Remembering Keki N Daruwalla
A range of Indian English poets recall Keki N Daruwalla’s humour, generosity, energy, and of course, the succinctness of his writing in prose and poetry
The death of poet, writer and former IPS officer Keki N Daruwalla at 87 on 26 September has left writers of Indian English poetry saddened as he was an especially revered, kind and supportive mentor.
“He supported everyone... no favourites, no agenda. He treated everybody the same without considering immediate gains. He had no prejudices and belonged to no group. He was equanimous with everybody whether new or famous. That’s why everybody loved him,” said writer and editor Anju Makhija. Above all, she said, he was a warm-hearted elder figure in the largely alienated world of the writer. “It’s a difficult field. You are lonely when you write and when you find genuineness and lightness of spirit, it’s so precious. Whenever I spoke to Keki, I felt I was in the presence of a great soul,” she said recalling that he had once joked that he wanted to be reborn as a jazz musician. “He was keenly aware of the connection between poetry and music,” she said adding that Daruwalla had included her manuscript in a series on new women poets from India when he was associated with the Sahitya Akademi.
A real sense of justicePoet, novelist and editor Priya Sarukkai Chhabria’s work was also published in the same series. “When he was at Sahitya Akademi he published a lot of us for the first time. He got us out there, he gave us a book. That’s the way he used his power.”
“He would go out and say publicly, I like this person’s work. Give her a chance,” she said recalling their first meeting. “He came to a reading I was having in Delhi at the IIC, and then as a good gentleman poet, he asked me to have a chat about my poetry. I remember that when he liked a poem I was reciting, he’d thump the table. That open appreciation was rare,” she said. “Later, he asked if I had a manuscript ready. As an editor too, he was very thorough. He went through it and sent it back to you quickly. He put all his energy into it,” she said.
“At literary events he would often say, making a pun on his name, ‘Let’s meet at Daruwalla’s room for a drink’ and he would be ordering the chips, the snacks, and everyone would be gathered around and would be laughing a lot around him. His kindness, wisdom, courage, these are the things that I will miss so much,” she said adding that he had a real sense of justice as a poet, columnist and an engaged citizen.
Giving Indian English poetry a pushPoet, editor and arts administrator Sukrita Paul Kumar worked with Daruwalla to conceptualise the Poetry Society of India. “Our aim was to give Indian poetry in English a push, and to see that, despite being in English, it was not in an ivory tower,” she said adding that his was always a reassuring presence. “When I became a professor, I felt that teaching poetry would create a problem with my own writing. Then I thought of Keki, who was in the police and who was never shackled by his work. If he could write poetry, why couldn’t I?”
The cage of light has seven bars“It’s been a huge loss for Indian poetry. After Jayanta Mahapatra, we have lost another great poet. We will miss him. I will remember his gentle smile,” said author and diplomat Abhay K. “He had a wry sense of humour; a sophisticated and subtle sense of humour. He had a feel for the link between the styles in which poetry is written in the US and UK and what is written in Indian English. Apart from his ability with language, his insights were remarkable – seeing the unusual in the usual,” he said.
Abhay K believes Daruwalla’s poems reflect his experience as a police officer. “He’s writing about places where he was posted. The cases he came across, the people he met. It all came through,” he says adding that he had included Daruwalla’s poem Bars in 100 Great Indian Poems, the anthology he edited. “In it he said that light has seven bars… Being a poet is a way of life. Everybody sees light, but no one sees it as seven bars,” he said.
The shimmer of an aluminium dawnPoet, novelist and journalist CP Surendran recalled Daruwalla’s kindness. “When I went through some bad times, he was there for me. I am reminded of a quote by EM Forster that if he had to choose between his country and his friend, he hoped to have the courage to choose his friend. He was open to younger poets. Besides his warmth, his sense of fair play, his lines were remarkable,” he said quoting from Daruwalla’s The Map Maker:
Perhaps I’ll wake up on some alien shoreIn the shimmer of an aluminium dawn,to find the sea talking to itselfand rummaging among the lines I’ve drawn.
“The phrase “aluminium dawn” is remarkable as is he treating of the afterlife. He gave unusual attention to rhythm, which is lacking in much of contemporary and modern poetry,” he said reminiscing that Daruwalla was “not easily intimidated by what people thought of him”. “He had a certain empathy for people who were somewhat offbeat, inherently artistic. He knew how to move about in large gatherings with a sense of humility. Those virtues are rarely to be seen,” he said adding that Daruwalla did a lot to suppress his hawk eye as an IPS officer and as a journalist. “He tried to soften those things in his writing. It was a deliberate attempt on his part to go away from the behavioural traits which a journalist or an IPS officer must possess. As a poet and prose writer, he has done some considerable work. I don’t think I would pass through Greater Kailash without remembering him,” he said.
Poetry that trod new groundPoet, short story writer and literary curator Rochelle Potkar remarked that Daruwalla’s prose was close to myth. “He rooted his stories in the real but you never know when it went into the mythical,” she said.
“He was hard of hearing but good at listening. He elevated others because he had no fear of small catastrophes. His characters were full of hope and fear. His poetry trod new ground. He looked everywhere. What I like the most are his succinct lines; not a word extra. He was a seeker; almost like an orphan child seeking a parent, and the parent being the Truth,” she said recalling that Daruwalla had generously written the blurb for Bombay Hangovers, her collection of short stories. “He wrote a beautiful simple quote that I was happy to put on the front cover. I have seen him nurturing others and being happy for everyone. What a loss!” she said. “We should celebrate his work; we should read his poetry; we should keep him alive.”
Generous and exacting
“My first book of poems, I shared with Vijay Nambisan, was Gemini, published by Penguin/Viking. Very few people reviewed it. One of those reviews was by Keki Daruwalla,” said poet and novelist Jeet Thayil. “I was struck by the tone of the review. He was generous and exacting without being condescending and patronising. As important as his work as a poet was his reviewing other poets. The tenor of his reviews was never sentimental; It was very nuts and bolts. He spoke about the mechanics of the craft; he knew exactly the lines to quote. I think he felt a certain responsibility towards poets who were making first books. There was nothing personal in his reviews. He was generous and exacting. It was all these qualities that made him a mentor,” he said. “He was at every book launch. He’d come to every gathering of writers. He’d have gatherings to which he’d invite writers. He was a lesson to me in how to grow old in poetic gracefulness.”
A realistic eye and a warm heart
“He found imagery more salient than metaphor – imagery is enough in its raw power, and metaphor is excess. He also worked with metaphor,” says Usha Akella who edited A House of Words, an anthology of reflections, memoirs, and poetics by 30 writers in celebration of Daruwalla’s 87th birthday this year, “In his festschrift, most people had similar things to say about him – satirical, ironical, sharply witty, realistic eye and warm heart. his grasp of global history and his Indian writing made him a remarkable voice,” she said. “Writing that is only rooted in scholarship is of a certain kind. He was rooted in scholarship and also had a wonderful imagination. That’s a very beautiful combination.”
As relaxed as the hawk riding a thermal
Poet and novelist Jerry Pinto says he first heard of Keki Daruwalla when he began reading poetry by Indian poets. “Perhaps I had been shamed by Eunice de Souza’s line:My students think it funnyThat Daruwallas and de Souzas should write poetry. Perhaps I was exploring my lineage. Keki did not figure in my ancestry. His was a powerful voice, comfortable with acts of ventriloquism in which he spoke for conquerors and warriors while I still struggle to find my own voice in each new poem. At his best, Keki could craft a line as taut as the pinions of a predatory bird, as relaxed as the hawk riding a thermal. His was the gift of observation honed with lapidary skill,” he said. Pinto recalled having “several breakfasts” with him at an edition of the Goa Arts and Literary Festival. “He spoke not of himself but of his compeers, of his respect for Nissim Ezekiel who put ten thousand rupees of his own money into each edition of Poetry India, of his admiration of the craft of Adil Jussawalla who he said could turn a walk into a poem because he had a sliver of poetry in his eye, of Kamala Das’ ability to refuse the seductions of irony in order to be true to her emotional states... And in the evening, there was Keki again, glass in hand and Urdu shaayri on his lips.”
A person is not gone until their name is forgotten. And so it is with Keki N Daruwalla and his cohort whose memory will linger with the community of Indian English poets and their readership too.
Suhit Bombaywala’s factual and fictive writing appears in India and abroad. He tweets @suhitbombaywala.