TRANSLATED FROM THE HINDI BY MOULINATH GOSWAMI

Whether I Am a Part of It

Whether I am a part of it or not
I am nevertheless an eyewitness of this piece of time!
Years back, the pregnant young woman
slumped on the pages of my novel
soaked in blood.
Was she from Iran, or from Turkey
from Africa, or from Palestine
or perhaps from Hindustan
What difference does it make where she was from.

The authoress who was full term pregnant
who committed the crime of dressing up
the history of her country with shirt of words
and ended up doing the rounds of judiciary
who continued to justify
the veracity of historical events, and while coming back
was concerned about the baby
that like some Abhimanyu
was listening to all the activities happening around.

Or perhaps she could not suppress her own voice
and went behind the bars
carrying a new face growing inside her womb.
These are a few handfuls of facts and myths
Wonder how many of them have toppled the thrones
of dictators
forsaking the borders of their own paradises.

At times ripping their own existence
with their own screams and sobs
crushing all those goblets and bottles
in the midst of which they have been so skillfully ushered
Crazy they have become, all of these women.

Whether I am a part of it or not
I am nevertheless an eyewitness of this piece of time!

Golden Moments

Why do my temple nerves twitch in pain
Why does the heart remain absorbed all the time?
A fear stirs inside it, as if something is about to happen.

Be it in the morning, or evening, the heart remains downcast
I ask myself, what miracle are you waiting for?
When the days are bright, and many things have passed by

The picketing at Shaheen Bag has ended,
the labourers have gone back to their homes,
falsities too are opening up with time.
Emerging from lockdown, people have grabbed the epidemic
by its horns.
They all are ready to put up a fight
against vanishing jobs, escalating prices and unemployment
Yet the heart fears, as if something is about to happen.

I ask you
Do you feel something similar to this?
Sounds of footsteps, some rustling noises,
as if something is about to happen.

Each day the sun comes out, it rains too.
At night the moon smiles in the company of stars.
What’s most important
the earth stays grounded beneath our feet.
Everything goes on, just like it always does
Yet the fear never goes away from my heart.

Perhaps
I am trapped in the cesspool of circumstances
as if something new is about to happen now.
And with this anticipation I keep losing
the golden moments of my life

Also, read A Book Review of Asylum and Other Poems by Oudarjya Pramanik published in The Antonym:

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