Image 01

The stink of itr

September 3rd, 2010 by naren bedide

The whole village ate meat

Surprise!

The bones graced only my neck

 

They raised it with love–

The feast started

Where's the goat?

 

I'm the last to be served

My home's at the end of the wada*

What is butcherliness?!

 

I'm soaked in sweat

He calls it itr

Look at the flies around me

 

I'm the wound made by history

Don't point your finger at me any more

I'm growing sharper every moment.

 

My translation of Abbas's Telugu poem 'attaru kampu' (from the collection of Dalit poetry 'padunekkina paaTa').

*wada: pronounced waaDa, means street or quarter.

Tags:

Comments are closed.

Welcome The Shared Mirror

Log in

Lost your password?