What can I say Sir!
My son Yesobu
died in the war
my son who could conquer Neerukonda*
lies sacrificed on a slab of ice.
He left with a smile
and has returned as a corpse
smiling, he calls 'nAnna'*
he went on foot and has returned a bridegroom
a flowering plant has returned as a fallen banyan
he has returned.
What can I say? and how?
people turn up here as at a fair
in throngs and throngs,
addressing them, speaking of
my son's 'sacrifices, patriotism'
you, Sarpanch babu! Sir!
When he stopped
people washing their animals
in the tank
didn't you, with a whip
lash my son's chest
mark him with stains?
In the cinema outside our village
for buying a big ticket*
and sitting alongside you
didn't you scheme
to cut his hands legs?
Was it your daughter who looked at him
or he who looked at her
I do not know but-
to kill lionlike Yesobu
you wove the noose,
how can we forget this history!
We know all this
does the rain wash away the wounds, Sir!
On the untouchable's eyelids
these truths stand erect
like crowbars driven into our hearts.
Mothers! Sirs!
My son's death:
this isn't the first,
many times in our village
he died and lived
to live he joined the army
as a corpse, he has returned alive.
Ayyo!
my mind's not in my mind
my mind's not in my mind
Sir! In my eyes
the pyre dances
son! Yesoba! Yesoba!
Yesoba! My father!
For you
I'll weep like Karamchedu*
for you
I'll weep like Chunduru*
for you
I'll weep like Vempenta*
I'll weep like yesterday's Gosayipalem*!
Father! As a teardrop big as the sky
I'll pour like a storm for you!
Elders! Lords!
Salutations!
I wish to curse you
a basketful of curses
I wish to drive a basketful of wild ants
to bite you all over,
to see my son's corpse, arriving
like armies of ants
and disappearing like swarms of locusts,
you patriots!
Wait a second
if you're made of pus and blood, shame and honour
if your liver hasn't melted yet
answer this untouchable's questions:
not my son
you've come to visit his corpse
do you agree?!
My son dead is a veera jawan
alive he's a Mala* jawan
What do you say?
Answer me!
Swear on your Manu
as a pigeon and a snake
can't be linked
your upper caste pride
can't go with patriotism.
Elders! Lords!
Listen! Listen to the untouchable word:
between the village and the wada*
there's a Kargil,
from grandfathers' forefathers' age,
burning between us
this Kargil war
hasn't stopped, it goes on.
Son! Yesoba!
On the third day
if you can't return
find the time
to return some day
and wipe my tears! Father!
-My translation of K.G.Satyamurthy's ('Sivasagar') Telugu poem kodukA! yEsobA!, written in 1999 (from his collection of poetry: 'Sivasagar Kavitvam').
*neerukonDa, kAramcheDu, chunDuuru, vEmpenTa, gOsaayipaalem are all villages where incidents of organized violence against Dalits occurred. The word 'konDa' (in Neerukonda) means 'hill'.
*nAnna: father.
*Mala: a large Dalit sub-caste in South India, mainly found in Andhra Pradesh.
*big ticket: refers to a class of seating in village cinemas where patrons sit in chairs, unlike the other major class where everyone sits on the floor.
*wADa: short for Dalitawada, or Dalit hamlet/quarter in a village.