And how well she summed up England - "there is only wool and salt and snobs and foggy weather."
Of course it's impossible to know someone by a few biographical details and by reading a couple of poems. After five minutes more of research my cosy theories about Vazirani were lying in tatters on the floor.
On July 16, 2003 Vazirani took the life of her two-year-old son and her own at the home of a wealthy writer in a Maryland suburb. Their writs were slashed.
Suddenly my feeling of sadness for a talented writer who I assumed had died of cancer before her time, turned to something else altogether.
Independence by Reetika Vazirani
When I am nine, the British quit
India. Headmaster says, "The Great
Mutiny started it." We repeat,
The Great Mutiny of 1857
in our booming voices. Even
Akbar was Great, even Catherine,
Great! We titter over History. His back
turns: we see his pink spotty neck.
Sorry, the British leaving? we beg.
"This is hardly a joke or a quiz --
sit up and stay alert," he spits.
"It is about the trains and ships
you love and city names. As for me,
I'm old, I'll end in a library,
I began in trade." But you must stay,
we tell him. He lived here as we have lived
but longer. He says he was alive
in Calcutta in 1890. He didn't have
a rich father. A third son, he came with
the Tea Company: we saw a statement
in his office. The company built
the railroads to take the tea "home
to England" so that Darjeeling and Assam
could be sipped by everyone, us and them.
They sold our southern neighbor Ceylon,
silk, pepper, diamonds, cotton.
We make a trade of course. In England
there is only wool and salt and
snobs and foggy weather, Shakespeare.
I think I understand. Everyone in their lives have events or episodes. Some force inside ourselves takes over and runs our lives irregardless of our own will and personality. These episodes can lead to tragic consequences for sure. But for all artists and poets it is this force that brings out the beauty in man so there is something else to think about besides wool,salt,snobs and foggy weather.
ReplyDeleteHer life had such a tragic ending. I can't help but wonder what was torturing her so much that she would resort to taking the life of her child and her own life. How very sad.
ReplyDeletefor sure Suzy, very interesting - but there's beauty in wool, salt, snobs and soggy weather, it's just not obvious. It is sad Daisy and had I researched her more I could have given you more of an idea.
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