"The Alphabets of Latin America - a carnival of poems" - by Abhay Kumar

Abhay, the poet diplomat, has published a book of 108 poems with Latin American themes in an alphabetic way..

A for Amazon, B for Bahia, C for Caipirinha...
T for Tango Y for Yemanja and Z for Zocalo

Here is the blurb I wrote for his book

"Abhay K. is India’s counterpart to Octavio Paz, the Mexican diplomat- writer whose poems on Indian cities, monuments, gods and culture introduced India to the Latin Americans. Abhay gives a poetic perspective of the vibrant Latin American spirit, their colorful culture, magical realism of the writers and motivates Indians with ‘Oh, do not say no...Let’s go to Rio’."

During his posting in Brasilia, he travelled extensively in Brazil and Latin America to have a feel of the region, meet poets and writers, participate in Book Fairs and recite his poems in various cities . He used to organise a monthly meeting " Cha com Letras - tea with literature" with Brazilian writers in the embassy. 

The book has been published by Bloomsbury India

Here are some of his poems and excerpts

Borges

Looking for Borges
I came to Argentina I found him nowhere
I searched all the libraries and cafes
all the labyrinthine streets of Buenos Aires he was not even at La Recoleta
I found merely a mirror and a face staring
at me in disbelief
it’s hard to believe everyone told me
Borges lived in Argentina

Brasilia

Brasilia is the last utopia Brasilia is Sylvia Plath’s dystopia Brasilia is a landscape ectopia
Brasilia is an oasis of migratory birds Brasilia is an oracle’s prophetic words Brasilia is a page from Harry Potter
Brasilia is a shifting mirage in the desert Brasilia is a vision gone pale, blurred Brasilia is a nail yet to be hammered.

Caipirinha

I asked a bartender in Brasilia for a drink she said nothing, just offered me a caipirinha
I drank it happily and asked—what is it? She said—Brazil is body, caipirinha—its soul
Drink whiskey when in Scotland, rum in
the Caribbean, when in Brazil drink caipirinha
Curious, I asked—how is this magic potion made? Her face blossomed like a sunflower, and she said—
pour cachaca of your choice, squeeze— a lemon, mix it with crushed sugar and ice. ‘And love?’
She smiled,put a gentle kiss on my cheeks and said—a great drink must have in it—love distilled.

Eduardo Galeano

A Letter to Eduardo Galeano Dear Eduardo,
The open veins of Latin America
have been cut open wider
since your departure,
new veins are being cut open every day,
the number of workers in the vein opening industry has multiplied,
unemployment rate has significantly dropped,
inflation has also come down,
isn’t it development? What else would you call development? There are new vampires on the horizon with globalization, their hunger for blood and wealth has exponentially grown Amazon has many veins. Amazon is burning.
It will open many veins instantaneously.
Hope you’re well and not turning in your grave. Please do not. There is hardly anyone left who can fix damaged graves these days.
Everyone is employed in the vein opening industry. Therefore, please rest in peace.

Yours sincerely, The Poet

Jorge Amado

I saw the captains of sands
in Salvador, Bahia of all the saint,
kicking football
on the Porto da Barra beach
I asked them if they knew Jorge Amado, the writer
– they asked me – ‘Jorge who?’ I said loudly – Jorge Amado
they looked at the football and kicked it hard,
it fell in Amado’s house
there I found an old typewriter
which bore his fingerprints, his colourful shirts
smelling of sea, women, cinnamon and clove,
on the wall
Marx, Lenin, Ganesha,
a Maithuna couple, dancing to the sound
of Condomble rituals, books waiting to be opened.

Victoria Ocampo

An ailing poet, sheltered in her home, her heart
she—his Vijaya, his poetry, his life
Victoria and Tagore,
two souls dancing in ecstasy
as Purabi blows incessantly between India and Argentina.