(Original Maithili Poem by Sh.Ramlochan Thakur, translated by Gajendra Thakur)

In these Tirty Seven Years



And

He Stumbles

The tring-tring machine in his hand

is speechless

Beside

coming from shop

sound of Radio

President's speech

addressed to Nation

accounting of progress

of independence

on 37th anniversary

"thirty sevewn years!"

he exhales

From today

exactly 37 years

He came to Kolkata

He remembers exactly

like tape of Cinema

all events

in front of eye

dancing

one day

in darkness of night

when all the village was silent

came jostling

around forty policemen

surrounded

his house

broke wooden house gate

and

took his father away.

This talk although

he knew later on

that his father

was in Swarajya Party

and the landlord of his village

Satlaren Babu

had hand in his catch

who

was with police

and that

he saw with his eye

then

after around six months

one day he listened

'country has become independent

Swarajya Party has won'

and

that day he felt

ecstatic

People said that

his father would be freed from jail

he too

would come to village

but

day after day

month after month

passed

his father

did not return.

and Satlarem Babu

on that occasion

went to Delhi

people say

became minister

and in that very year

during Agham month

his maternal uncle

visited village

brought along

him

"Sister-fucker,

you have made this a Ricksaw-stand.."

and

instantly his leg is beaten

with a stick

he becomes uneasy

sees his leg

how thin it has become

in these thirty seven years-

in these thirty seven years-his bone

has become naked

in these thirty seven years-

in these thirty seven years-his waist has leaned so much,

in these thirty seven years-

in these thirty seven years

stick of policeman has become so particular

in these thirty seven years-

in these thirty seven years-his abuses has become so crude

and

his leg

moves subconsciously

tring-

tring

"where?

come here"

and

police pushes he almost fells

in front is policestation

that day when he came

to Kolkata

this policestation was not there

he was the only one from his village

now around forty

some with cart pulling

some with Ricksaw

and som like Coolie

this time

he visited his village

all the tola of Dusadh emptyno one male member there

likewise as happened that time

when

his father

was taken away

whole of Dusadhtoli

fled

although

this time

people

did not fear did not fled village

due to hunger of belly

fled to

Delhi

Punjab

he thinks

in these thirty seven years

so many Tolas

so many villages

became sort of people

in these thirty seven years so many young and bold

left their

own

their village-home

in these thirty seven years

in these thirty seven years bread has become dearer

in these thirty seven years

in these thirty seven years labour has become cheaper

in these thirty seven years

now in these thirty seven years policestations are in plenty

in these thirty seven years...

"sister-fucker, vomit five rupees"

"from where sir

from morning only two rupees i have earned,

I do have license.."

"License bastard.."

and

a powerful slap

on his temple

he feels drowsy

fells

darkness in front of his eyes

his purse around his waist

swings in policeman's hand

his hard-earned money

two rupees

swings in policeman's hand

Policeman laughs

beside

sound of Radio from shop

presidential address

addressed to nation

account of progress

of independence

on thirtysevent anniversary

Ricksawpuller

still senseless fallen

around him

is darkness

complete darkness.

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