Eunice de Souza had a way of belonging

GOA: A string of modern and contemporary Goan artists like F N Souza, Vasudeo Gaitonde and

Angelo da Fonseca

are universally acclaimed as world class, easily amongst the very best India has ever produced. But that is not the case with Goan writers of the same vintage. The standout exception was the bold, brilliant poet Eunice de Souza, who died peacefully on Saturday at her home in Vakola, a suburb of Mumbai, aged 77.

Equally feared and beloved across 30 highly influential years teaching at Mumbai’s St Xaviers College (where she retired as Head of the Department of English), de Souza leaves a formidable legacy as poet, critic, journalist, translator and editor. She was born and raised in Pune’s small Goan community (which she fled as soon as she could), earned a Masters degree from

Marquette University

in the USA, and held a doctorate from the University of Mumbai. Right until the end, she wrote a weekly column for Mumbai Mirror, which showcased an undiminished appetite for new books and writing, as well as consistently superb taste and a wonderfully unbiased open mind.

Though already established amongst India’s leading literary intellectuals for decades, the first time de Souza was officially invited to her ancestral homeland was in 2007, for a reading associated with the pathbreaking, monumental art exhibition ‘Aparanta’, curated by Ranjit Hoskote. Visibly delighted to share her poems, she also spoke about conflicted, “different ways of belonging” that connected her to Goa, and similarly affected Goan relationships with India. Those thoughts became the guiding principle of a new Goa Arts + Literature Festival (GALF), which she attended with tremendous pleasure in 2012, earning herself an entire new generation of fervent fans, including the Shillong-based rock music legend,

Lou Majaw

.

Many of Eunice de Souza’s best poems skewer Goan attitudes and hypocrisies, drawing blood even decades after being written. They drew complaints from the first. In her outstanding, generous inaugural address at GALF 2012, the poet said, “When I wrote a number of poems, critical in some ways of Goans, I was told by a student that a priest has denounced them from a pulpit at St Peter’s in

Bandra

. When I told the poet Adil Jussawalla this he said if I continued in the way I was going, I would soon be denounced from St Peter’s in Rome!”

That kind of sly humour characterized de Souza’s writing, and marvellously broad-minded world view. Separately she wrote, “Colonialism tends to be associated with oppression. But I cannot say I have ever felt oppressed either by British or Portuguese colonialism. Both cultures gave as much as they took. And I am perfectly happy to have a sense of Catholic connection (though I’m not a practicing one), a Lusitanian connection, an English Lit connection.”

Just as important as her sharp, exceptional body of verse, de Souza was a significant anthologist whose efforts have greatly enriched our understanding of Indian literature, especially that created by women. Entirely unique volumes of immense scholarship like ‘Purdah: An Anthology’ (2004), ‘Early Indian Poetry in English: An Anthology 1829-1947 (2005), and ‘Women’s Voices: Selections from Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Century Indian Writing in English (2004)’ revived and championed dozens of writers and poets who had become obscure and forgotten.

It is already wholly apparent a similar fate will not befall Eunice de Souza, whose death was met with a sustained and immensely moving chorus of tributes across social media and the press.

Like her late contemporary Arun Kolatkar, it is likely lasting international acclaim and recognition will arrive posthumously. Not that the late, great poet had any regrets whatsoever.

She knew her impact, and relished it. In her last book of poems, the exquisite ‘Learn from the Almond Leaf’, she warned the very landscape what would happen to it when the time came to receive her remains, “Fling my ashes in the Western Ghats/They’ve always seemed like home/ May the leopards develop/ A taste for poetry/ The crows and kites learn/ To modulate their voices/ May there be mist and waterfalls/ Grass and flowers/ In the wrong season.”