Two Poems by Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca

 

This is the City

(After the Nursery Rhyme, ‘This is the house that Jack Built.’)

This is the city my father loved

That he called home, that wrote his poems,

That created the slums, that built the skyscrapers

That jammed the trains, that crowded the buses

Where he walked the streets - that somebody built.

 

This is the city that I have loved

Where I was born where I was raised

Where I ran for the buses, in four-inch heels

Danced in discos all night long, studied in the colleges, sang in choirs

Dated the boys, then married a man - that I loved.

 

This is the city where I lived by the sea

Ate street food, shopped fiercely, listened to Rock music

Read Enid Blyton, Ayn Rand, borrowed from friends,

Practiced for Sports Day, studied for exams - that I did not love.

 

This is the city that I have left, I know not why, I cannot remember

This is the city lodged in my soul, something stuck in a tooth, I cannot remove.

This is the city that I still love, with its dust and grime, will always be mine

That I must in Hindi call ‘Bombay Meri Jaan’, meaning Bombay my love

A city whose name I no longer can pronounce - that is now called Mumbai.

 (First published in Verse-Virtual)

 

Give me Oil in my Lamp

Grandmother took me to the old synagogue

Walking down the pot-holed sidewalks

Of a noisy Bombay street, close to her home,

Every square inch populated with humanity.

 

The oil lamp in the very old synagogue

hung high from the ceiling

For a few rupees we could keep the light burning.

 

She was afraid to climb the ladder

provided by the caretaker

In case she missed a step,

I was afraid for her too.

So he took the donation and lit the lamp.

I must cover my head with a handkerchief

she would pray to the prophet Elijah

for the oil never to run out,

The lamp must never die out.

 

Wanting to know in whose name he could make the receipt

(I did not have a Jewish name)

‘Change it for the receipt’, she said, matter of factly

‘Or the caretaker will get confused’.

So I went from being called Kavita to Elizabeth

For the sake of a two rupee receipt

I really did not want, or need.

Mother did want to name me Elizabeth, I recall.

 

“It’s ok. When you get home

You can go back to your real name

Or your father will be upset”, grandmother said calmly.

 (First published in Verse-Virtual)

Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca - In a career spanning over four decades, Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca has taught English in Indian colleges, AP English in an International School nestled in the foothills of the Himalayan mountains in India, and French and Spanish in private schools in Canada. Her poems are featured in various journals and anthologies, including the Journal Of Indian Literature published by the Sahitya Akademi and the Yearbook of Indian Poetry in English. Kavita has authored two collections of poetry, ‘Family Sunday and Other Poems’ and ‘Light of The Sabbath.’ Her poem ‘How To Light Up a Poem,’ was nominated for a Pushcart prize in 2020. Kavita is the daughter of the late poet Nissim Ezekiel. Her name Kavita means poem in Sanskrit.  She was born and raised in Bombay, India, and currently lives in Calgary, Canada. Many of her poems celebrate the city of her birth and her Indian Jewish heritage.