A eulogy to Eunice: An Indian English poet who walked freely with language

Getting to know St Xavier's College's beloved teacher through the poems she left behind

To be a student of English literature at St. Xavier’s College, Mumbai, and not be taught by the legendary poet Eunice de Souza (1940-2017), is the worst kind of misfortune, I am told. She had retired by the time I joined the college but tales and tributes shared by her students, peers and colleagues make me wonder about the kind of teacher she was. Instead of mourning what could have been, I enjoy getting to know her through the poems that she left behind.

 

One of these, titled “Meeting Poets”, is among my all-time favourites. She writes, “Meeting poets I am disconcerted sometimes/ by the colour of their socks/ the suspicion of a wig/ the wasp in the voice/ and an air, sometimes, of dankness.” These lines strike an instant chord, especially because poets are no longer mysterious figures emerging out of their self-imposed solitude only a few times a year. They are easily accessible at literature festivals and on social media platforms. Many of them feel compelled to be there in the hope of selling a few copies.

 

de Souza goes on to write, “Best to meet in poems:/ cool speckled shells/ in which one hears/ a sad but distant sea.” This neat conclusion seems to be a cautionary tale in disguise. One might expect a warm demeanour, and be greeted by a mercurial temperament instead. The incongruence might seem baffling because one tends to expect the object of adulation to be perfect and pleasing, free of the insecurities that human beings tend to struggle with.

 

The college where she taught commemorates her birthday — August 1 — as Poetry Day. This is a momentous occasion because it is rare for poets and teachers to be celebrated in a capitalist system that champions only profitable pursuits. Teaching does not qualify, and neither does poetry. Their value in our lives cannot be summed up in terms of monetary gain. One hopes that this celebration will introduce a new generation of readers to her work.

 

de Souza will be remembered for her distinctive voice, articulating various facets of her life as a woman of letters, a feminist, and a Goan Catholic. Her poems seem free, unlike much other Indian poetry in English, of the need to impress with obscure allusions and pretentious references. Her language is direct, unsentimental and sharp yet so intimate. The poems reflect an acceptance of her place in the world, a sense of ease that is earned.

 

In her poem “Bequest”, we witness a relationship with faith that is playful and irreverent rather than submissive. She writes, “In every Catholic home there’s a picture/ of Christ holding his bleeding heart/ in his hand. / I used to think, ugh.” The poem evokes piety at first, then leaves the reader in a state of shock with the “ugh” placed there to provoke. Clearly, the poet is not interested in being just another sheep in the flock, meekly obeying diktats of church elders — mostly men — who have defined how humans must relate to the divine.

 

In this poem, she goes on to write, “I wish I could be a/ Wise Woman/ smiling endlessly, vacuously/ like a plastic flower, / saying Child, learn from me.” One cannot help chuckling because her sense of humour seems more like gentle ribbing than full-blown satire. There is no doubt that some believers might take umbrage but she is anything but a plastic flower. She reminds us that there is no beauty or fragrance to be had without an encounter with thorns. 

 

For a person whose career revolved around words, she seems acutely aware of the spaces between them and the need to leave those spaces vacant and undisturbed. In her poem titled “It’s time to find a place”, which appears to be addressed to a lover, she writes, “It’s time to find a place/ to be silent with each other. / I have prattled endlessly/ in staff-rooms, corridors, restaurants. / When you’re not around/ I carry on conversations in my head. / Even this poem has forty-eight words too many.” Silence can be a source of discomfort, evoking a feverish urge to fill it with chatter. de Souza invites us to walk away from it, and sit still.

 

 

The author is a journalist, educator and literary critic. Instagram/X: @chintanwriting