Original poem in Maithili by Ramlochan Thakur
Translated into English by Gajendra Thakur
Letter to the Sister
I had received your letter
But there was delay in reply.
Why should I lie that
I was busy.
What to write and why to write,
That I could not decide,
Therefore this delay!
I know that this year too
You might have made Sama-Chakeba.
And might have waited for me.
After Vrindaban set on fire.
Then not finding me
might have become sad.
Incessant tear might have flown from your eyes.
But Sister !
You believe it or not
It is true that
Any forest fire could not be controlled by
A water-filled jug and
That you have written,
True, I am changed, a lot.
I know that Vrindaban is
Not the same Vrindaban now,
Now not one,
But in numbers,
The slanderers have taken birth
And it is this Vrindaban,
The permanent abode of those.
The old hollowed trees have
Given shelter to the terrible poisonous snakes.
Even air is poisonous,
To inhale that air is also not advisable.
In my opinion
It would be better if it is destroyed in fire,
trying to subdue the fire is not desirable,
Is misuse of strength,
That strength is to be preserved
When we would plant
Certainly would plant
A new Vrindaban
Would water it not from a reservoir
But with our sweat/ and would blossom
Flowers of many colours/ in consonance with our desire
Would give a new colour to our dreams.
I believe/ and you’d believe too
That today/ in our own village we are all unknown-unknown
Having no identity,
Certainly the pain of it is unbearable,
But/ for that
It would not be appropriate to cry
But to recognize our own power,
And to overhear outside voice too and
Then tomorrow – tomorrow
We would have an identity,
We the Vrindaban,