-Brian Mendonça
What does it
mean to be a writer? What do other writers think about their calling? How to
juggle one’s umpteen responsibilities with being a writer? These were some of
the questions that raced through my mind as I headed from Nuvem on a Saturday
afternoon for the Writers Meet at Pernem, 4-5 March 2017.
An
initiative of the Institute Menezes Braganza, Panjim, the programme felicitated
creative writers across languages in Goa and invited them to speak about their
work. The proceedings were conducted in Konkani. When the writers were invited
to introduce themselves, they did so in Konkani, many in Marathi, one in Hindi,
and one, me, in English.
One of the
languages missing was Portuguese. This amnesia seemed to close the door to a
shared linguistic and cultural heritage. Languages need to be nurtured for
their own sake. I felt that I could articulate the occident through my poetry
and prose. I had already used Portuguese in my debut volume of poems Last Bus to Vasco: Poems in Transit (2006).
The legacy of a language lives on in the life of a poet. Times change, people
change, a language evolves.
Many of the
writers around me, were stalwarts in their own sphere. However I had not read
any of them in English translation. Some writers spoke at length of their work
in translation, viz. translating sacred texts from Konkani to Gujarati. None
spoke about any translations into English. Here was a market waiting for them,
since they were already big names in the Konkani firmament. A few writers in
Goa have made impressive forays into the English-speaking world by securing
publishers who bring out their works in English translation.
As the
writers made their introductions I listened to what their other lives were.
There were around fifty of us with an equal number of gents and ladies. Ladies
sat mostly in their finery and saris facing the dais to the right, gents sat to
the left somewhat outclassed, except for a senior writer resplendent in his red
kurta-pyjama.
The
overnight weekend getaway was held in the sylvan surroundings of Heera farm, at
Ozri, Dhargal. Here in the northern tip of Goa, writers came across as normal human
beings. Some worked in the bank; some were teaching languages and literature in
schools and colleges; others were writing fulltime or travelling to
neighbouring states to pursue writing assignments. Many of them had retired.
But they kept themselves glowing and active. The silver-haired gent beside me
specialized in making wines – no less than twenty varieties. Many writers were
involved in social work, viz. dealing with special children, or remedial
teaching.
The Writers
Meet inspired us. It gave us a reason to live – and a reason to write. There
were thought-provoking sessions like ‘Why do I write? / For whom do I write?’
and ‘E-literature: enemy or friend?’ An
early-morning yoga session was scheduled, ‘as writers need to be fit to write.’
A variety programme was specially put up for us. Thank you IMB.
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Published in Gomantak Times Weekender, St. Inez, Goa on Sunday, 16 April 2017.
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