TRANSLATED FROM THE BENGALI BY AMANITA SEN

By the river Jahnabi, once Tulsidas
was there at the cremation-ground.
He sang to himself all alone,
as he wandered around.

A corpse was lying and at his feet
cried his own young wife;
On the pyre with her man
she was to end her life.

The men nearby were lauding in joy,
roaring in celebrations.
The Brahmins and priests around her
showered her all admiration.

Seeing the Sadhu in front of her eyes,
she says folding her palms,
“Allow me to leave, O my Lord,”
her voice sounds politely calm.

Tulsi says, “Mother, where would you go?
This looks so pomp and grand.”
Sati says, “Will leave for the heavens
holding my husband’s hand.”

“Escaping this world, O dear lady
Why would you seek the heavens?
The One who owns the great Paradise,
Doesn’t the earth He enlivens?”

Being surprised at the Sadhu’s words,
with folded hands she says,
“If my Lord is here, let the heavens stay afar,”
she bows with all obeisance.

“I can sure foretell, a month from now,
your Lord will return for you,”
With a smile on his lips, Tulsi says,
“My words will sure come true.”

With a hopeful heart, from the cremation site
the lady went back to her home.
Tulsi sat by the riverside,
awake under the silent dome.

With great piety in a quiet house,
she chanted meditatively,
The good Lord’s name that Tulsi gave,
she recited earnestly.

When the month passed by, the neighbours asked,
“Is your husband here?”
“Yes, he is,” the lady replied,
a smile on her face appears.

Eagerly they ask, “Do tell us, please,
where, oh, where is he?”
“Inside my heart”, the lady says,
“My Lord resides in me.”

Also, read In The Month of Baishakh by Tamali Roy, Translated from The Bengali by Amanita Sen and published in The Antonym:

In The Month of Baishakh— Tamali Roy

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