Image 01

Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

No one’s a bigger killer than God

Friday, April 16th, 2010

You can kill a man any way you want

not only by stabbing him

or throwing a bomb,

by even embracing him with suffocating love

                        not allowing him to breathe

you can kill a man.

 

You can kill a man any way you want

not only by mixing poison in his water

by mixing caste too you can take his life

where religion becomes surplus value

not only the noose

the thread around your waist also becomes lethal

when God becomes the symbol of a religion or a caste

in truth,  no one's a bigger killer than God

Only someone who has lost faith in men

can trust God

Where, the sword of caste

hangs over our throats, always,

the gun of religion

remains pointed at our hearts

human relations can only thrive

as oceans of tears.

 

My translation of the Telugu poem 'dEvuDiki minchina hantakuDE lEDu' (from the 1996 collection of Dalit poetry, 'padunekkina pATa') by kO.pra.

You..move!

Thursday, April 15th, 2010

Yes

I am the Madiga tappeta* which hung on the wall until yesterday

Today

I've come to your street

I won't deny that

until yesterday our homes were the graveyards outside the village

But today

we've built the tombs

of our brothers,

killed by your dark shadows,

right in front of your temples.

And now

the tombs which have sprung up in the middle of your village

need a path

you..move!

I gift you

the space

I left outside the village.

 

My translation of the Telugu poem 'lE…lErA!' by Ram (from the 1996 collection of Dalit poetry 'padunekkina pATa').

* tappeTa: also called Dappu, a drum used by the Madigas. Read more about it here.

Wasn’t it from your blows…

Wednesday, April 14th, 2010

Sirs!
Weren't we of the superstructure until yesterday
how would we have any base?
Without any foundation
how can there be any structure,
true!

Until now, building everything for you
became our only occupation
leaving us with no building of our own

Sirs!
look at that
marxism, ambedkarism
the ride on twin bullocks has begun
our madiga dappu had turned cold
having drummed the background score for you all this while
today, with reddening eyes it has turned warm again
readying to compose your funeral beat
wasn't it from your blows, sirs,
that we learnt how to retaliate?
The time will come
the time has to come
saved, like the sharpness of a knife,
the resentment so intently saved in our bellies
isn't it only now, sirs-
that it is gathering strength?
We are boycotting your courts
where those who should be in cages
sit on thrones and deliver judgments
the gun might be yours
but the hands that shall press the trigger are ours
we proudly declare!

 

My translation of the Telugu poem 'meeru koTTina debbala nunchE…' by kO.pra. Found that in a recent collection of poetry by Madiga poets called 'kaitunakala danDem'.

Return

Tuesday, April 13th, 2010

I do not need your sky

You return my wings you had chopped.

I do not need your bread

You return my hands you had hacked.

I take my own course

I ask you to return my feet.

I am conscious of my duties

I want you to restore my rights.

I want nothing that is yours

Better return what is mine.

By N.T Poghe. Source: Dalit Poetry Today.

Indian Heritage

Monday, April 12th, 2010

My grandfather,

the starvation death

which occurred during the drought when men were sold

My father,

the migrant life

which left home in search of work to pay off debt

I, in ragged shirt and shorts,

the salute to the flag hoisted in school.

 

– My translation of the Telugu poem 'Indian Heritage' by Taidala Anjaiah (from his collection 'PunAsa').

We..

Saturday, April 10th, 2010

We are the wounded of a thousand generations
and not those who ever gave up arms

We are the veteran soldiers of a thousand defeats
and not those who ever surrendered

We are the sacrificial lambs of a thousand betrayals
and not the cowards who ever strayed from the path

We are the hardened warriors
who survived amid a thousand penal codes

Ours are the thousand and one springs
among the thousand winters

We're adivasis

We're women

We're dalits

We're blacks

-My translation of  the Telugu poem 'mEm' (from the collection 'naludikkula nunchee ranDi') by Dalitbahujan poet and activist J. Gautam.

Yashodhara

Saturday, April 10th, 2010

O Yashodhara!

You are like a dream of sharp pain,
life-long sorrow.
I don’t have the audacity to look at you.
we were brightened by Buddha’s light,
but you absorbed the dark
until your life was mottled blue and dark,
a fragmented life, burned out,

O Yashodahara!
The tender sky comes to you for refuge
seeing your shining but fruitless life
and the pained stars shed tears
My heart breaks,
seeing your matchless beauty,
separated from your love,
dimming like twilight.
Listening to your silent sighs,
I feel the promise of heavenly happiness is hollow. (more…)

The Sun

Friday, April 9th, 2010

The Sun's a weaver
with rays as threads
sky as the loom
he weaves the rainbow

The Sun's a hunter
with rays as arrows
the sky his forest
he hunts down cheetahs of darkness

The Sun's a lover
in the first light of millions of rays
he descends from the sky
and loves earth's silent eyes, deeply.

My translation of Sooryudu, a Telugu poem by Dalit poet K.G.Satyamurthy ( 'Sivasagar'). Source: his collection, Sivasagar Kavitvam (1968-2002).

Self Impression

Saturday, April 3rd, 2010

Wherever sound loses
silence wins
after digging for many days
your hands may become sore
but your eyes moisten
soon as you see a little water.

Returning from cutting ribbons at all doors
I realized I had not opened the door to my own room
someone's calling me, repeatedly,
I thought I was being called
I realized later that they were calling themselves.
whenever I climbed up
they invited me with applause
but when I started for the next step
I heard someone asking me to step down.

I roamed all over the garden
a jasmine creeper caught my attention
it had its own personality
whatever it clung to was covered
it could look at the world on its own.
I will win the whole world
some victor
would arrive and win me,
it's useless

therefore
first, I will
win myself
then
I'll run the world.

My attempt at translating  the Telugu poem 'Sweeya Mudra'  (from the collection 'Bhoomi Bhasha') by Dalit poet and activist Katti Padma Rao.

Welcome The Shared Mirror

Log in

Lost your password?