Five Poems on
Goa in The Penguin Book of Poems on the Indian City
-Brian Mendonça
Five poems on Goa have been published in The Penguin Book of Poems on the Indian City. Released last week, the collection edited by Bilal Moin, spans 1500 years of Indian poetry. The anthology showcases 37 Indian cities, comprising 375 poems by 264 poets.
Listed under the section ‘PANAJI-PANJIM’ the poems, in sequence are, ‘Last Bus to Vasco’ by Brian Mendonça; Sonnet 30, ‘Near Goa’ by Greece Chunder Dutt; ‘Goa’ by Nandini Sen Mehra; ‘Vagator Beach, Goa, 2018’ by Gopikrishnan Kottoor; and ‘Tea in Panaji’ by Sarabjeet Garcha.
'Last Bus to Vasco' by Brian Mendonça describes his journey on the last bus to Vasco from Panjim. As the tired bus journeys towards its destination, the poet describes the people who board the bus and how important this service is to them. The poem has many colloquialisms in Konkani which have been retained with footnotes. The poem is divided into 3 sections: i. Panjim to Cortalim ii. Ferry crossing over the Zuari river and iii. Cortalim to Vasco. As it nears 9 p.m. the poet frets that his family members will be anxious for him. He decides to call home, only to be greeted by a recorded voice which intones, ‘All-lines-in-this-route-are-busy. Please-call-after-some-time.’
Out of the
nineteenth century comes Greece Chunder Dutt’s sonnet, ‘Near Goa.’ The 14 lines
open with a deserted churchyard where pilgrims rest. The sonnet is framed by
the impact of the Spanish and Portuguese on Goa personified in St. Francis Xavier
and Afonso de Albuquerque. ‘Goa, 2018’ by
Nandini Sen Mehra depicts vignettes of Goa, ‘crumbling church towers,’ women in
rice fields, a house called Gulabo, and ‘Dona Maria at an open window.’ The
flicker of a film brings the poem to a close.
What does it mean
to lose a boy at sea? Gopikrishnan Kottoor grieves over a lad who drowned.
Hugging the boy’s crucifix gives him some solace as he starts his scooter to leave
the place in ‘Vagator Beach, Goa 2018.’ Sarabjeet Garcha experiences love in a
tea cup in ‘Tea in Panaji,’ ‘while we wait to become /a flavour lingering / in
the invisible archer’s mouth.’
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