By Pallavi Narayan

Rambutan Kisses
Malachi Edwin Vethamani
Maya Press (2022) / 116 pages / SGD 7.10 (MYR 25, Kinokuniya Malaysia)

In an interview with the South Florida Poetry Journal, Malachi Edwin Vethamani says of the language in his eclectic poetry collection Rambutan Kisses, "I actually do not seek complexity. Often, in my poems I want to explore what is going on the surface and how it could or might reflect that which is happening beneath…" This reveals a contradiction in terms. While the language is, to all appearances, simple, the themes Vethamani deals with engender rather intricate and nuanced responses – as he mentions, "the tensions, struggles, celebrations and revelations". What really defines the book is nostalgia: there is a pastness of the past that the poet emphasises, and by this I mean that the images are clear, for instance, "The garden bird house" – followed immediately by a wistfulness – "had lain vacant. / The years passed, …" ('Birdsong', p. 3).

The first part of the book is devoted entirely to nature poems in which the poet keeps shifting the perspective; he is a detached observer of trees – "We once lived among trees, / they graced our home." He is, equally, in the same poem, bringing the reader into the Malaysia of his youth: "The attap-roof wooden houses, / each with its make-shift garden / of fruits trees and vegetable patches, / a trove for our mothers' kitchens" ('When Fruit Trees were among Us', p. 8). The sentimental lines are redolent with the fond connection adults who have grown up in/with a garden could make in any other part of the world. What sets the work in location is the poet's usage of phrases such as "attap-roof", "kerengga ants" and "blood-red pisang raja", and mention of the harvesting of vegetables like tapioca, sweet potato, mango, dwarf orange coconut palms and mandarins, that are common to the Southeast Asian landscape. "Mandarin" places the reader firmly in the region: "I take the first mandarin / for the year of the Tiger, …" (p. 12). This thread is carried on into 'Coconut Pearl' (p. 11), which highlights "Amma's coconut candy", displaying subtly alongside the mix of languages prevalent in Malaysia. Birds and animals are tied up with this theme of home in nature, like a kingfisher, tapir or wild boar.

Interestingly, while in the first section of the book is engaged with the play of life, the second is a study in absence ('Rambutan Kisses' and 'Without You'), lack ('Let Me Be My Husband'), age ('Once a Beaming Boy') and fadedness ('Faded Fragrance'), a drastic shift melding seamlessly with the creation of life in 'Fusing' – "Still the anticipation of that love / keeps me awake  –  / with longing / and desire" (p. 29). Yet the pining for love is also omnipresent – "Our day drew to a close / and ended our togetherness / like the arms on a clock" ('Parting at Midday', p. 31) and poems with such similar sentiments. Memory is potent, but is also an imagination of love, among other things. The most enthralling poem here is perhaps 'Spellbound', which equates the lover's cry to call to prayer in three major faiths, with imagery that puts the reader in front of the institution mentioned. Thus there is an intermingling of the minutiae of the everyday, the morning breakfast, office, dinner and pets ('A Shared Life', p. 42) that is undercut by larger issues of race in 'A Man of Many Faces': "They all saw him as it suited them. / His partners' silence / cut deeper than anything said" (p. 46) and 'Skin': "I see people, / not races, / but the constant pounding / has left a dent in my brain. / Now, I see what they see" (p. 65).   

The following section consists of merely a few poems, driven by a need for freedom and release from dense emotions. The imagery is that of the horizon, sea, sand, rocks, which contrasts with Vethamani's usual, comforting (and comfortable) scenes ensconced in the embrace of delicious cuisines, homely tales and the goodness of life. Indeed, concepts such as distrust, guilt, wickedness, torment ('Song of Sorrow', p. 53) find a space in the 'Beautiful Imperfection' of "my fractured being, …" that "you make whole" (p. 52). The series of mundane questions in 'Such Rhetoric' (p. 54): "Why did I let my coffee grow cold?" to "Why did I let my love grow cold?" segues into the next section of even fewer poems, where the poet explores the abundance of food and life again, highlighting Malaysia's "multicultural appetite, …" and bringing in "India's moon-landing episode as well", perhaps an indication to the Indian diaspora resident in the country (p. 56). This concept finds play in 'Rojak' quite explicitly: "We are all a bit of rojak. / A mix of a little of this, / a little of that, / often origins blurred" (p. 57) as well as 'My Palagram and Your Kueh': "Malaysian cuisine is rojak, / … / blended over the years, / an osmosis, with close proximity" (pp. 58–59).

'Lost' is probably the most important poem in the collection, each word in service to the next (p. 61). The political and cultural disintegration of the world is mirrored in each telling line of this work which this review quotes in full:

I saw it on the news, I know.
The barrage will not stop, I know.

The incessant discordant chanting.
It is kindled by them, I know.

The airwaves are jarring.
It is orchestrated, I know.

The poison is spreading.
It divides us, I know.

You have fallen for their slogans.
You don't want saving, I know.

The poems again move in the direction of gardens, though now metaphorical ones (sample 'My Hibiscus Gardens', 'Pantun' and then 'Mt Everest Morning'). From festivals to school holidays and back to the garden of his youth, the poet takes the reader on a rich journey of the traditions of family – ancestors, children, a mother's love so intertwined with the performance of cooking, an ageing father's slumber, the birth of a grandchild. In the last two sections of the book are poems tinged with reminiscence, like old photographs, accounts of loved ones parting and passing, culminating in the body's own surrender to the earth. It concludes with narratives from the period of the pandemic lockdown, with "Days of self-isolation / Thoughts of self and others" ('Reading Tennyson on Pandemic Days', pp. 103–105) mingling with staccato reflections on home, which is forever changed: "Stay in. / Stay away. / Stay put" ('In the Red Zone', p. 112). The last two poems bring the reader to a measure of serenity with a call to embracing challenging emotions such as pain, anger, fear, loneliness and hunger, calling for an "Embrace [of] your being, …" for then "you will know love" ('Sanguine', p. 116).

The sensitively expressed, genuinely felt lines of poetry in this book make for a pleasant read that takes one through snippets of Malaysia's history, culture and social environment, bringing the reader repeatedly to ideas the poet holds close, indeed, those which make up a life.

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