observed 'i have not heard such music in poetry before'. meenakshi mukherjee called for a rendering of some poems which were not in the book. brian obliged with 'Traveller' and 'Srinagar 1998'. 'Imagery, music, laughter, song -- so beautifully put together!' -- wrote DGP Ms Aruna Bahuguna who took the time to come for a while. 'Some of your poems are so deep, while some others are so simple' observed another. brian responded saying, 'the ordinary is poetic.' the rainswept evening recalled brian's reading at cafe literati calangute on the previous saturday 22 july . . . the bells of st andrews ushered the evening to a close, by which time dark had overtaken the dusk. 10 copies of Last Bus to Vasco: Poems from Goa were sold at the event and 4 among friends in Hyderabad so far. the traveller-poet does another reading at 5.30 pm today (Sunday, 30 july) at the premises of his alma mater, the Central Institute of English and Foreign Languages (CIEFL) -- where brian did his PhD on madness in the Gothic novel -- before catching the 3.40 a.m. flight back to delhi. to be in time for work come monday. . . . ___ Goanet mailing list Goanet@lists.goanet.org http://lists.goanet.org/listinfo.cgi/goanet-goanet.org
