There are poetry collections built on an overarching theme. And then, there are those which make you yearn for one. Renowned writer Sheela Jaywant’s distinctly slim newly-released, The First Book Of Indlish Poems (a rather bold claim), is of the second kind for this columnist. I wanted a much more muscular collection of the “recipe verse” that Jaywant has poignantly captured in the nine (of the total 28) poems devoted to a niche universe of seasonings, gravies, dough balls, stews, chutneys and sandwich meals. 

Jaywant, 65, a seasoned writer-translator, pens her poems from diverse personal experiences. She is born in Mumbai, educated in Mahim’s Bombay Scottish and St Xavier’s College, married to a defence service professional who was transferred to distinct corners of India, and settled in Panaji since 2011. Despite being a trailing spouse, she worked in a school, a hotel, a hospital as an administrator and currently, oversees three schools in Goa. The sum total of her appreciation of life reflects in earlier works like Quilted: Stories of Middle Class India.  In fact, the opening poem in the new collection, The Insides of Family Life, Middle class Mumbai, 1960s, evokes a bygone pre-TV era where simple organic joys held people together. It offers some broad strokes (trifle hackneyed) about yesteryear Bombay metropolis that long ceased to exist.  The author states: “I played lagori, hututu and skipped on a naked road. No cars were parked, none could afford them then./ I didn’t know who was Sequeira, who Levi, Shah or Sheikh.”  The poet is referring to the Shivaji Park neighbourhood, Anik Court building in particular that exists till date, where children could play with gay abandon, as fewer households flaunted parked vehicles.