Goodbye Party for Miss Pushpa TS

Friends,
our dear sister
is departing for foreign
in two three days,
and
we are meeting today
to wish her bon voyage.

You are all knowing, friends,
what sweetness is in Miss Pushpa.
I don’t mean only external sweetness
but internal sweetness.
Miss Pushpa is smiling and smiling
even for no reason
but simply because she is feeling.

Miss Pushpa is coming
from very high family.
Her father was renowned advocate
in Bulsar or Surat,
I am not remembering now which place.

Surat? Ah, yes,
once only I stayed in Surat
with family members
of my uncle’s very old friend,
his wife was cooking nicely…
that was long time ago.

Coming back to Miss Pushpa
she is most popular lady
with men also and ladies also.
Whenever I asked her to do anything,
she was saying, ‘Just now only
I will do it.’ That is showing
good spirit. I am always
appreciating the good spirit.
Pushpa Miss is never saying no.
Whatever I or anybody is asking
she is always saying yes,
and today she is going
to improve her prospect
and we are wishing her bon voyage.

Now I ask other speakers to speak
and afterwards Miss Pushpa
will do summing up.

– Nissim Ezekiel

Submitted by:

Tia, who says “A colleague showed me this poem, I think for Indians in general it needs no explanation as to what Ezekiel is doing!”

Postscript:

I like a number of Ezekiel poems, and one of the things common to most of them is how he manages to pick out a convincingly Indian-sounding voice when writing in English. Sometimes he does a bang-up job of using the right phrase, at other times it sounds clunky, or not quite right somehow.

On a personal note, I’ve been guilty of this exact phenomenon on occasion, except that I transliterate from English into Tamil, and then realise after the fact just how wrong it sounds. It’s getting better, but I can sympathise, commiserate, what have you, with the narrative voice.

You can hear the poem being read out loud here. We’ve run other poems by Ezekiel. You can read a short bio of Nissim Ezekiel here and a longer obituary piece here.

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Published:
August 4, 2011 – 08:00
Author:
By Madhu
Categories:
Comments:
2 Comments

Gotta Have You

Gray, quiet and tired and mean
Picking at a worried seam
I try to make you mad at me over the phone
Red eyes and fire and signs
I’m taken by a nursery rhyme
I want to make a ray of sunshine and never leave home

No amount of coffee, no amount of cryin’
No amount of whiskey, no amount of wine
No no no no no, nothing else will do
I’ve gotta have you, I’ve gotta have you

The road gets cold, there’s no spring in the middle this year
I’m the new chicken plucking open hearts and ears
Oh, such a prima donna, sorry for myself
But green, it is also summer
And I won’t be warm till I’m lying in your arms

No amount of coffee, no amount of cryin’
No amount of whiskey, no amount of wine
No no no no no, nothing else will do

I’ve gotta have you, I’ve gotta have you

I see it all through a telescope: guitar, suitcase, and a warm coat
Lying in the back of the blue boat, humming a tune

No amount of coffee, no amount of cryin’
No amount of whiskey, no wine
No no no no no, nothing else will do
I’ve gotta have you, I’ve gotta have you

No amount of coffee, no amount of cryin’
No amount of whiskey, no amount of wine
No no no no no, nothing else will do
I’ve gotta have you, I’ve gotta have you

I’ve gotta have you, gotta have you
I’ve gotta have you

– Weepies

Submitted by:
Meera, who says this is one of her favorite songs.

Postscript:

The lyrics remind me somewhat of country music in parts – the idea of lost love, hopeless longing and so on. Not the blues, though I’m not quite sure why – unrequited love is as commonplace a theme in that genre.

It’s funny how I keep hearing a cowboy singing the refrain “No amount of coffee, no amount of cryin’
No amount of whiskey, no amount of wine”. It just doesn’t sound right sung in such young voices – it’s got to be someone with a rasp, who’s got a bit more life under his or her belt.
You can read about the Weepies here. You can hear the song here.

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Published:
August 3, 2011 – 08:00
Author:
By Madhu
Categories:
Comments:
None

A True Poem

I’m working on a poem that’s so true, I can’t show it to anyone.

I could never show it to anyone.

Because it says exactly what I think, and what I think scares me.

Sometimes it pleases me.

Usually it brings misery.

And this poem says exactly what I think.

What I think of myself, what I think of my friends, what I think about my lover.

Exactly.

Parts of it might please them, some of it might scare them.

Some of it might bring misery.

And I don’t want to hurt them, I don’t want to hurt them.

I don’t want to hurt anybody.

I want everyone to love me.

Still, I keep working on it.

Why?

Why do I keep working on it?

Nobody will ever see it.

Nobody will ever see it.

I keep working on it even though I can never show it to anybody.

I keep working on it even though someone might get hurt.

– Lloyd Schwartz

Postscript:

I find several things appealing about the poem; the idea of a poem so true it hurts, of how sometimes the truth hurts people, but the narrator can’t stop writing the poem. This raises the question then – is it that the truth is so compelling, that it is a relief, or that the narrator needs the satisfaction of the truth even if only in private?
You can read a short bio of Schwartz here. You can read an interesting interview of him talking about Elizabeth Bishop here.

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Published:
August 1, 2011 – 08:00
Author:
By Madhu
Categories:
Comments:
None