Suddenly I found my file, too, under the name of Cristina. Three volumes, 914 pages. It was allegedly opened on 8 March, 1983 – although it contains documents from earlier years. The reason given for opening the file: "Tendentious distortions of realities in the country, particularly in the village environment" in my book "Nadirs". Textual analysis by spies corroborate this. And the fact that I belong to a "circle of German-language poets", which is "renowned for its hostile works".
The file is a botched job by the SRI on behalf of the old Securitate. For ten years they had all the time in the world to "work" on it. You could not call this cooking the books, the file has simply been emptied of all substance.
The last time I spoke to Bobita, this past June, was pleasant. He agreed to answer questions for an interview to be published on this website. Things were going well. He preferred not to be called "Bobita" anymore-- Virgil wore better. He seemed at the top of his world.
The last time I saw Bobita, I was at the bottom of mine. And he was still Bobita.
I was in Europe, savoring the days lived from a backpack. After spending a summer in Krakow, my cousin whisked me back to Romania on a long, beautiful, broken train ride. Once in Bucuresti, there was little to stop me from exploring the dark alleyways and haunted crannies of Romanian life. It was the early 2000s; every moment milked for its vitality and generosity.
My cousin and a few of his friends threw an all-night party at a Bucharest apartment-- a party which mixed poetry, wine, tuica, Aristotle, Cioran, and Marilyn Manson (the latter would not have been Bobita's choice for music). Among the ten of us laughing and arguing was included the gentle presence of Bobita. When he spoke to you, there was nothing else more ravishing than the sounds coming from your mouth. As in his poems, Bobita's words came slowly and softly, yet so powerfully one couldn't help but marvel. I remember being impressed by his talent, his interest, and the scent of angels than seemed to surround him.
Speaking to my aunt in Bucuresti yesterday, our Skye connection fuzzed by storms, she told me that "Busnadms" (covered by storm fuzz) had taken his own life. I knew before she repeated it that she was talking about Bobita. There were no more angels in the room, the light wove its own texture.
Constantin Vigril Banescu was 27 years old when he took his own life. Or rather, he took what was left of his life after the medications treating his alleged schizophrenia made peace with the difference. In those 27 years, Bobita emerged as an exceptional talent, winning the coveted Prize of the Bucharest Young Writers Association and the international Hubert Borda Prize for Young Poets. He had a 4-year-old daughter from a previous marriage. And when he read his poems aloud, every single word was a song. But in the last few months of his life, Virgil seemed to lose his voice.
My worst disease is the fact that I am still alive.
So read the note found by his mother in the room with empty pill bottles and a body empty of Bobita. Family and friends knew he was depressed, but everyone hoped the medicines would work. In a blog conversation early this summer, Bobita told Mugur that he couldn't sleep and he "didn't see a sense to life anymore", though he admitted that he would like to "escape to a hospital where he could read and write". Even as Bobita's taste for life diminished, his desire to put his words on paper did not.
Mugur Grosu suggests this may have been Bobita's last poem. My translation, of course, has that heartless aftertaste that translations tend to spread like a virus, but I wanted to share it. Somehow. To convey the place he left as he saw it-- heavy, tiresome, and thick with dread.
sufletul meu se odihneşteMy soul is resting
văd un copac înalt strălucitorI see a tall, sparkling tree
înfăşurat în toate culorileWrapped in a rainbow of colors
apoi o fântână micăThen a small fountain
din care se ridicăFrom which there rises
odată cu fiecare trecere puternică a vântului With every powerful passing of the wind
un bulgăraş de apăA tiny lump of water
cerul s-a desfăcutThe sky has opened
dintr-odată mai e atît de puţinSuddenly there is so little
până mă voi treziBefore my waking
şi iarăşi voi ieşi de sub pleoapeAnd again I will emerge from underneath eyelids
ca să mă îndur pe mineOnly to endure myself
printre măştile realuAmong the masks of the real.
Before I finally got around to sending those interview questions, Bobita (or Virgil) finally renounced his masks. May his soul find the sleep he sought. His touch will be missed.
A link tribute to Bobita plus a video in which he reads in May 2009 at the Writer's Union meeting:
Last month, I posted a poem by Bogdan Tiganov; now I will share a conversation. Granted, this is an internet conversation-- the sort which emerges after questions are listed and injected with collagen-- but still constructed from the building blocks known as "words", still bricked.
Alina: Some words are like altars,
sacred and evocative of hope. Many writers have an altar-word, a word
that they relish and save for using at just the right moment because it
is so powerful and filled with meaning. For example, the word "dor"
combines the warm scent of soil with the languid loneliness of longing.
What is your favorite altar-word in Romanian? Why?
Bogdan: Well,
first of all, I am an international writer as I have lived most of my life in
the UK but Romanian words have always seemed special because they are a
reminder of where I was born and my early childhood. I don’t write in Romanian, I write
about Romania, but if I were to write in Romanian my favourite altar word
would be bunici or any word that reminds me of the happy times I spent with my
grandparents.
I
tend to favour meaning over pure love of words but I enjoy playing with
language to see what effects I can get.
I’m not afraid to get stuck in and try different approaches. For example, in my last book, The
Wooden Tongue Speaks, I tried many a technique in telling a story.
Alina: We are all influenced, some influences more praiseworthy than others. What writers have influenced you the most in your writing? Why?
Bogdan: Different writers have influenced me in
different stages in my life. I
aspire to the writing perfection of John Fante above all else. I’ve yet to read another writer who so
successfully managed to scrape away layers of pretence and literary
posturing to leave fresh
sentences, paragraphs and books with no
heaviness or bitter aftertaste.
Alina: Yes, that is noteworthy, though I confess to enjoying the occasional residual heaviness of writers like Alberto Moravia, who feels light as a cream puff when reading but leaves you with a horrible stomachache.
What about films? If you were to recommend one Romanian film, what would it be? And why?
Bogdan: The
Death of Mr Lazarescu is still my favourite of the so-called Romanian New Wave
cinema. I believe it has all the
elements that define what new Romanian film-making is all about – realism,
sadness transcended by humour, natural acting, a great script and superb
cinematography.
Alina: Not to mention brilliant character development-- slow, steady, and like a perfectly peeled onion. I agree- it was a wonderful film. I wanted to be a fly on the wall in the last scene to speak with Mr. Lazarescu, but, of course, time and space stand in the way of many such idealistic moments.
Speaking of ideal moments, if you could have been present in any place at any moment in history, what moment would you choose?
Bogdan: The
crucifixion of Christ would be quite interesting. Also, I would like to have been
present when electricity was first introduced although, in saying that, there
are still a few villages in Romania without electricity.
Alina: How about poetry? Do you have any favorite poems or poets? Any particulars worthy of special note?
Bogdan: Yes,
"Bluebird" by Charles Bukowski, a poem which sums the man up. I enjoy D.H. Lawrence’s poetry –
"Self-pity" is a good poem for example.
And I always make time for a bit of Pablo Neruda – "A Dog Has Died" is a
favourite of mine.
Alina: Excellent, Bogdan-- I appreciate poets whose hearts are large enough to make room for both Bukowski's brilliant thorns and Lawrence's lyricisms. And while both express their fears about the emptiness of life very differently, and stoically, the chorus of emptiness emerges nonetheless.
When you write, do you have any subjects that haunt you? Are there any topics or ideas or moments or places with which you must reckon again and again in your writing?
Bodgan: There
are several subjects that haunt me and not only when I write. The first of them is home or how home
or a lack of home can affect people.
I’m also interested in the past.
I like to dig the past (as Heaney would say) and see what lies
dormant. I am fascinated by
mentality, personality and behaviour driven by circumstance.
Alina: The exile's ladder-- home, past, history, identity, how the cornucopia affects the content of individual personality. I share your fascinations.
What about the internet? What feeds your hungers online? Three websites, for starters.
Bodgan: I
like The Guardian website because they feature a lot of varied content. I also spend time reading through the Vivid
Romania Magazine website which I’ve recently discovered and who have kindly
posted one of my stories on there.
Thirdly, I browse
through YouTube for the sheer amount of videos they have posted on
there.
Alina: What about politics? Are your poems burdened by politics? Do you have any commitments to political ideologies or parties worth noting?
Bogdan: I
don’t have any political views. I
can’t understand politics. There
is no honesty there as far as I can see.
I’ve listened to politicians speak and usher promises for too long and
their spin, in my opinion, is verbal poison.
Alina: So there is no salvation in utopias or political schemes... Well, is there salvation in the supernatural? Who is God? And does he or she matter?
Bogdan: My stance on God, or any other belief
system, is that if it helps you through the day then fine. Personally, I’m far more suited to
learning wisdom and structure from different religions and ways of
living. I also believe that
structure is missing from today’s mass media driven culture.
Alina: I agree-- structure and shared meaning is in short supply given mass media-driven culture. Faith provides a common texture from which to weave life. I can't help feeling that it at least offers a canvas upon which to begin a picture.
Speaking of pictures, which place in Romania do you find the most beautiful?
Bogdan: The
Bicaz Canyon is very picturesque.
I also like the monasteries with the wall paintings and the birthplace
of Eminescu. All these places are
relatively tourist-free so you can still enjoy their tranquillity.
Alina: Finally, I'd like to weigh you down with freedom for a moment. Freedom is sexy and desirable almost everywhere in the world. But what is "freedom"? Do you feel that there are burdens to the freedom of the post-communist period?
Bogdan: The Oxford English Dictionary defines
freedom as “the power or right to act, speak, or think freely” but some have
always been freer than others. It’s
a time for opportunists and sales people to fully stretch their freedom
muscles. We can only hope that
one-day knowledge, education and respect will go hand in hand with freedom.
Alina: Thanks Bodgan. It's been a pleasure. To learn more about Bogdan Tiganov's poetry and artistic endeavors, visit his website or shell out a few pieces of currency to read his new book.
about Romania as set in an imagination lit by noisy cafes covered in dusty books. Join the rabble by adding your own words (or the words of others) to this ongoing discourse set above the spans of time.