(“The Naked Liberal, an Anthology of
George Menezes”, edited by Selma Carvalho, published by Cinnamon Teal
Publishing, Goa, pages 209, price Rs 295/-)
Naked,
liberal, George Menezes, Goa – enough to get most men salivating! The last time
I saw a cover page of naked, liberal Goa it was when that “dirty old man”
Khushwant Singh was the editor of “The Illustrated Weekly of India” way back in
the 1970s. The full blown cover had a young firangi
couple adorned with a minimal display of flowers that revealed more than
they concealed! The image endures to this day.
George
Menezes (GM) is also an old man now, but not dirty. He is Goan, speaks the
naked truth and is unabashedly liberal in his thinking. There are several
photographs in the book, but not of Khushwant’s genre. Nevertheless, there is
enough to tempt, tease and titillate. One has to sometimes read between the
lines to bare the truth, as in his relationships with Klaudia in Germany and
Helena in America, or to understand his observation about the refugee woman
with the “small firm breasts” bathing outside his apartment window.
This
book though is far from voyeurism. It is a voyage, taking one back to GM’s early
days on a little island called Divar in Goa’s halcyon days. It talks about his
father, Professor Armando Menezes, a rationalist cum nationalist, a renowned
professor of English literature, who made poets like Shelley and Keats come
alive. It talks of his diminutive and devoted mother, and the incompatibility
of his parents’ marriage. “My father was a six-foot something, a towering
intellectual with an equally towering temper. My mother was five-foot-nothing,
patient, soft spoken and gentle as a dove”. But then, isn’t incompatibility the
spice of life? And GM has had more than his share of “Sugar & Spice”, nasty
and nice; as so often portrayed in his columns over the years.
This
anthology of GM’s writings is edited by Selma Carvalho, head of the British
Goans project in the U.K. Pardon me for saying that I am seldom enamoured of
NRI commentaries on Indian culture or ethos. This is what the editor says, “It
is in the dark, dank recesses of family vaults which have long been neglected …
that rich treasures are to be found; where the apocryphal can be weeded out and
replaced with the truth of a livid experience”. Ouch, is this some kind of a
journey into Roman catacombs or Egyptian tombs? Fortunately not. The editor,
however, redeems herself by quoting Armando Menezes that “behind all the books,
there is a man, and the man is worth more than all the books”. She adds that,
nevertheless, “We are reticent to pry into the lives of our authors”.
GM
dispenses with this reticence by himself allowing us to pry into his life – to
go beyond the words, to the man himself. That is what I like most about GM, his
world beyond his words. He has obviously inherited from his father a mastery
over language, both poetry and prose. Infact, even his prose is poetic, and he
uses poetic licence to score quite a few points, but without being licentious.
His is a unique genre of words, verbs and verse; rhyme and reason; a flavour
for every season.
The
book itself has various sections on the family roots, colonial and liberated
Goa, Bombay, his poetry, and an all embracing section on “Man, Politics and
Religion”. My personal acquaintance with GM, for 27 years, falls in the last
category, which I thought would interest me the most. It didn’t, perhaps
because I already knew what was being articulated. But it would still be of
abiding interest to those who aren’t so familiar with GM.
For
me, the really endearing part of the anthology was being privy, without having
to pry, to GM’s personal relationships – be they with his parents, his wife Thecla
(so beautiful even in suffering), his children and grandchildren, and even with
his mysterious lady friends! It is here that he truly merits the title of The
Naked Liberal.
The
experiences in France, Germany, the U.K. and the U.S.A. are enthralling – his
mistakenly standing in the wrong line, and getting free bread from a soup
kitchen; or the corruption that he encountered when posted as the Airforce
Attaché to France.
At a
personal level I share a wee disappointment. GM was elected National President
of the All India Catholic Union in 1986, and hand-picked me to be his successor
in 1990. But the book is strangely silent on this eventful chapter of his life.
In a future edition I do hope that another chapter will be added.
GM’s
self-deprecating humour, something that endears a writer to his readers, is
evident in his epilogue “Watching my own Passing Away”. It depicts his
imaginary funeral. There were only three persons present – a frustrated
money-lender, a jilted lover and a cop looking for the dead body! Great men are
those who can belittle themselves, and yet extract a laugh, not a sigh of
sympathy.
There
is much more that I could write in this review. But it would be better if you
got your own copy and read this anthology for yourself. It’s worth the money
honey, or sonny, as the case may be. I conclude in George Menezes’ French idiom,
that “The Naked Liberal” is indeed au
courant.
