her necklace of skulls

“learn the craft; feelings are not enough.” that advice, from eunice de souza to those considering writing poetry, helps put into perspective her work of the past 30 years. it isn’t advice to be taken lightly either, as a surprisingly large number of graduates from mumbai’s st xavier’s college will attest to. for a few generations of them, de souza was not unlike a prophet — a powerful, sometimes-moody guide to the canon of english literature.

for as long as she taught, and well after she retired in 2000, de souza wrote poetry. she wasn’t sure it was poetry when she began, she says, because she would write ‘jagged pieces’ rather than ‘soft, sensuous and passionate lines.’ her 1979 debut, fix, addressed this in one of its poems: ‘my students think it funny / that daruwallas and de souzas / should write poetry. poetry is faery lands forlorn. women writers miss austen. only foreign men air their crotches.’ it is only 9 years later, after her second collection women in dutch painting appeared, that she started to feel like a poet.

it can’t have been an easy road, given the indifference that continues to surround any publication of poetry in india — as opposed to the buzz even the most awful novels written by iit graduates each year tend to generate. “poetry in english doesn’t get as much attention as even bad fiction in english,” de souza points out. “yet, there are more good poets than there are novelists.” sadly, most publishers haven’t noticed.

they now have solid proof though, with the publication of a necklace of skulls: a collection of all poetry de souza has published to date, including unpublished early and new poems. as a whole, it can still be described by what the australian poet a d hope said about her work, decades ago. what struck him about the poems, he wrote, was ‘their immediacy, their complete impact, their unguarded sense of statement.’

a necklace of skulls certainly is a powerful statement. it showcases a strong personality at work, and moves through a variety of themes, from love and family to the hypocrisy inherent in the roman catholic community — one the poet can comment upon by virtue of being born into it. what shines though it all is the empathy de souza brings. hers aren’t the detached comments of an outsider; they are clearly born of experience, perfected through her learning of the craft. another thing that stands out is the poet’s sense of humour. her art may indict, but with tongue firmly in cheek.

i ask if she thinks we have a tradition of literary criticism in india, when it comes to poetry. “it’s usually poets writing about other poets who write analyses worth reading,” she replies. “almost all the criticism by academics is clueless.”

in her preface to the collection, de souza states: ‘the creative process being what it is, i don’t really know where the poems came from. but i am endlessly grateful that they turned up.’ she’s not the only one.

fledgling (early unpublished poem)
i am grateful
the sparrows have made
my house their home.
all those months they stayed away
i waited for their return.
soon the fledgling will cling
wide-eyed, to the pelmet
as generations of wide-eyed fledglings
have done.
the mother scolds and chatters
forgetting
shadows which circle the sun.