Little boy with a young mother in burqa

 

Little boy with a young mother in burqa,

Please look at me, I want to talk to you.

You see, I’d be older than your grandpa—

Long ago, my eyes too had wonder

Just like yours, but

That’s not what I wanted to tell you.

Old men often lose their way,

You’ll soon find out.

 

I wanted to tell you that when I saw you,

A vague, overpowering fear gripped me

As I tried to see you ten years into the future.

Will you be in a school that teaches you

To love every human

And hate nothing, except

Selfishness, violence, and blind faith?

 

Will you be in a school

That teaches you to question

What everyone believes is true?

A school where you’ll learn

That humans, whales, and butterflies

Are all made of atoms,

In fact, particles even tinier

That might have been parts

Of stars and galaxies once?

That you and I are no different from

Moondust or the fiery sun?

That is a brief summary of human knowledge,

But please don’t take my words for it.

Read, think, and find out.

 

Fifteen years into the future,

Will you be in a college

Where fools won’t try to teach you

About borders, barbed wires,

And why you must build walls?

 

Fifteen years down the road,

Will you have lots of friends,

And maybe, a girlfriend too,

Whose religions or kinships won’t matter

In the relationships you make?

 

Will you grow up to live

In a middleclass mohalla where

Narayanans, Kalams, Mukherjees, and Murmus

Live side by side? And no college

Bars entry to your sister

Because of what she chooses to wear

On her head? Or maybe, she will

Choose not to cover her head?

 

Little boy with a young mother in hijab,

A vague, overpowering fear gripped me

When I looked into the future

And tried to find you.

In your journey through the years

Will you rediscover the land

Where your grandpa and I lived

Long, long ago?

It was

A highly flawed place even then,

But those days, hatred wasn’t state policy,

And nobody had to wear

An invisible yellow badge on their chest.

 

Krishnagiri, Tamil Nadu

15 September 2022

 

 

 

 

 

সরোজ দত্তর দুটি কবিতা / Two Poems by Saroj Datta

চাপায়ে চায়ের জল নিভে আসা চিতার আগুনে

ডোমেরা বসিয়া আছে,

বারাংগনা করে গঙ্গা স্নান।

ভারাটে ব্রাহ্মণ ফেরে রোঁয়া ওঠা কুকুরের সাথে;

তোমায় এনেছি হেথা, বলিহারি মৃতের সম্মান।

After putting a teakettle on a dying pyre,

The men who cremate corpses sit beside.

A prostitute takes a dip in the Holy Ganga;

A mercenary priest returns with a mangy dog.

Where have I brought you?

Heck with respect to the dead!

[তাঁর পিতার মৃতদেহ সৎকার করার সময় শ্মশানের দেওয়ালে পোড়া কাঠের টুকরো দিয়ে সরোজ দত্ত এই লাইন গুলি লেখেন। চিন্মোহন স্নেহনবীশের সৌজন্যে এই কবিতাটি আমরা পেয়েছি।

Saroj Datta wrote these lines on a crematorium wall with a piece of burnt wood during his father's cremation. One of his friends, Chinmohan Snehanabish, saved the poem for posterity]

হা করে ঘুমুচ্ছেন বাবু,

চাকরে টিপছে পা,

যা করে চলছে সংসার,

সে কথা আর বলার না।

The plump babu is fast asleep

with his mouth amply open, 

A servant is messaging his feet.

How the world runs, is best forgotten.

Translated on 24 August 2021

The Ganga is a carrier of corpses

 In the Wire yesterday, Deepal Trivedi wrote: 

“A poet from Gujarat once hailed as “the next big icon of Gujarati poetry” by right-leaning litterateurs in the state, has become the latest target of the BJP IT cell’s troll army for a powerful poem she has written on the sufferings of Indians as the Union government grossly mismanages the second wave of the pandemic. …

 

“The 14-line poem was promptly translated into at least six languages, becoming the voice of all Indians who are saddened by the tragedies wrought by the pandemic and angered by the government’s aloofness and mismanagement of the situation.”

I am sharing with you my Bangla translation of the poem from English, followed by the English version by Salil Tripathi, Hindi by Ilyas Sheikh, and finally, the original in Gujarati.

Courtesy: The Wire, from where I have sourced the original and two translations, and also the picture of the poet.

*

শববাহিনী গঙ্গা / পারুল খাক্কার  >>>

সারি সারি শবদেহ বলে, খুসী থাকো, কোন কিছু ভাববেনা কেউ।

এ রামরাজ্যে রাজা, মানুষের দেহ নিয়ে বয়ে যায় গঙ্গার ঢেউ।

হে রাজন, জঙ্গলের কাঠ সব ছাই, শ্মশানে তিলমাত্র স্থান নেই

আর্তকে সাহায্য করার লোক নেই, শববাহকের অভাবও একান্তই

শোক করার জন্যই বা আছে কে? আমরা তবুও বেঁচে থাকি

ভাষাহীন নিষ্প্রাণ অবসন্নতা একমাত্র রয়ে যায় বাকী।

 যমদূতেরা নগরীর ঘরে ঘরে, তারা নৃত্য করে মহা উল্লাসে

এ রামরাজ্যে রাজা, সারি সারি শবদেহ গঙ্গায় ভাসে।

হে রাজন, শ্মশানের চিমনিটাকে কাঁপিয়ে দিয়েছে জীবানুর ঝড়,

ভাঙ্গবে অনেক শাঁখা আরো, ভালোবাসা, উত্তোলিত বক্ষপিঞ্জর।

 ঘাতকের তরবারি; প্রজ্জ্বলিত জনপদে পরিশ্রমী নৃপতি বীনা বাজায়

তোমার রামরাজ্যে রাজা, গঙ্গায় সারি সারি শবদেহ ভেসে যায়

ঝকঝকে পোষাক তোমার, মৃদু হাস্যময় তোমার চিবুক

অবশেষে মানুষ দেখেছে তোমার নির্মম, ভয়াবহ মুখ।

 কোন কিন্তু নয় আর, বাইরে এসো, উচ্চকন্ঠে বল বারবার,

“উলঙ্গ রাজা তুমি নির্বোধ! চুপ করে থাকবো না আর।“

বিদ্ধস্ত জনপদ, চিতার আগুন মেঘবর্ত্ম ছুঁয়ে ফেলে প্রায়

 

তুমি কি দেখ না রাজা, গঙ্গায় সারি সারি লাশ বয়ে যায়?

 

*

 

English Translation by Salil Tripathi >>>

 

Don’t worry, be happy, in one voice speak the corpses
O King, in your Ram-Rajya, we see bodies flow in the Ganges

O King, the woods are ashes,
No spots remain at crematoria,
O King, there are no carers,
Nor any pall-bearers,
No mourners left
And we are bereft
With our wordless dirges of dysphoria

Libitina enters every home where she dances and then prances,
O King, in your Ram-Rajya, our bodies flow in the Ganges

O King, the melting chimney quivers, the virus has us shaken
O King, our bangles shatter, our heaving chest lies broken

The city burns as he fiddles, Billa-Ranga thrust their lances,
O King, in your Ram-Rajya, I see bodies flow in the Ganges

O King, your attire sparkles as you shine and glow and blaze
O King, this entire city has at last seen your real face

Show your guts, no ifs and buts,
Come out and shout and say it loud,
“The naked King is lame and weak”
Show me you are no longer meek,
Flames rise high and reach the sky, the furious city rages;
O King, in your Ram-Rajya, do you see bodies flow in the Ganges?

 

*

 

Hindi translation by Ilyas Sheikh >>>

 

एक साथ सब मुर्दे बोले ‘सब कुछ चंगा-चंगा’
साहेब तुम्हारे रामराज में शव-वाहिनी गंगा

ख़त्म हुए शमशान तुम्हारे, ख़त्म काष्ठ की बोरी
थके हमारे कंधे सारे, आँखें रह गई कोरी
दर-दर जाकर यमदूत खेले
मौत का नाच बेढंगा
साहेब तुम्हारे रामराज में शव-वाहिनी गंगा

नित लगातार जलती चिताएँ
राहत माँगे पलभर
नित लगातार टूटे चूड़ियाँ
कुटती छाति घर घर
देख लपटों को फ़िडल बजाते वाह रे ‘बिल्ला-रंगा’
साहेब तुम्हारे रामराज में शव-वाहिनी गंगा

साहेब तुम्हारे दिव्य वस्त्र, दैदीप्य तुम्हारी ज्योति
काश असलियत लोग समझते, हो तुम पत्थर, ना मोती
हो हिम्मत तो आके बोलो
‘मेरा साहेब नंगा’
साहेब तुम्हारे रामराज में शव-वाहिनी गंगा

 

The original in Gujarati >>>

 

એક અવાજે મડદાં બોલ્યાં ‘સબ કુછ ચંગા-ચંગા’
રાજ, તમારા રામરાજ્યમાં શબવાહિની ગંગા.
રાજ, તમારા મસાણ ખૂટયા, ખૂટયા લક્કડભારા,
રાજ, અમારા ડાઘૂ ખૂટયા, ખૂટયા રોવણહારા,
ઘરેઘરે જઈ જમડાંટોળી કરતી નાચ કઢંગા
રાજ, તમારા રામરાજ્યમાં શબવાહિની ગંગા.
રાજ, તમારી ધગધગ ધૂણતી ચીમની પોરો માંગે,
રાજ, અમારી ચૂડલી ફૂટે, ધડધડ છાતી ભાંગે
બળતું જોઈ ફીડલ વગાડે ‘વાહ રે બિલ્લા-રંગા’!
રાજ, તમારા રામરાજ્યમાં શબવાહિની ગંગા.
રાજ, તમારા દિવ્ય વસ્ત્ર ને દિવ્ય તમારી જ્યોતિ
રાજ, તમોને અસલી રૂપે આખી નગરી જોતી
હોય મરદ તે આવી બોલો  ‘રાજા મેરા નંગા’
રાજ, તમારા રામરાજ્યમાં શબવાહિની ગંગા.