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.