[News] Edward Said and The Dragonfly

[News at freedomarchives.org]

Friends,

Masud Taj is an incredibly gifted calligrapher who I met on a train ride to
Toronto a few years ago. He is the architect of the War Memorial for the
Indian Navy in Bombay. He shared this touching piece with me in September,
just after the death of Edward Said.

"Dragonfly" is featured in the Penguin anthology on contemporary Indian
Poets.

I thought I should share his essay with all of you; those who loved Edward
Said and had their lives touched by his magnificence. This essay is an
excerpt from Masud Taj's work in progress, "Collector of Conversations:
memoir of an oral poet." Masud now lives in Ottawa and can be reached at
calligrapher at canada.com

Read and reflect.

Tarek Fatah
---------------------------------------

Edward Said and The Dragonfly

By H. Masud Taj

In 1997 Edward Said visited India to deliver the Rajiv Gandhi Memorial
Lecture and receive a honorary doctorate from JNU and Jamia Millia Islamia.

His visit, it was said, was classified under Z security, which meant that
while everyone knew about his visit, no one knew his whereabouts. I spent
the day on the phone. Calls to all the luxury hotels drew a blank, but
finally, with a lot of help from friends, I found out where he was staying.

His hostess, in an affluent neighbourhood of New Delhi, answered my call.
"My name is Taj" I said, "and I am an oral poet. I would like to meet Edward
Said".

I told her how I had got her number. Her voice barely concealed her surprise
that a stranger could have traced Edward Said to her house but, amazingly,
she came to the point, "What do you want to meet him about?"

I knew that everything depended on my reply. I had to convince her that this
was not a crank call and that there was a compelling reason. So I told her
the truth, "There is a poem of mine that I think Edward Said would like to
hear. It is called Dragon Fly and while it is not dedicated to him,
nevertheless I know he will relate to it.

But being an oral poet the only meaningful way that I can share the poem
with him is to meet him in person and recite it to him. What I propose to do
right now is to recite the poem to you. It will establish my credentials as
a poet and will help you decide."

This was all happening too fast. I guess to buy some time the good hostess
said OK. So I recited it, as I do all my poems, from memory. I carry my
poems in my head. The oral poet is poetry embodied. The phenomenon is as
much biological as it is aural.

I recited Dragonfly hoping its wings would fly me to the portals of the
house where Edward Said was staying

My head
Is a conference of eyes;
I hold too many points of view.

My feet
Are displaced hair;
Tentativeness was never so tenacious.

My body
Is an understatement;
Fragile stem at an angle.

My wings
Are nostalgic leaves;
Transparency cannot photosynthesize.

My tongue
Is on fire;
I have a name to live up to.

There was silence at the other end of the line. I, not knowing what to say
next, remained silent. The good hostess spoke, "Can you come tomorrow
evening at 6?"

And that is how I met Edward Said one winter evening in India six years ago.
The evening began with me reciting the poem to him and after two hours the
evening ended with me giving a copy of the poem to him inscribed in my
Itarabic calligraphy (a fusion of sharp Italic and cursive Arabic).

In April this year I emailed him wondering if he recalled our meeting years
ago. His reply was prompt and reassuring, "nice to hear from you" he said.

"Your dragon fly sits on the shelf in front of me".

That was one tenacious dragonfly!



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