Image 01

I

May 14th, 2012 by naren bedide

 

am sleeping peacefully

in a sinking boat

I will throw a net

and catch dream-fish.

 

I am a long distance traveller

on hot desert sands

I will kiss

the dates-like beauty of the oasis.

 

I am the moonlight

in Guja-raatri*,

the last breath

in the ruins of the destroyed Babri masjid,

I am the beheaded stalk of grass

in Kargil

 

I am sleeping peacefully

in a sinking boat

I will throw a net

and catch dream-fish;

I am the unheard

moment of silence on 9/11,

I am the Hurricane Isabel

which drowned

America,

I am the gathering wind of resistance

on the Cancun coast,

I am the fragrance

of the waves of tears welling up in the Tigris' eyes

 

I am fire, water

I am one soldier

among the lakhs

fighting in the battlefield

I am the soldier!

I am the battlefield too!

 

am sleeping peacefully

in a sinking boat

I will throw a net

and catch dream-fish.

 

I am sitting

beside the grave, laughing,

I will play on my heartsrtings

the melody of life. 

 

My translation of the Telugu poem 'nEnu' (from the collection of poetry 'Sivasagar kavitvam') by K.G. Satyamurthy (Sivasagar). 

 

*Guja-raatri: a reference to the Gujarat carnage of 2002.

 

I am the Yanadi

March 25th, 2012 by naren bedide

I put the whole village to sleep

While spending sleepless nights,

I keep guard over the roads leading to the village

While Brahma Jemudus grow in the path of my life.

Who am I? I am human too

I am Yanadi Yenkanna

I swear on my father that I believe in the sun

I have been withering in the sun for ages

I have no shade to turn to;

Hitching the sun to the sky directly on top of my head

to keep watch,  and swearing by the crowbar

I tied a thaali around Lachchi's neck.

I don't know

Whether it is athiesm or animism

But I am the Adi Dalit

Who first excommunicated Brahmanvad.

With Lachchi by my side

I cross streams and ponds

to catch a few fish;

Following the flow of water

I throw baits and catch fish.

But now

I am aiming my spear

at the hearts of those 

whales which swallow the fish,

the rich landlords who swallow our lives.

Hey! I am fumigating your homes

to collect

my dried

drops of sweat. 

 

My translation of G.V. Ratnakar's Telugu poem 'yAnAdOnni' from the anthology of Dalit poetry 'padunekkina pATa'. 

 

*Yanadi: pronounced 'yAnAdi'; the Yanadis are an extremely marginalised, pre-dravidian, tribal community who live in Nellore and Chittoor districts of Andhra Pradesh, mostly. Traditionally, their chief occupations have been hunting, gathering, fishing etc. Though many of them are now engaged in jobs involving manual labour, a section of them still lead a semi-nomadic existence.

* Brahma Jemudu: a kind of cactus.

* Thaali: pronounced 'taali';  the mangalsutra.

Immortality

March 12th, 2012 by naren bedide

 

The seed, dying,

promised the crop

 

The little flower, withering,

promised the fruit, with a smile,

 

The forest, burning,

promised the conflagration

 

The sunset, shaking hands,

promised the sunrise

 

Immortality is beautiful.

 

Embracing time, it

promised a new world.

 

My translation of the Telugu poem 'amaratvam' by K.G. Satyamurthy ('Sivasagar'), from his collection of poetry 'Sivasagar Kavitvam'.   

Dalita Naaniis

March 10th, 2012 by naren bedide

Gujarat

is an experiment

to see if a state would grow

when you sow blood

~~~

 

I've always kept

my heart's doors open

for Dalits

among Brahmins

~~~

 

Ahimsa

sounded like an atomic explosion:

why wouldn't

the Buddha smile?

~~~

 

Under the tree

beside the road, near the ghat

god's everywhere

except in the heart

~~~

 

Ravana

is not a rakshasa

He's a lover

who kisses ten times at once

~~~

 

Dalits

are a little lucky

there's no Drona

in Ambedkar's story

 

My translation of some of Netala Pratap Kumar's Telugu naaniis from his collection of poetry 'daLita naaniilu'. 

Naaniis are a new form of short poems, somewhat like haikus, that Telugu poets have been experimenting  with in the last two decades or so. 

Dr Kathi Padma Rao, talking about Pratap Kumar's naaniis, says:

Buddhism is the philosophical foundation of 'daLita naaniis'. Ambedkar vaadam (Ambedkarvad) is its sociology. The idiom is of the Dalit wadas. The expression stems from struggles and conflicts that are a part of life. Reading these aphorisms is like listening to my father, or my uncle, or my grandfather. 

Thousands of Rivers

February 22nd, 2012 by admin

But yesterday,

they came like a mountain,

my people.

They arrived in hordes

my men,

yesterday!

Black faces bearded with silver

burning eyes red with rage

burst through the blankets of sleep

breaking the barriers of day

breaching the bounds of night.

Earth heaved in the mountains of my men

and quaked to their dance of rage

and those who crawled in lines of ants

rose in paws of jungle beasts

and those who crept like reptiles

rose in cobra hoods.

They rose, my men, in mountains

shouting the red song

Down, down inequality

Down Caste Hierarchy

Down the bug that fattens on money.

Ah, they flooded and flowed in rivers,

my people, yesterday!

The town and village they inundated

they plunged to depths of unknown roots

they floated to heights of unseen stars.

See how by the bushes and under the trees

in the streets and in the alleys

they gather in hordes,

my people,

flushing down the ranks of Headman’s power

and the files of Money-lenders away.

These shout a shriek of defiance

those are struck dumb,

these thunder from angry throats

those fall silent.

Ah, the winds of Revolution,

my people,

have seized the throats of those cut-throats.

See how in the whirlwind

twist the police batons

and knives of secret agents.

See how the twigs and dry leaves

spin the debris of Vedas,

of Puranas and Shastras.

See how the dirt of ammunition

and hardware of gunmen

whirl in the whirlwind

of Revolution!

Ah, my people

how they flooded in thousands of rivers

to swell the Revolutionary Sea.

 

Siddalingaiah's Kannada poem translated by P Rama Murthy. Source: A string of pearls, Edited by H.S.Shivaprakash and K.S.Radhakrishna. Please read Siddalingaiah's interview here and a review of his book Ooru Kheri here

A Song of Poykayil Appachan

February 17th, 2012 by admin

No, not a single letter is seen

On my race

So many histories are seen

On so many races

 

Scrutinize each one of them

The whole histories of the world

Not a single letter is seen

On my race

 

There was no one on this earth

To write the history

Of my race in the olden days

What a pity!

 

Think of it

Regret fills within

Let me add something

In my own melody

 

The story of

A people who lived in Kerala

Since the ancient times

And how they became demons

 

No shame have I

To say the faults of my caste

Though all blame me

A cursed offspring on earth

 

How is it possible

That all blame us

Till the end

Of earth and sky

 

How can God

Who shaped everything

Allow this to happen

On earth today?

 

Translated from Malayalam by Ajay Sekher. Today is the 134th birth anniversary of Poykayil Appachan, the dalit social reformer of Kerala. 

More of his songs can be read in the book, Unknown Subjects: Songs of Poykayil Appachan. Edited by V V Swamy and E V Anil. Translated by Ajay Sekher. Kottayam: IPRDSS, 2008.

Service in the nude

February 7th, 2012 by admin

The usual male priest
was praying to the deity – right, mother?
"The whole time I'm inside the sanctum,
the life in me is rotting away,
I have no entertainment," he said.
Ellamma appeared to him –
"Ask your heart's desire", she said.
"Once a year at your festival
the womenfolk should go naked
in your presence. The whole body
should be revealed to us,"
he replied.
"Granted," said Ellamma, and holding
her sari tight around her,
she climbed the hill.
In this way
an atrocity
was sanctioned by the gods and became
"service in the nude"

Mudnakudu Chinnaswamy's Kannada poem 'bettala seve'  translated by Prof. Rowena Hill. Read his other poems here and here

About Bettale Seve: The Dalit movement in Karnataka has had to deal with some of the most exploitative caste-based religious practices. These days various dalit organizations and leaders are engaged in raising awareness about 'Made Snana', and are struggling with the political process to get this practice banned. Back in the 80's and 90's dalit organizations worked hard to expose another reprehensible caste & gender  exploitative practice called 'Bettale Seve' or Nude-worship described in this poem.

Eventually in 1992, a ban was imposed on Bettale Seve at Chandragutti temple.

"Chandragutti, a village in Shimoga district is situated at a distance of 16 km, west of Sorab taluk. There is a temple of the goddess, built in 14th century, at the top of Chandragutti hill. The faithful from Dalit and bahujan communities were (are?) made to believe that the speciality of this temple is that Dalit women and men must go naked to worship this devi since the puranas says that if people go naked and pray to the devi they get all their wishes fulfilled, and people who do not follow these traditions meet with a lot of calamities . Hence, for hundreds of years, in the month of March, thousands of men and women were seen marching into the temple completely naked and offering their prayers to the goddess. Some emancipated youth tried to stop this practice in 1984. But these activists were thrashed by goons and supporters of the temple-priests, paraded naked, and made to worship the devi. The victims included police officials even women police officers.

A committee investigated the religious sanction of Nagna-puja gave a report in 1988 stating that there is no such sanction in Hinduism. Amidst hue and cry the practice was stopped. Still incomplete in implementation, the law stems out of a central objection that the presentation of nude women invariably is a prelude to their enticement into prostitution."

It is not binding on us to undertake this journey

January 19th, 2012 by admin

It is not binding on us to undertake this journey

The ravished landscape, the settlements

of emaciated bodies

couldn't be the path of life, could it?

And are we to rest under this leafless tree?

Or quench a lifetime's thirst

in these dry riverbeds?

No, this ravishment would never be

our way of life.

The sun vomitting fire,

valleys gagged with the silence of ages,

the parched desert

and only our feet unshod

A road must be levelled out

smooth and metalled,

which is why I say

It is not binding on us to undertake this journey.

It's a flock of sheep which walks

along the metalled road and when time comes

returns mutely to the fold

And we understand.

 

Manohar Wakode's Marathi poem translated by Charudatta Bhagwat.

Source: No entry for the new sun. Translations from Modern Marathi Dalit poetry. Edited by Arjun Dangle

So Many Alphabets are Seen

January 7th, 2012 by admin

 

Crisscross marks of the broom

Made of coconut leaf-bristles fill the tidied front yard

Bursting in laughter and fragrance

Stands the Ilanji tree at the margin of the yard

Clean after bath black kids wait

On the verandah looking for a come back

Clean kitchen pots and vessels bask in evening light

Along with spatulas made of coconut shells

 

Such small changes are seen everywhere you see

The home you left for work is not the one you enter after work

The children are also changed as you come back

With the wage of paddy in the corner folding of loincloth

 

Who cleaned and kept the littered house like this?

Who made the little dirty ones with running nose

Into smiling flowers with fragrance?

 

Yes, so many alphabets are seen

In their eyes.

 

Ajay Sekher's translation of the Malayalam poem “So Many Alphabets are Seen” by poet M R Renukumar. 

M R Renukumar is a poet, writer and painter from Kottayam. 

Rise to learn and Act

January 3rd, 2012 by admin

~Savitribai Phule

 

Weak and oppressed! Rise my brother

Come out of living in slavery.  

Manu-follower Peshwas are dead and gone

Manu’s the one who barred us from education.

Givers of knowledge– the English have come

Learn, you’ve had no chance in a millennium.

We’ll teach our children and ourselves to learn

Receive knowledge, become wise to discern.

An upsurge of jealousy in my soul

Crying out for knowledge to be whole.

This festering wound, mark of caste

I’ll blot out from my life at last.

In Baliraja’s kingdom, let’s beware

Our glorious mast, unfurl and flare.

Let all say, “Misery go and kingdom come!”

Awake, arise and educate

Smash traditions-liberate!

We’ll come together and learn

Policy-righteousness-religion.

Slumber not but blow the trumpet

O Brahman, dare not you upset.

Give a war cry, rise fast

Rise, to learn and act.

 

Sunil Sardar and Victor Paul have translated this poem along with four other poems for a chapter in a lovely book titled: A forgotten liberator: The life and struggles of Savitribai Phule. These poems were translated from M.G. Mali’s original Marathi collection Savitribai Phule Samagra Wangmaya.

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