Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca and Alan Mendonca,
Kavita and Alanin at their wedding
Love Stories are Special
By Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca
At a college picnic at the Kanheri caves in Bombay, which is in the middle of Sanjay Gandhi National Park, after we had finished exploring the caves, we sat outside to have lunch and to relax in the idyllic atmosphere of the forest.
With lunch done, someone handed me a guitar and asked me to sing. They knew I loved to sing. A young man was sitting in the circle of students. I strummed the guitar and sang “Fire and Rain’’ by one of my favorite musicians, James Taylor. The young man turned to his friend sitting beside him and said: “That’s the girl I’m going to marry.”
The year was 1978. While my husband and I agree on many things, the question of who proposed to whom is still up for debate! He says it was me, and I maintain, after 44 years of being together, that it was he who made the first move.
While we sat at a small roadside stall, eating a typical Bombay snack, he gave me fifteen minutes to give him my answer. He says he didn’t expect me to say yes. He keeps saying he thought that I shouldn’t have agreed to marry him. He bought me a small silver ring for the princely sum of fifteen rupees. The number fifteen seemed to have some sort of symbolism.
Two years after the picnic we became engaged in May 1980, and got married a few months later in July the same year. He had the most beautiful brown eyes that I could look into and see my future. My mother was horrified because she said he had no money and according to her was not even good looking. However, he insists that he had potential and that would cover a multitude of sins!
My father, who said he would refuse to come to the wedding, told the young man, who went to see him to ask what the problem was, in his usual intellectual response to things responded: “It’s a long and complicated series of events that have led us to this point.” To this day we can’t figure out the meaning of his words, but he did attend the wedding.
So we forgave both my parents, though it was my mother, who I think took a longer time to convince. She agreed my husband had indeed worked hard to fulfil his potential! He never misses a moment to remind me of that. We are blessed with two wonderful children and a lively and sweet granddaughter, multiple loving cats, and continue to celebrate a lifetime of God’s goodness to us through good times and tough times.
Now the back story. A young man had just graduated from school. He was wandering the corridors of the University of Bombay and saw the name plate on one of the rooms. It read ‘Professor Nissim Ezekiel.’ He had also read his articles in the Freedom First magazine and told me later that he became instantly a fan of his writing.
Another time he was passing by in a bus one late evening and could look into a home (since the door was open) with a red curtain lit up beautifully by a lamp. That was my first home by the sea with my parents! He had no idea there was a young girl who lived there, or how years later he would marry her! I believe there’s a reason for everything and if it was meant to be, it would eventually happen.
He says I surprised him by saying yes, when he asked me to marry him.
We married July 6, 1980 in Bombay, India and 44 years later, I'm still saying Yes!
Love Stories are Special
By Kavita Ezekiel Mendonca
At a college picnic at the Kanheri caves in Bombay, which is in the middle of Sanjay Gandhi National Park, after we had finished exploring the caves, we sat outside to have lunch and to relax in the idyllic atmosphere of the forest.
With lunch done, someone handed me a guitar and asked me to sing. They knew I loved to sing. A young man was sitting in the circle of students. I strummed the guitar and sang “Fire and Rain’’ by one of my favorite musicians, James Taylor. The young man turned to his friend sitting beside him and said: “That’s the girl I’m going to marry.”
The year was 1978. While my husband and I agree on many things, the question of who proposed to whom is still up for debate! He says it was me, and I maintain, after 44 years of being together, that it was he who made the first move.
While we sat at a small roadside stall, eating a typical Bombay snack, he gave me fifteen minutes to give him my answer. He says he didn’t expect me to say yes. He keeps saying he thought that I shouldn’t have agreed to marry him. He bought me a small silver ring for the princely sum of fifteen rupees. The number fifteen seemed to have some sort of symbolism.
Two years after the picnic we became engaged in May 1980, and got married a few months later in July the same year. He had the most beautiful brown eyes that I could look into and see my future. My mother was horrified because she said he had no money and according to her was not even good looking. However, he insists that he had potential and that would cover a multitude of sins!
My father, who said he would refuse to come to the wedding, told the young man, who went to see him to ask what the problem was, in his usual intellectual response to things responded: “It’s a long and complicated series of events that have led us to this point.” To this day we can’t figure out the meaning of his words, but he did attend the wedding.
So we forgave both my parents, though it was my mother, who I think took a longer time to convince. She agreed my husband had indeed worked hard to fulfil his potential! He never misses a moment to remind me of that. We are blessed with two wonderful children and a lively and sweet granddaughter, multiple loving cats, and continue to celebrate a lifetime of God’s goodness to us through good times and tough times.
Now the back story. A young man had just graduated from school. He was wandering the corridors of the University of Bombay and saw the name plate on one of the rooms. It read ‘Professor Nissim Ezekiel.’ He had also read his articles in the Freedom First magazine and told me later that he became instantly a fan of his writing.
Another time he was passing by in a bus one late evening and could look into a home (since the door was open) with a red curtain lit up beautifully by a lamp. That was my first home by the sea with my parents! He had no idea there was a young girl who lived there, or how years later he would marry her! I believe there’s a reason for everything and if it was meant to be, it would eventually happen.
He says I surprised him by saying yes, when he asked me to marry him.
We married July 6, 1980 in Bombay, India and 44 years later, I'm still saying Yes!
Silent Poem
(A poem for my husband)
Some love poems are written without words
Hold a seashell close to your ears
In the sound of the rolling ocean
You will hear a poem of love
The rhythm of hearts in the waves.
Some paintings are without pictures,
The colors will splash a love poem.
Some filmmakers make silent movies
The plot reveals itself noiselessly.
Not all children cry at birth
some must be held upside down
The miracle of birth writes a love poem.
From you I learned the best love poems
are written in silence and stillness
In a long two-hour walk by the sea
In the gentle clasp of hands
In quiet dependable companionship
In unspoken unvoiced promises.
I promised you a Silent Poem
The blank page would not have
would not have done you Justice.
I must write the words
You already know their meaning.
(Published in the anthology “I’ll Never Find Another You” edited by Misna Chahu)
(A poem for my husband)
Some love poems are written without words
Hold a seashell close to your ears
In the sound of the rolling ocean
You will hear a poem of love
The rhythm of hearts in the waves.
Some paintings are without pictures,
The colors will splash a love poem.
Some filmmakers make silent movies
The plot reveals itself noiselessly.
Not all children cry at birth
some must be held upside down
The miracle of birth writes a love poem.
From you I learned the best love poems
are written in silence and stillness
In a long two-hour walk by the sea
In the gentle clasp of hands
In quiet dependable companionship
In unspoken unvoiced promises.
I promised you a Silent Poem
The blank page would not have
would not have done you Justice.
I must write the words
You already know their meaning.
(Published in the anthology “I’ll Never Find Another You” edited by Misna Chahu)
Poet Spouse
You can expect trouble when your wife is a poet
Poetry will make her a procrastinator
of household chores, laundry, dishes, vacuuming
Meals might be delayed.
She’ll do loads of laundry at a stretch, overload the machine
till it sends undecipherable flashing messages,
He wants the Under Armour track pant now,
He wants to go swimming, I am writing poetry
Our priorities are never the same.
I tell him he doesn’t need
A track pant to go swimming
‘So, should I drive to the pool
in my swim trunks?’
I ignored his question, it was rhetorical anyway
he wanted only that particular track pant.
I make a cup of tea or two
He needs another one, more than two
I ask ‘How much tea do you drink?’
He asks, ‘have you forgotten I am from India?’
It’s the classic, familiar semi-serious banter
Boiling hot is a must
Thank goodness for microwaves.
I ask him excitedly
to read a poem I just wrote
He works from home,
as usual, in the middle of a conference call
‘Hurry up,’ I say, with urgency
with those Indian gestures
using both hands and head
‘Wait two minutes’ he says
I’ve been waiting two minutes for forty years!
He tells me he can’t think ‘now’
I tell him, ‘all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,’
He tells me his name is not Jack,
So he’s quite sure I’m not talking about him.
He asks me if Poetry is passed down through the genes
Is it a scientifically proven fact?
Or mere conjecture?
We both laugh.
I say we should write poetry together
Then there will be no conflict of interest,
He stops laughing
I laugh alone.
(Published in Verse Virtual)
Love your love story! I certainly identify with the poem, "Poet Spouse!" Fun line: "I've been waiting two minutes for forty years!"
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