2009/3/28 Frederick [FN] Noronha * फ्रेडरिक न <[email protected]>

>
> Check the Saligao link here, even if slender. FN
>
> An Ode to Joseph Furtado
>
> By Augusto Pinto
> [email protected]
>
>          There is no statue to mark the memory of Joseph
>          Furtado. A pity; for his patrician looks and his
>          long flowing beard would have made a fine figure.
>          The house in Pilerne where he passed his childhood
>          is in ruins. Only a few of the oldest residents
>          have any recollection of him and fewer are aware
>          that he was one of the finest Indian English poets
>          of his time. We are fortunate that many of his
>          poems still survive -- though they only just
>          survive in a few slim volumes in Central Library's
>          rare book section.
>
> It is curious that a boy coming from a literary back-land
> could turn out to be a poet -- and that too in English.
>
> Philip Furtado, his son, in a biographical note in the 1983
> Journal of South Asian Literature's Special Issue on Goan
> Literature, wrote that after passing the primeiro grau [the
> Portuguese primary school exam] and apart from a year at a
> Latin school in Saligao, his early education was conducted
> mainly at home.
>
> Perhaps this was a good thing, for Joseph was known to be a
> sensitive child and the aesthetic tastes he was to develop
> may well have been crushed by the drudgery of a mechanical
> schooling.
>
> Incidentally Furtado was also to write poetry in Portuguese.
>
> Later Furtado was to make a switch to a third language, when
> he was enrolled at the English medium St. Francis of Sales
> School in Nagpur for two years followed by an eight month
> stint at Sir J. J. School of Art in Bombay. In 1890, he
> joined the Great Indian Peninsular Railway at Jubbulpore [as
> it was spelt then] and went on to become a draughts-man in the
> Engineer's office, a fairly important position. It was during
> this period that he began to read the classics of world
> literature and subsequently began writing.
>
>          He published his first collection of poems in 1910
>          and by 1927, when A Goan Fiddler was published in
>          England, he already had four volumes of poems to
>          his credit. A Goan Fiddler had a preface by Sir
>          Edmund Gosse, the most influential critic in
>          England at that time, and the book received warm
>          reviews. Furtado, then published The Desterrado
>          (1929); Songs of Exile (1938) and Selected Poems
>          (1939) besides a historical novel Golden Goa
>          (1938).
>
> For a man to whom it was not even a second but a third
> language, Furtado had a remarkable ear for the sounds of
> English. In this he is unlike most Indian poets, who prefer
> to work with images; and only a Sarojini Naidu can come close
> to match him this respect.
>
> Listen to the music of 'At Break of Day':
>
> At break of day
> In pleasant spring
> When on each spray
> The blithe birds sing
> While half awake
> In bed you lie
> And one kiss take
> Of her close by ...
>
> Only a master of rhyme, rhythm and meter could be so
> felicitous and using this gift, Furtado was capable of
> transcribing the sounds emanating from his Indian environment
> into his verses. In 'The Brahmin Girl' for instance, he
> observes:
>
> Mohini sweet, Mohini neat
> So maddening to behold
> With *kinning chinning* round her feet
> And *fas fis* of the fold.
> [emphasis added]
>
> Keki N. Daruwalla in his 'Introduction' to the influential
> anthology of Indian English poetry, Ten Twentieth Century
> Indian Poets, points out that Furtado was the first to see
> the potential of using 'Indian' English in poetry.
>
>          When using a pidgin or a patois there is always the
>          risk that the poet may end up sounding like an
>          English-educated snob sniggering away at less
>          fortunate people struggling to make their way in
>          the world using an alien language. Even Nissim
>          Ezekiel, the doyen of Indian English poets fell
>          into this trap in his well known 'Farewell to Miss
>          Pushpa T.' or in the following lines from 'The
>          Professor'.
>
> If you are coming again this side by chance
> Visit please my humble residence also
> I am living just on opposite house's backside.
>
> Furtado avoids sounding condescending because of his ability
> to get under the skin of his dramatis personae often using a
> technique called the dramatic monologue. In 'The Old Irani'
> the speaker is ranting at his milk vendor who waters down the
> milk:
>
> Sly rogue, the old Irani
> Has made a lakh they say
> A lakh in land and money
> By mixing milk and pani
>
> What if she bolt away
> The young Madame Irani
> With all the fellow's money
> Beware now Abdul Gani
> Beware of Kala Pani
> And meddle not with money
>
> Like many a Goan, Furtado had to seek his fortune far away
> from the land of his birth and his work in the Railways took
> him to Nagpur, Calcutta and Bombay among other places. But
> Mother Goa was always close to his heart, leading Prof. Lucio
> Rodrigues to call him 'the Poet of Exile'.
>
> Gosse in his 'Introduction' to A Goan Fiddler wrote,"I do not
> know where else to look for an expression of the landscape,
> the habits and the sentiments of that little known country
> Portuguese India."
>
>          Certainly the poet writes of the sights, sounds and
>          smell of his childhood with love. Figures like
>          Pedro the cowherd, Ruzai the tailor and Vishnulal
>          the goldsmith come alive in his verses. But these
>          sketches do not seem parochial or sentimental
>          because of the poet's ability to see the essence of
>          humanness in his subjects.
>
> His verses also shed critical light on the society of his
> times. The irony of The Presentation gives the lie to the
> much romanticized institution of the faithful family retainer
> in his age. The poem depicts a mother depositing her young
> son with a landlady where he is destined to remain a servant.
> Her pleas to the bhatkarni to be considerate to her son, tell
> how the landowners held sway over the lives of the lower
> classes during Portuguese times.
>
> There's the child, dear Mother, near
> He comes not, lest Thou chide him,
> He loves Thee all the same.
> And gladly left off play
> And came here all the way;
> Poor boy, and none to guide him
> None to shelter, but do Thee
> A little corner give him
> A child with gentle ways,
> He will not trouble Thee
> And naught will trouble me
> Dear Mother, when I leave him.
>
> Many of his poems have an autobiographical ring about them.
>
> In the 1920s, he came to Goa to settle down, but got
> embroiled in a dispute over a village creek where he
> championed the cause of the villagers of Pilerne. This made
> him the target of a brutal assault by some influential
> persons. However none of his neighbours came to his aid and
> in disgust he left his village for good.
>
> This perhaps accounts for the undercurrent of bitterness in
> The Desterrado and Songs of Exile In 'Birds and Neighbours'
> he writes in an epigrammatic style that would have made
> Robert Frost proud:
>
> When I was young and went all day
> Bird-nesting, oft would neighbours say
> "Those birds will be his ruin"
> 'Tis not with age my hair is grey
> And well might birds now turn and say
> "'Tis all his neighbours' doin'."
>
> The poet had a sharp eye for for recording the ways of the
> world in an apparently naive manner. 'First Love' takes a
> quiet but sarcastic swipe at the snobbery of society as it
> depicts a man who wants to see, once again, a girl he was
> infatuated with when he was young. But not to get married,
> for he now realises she is lower down the social ladder:
>
> I could not but desire
> To see for once the maid who could
> A love so deep inspire
> Not that I wished to wed her now
> Such changes time had wrought
> In me I durst not link my name
> To one with such a blot
> Since well I knew unheralded were
> The riches of her house,
> Her mother's sister had besides
> Profaned her marriage vows.
>
> Furtado was especially critical, although often in a  sly or
> humorous way of patriarchal norms and the restrictions
> different communities placed on their women, in poems such as
> 'The Brahmin Girl' 'The Mullah's Daughter' and 'The Pariah
> Girl'. 'Kismet' tells the story of a prostitute resigned to
> her fate while 'The Neglected Wife' explores the frustrations
> of a young wife is left at home by a husband who has to seek
> employment in a far off land -- a phenomenon that occurs in
> Goa even today.
>
>          While his social concerns are apparent in his
>          poetry although he is never too preachy, it is in
>          his only novel Golden Goa that his social vision
>          and political views become quite overt. The plot
>          revolves around a love affair between a Christian
>          and a Hindu during the decadent Portuguese rule of
>          the 16th century. The story contrasts the good
>          works of the Jesuit missionary and later saint,
>          Francis Xavier, on the one hand with the horrors of
>          the Inquisition [which incidentally St. Francis
>          Xavier himself invited] on the other.
>
> In this book, Furtado takes a series of pot shots against the
> foreign rulers. At one time, quoting Robert Sewell he writes,
> "The Europeans seemed to think they had a divine right to the
> pillage, robbery and massacre of the natives of India. Not to
> mince matters their whole record is one of a series of
> atrocities." He continues, "If humanity be a proof of
> civilisation Indians at that time were more civilized than
> the Portuguese."
>
> It would be a pity if the memory of this distinguished
> literary artist from Goa were to disappear without a trace.
>
> One way of honouring Joseph Furtado would be to erect a
> statue to him. But the poet himself would surely have
> appreciated it more if a fresh collection of his best works
> were brought out and bought by every lover of Goa.
>
> However, who will pay the printer?
>
> Augusto Pinto is a book review, translator (from Konkani to
> English) and lecturer in English. He is based at 40, Novo
> Portugal, Moira, Bardez, Goa, India E [email protected] or
> [email protected] P +91-832-2470336 M +91-9881126350
>
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> "I quit therapy because my analyst was trying to help me behind my
> back." - Richard Lewis
>
> >
>


-- 
It's one thing to feel that you are on the right path , but it's another to
think that yours is the only path.
Paulo Coelho

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