Showing posts with label Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca. Show all posts

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca (Diaspora Dual Identities)

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca

Triptych

Exit - A Haibun

The exit from the old country, carefully planned like a dream cruise, not an impulse craving, was the fruit of a slow steady climb uphill. The noise, the grime, the smells, the color of the birth country both expected and unexpected, became travelling companions of sorts. The accompaniments of the old life could not be as easily shed as snakeskins. We carried them on the skin and under the skin as well. The dust, our most faithful companion, refused to be left behind. In the new country, unpacking the suitcases, it felt like my cup ‘runneth over’ with dust! It quickly made itself at home in the new land between the clothes and photo albums, without any need for cultural adjustment. On the new continent, it stubbornly resisted all modern contraptions for cleaning. In the new country, during the first winter, the silent snowflakes settled on lawns and sidewalks and the quiet was deafening. The world had turned white. Two beautiful two-week-old black kittens we named Salt and Pepper filled our world where the absence of family and friends made knots in the heart. Remarkably similar to dogs, wagging their tails to greet us as soon as they heard the doorbell. We were home!

Flavors of the past

Lodged firmly beneath the skin

The old country calls

 

To Stay Or To Go - A Haibun

Fresh off the boat, the first thing to strike, even before homesickness, is hunger. Arriving with children makes the desire for food more acute. MacDonalds is a familiar destination, since its introduction to the culinary scene in India had made it popular. Pictures of the happy children on the bench outside the restaurant remained a living memory. Here, proximity to the newly rented house meant convenience of access to fast food. At the counter, we placed the order with the salesgirl who happened to be from the home country. “To stay or to go,” she asked matter of factly. We looked at each other quite puzzled. How could we make the choice to go when we had just arrived? “To stay,” we responded. So the food was served to us on trays. “Parcel please” we requested in the politest tone of voice, and gesturing the action. “Packed you mean,” she said. ‘To go’ and ‘packed’ inserted itself into our vocabulary, like a new page on a Word document. Understanding cultural nuances are a part of that ‘home away from home’ feeling.

To stay or to go

Going was not an option

We had just arrived.

 

Indian-Jewish Or Jewish-Indian - A Haibun

Are we Indian-Jewish or Jewish-Indian, the burning question of my youth posed to my father. Reminiscent in its phraseology of the classic Shakespearean ‘To be or not to be,’ this one expressed a dilemma about life. My question was less philosophical and more of a question about identity. My father’s response to the question of my Jewish identity was an emphatic ‘both.’ So growing up, my identity was in my DNA, firm and fixed into my being. You can be two things or even many things at one time. It’s almost akin to multi-tasking.

Where did I come from?

Tales of legends and shipwrecks

Whispers of the past.

 

 

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca has been a teacher of English and a Career Counselor, in an international school in India, and has taught French and Spanish in private schools in Canada. Her poems have been published in various journals and anthologies, including the four issues of the Yearbook of Indian Poetry in English and The Journal of Indian Literature in English by Sahitya Akademi. She is the author of three books “Family Sunday and other Poems, “Light of the Sabbath” and “Nissim Ezekiel Poet & Father. “She was twice nominated for a Pushcart Prize. She also writes Nonfiction.

Special Edition: Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca
Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca has been a teacher of English and a Career Counselor, in an international school in India, and has taught French and Spanish in private schools in Canada. Her poems have been published in various journals and anthologies, including the Yearbook of Indian Poetry in English and The Journal of Indian Poetry in English by Sahitya Akademi. Her first book ‘Family Sunday and other Poems’ was published in 1989 and a chapbook ‘Light of the Sabbath’ in September 2021. She was nominated for a Pushcart Prize for her poem “How to Light Up a Poem” in 2020.
***

Loneliness

My loneliness sits on the bench
no one can see it except me
well camouflaged, hidden in depths
beyond reach of man or even God perhaps.
In calmness the river flows by the bench
it assures me it will keep my secret
if I don’t wish to share it,
the trees vow not to tell
every leaf and every branch
promise to remain silent.
The wind around the trees is still
so I have nothing to worry about
and there are no birds
to carry the secret of my loneliness
to the sky full of clouds.
***

Quietude

My father desired quietude
an ordered mind, love and truth
I learned quietude, the word and the concept 
from him.
I have a photograph of him
sitting on a different bench
looking towards the heavens
calm and peaceful, his mind full of poems.
The bench shapes his silhouette
His words engraved on the leaves and branches
comfort me,
the roots of the trees
have not buried his lines.

The soil is more fertile
with his wisdom
where the roots run deep.
I must talk to the roots
to discover 
my own quietude. 
***

Absence

To sit with you
on the bench donated by a loved one
overlooking the Glenmore Reservoir
as we once did many a time 
watching the water rolling swirling
as The Captain’s Cruise
sails by majestically,
is to know completeness of presence.

To hear you cheering at
The Dragon Boat Race Festival
listening to your laughter
seeing the ducklings follow mother duck
taking pictures of the sun on the water
is to feel the fullness of life.

To drive back home with you 
the sounds of your happy chatter
filling my heart to overflowing
is to cherish
 the richness of our bond.

But you are far away
The bench is empty
There’s more room here than I need.
Your absence teaches me 
of pain far too intense 

A lesson I would rather not have learned.
***

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca (Children's World)

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca

Lines to an Invisible Owl

I heard the owl the other night

Impossible to see it for the deepening light

He hooted loudly at very passing car

Heard him clearly from the window ajar

Often so loud I think there are two

"hoo-hoo-oooo" "hoo-hoo-oooo"

So I asked a few words of wisdom for the world’s plight

He said, ‘Everything in God’s good time would be alright.’

 

Owl Sequel

"There's no owl here,'' my neighbor said

This owl is real, not just in my head

I heard its hooting loud and clear

In the tree by the church, so very near,

Someday I'll see this owl in person

Before winter comes and the weather worsens

I'll get my daughter to take a picture

Then I'll post the poem with a sticker!

 

Bird Talk

(A poem fusing the present with a childhood memory)

I really wouldn’t want to be

A bird perched on a snowy tree

For if the branch was heavy with snow

I might fall down to the ground below

And then I wouldn’t make a sound

Frozen solid with white stuff crowned

And if you shovel, this is all I ask

Do your due diligence with that task

The sky too is white with all that snow

Remember I have nowhere to go.

 

I remember how we buried the crow

Under a stone where the grasses grow

And the Parsi* boy said a short prayer

While we stood around our grief to share

I knew quite young that birds have feelings

Nature has a way of imparting wise teachings

I have never forgotten that crow

It has helped me learn and think and grow.

 

The boy went away to a foreign land

But the burial of the crow was just so grand

Still visits my memories when I think about it

Much more than I truly care to admit.

 

There was a bird once perched on our flower pot

We named him Cheep but he did not know, or he forgot

That we loved birds,

So he disappeared into the wild

I have loved birds since I was a child.

 

*Parsi: Zoroastrian community who migrated to the Indian subcontinent from Persia during the Muslim conquest of Persia of CE 636–651; one of two such groups (the other being Iranis).

 

Bio: Kavita Ezekiel

In a career spanning over four decades, Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca has taught English in Indian colleges, AP English in an International School in India, and French and Spanish in private schools in Canada. Her poems are featured in various journals and anthologies, including the Journal Of Indian Literature published by the Sahitya Akademi and the Yearbook of Indian Poetry in English. She also enjoys writing Nonfiction. Kavita has authored two collections of poetry, ‘Family Sunday and Other Poems’ and ‘Light of The Sabbath.’ She holds a Master of English and American Literature Degree from the University of Bombay, and a Master of Education Degree from Oxford Brookes University, England.

Poetry: Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca (Tagore Special)

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca

Paper Boats

(For Rabindranath Tagore)

 

The falling rain fills my paper boat

It bobs on the flooded waters

To the left and to the right

Proud as a big ship on stormy seas,

There are other boats too

Metal boats with lighted candles

Moonbeams dance on the water by night

The boat becomes a grand palace

With chandeliers and sparkling wine.

 

The paper boat has sunk

A moment’s pleasure filled my heart

When it sailed tall and high

It’s all I needed to brighten my world

I give thanks to my home

In a low lying area

Where the rain water floated the boat

Along with my imagination.

 

Bio: Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca’s first book of poems, 'Family Sunday and other Poems', was published in 1989. Her poem ‘How to Light up a Poem', was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. ‘Light of The Sabbath’ is her recently published chapbook. She has taught English, French and Spanish, in private schools in India and overseas, for over four decades. Her poems have been published in several anthologies, including the Journal of Indian Literature published by The Sahitya Akademi.


Essentials of Living: Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca

Choosing Happiness: A key to surviving the pandemic


The colors of the pandemic are 
Dark
Darker
Hope

Last Sunday, I turned on the television to a well-known pastor from Texas who was giving a sermon on happiness. The theme of the sermon, with examples from the Bible, and from everyday life, was choosing to be happy despite unpleasant or difficult external circumstances.

I have listened to many of his sermons earlier, and they are always positive and uplifting. All faiths and religions speak of how to be happy. It is the goal of human life to reach that state.  With temperatures dipping below the minus 30s and the icy, slippery sidewalks making it near impossible to go for a walk, and another wave of the pandemic looming large in the background, I welcomed his words. They echoed and reinforced the inspiring words my father taught me throughout my life. “Happiness is a choice,” he said. I still live by that truth and wrote about it in another recently published article about how my parents’ words helped me survive the pandemic.

Making happiness a choice is not a once-off, and it is especially difficult to do consistently in times of adversity. One must persist in adopting that attitude. It is a way of life. It is a mindset. One may fail and fall at times but getting up and trying again is the secret to happiness. Even if happiness comes in bursts, it is all right. Masks make it difficult to breathe and yet if you live to see a new day, you can breathe the breath of life.

Whatever happens
every day,
the sun shines on you.
Shine back!
Shine back!
Even if only
with a little pocket mirror.
(From Whispers by Nissim Ezekiel, sourced from The Brown Critique)

Social distancing is the new norm, but often social media bridges the distance between people. If you find the right virtual friends to talk to, life can be less lonely. You discover that we all share common feelings at this time. We are together in being alone, and yet not alone.
Winter can be a lonely time here, and the pandemic with all its restrictions, adds to the loneliness. Quoting from poet Chaitali Sengupta’s words:

Winter has but three shades,
Black
Gray, and
Loneliness…

No matter what we do to keep busy, boredom sets in, as our connection to others is limited. We all know the famous saying “Man is not an island.’ So, we must rely on our inner resources to give us strength. At the risk of sounding prescriptive, what has really helped me is reading, writing, prayer, looking at treasured old photographs, and unbelievably, taking pleasure in household chores. Of course, in the West, you have to do everything yourself. There are no maids or other helpers unless you can afford the prohibitive cost of labor.  It is easy to grumble and complain about chores, but as my wise neighbor said, ‘Just think how bored you would be if you had nothing to do.’ If you have a home, there is always something to do. I am surprised to find myself taking pleasure in doing my chores. Many times, I miss my mother. Things were so much easier when she was around to do everything, and I could study or work and go out with friends and come home to a delicious meal. So much gratitude for all mothers and those whose labors of love enrich their families.

In many countries there are natural disasters like fires, floods, and tornados that cause utter devastation. And then there is the human tragedy. The refugee crisis that is so overwhelming and heartbreaking to watch. If we put ourselves in their shoes, we learn to develop empathy which helps us remain thankful for all the blessings we have. Some of the refugees do not even have shoes or have lost them on the way.  There are many who are in a more challenging situation than me, and I think of them often, and pray for them. It puts my suffering in perspective.  An elderly neighbor told me that even a phone call is a way of socializing and is a welcome break in an otherwise lonely and dull day. I am surrounded by two other members of my family and two loving cats! It is still possible to feel lonely, and each family member also does their best to cheer the others up.

I have cited several personal measures I have taken to survive the isolation brought about by the pandemic.  I urge you to look within yourself, assert that you will succeed, and that you will remain unbeaten, that you will find productive and fulfilling activities that may take time to reveal their richness, and that you will not be deterred by the delay in real gratification, trusting that it will come.  The world is different now and to accept the changes and find peace and happiness depends on your determination to change with it. Motivation with new habits does not necessarily appear at the start… it develops on the journey. So, start! And difficult as it might seem, you will reach your destination.
***

Bio:
Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca was born and raised in a Jewish family in Mumbai.  Her first book of poems, 'Family Sunday and other poems', was published in 1989. Her poem, 'How to light up a poem', was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Her chapbook ‘Light of The Sabbath’ was published in September 2021. Her poems have been published in several anthologies and online journals.

Poetry: Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca

Vaccination Date 

Love,

How long has it been

since we went on a date?

You said you couldn’t remember.

But yesterday,

walking hand in hand

in downtown Calgary

You smiled when I said it felt like a date,

Only our destination The Immunization Clinic

was different, yet felt just as romantic

as walking along Worli Seaface in Bombay

All those years ago,

Destination, Shobha Bhelpuri Restaurant.

I hope you felt the same way

somewhere deep down

In your heart.

 

You did say I looked nice

just before we left

for the vaccination date!

Later, you changed ‘nice’ to ‘lovely’.

I remember how I loved ‘lovely’

The way you said it.

We’re going again for our second shot

Together, hand in hand

On another vaccination date.

Vaccinations can come with unexpected blessings!

*‘The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven’.

*The quotation is from Milton’s Paradise Lost


 Pandemic Closet Cleaning 

So many voices tell you

How to survive the Pandemic

How to ride the wave

That’s drowning all of us

Sans exception.

Inner voices speaking messages of hope

Cannot be ignored.

’Clean the closet, organize the closet’

Like the chorus line, a repetitive refrain,

I feel I must respond to the call.

Time seems elastic, stretching endlessly

Like a shore line.

 

I open the closet, close it again

The pandemic is synonymous with procrastination

The desire to clean and downsize is numbed.

The chorus chants, ‘Do it now, you have so much time’.

 

But love, do you remember

The white *Salwar Kameez with the gold buttons

With the sheer diaphanous gold colored *chunni

The one that is forty-two years old?

I cannot bring myself to give that one away

No matter how good the intention to clean.

Remember, how we got off the bus, hand in hand,

as it turned the corner.

The sign SALE, caught your eye,

It was an exhibition of Indian outfits

Picking out the white and gold one

You said, ‘This will look good on you.’

 

Words like that in my memory

Fresh as the soft touch of the fabric

From all those years ago

Fusing memory, dream and desire.

*chunni is a long scarf worn by South Asian women.

 

Soup Prayer

Lord,

Daily conversation with you is great

What I really want though

Is to invite you to my home for a meal.

Sweet corn and chicken soup is on the menu,

It’s my son’s favorite

He’s away for work,

Do drop by and surprise us

No appointment needed.

The soup bowls are pretty too

And I promise you good company

As always.

 

Advance booking is also not necessary.

This is not the first time

I have sent you an invitation

Do you recall when I looked heavenward

Wishing you were at the table

In *Duke’s Cuisine in Bombay

Where they served the best

Sweet Corn and Chicken soup?

Come quickly Lord

I know you won’t disappoint me.

*Duke’s Cuisine was a Chinese Restaurant in Bombay that we loved.

 

 

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca was born and raised in a Jewish family in Mumbai. Her first book of poems, 'Family Sunday and other poems', was published in 1989. with a second edition in 1990. Her poem, 'How to light up a poem', has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca: Poetry (Voices Within 2021)

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca was born in Bombay to Prof. Nissim Ezekiel and Daisy Ezekiel. She attended Queen Mary’s School, St. Xavier’s College, Bombay University and Oxford Brookes University, U.K. She holds Bachelor’s and Masters’ Degrees in English, American Literature and Education. Her career spanned over four decades in Indian colleges, American International Schools and Canada, teaching English, French and Spanish. She’s a published poet and has her poetry page at https://www.facebook.com/kemendoncapoetry. Kavita also writes short fiction. Her work is strongly influenced by her father’s work. (The late Nissim Ezekiel was an eminent poet, well-known in India and overseas).

 

My Road

 

I’ll dare to walk on

‘The Road Not Taken’

Perhaps it’s the one others have forsaken.

 

This is the road that may lead nowhere

I’ll still walk on without a care

But if I should arrive at last

I will have all my dreams surpassed.

 

If I get lost, I’ll cry for help

Still glad to have remained true to self.

 

And crunch the leaves under my foot

Those that haven’t yet turned to soot.

 

And if perchance help does not come

I’ll stop the walking and break into a run.

 

Haibun of the Able Seaman

 

It is incredible what a man will do when he wants to return to his home in India, from a foreign land, especially when his companions for three years had been Philosophy Poetry and Poverty, his lodging an ‘attic with mice for friends’, that’s how he described it to me. Perhaps that was a metaphor; his way of explaining cheap accommodation. I am inclined, as always, to believe him. What irony to learn that this same man would win an award for being a deck hand! It’s a true story I never tire of reading about… certificate of ‘Able Seaman’ awarded to him, my poet father. A father with a slender fame, delicate glasses that would blow into the waves of the ocean, at the hint of the faintest breeze, and the thin wrists that made him always want to wear a long- sleeved shirt, to cover them. By the longest stretch of my imagination, I can’t picture him scrubbing the decks of the cargo ship, carrying coal to Indochina. His companion, who was supposed to travel with him would later change his mind, so he had to travel alone. He braved the elements with that same determination that kept him abroad for four long years. Despite the ‘three P’s’, his constant companions, (the philosophy and poetry, he didn’t mind) the call of home becoming stronger than ever, he must find a way to return. Perhaps the sea had a poetry of its own, made its own music, in the sounds of the wind on the waters. His ocean journey would land him in his beloved city, Bombay, to carve words into posterity.

Call of the homeland

Poems in wind, waves, water

The human spirit

 

Insight

 

Even as an older woman

My preferred color is still black

Matched with the white blouse with the usual ruffles loved in youth,

I plan to age, gracefully, though,

* “The best laid schemes o' mice an' men / Gang aft a-gley.”

Determined to enjoy a well-earned pension

Though it may be small

Undecided whether to spend it on shopping or mortgage.

I shall sit on the patio when hit by cabin fever in winter

Dressed in cap, mitts, boots, and scarf

Forgo the favorite past time of a walk

For fear of slipping on the deceptive black ice on the sidewalks.

In summer I will admire the perennials

as they miraculously return, each year

To bloom once more.

I will continue to invoke the poetic muse

Writing poems about birds and fountains

I may have written before,

Still in a mellower vein now.

 

I will walk up and down the house with slower gait

With perhaps a stair lift to aid my climbing

To the bedrooms upstairs.

Yet, continuing to praise God for His many blessings

Praying that the angry squirrel will bring only smiles

And be blessed with a house full of cats.

 

‘Happiness is a choice’, my wise father told me,

But sometimes sadness will have to come

For the sprightly steps you once were able to take,

Or the quick reflexes with which you were able

to flick a persistent wasp away.

 

Perhaps if I ‘rev’ up my engines now

And put more fuel into the passing years

I can show myself how I intend to grow older

Dyeing my hair to preserve the distant memory of youth,

I can still make my presence felt in the classroom

Endearing myself to the young ones, with both beauty and knowledge.

 

And, oh yes, I should start writing my epitaph

For my family and friends to remember me by,

And commend me to posterity.

 

* “To a Mouse,” by Robert Burns: “The best laid schemes o' mice an' men / Gang aft a-gley.” Which means the best plans may not work out.

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca
Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca was born and raised in a Jewish family in Mumbai.  She was educated at the Queen Mary School, Mumbai, received her BA in English and French, an MA from the University of Bombay in English and American Literature, and a Master’s in Education from Oxford Brookes University, England.  She has taught English, French and Spanish in various colleges and schools in India and overseas, in a teaching career spanning over four decades. Her first book, Family Sunday and Other Poems was published in 1989, with a second edition in 1990. She has read her poems for the All India Radio in Mumbai, and her poem ‘Family Sunday’ was featured in an Anthology of Women’s Writing. Her poems have also appeared in Destiny Poets, U.K, Poetry India, SETU, Caf├й Dissensus, among others.  She writes Poetry and Short Fiction.  Kavita is the daughter of the late poet, Nissim Ezekiel. She manages her Poetry page at https://www.facebook.com/kemendoncapoetry/

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca: Poetry (Life, Cognition and Creativity)

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca
Manna for the Birds

Finally, after much procrastination
We washed the windows,
Imperfectly, of course, striations still appearing, 
Earlier, we could play noughts and crosses in the dust
Tracing the game with our fingers,
Now, we see the trees clearly,
The whiteness of the snow,
The plump red and grey birds
Pecking furiously at something
Perhaps manna fallen from the heavens
On the snow-covered ground.

A study in focus and concentration,
The birds did not look up
Did not see us, or
The girl taking the video
While she watched, unbreathing.

Suddenly, I felt hungry
Ready to be fed something 
From the hand of God,
The virus relegated to the background.
Snatching moments of beauty from the birds
On troubled days.
***

Zen Time

Remove the clocks
From your house
Day will still break at dawn
And night will still arrive
With the stars and the silver moon.
The Mayans and the Aztecs
Used sunlight and shadows
To trace
The passage of Time.
Mother called me in for supper
When the shadows lengthened,
She did not need a clock
To tell the time.
Praise to the Creator who made the sun,
The stars, the moon and all the planets
Praise to Him who created Time
Ancient peoples, or mother, could not tell time
Without the Creator’s hands.
***

Spinning Wheel

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca
My mind spins the yarn into colored *Khadi Kurtas my father wore, 
Those maroon, green, blue, purple kurtas, spun on Gandhi’s Chakra.
The wheel of patience and calm wove other things too,
Goodness and calm into my father’s veins.

‘Good travels at a snail’s pace.’
Father wore seventy-nine years of goodness and patience.
He walked slowly and talked slowly, with his almost Gandhian spectacles.
Teaching Poetry in the classroom, he opened his arms wide.
I could see two large patches of salty sweat 
Spreading across each armpit, enough salt to stain the clothes.

Before washing the kurtas
He rinsed them in salt water
A symbolic act,
Father was a lover of peace and non-violence
Just like Gandhi, homespun men of homespun cloth.
***

Bio: Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca was born and raised in a Jewish family in Mumbai.  She was educated at the Queen Mary School, Mumbai, received her BA in English and French, an MA from the University of Bombay in English and American Literature, and a Master’s in Education from Oxford Brookes University, England.  She has taught English, French and Spanish in various colleges and schools in India and overseas, in a teaching career spanning over four decades. Her first book, Family Sunday and Other Poems was published in 1989, with a second edition in 1990. She has read her poems for the All India Radio in Mumbai, and her poem ‘Family Sunday’ was featured in an Anthology of Women’s Writing. Her poems have also appeared in Destiny Poets, U.K, Poetry India, SETU, Caf├й Dissensus, among others.  She writes Poetry and Short Fiction.  Kavita is the daughter of the late poet, Nissim Ezekiel. She manages her Poetry page at https://www.facebook.com/kemendoncapoetry/


Interview with Jaya Choudhury: Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca

Jaya Choudhury a translator, poet and novelist, was born in Calcutta, India in 1971. She translates novels, poems, dramas, and short stories into Bengali from Spanish. So far, she has published 13 books, including originals and translations of novels, poems and prose of the Chilean Nobel Laureate poet, Gabriela Mistral, She has translated more than 100 Spanish poems. She writes poems and essays in Spanish and Bengali for many blogs, periodicals and magazines of India, Argentina, and Paraguay. She was awarded the prestigious Bangla Academi Lila Roy Award for contribution to Bengali translation literature, and a few other awards. Her passion is playing Sitar. Currently she teaches Spanish language in the Ramakrishna Mission School of Language, Golpark, and in the Sister Nivedita University, West Bengal.

Jaya Choudhury
KM: I find it unique and distinctive that you translate from Spanish into Bengali. Tell us a bit about what motivated you to undertake this kind of translation?

JC: From a very tender age, and like the generation of my contemporaries, I used to read Bengali literature voraciously. You might even call me ‘omnivorous,’ while describing my reading habit. Starting from The Materia Medica (a homeopathy medicine repertoire), taken from my father’s bookshelf, or travelogues by Umaprasad Mukhopadhyay to Bibhutibhushan Bandyopadhyay or Saradindu Bandyopadhyay, taken from my uncle’s library to detective stories of Swapan Kumar from the school library or the Illustrated Weekly, Ekkhan and other magazines from my cousin’s home, I used to be a bookworm, and practically read anything and everything within my reach. When I was in the second standard, I wrote a 4-liner for our school magazine, ‘AKASHE AJ KALO KALO/ MEGH KORECHE/ PAKHIRA SOB DOLE DOLE / BASAY FIRECHE’. (There is cloud on the horizon, birds are coming home in flocks).

My older sister helped me to correct those lines. A dream of becoming a writer began brewing. Then from standard Seven, I started writing short stories which I continued up to standard Nine. However one day I decided to stop writing, as in my opinion, I felt that I was not creating anything worthwhile. I clearly remember during my Spanish learning days, my habit was to practice translations. For that, I frequently visited The Indo-Hispanic Library in Calcutta. There, I discovered many original works by literati like Garc├нa Lorca, Antonio Machado, Camilo Jose Cela or Miguel Cervantes, and others which I had never read before. And now my dream of becoming a writer took on a different shape. I started dreaming of being a translator, to bring the treasures of the Hispanic world to my native readers, and do justice to my mother tongue.

 

KM: When did you first learn Spanish and what inspired you to learn the language? What techniques do you use for verbal communication in Spanish in Kolkata? What other languages do you know? French or Italian, perhaps? Do you undertake translation work in those languages?

JC: After sixteen years of a disturbed marriage my inner self was desperately searching for an opportunity to learn a foreign language, and the choice was between French, Portuguese and Spanish. I chose the last one.

I am from the country of “Unity in diversity” where more than 19500 languages or dialects are spoken as mother tongues. Being from a country, where Spanish is not officially spoken, you may agree that learning this as a foreign language, was a challenging decision. I didn’t have any job at that point, and moreover due to a disturbed marriage, I didn’t have required money either, for learning the language. Nevertheless, I enrolled for the Spanish course in the School of Languages of the esteemed Ramakrishna Mission Golpark, Kolkata. The institution is mainly a charitable institute, and considered to be one of the best institutes for learning languages in Calcutta with nominal course fees. With a curious mind, I grabbed every opportunity to learn the language, be it from some teacher’s personal free coaching classes on ‘Preterite Indefinido,’ or ‘Preterite Imperfecto,’ or at home from my favourite teacher to clarify doubts on ‘Imperfecto de subjuntivo’, or from any invitation of Spanish-related programmes organised in Calcutta on a regular basis. One of my teachers used to arrange frequent programmes from embassies, consulates, on various competitions and photo exhibitions. I always tried to participate in them as and when given the opportunity. During this journey, I got the opportunity to act in five Spanish plays as the protagonist, under a few directors from Spain as well. I worked very hard and diligently, used every moment in the day, until I went to bed at night. In the initial days, I still recall that I used to practise conversation in front of the mirror, and later I used to go to a famous cafe at Sudder Street, Calcutta which foreigners frequent (mostly people from Hispanic countries). I would meet with them, and try to converse with them in broken Spanish. In this way, my journey began advancing step by step.

I do not know any other foreign languages. I started learning Spanish at a late age and immediately fell in love with this language. I was fascinated and mesmerized from the very first day, and the fascination still continues to this day. I am able to understand a certain level of Italian or Portuguese since they are very similar to Spanish.

Sometimes, I also translate from English. Recently, I translated a Maldivian story from English to Bengali which is published in an important E-Magazine.

 

KM: Do you have a particular philosophy of translation and what are some of the challenges you face while translating writing from Spanish into Bengali?

JC: Well, I have a simple philosophy while translating. Frankly speaking, if the source touches my heart and brain, I decide to translate that content. I always try to view my translation from the readers’ angle or point of view only. Having said that, I must share with you that many challenges still exist. I think, to translate a literature, you must know the culture of the particular country and its people. Language automatically evolves from one’s culture.

I would like to share one of my experiences here. Once, I was translating Rosario Barahona Michel’s (Bolivian) novel, where I found many Christian religious connotations. Here in this part of India (Calcutta or West Bengal), readers are mostly aware of Hindu or Muslim connotations, and not much of other religions. So I studied to know them in detail, tried to imbibe the spirit, and brought them as smoothly as possible for Bengali readers.

 

KM: What kind of writing is the most difficult to translate from Spanish to Bengali? What kind of material do you most enjoy translating?

JC: My observation in this is that new age writers use metaphors and allusions, very frequently, from the myths, legends or animals of their country, especially references to the aboriginal people. We have seen Nauhatl influence in Carlos Fuentes’ literature or Guarani or Aymara influence in Miguel Angel Astutias’ literature. Now, my challenge comes when I want to make my readers comfortable in their understanding. At the last Calcutta Book fair, I translated Gladys Mercedes Acevedo’s Argentinian novel ‘Las Tres Muertes de Camilla,’ which had numerous Guarani myths. By the way, I keep on taking help from the writer while translating just to ensure the comfort and understanding for the reader to comprehend fully the writer’s meaning, after my translation.

All the sources are not universal urban writings from writers like Roberto Bole├▒o or Javier Cercas or Mario Vargas Llosa, although I do enjoy translating this type of writing very much. And of course, poetry. In fact, poems came to me first when I began translating. Till date, I have translated more than 100 poems of poets from various countries of the Hispanic world, and three collections of Nicanor Parra (Chile), Gabriela Mistral (Chile) and Carla Fabri (Paraguay).

 

KM: What kind of projects are you currently working on?

JC: Recently I have completed translating a novel by a Uruguayan writer, and currently I am translating an anthology of contemporary stories of revolts of various Latin American countries, and two collections by poets from two different countries (Honduras and Colombia). I do have a few other projects currently running in tandem.

 

KM: I understand you have written poems in Spanish. What kind of poetry do you write? Any specific themes?

JC: I write in Bengali, and so far, I have written one novel and one and half books of poetry in Bengali. These poems are included in a printed collection of poems entitled “PRAKRITA SARASI”, along with four other women poets. I have sixteen poems in that collection, and one solo E-Book. Anyway, I have also written a few poems in Spanish, some of which will be published within a couple of months in a Cuban blog, and translated into Portuguese in a magazine from Portugal. The central theme of my poems is mainly love. However, I prefer more of a philosophical approach to this theme.

 

KM: Please add any other comments to your responses.

JC: I was really taken aback, and amused too, when Nabanita informed that you are interested to conduct an interview with me. I was not aware about you, but who doesn’t know the greatest post-colonial English language Indian poet, Nissim Ezekiel? You are his daughter! Then I plunged into your work and also found that the magazine Setu was started solely to promote literature. I felt extremely happy to learn about your poetry, and the magazine too. I do hope that we will work together in future for the prosperity of translation literature.

Thank you, and I pray to the Almighty for your good health, peace and tranquility of the world which is affected severely by COVID pandemic.

 

Kavita and Jaya are jointly translating Nissim Ezekiel’s poetry into Spanish.
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Bionote: Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca was born and raised in a Jewish family in Mumbai. She was educated in Mumbai, with Masters’ Degrees in English and Education, from India and the U.K. Her career spanned over four decades, teaching English, French and Spanish. Her first book, Family Sunday and Other Poems was published in 1989. Her poems have appeared in various publications. Kavita is the daughter of the late poet, Nissim Ezekiel.