That Brass Of Our Inheritance
Translations: Tarun Bhartiya ____________________________________ Raghuvir Sahay Laugh Laugh Laugh Instantly Laugh – you are being watched, Laugh but not at yourself because its bitterness Would be noticed and you would not survive it Laugh in a way that your happiness does not show As it would be suspected that you do not participate in the remorse And you would not survive it While laughing, don’t let anyone know who you are laughing at Let them all believe that like them you laugh A defeated laugh of intimacy Just as they laugh instead of speaking As long as that mighty round dome reverberates you can Speak to yourself When the echo is about to fade laugh again Because if found quiet, you shall be indicted for resistance If you laugh at the end then all will laugh and you can be safe Laugh but be careful of the jokes Jokes have words And words may have meanings ascribed by some person a century ago It is better to laugh while talking So that the talk looses all significance And laugh on those compulsory moments Like the assault on the destitute by the privileged When no one can do a thing Except for that destitute And even he often laughs Laugh laugh laugh instantly Laugh before they leave While shaking their hands With pleading eyes Laugh and remind them That you had laughed yesterday Coming Danger In this shameful and defeated age Go and find a mind Which does not flatter out of habit Go and find poverty Which asks nothing for itself And let it for once stare you in your eyes Do it right now, for the people have started flourishing Women would drink, men would eat – Ramesh There would come an age like this- Ramesh No one would have any point of view – Ramesh There would be anger but no resistance Except for petitions – Ramesh There would be Danger and Danger’s warning bell And the King would ring it – Ramesh Your Laugh The poor are being oppressed you said and laughed Democracy on its death bed you said and laughed Everyone is corrupt you said and laughed Everyone despondent you said and laughed So secure you must be I thought Suddenly finding me alone you laughed *** Dhoomil Lying Next To That Woman For the first time I felt That nudity Militates Against blindness Lying next to that woman I felt that where hatred and Candles have proved useless And the shadows of the melted Words have turned into faces Of menacing animals, my Poems survive on a diet of Mud and meat To rub out and Obliterate time It is not enough to have bouncing bodies While our faces face Leaking pots in the kitchen And night Does not become a path When water melons are being slaughtered inside us But our heads have Turned to stone on the pillows Lying next to that woman I have felt that home is Built on curses of small comforts And where it is forbidden to Walk with shoes This is grass i.e. green fear Enforcing my thoughts Is it not nice That my neighbour has lost All his teeth Like frostbitten peas Movements in his thighs Have collapsed And termites Have eaten through his ocular health Lying next to that woman (when suddenly the pumps fell silent in front of dingy houses) I felt that to turn Breathlessly into a forest next to a swamp Is not a man’s habit but his petty helplessness And there lives a coward mind inside me Which not only protects But is heir to my buttons *** Asad Zaidi East of West The poor knows nothing beyond his village The one who is less poor has seen the whole district Only the tyrants have seen the province and the nation They are the ones discovering novel ways of devotion Turning people into radishes and carrots And the poor into dried dark pickle Even the English found India very Indian As it seems these days to some Hindi Journalists Nineteen Hundred and Sixty Five I am talking about Aapaa[2] who is Talking about Ammi[3] who is talking of her Shauher[4] who was talking of that Officer who was Talking about the country who was talking About the war in a screaming voice Right now I am not going to talk of Pakistan Hindi Journalism I have a packet in my pocket It would profit you if you buy it View it and you would be surprised at your ability Feed it to a bad Muslim He would mutate into a good Hindu If a good Sikh eats it He would surely vanish in an instant Come on Sir, taste it, you shall be blessed with a grandson soon Poetry Reading I went to a place famous for its goons disillusioned prophets and unemployed half-poets It was evening and in my welcome a light was lit Audience trickled in one by one I kept getting their introductions – what they did what was their name Things I am sure to forget Students, clerk, few teachers even a postman and a Paanwaal That wretched Panwaadi He was smiling a very paternal smile and offering examples of self-composed poetry I spied a few old ladies some girls-adolescents Some Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh louts Extending their humble respects – O God how would poetry be saved in this province At last, clattered in wife of the city administrator to kick off the show (Recently I saw in the papers a small news item announcing her death reasons unknown) Ancestral Cannon Come sometimes to our place To view our glorious destitution There is this medieval cannon Difficult to use That brass of