Farrukh Dhondy (pictured) has often said he is not a poet but a versifier. This comment does not hold true on a reading of his latest collection of sonnet sequences, Grannies, Groins and Growing Up. This book is yet another achievement for a writer who has scripted screenplays, published fiction, short stories and recently a translation of the poet Rumi. The book, which has been sub-titled "Sonnets from early memories,” has charming photographs of the young Dhondy and his family, and delightful illustrations by Feroze Antia.
Dhondy portrays his grandparents and parents, the subject of many of his sonnets, with great affection. In "A further education,” Mamawaji (maternal grandfather), whose word was law, decides that Shireen, Dhondy’s mother, having completed her schooling should "‘Stay home and learn to cook and clean and sew,’” as girls don’t go to college — "‘they become child-bearing wives.’” This thought is anathema to Shireen who has other plans. A visit from the English headmistress who comes to the Parsi neighborhood, much to the curiosity of the other residents, convinces the old man that Shireen would greatly improve her marriage prospects with further education and "granddad immediately changed his tune.”
In "Floating eggs,” Dhondy paints a delightful portrait of his grandmother, a feisty lady who would mercilessly bargain with vendors of vegetables and eggs "over every anna and pice/ To minimize the miserable price.” Bargaining for her was "free and fair” and she threatened to complain to the police if their scales had "some hidden weights attached.” This practice was not to derive monetary profit but to establish "who got/ The better of the other.” Dhondy rekindles our memories and hearkens back to the time when eggs were sold at the door and the women of the house would immerse them in pans of water to establish if they were fresh: "if they sink/ They are edible.”
Dhondy’s father, an army man, tolerated no nonsense. He was horrified when Farrukh belched loudly at the table or used foul language. In "Pigeons’ picnic,” Farrukh and his sister "started to howl/ And scream” when the gingerbread men their mother was baking developed cracks; the father collected the gingerbread men, crushed them and scattered the crumbs for pigeons on the roof saying: "‘Let’s prepare/ Our ginger men for those who want them — where/ They’ll be appreciated though they’re crumbs.’”
In several sonnets, Dhondy skillfully evokes the Poona of his adolescence, through his perceptive and affectionate observations of the city and the inhabitants. In "Jai Shambho,” he fondly remembers the man (from whom he learnt to belch) who made bhajias at Sarbatwalla Chowk, pouring the batter into boiling oil and making "Mystical stirring patterns with a spoon.” In "Boogoo,” in addition to recreating memories of the streets of this city, he reminds us of the man, scraping his curved bow on a crude drum, who used to "predict facts/ And futures” with a "Brahmini bull.”
In "Crotch,” he vividly describes the burning sensation around his crotch. Ten-year-old Farrukh is sure he had "caught the clap despite/ Having never had sex.” He is initially afraid to confide in anyone and finally goes to the chemist and buys Nixoderm, which he had heard advertised on Radio Ceylon and which was "Guaranteed to end all skin troubles or/ Money back.” This only exacerbated the problem till his servant Hukum Ali diagnosed it as dhobi’s itch. An irate Farrukh goes back to the chemist for "money back” as is promised in the advertisement but his efforts were derailed: "When the attendant with a friendly grin/ Asked how she could help. What was I to say?/ The saga of the crotch? — I turned away!”
In some sonnets, he describes the pranks that he played: in "Leaden mangoes,” he takes revenge on a neighbor who wields a poison pen to sully the reputation of his sister by shooting lead pellets into the mangoes hanging from his trees; in "Flights,” he plays cricket against the widow, Mrs Khambatta’s wall just to provoke her "inventive tongue.” In "Chips,” he steals some marble chips from the Anglican graveyard. When he confesses to his servant, she tells him that the graveyard is haunted by the ghosts of the dead British and his "theft can raise/ Their specters.” The agony and the angst that the young Farrukh suffers is convincingly depicted as well as his confusion; when he decides to return the marble chips, he is unable to recall from which grave he had stolen them. He drops them in terror at the nearest grave. As he makes his getaway, he wonders: "But could the distance clear me of the deed?/ And had I learnt some lesson about greed?”
However, what comes through very clearly in the book is Dhondy’s sympathetic concern for the poorer and disadvantaged. In "Tops and tails,” he writes very compassionately about two starving boys, one of whom is so thin that his stomach bends "Inwards as though it would meet his back bone.” The boys follow the cook, Hukum Ali, in the hope of eating some of the ends of the ladies’ fingers which are chopped and discarded. Hukum felt that he ought: "To cut larger bits off the bhindi’s ends/ For them to gather in their shirts and take/ The wretched bits to eat...”
Once again, his family shows great compassion to Chandri, a young girl from a scheduled caste laboring on a road outside. His grandmother allows Chandri to drink water from their house and learns her sad story. She was orphaned before she was 10 and taken in by an uncle who "Sold her in a ‘marriage’ to an old man” who later died and, in his will, ordained that she be cremated along with him. Chandri managed to escape by offering sexual favors to a young boy who was guarding her. Now, she has lost her job as she refused the mukkadam who wanted sexual favors from her. Dhondy describes in a sympathetic manner how she is adopted by the family as a servant and her gratitude for this kindness.
Dhondy skillfully uses the Shakespearean sonnet form comprising three verses of four lines each and a couplet. The meaning is often incomplete at the end of the line though the thought flows from one line to another, one quatrain to another, and often from one sonnet to another in the sonnet sequence. To rhyme with "last,” he even inventively breaks up the word ‘disast-er.”
The book is a delight to read and demonstrates Dhondy’s skills as a poet, not a versifier.