Tribute to Papa by Mamta Kalia (2024)

book excerptise: a book unexamined is wasting trees

Tribute to Papa

Mamta Kalia

Kalia, Mamta;

Tribute to Papa

Writers Workshop Calcutta 1970 Rs.10

topics:| poetry | india | single-author | english

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25 Father's Day Poems That'll Make You & Your Dad Tear Up

I first ran into this book at the Kern library in Leiden, Holland, where Iam sure it had not been disturbed for many years.

At the time I had never heard of Mamta Kalia, though later I found thatshe had appeared in several anthologies I already had. Her earthy poemsseemed to speak to me much more eloquently than many other better knownnames.

This volume was published from Kolkata in 1970, a period of ferment whenIndian English was emerging as a language for poetry - see, for instance,the vigorous strangertime ed. Pritish Nandy, whichincludes four poems from this book, plus two more. I also found heranthologized in Eunice De Souza's Nine Indian Women Poets (seven fromthis book, two others). More recently, she appears in Jeet Thayil's 60 Indian poets(two from Tribute, plus four from later works).

This is Mamta's first book, but there is a vividness and lightness abouther writing, together with a lack of finesse that makes it more appealing.Her style is direct, and others may find her lacking in grace, but thevoice speaks to the heart, and there is none of the overworkedpretentiousness accompanying many more modern voices.

Unfortunately for Indian English, it appears she is writing mostly in Hindithese days, since she moved to Allahabad, the "nerve center of Hindi writing."

Excerpts

Tribute to Papa : p.9-10

Who cares for you, Papa?Who cares for your clean thoughts, clean words, clean teeth?Who wants to be an angel like you?Who wants it?You are an unsuccessful man, Papa.Couldn’t wangle a cosy place in the world.You have always lived a life of limited dreams.I wish you had guts PapaTo smuggle eighty thousand watches at a stroke,And I'd proudly say, "My father's in import-export business, you know."I'd be proud of you then.But you've always wanted to be a model man,A sort of an ideal.When you can't think of doing anything,You start praying,SPending useless hours at the temple.You want me to be like you, Papa,Or like Rani Lakshmibai.You're not sure what greatness is,But you want me to be great.I give two donkey-claps for greatness.And three for Rani Lakshmibai.These days I am seriously thinking of disowning you, Papa,You and your sacredness.What if I start calling you Mr. Kapur, Lower Division Clerk, Accounts Section?Everything about you clashes with nearly everything about meYou suspected I am having a love affair these daysBut you're too shy to have it confirmedWhat if my tummy starts showing graduallyAnd I refuse to have it curettedBut I’ll be careful, Papa,Or I know you’ll at once think of suicide.

Sheer good luck p.11

So many thingscould have happened to me.I could have been kidnappedat the age of sevenand ravaged bydirty-minded middle-aged men.I could have been married offto a man with a bad smelland turned frigid as a frigidaire.I could have beenan illiterate womanputting thumb-printson rent-receipts.But nothing ever happened to meexcept two childrenand two miscarriages.

Compulsions

I want to pick my nosein a public placeI want to sit in my office chairwith my feet upI want to slap the boywho makes love in a cafewhile I wait alone for the waiterto bring me coffee·and sandwich~I want to pay· Sunday visitstotally undressedI want to throw awayall my cosmeticsI want to revealmy real age

Viewpoint p.13

I was born upside downand I'm very proud of it.Not that I walk onmy head or talk with my toes,but I swear I feel comfortablein the world as it is.(In school I believed it had something to dowith how my parents made love.)Once I did stand upbut I found everything down:prices, politics, love.So I stood on my head againand struck a tidy bargain.

Brat p.20

Looking at my navelI'm reminded of you, Mamma.How I lay suspendedBy that cordial cord inside you.I must have been a rattish thing,A wriggly roll of shallow breath.You, perhaps, were hardly proudOf your creativity —Except for the comfortThat I looked like PapaAnd not like the neighbourWho shared our bathroom.

Against Robert Frost p.21

I can't bear to read Robert Frost.Why should he talk of apple pickingWnen most of us can't afford to eat one?I haven't even seen an apple for many months --Whatever we save we keep for beerAnd contraceptives.

Dedicated Teacher

It seems funny at times-I've rarely seen a mountain,~a forest or a riveryet I teach geography.I'm working for a PhD these days.Even if I knowI'll never complete the thesis,never mind,that I'm registered is enough.I'll talk my lungs out about it.It's all to wangle a Readership, you see.The University needs me. 

Sunday song p.24

The calendar has just droppeda Sunday in my roomI'm puzzled how to hold onto this long vacant day.There's a lot of dirty linenand many pending phone calls.On the table, there's a shaky mountainofbooks,and I have to wash my hair too.I know I won't attend to any of these.Every now and thenI'll ask my room-mate the time,and pretend to be sleepy.I know that in other roomsthe girls are dressing up devotedly.Looking at them you can easily tellwith whom they plan to go out.But ask them and they will say,"A cousin has come from Bhavnagar."I wonder at the emptiness of this Sundayand of all Sundays.It was never like thiswhen you were here.We'd rise late, sip each other's tea,bathe together,quarrel,all in a few hours.We'd go places, visit friends, eat bhel puri,We'd come back, make love again, call it a day.I don't know how it has happenedbut the road seems narrower without you,and the sea less dignified.I can't talk to a soulwithout mentioning you.You know how it bores them.No one wants a moping matron around.In realityall our friends were your friends,all our ideas your ideasall our projects your projects.I followed you like a corollary.Now I am away from you,missing my handcuffs,feeling stupidon this long unpromising Sunday.

Contents

Tribute to Papa 9Sheer Good Luck 11Compulsions 12Viewpoint 13An Active Life 14Made for Each Other 15Tit for Tat 16New Deal 18Dubious Lovers 19Brat 20Against Robert Frost 21Sunday song 24Positive Thinking 26Seize the Day 27Speechless 28Love Cure 39Matrimonial Bliss 30 And in the evenings you go out I keep hanging onto you like an appendix.Self-pity 31