As a young poet, Das published some of her first pieces in several editions of KAIE, the official literary publication of Guyana's History and Arts Council, as well as many other local publications. Her first major collection of poetry, I Want to be a Poetess of My People (1977), traced the roots of the Guyanese people from indentureship to independence. The collection calls for a new sense of nationalism independent of colonial powers, though it also bears the marks of being beholden to the sloganizing politics of the PNC. In her second collection of poetry, My Finer Steel Will Grow (1982), Das expresses a growing disillusionment with Guyana under the PNC and its corruption, authoritarianism and anti-Indianism. In her third collection, Bones (Peepal Tree, 1988), Das addresses her experiences as an Indo-Caribbean woman living in urban USA. Within a materialistic culture, she seeks to recover the beauty of her cultural heritage.
Mahadai Das along with Rajkumari Singh were two of the first Indo-Guyanese women writers to speak to both the ethnic and gender issues facing Indo-Caribbean women, though this is a gradual, and still not wholly reconciled movement in her work. Her first collection of poetry, I Want to be a Poetess of my People speaks of her Indian heritage within a Caribbean environment, yet speaks little of her experience as a woman in this environment. Her second work, My Finer Steel Will Grow, attempts to reconcile the individual with the political with regard to gender. She speaks out about the discrepancy in fighting with men for racial equality, only to be suppressed by those same men in regards to gender. Bones explores her changing individual female identity but only in two or three poems incorporates her Indian heritage within this identity.
Over recent years, Mahadai Das has, tragically, suffered from debilitating health problems that curtailed the writing career of one of the Caribbean’s most talented women poets. In April 2003 her life came to a tragically early end.
Flute
my body's a hallowed
stick of bone, a flute
through which you pipe
your melody.
I am those parallel
eyes of air
along my spine,
which measure
your heavy rhythms
vibrating in my marrow.
play gentle, love
my frail reed's
single stem
can scarcely hold
this rhapsody.
2 comments:
This poem has got everything in it, including sensuality. I'm happy to know yet another good, Caribbean poet.
Khotso
I met her at Carifesta 76. She was a sound poet, and a beautiful woman.
Post a Comment