The Street Dog

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Sathy Angamaly

Translated from the Malayalam to the English by Mannarakal Dasan

Do not say a word
I have something to say
In the words scrubbed clean
The truths that smells of blood.
The howling was not to excel in howling.
To paste the address of the waste
The tails that couldn’t be straightened
Even by using a Pipe
The weight of faith
Bolted from inside.
When the latches of silence
Depart
The memories open locks of secrecy.
With the belief that I am accompanied
When I am leaving the forest
Dreams that touched my heart
Yearn for freedom.
Today
In the dark
In barren land
Drinking a sea of loneliness
Clouds of fire crawl inside of me
In the paintings signed by traitors
Haven’t you separated me?
When tears of pretension
Fail to break the shackles
When smugness gnaws at the bondages
You ask for my keys of vision
By stabbing me with sharp swords.
For my ignorance
For not to testify
I do not have pain today.
You can scratch and take my life
Without spilling a drop of blood
When you are done drinking up all my emotions
Please do let me know
I want to cry in the shock of realisation.

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

Just a duty-bound Hatred | कर्तव्य भर नफ़रत

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Musafir Baitha

Translated from the Bihar-Hindi to the English by Mridula Nath Chakraborty

Ran the gamut of love talk from their side
Even as they kept sowing hatred in the soil
Inside Outside Ceaseless
They nurtured hatreds one-sidedly
We could not reach them one bit
Whether we extend love towards them or hate?
It was all always already decided by them
Nothing from our end at all!
They were our judge all the while our transgressors too

Where lies our potential to hate?
We remain but just duty-bound
To respond on their hatreds

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

Dust

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Nini Lungalang

Not translated. Written originally in the English by the author, a native Naga speaker.

It’s my turn at the water point:
The trickle is slower today
Each day, slower,
One day, it may stop;
And my field has withered,
Rusted-dry in the staring sun,
The crevices filling with dust.
Tin buckets clash behind me
And a loud voice roughly bawls
“Don’t fill that bucket full!
Fool – don’t you know you’ll slop?”
I withdraw, abashed. It’s true:
I mustn’t spill a precious drop
Not even as a libation
To the gloating sun.

I saw a young man gunned down
As I shopped in the market place.
Two thick thuds, and then he fell,
And thrashed a bit, on his face.
That’s all. He sprawled in the staring sun.
(They whirled away in a cloud of dust
In a smart white van.)
His blood laid the dust
In a scarlet little shower,
Scarlet little flowers.
In the staring sun, the little flowers
Will burn and turn to rust.

I stumble home through arid fields
My furtive footsteps hushed by dust.
I scan the sky – hard, limpid, deep –
O pure and high is heaven’s sky!
Is there no shade for me? I weep
To hide from the glaring eye of heaven.
(Cain, my brother Cain!
I know your fear, your guilt, your pain –
I too have now a brother slain,
I too am sealed with the scarlet stain!)
My ink has crusted in my pen
And in my heart – the dust.

Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged

न्हानानग्गु यागु | Nhananggu Yagu

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Charmaine Papertalk Green

Translated from the English to the Hindi by Subhash Jaireth

न्हानानग्गु यागु: मेरी मां
जो मेरी अपनी मां है, हमेशा कहा करती थी कि माथा उठा कर चलो
मेरी साहसी छुटकी निअरलु, यानि की मैं

न्हानानग्गु यागु: मेरी मां, जो मेरी अपनी मां है, हमेशा कहा करती थी कि डरो
किसी से नहीं

किसी भी जगह​, यह भूमि पुरातन है तुम्हारे पितर-प्रेत तुम्हारी रक्षा करेंगे
क्योंकि वे जानते हैं कौन इस धरती का है और इस धरती से उपजा है

न्हानानग्गु यागु: मेरी मां, जो अभी भी मेरी अपनी मां है, इस भूमि में बसी उसकी रूह
मुझ पर निगाह रखती है

अब जब मैं इस भूमि पर कदम-कदम चलती हूँ

नोट: ‘न्हानानग्गु यागु’ वाजाररी भाषा का शब्द है जिसका मतलब ‘मेरी मां’ है और​ ‘यागु’ भी वाजाररी भाषा का शब्द है जिसका मतलब ‘मां’ है

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

અલી ગુમિલિયા બેકર | Knowledge of Trees

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Ali Gumillya Baker

Translated from the English to the Gujarati by Rupalee Burke

રીવર ગમ વૃક્ષો, મહાકાય પ્રાચીન કાયાઓ, શ્વેત લોકો આ ભૂમિ પર આવ્યા તે પૂર્વેના છે. એડલેડમાં કૌરના ભૂમિ પરના અમુક વૃક્ષો અસ્તિત્વ ખોઈ બેઠેલી નદીના કિનારે ઊભા છે, જે નદીઓને વરસાદી પાણીના નિકાલ માટેની કાંકરેટની ગટરોમાં ફેરવી દેવાઈ છે. આમાંના અમુક વૃક્ષોના નામ આ સમયના પહેલાંના સમયના છે. એક વખત એવો હતો જ્યારે ઘણાં લોકોને આ વૃક્ષ કે પેલા વૃક્ષનું નામ ખબર હોતું હતું. આ પરિવેશમાં વૃક્ષો હવે પારકાં છે. એમની નજીક રહેનારાને દુનિયામાં એમનાં દીર્ઘ અસ્તિત્વની ના તો જાણ છે ના કલ્પના.

આ છે ગાંઠોવાળા, જાડા જાડા થડ વાળા પુરાણા ગમ વૃક્ષો. જો તમે બધાં હાથ લાંબા કરી હાથ-સાંકળ બનાવો તો વૃક્ષ કેટલાં વર્ષ જુનું છે તેનો કદાચ અંદાજ લગાવી શકો. એમને ચંપઈને એમની પ્રાચીન ઉર્જા ગ્રહણ કરવાનો લ્હાવો કંઈક ઔર જ છે.

આધુનિકતા સાથે આવેલી તમામ ભયાનકતાના સાક્ષી બનેલાં છે આ વૃક્ષો.

વૃક્ષોનાં નામનાં જ્ઞાનથી હું આશા અનુભવું છું. વૃક્ષોની જાતો કે પ્રકારોના નામ નહીં પરન્તુ વ્યકિતગત નામ આપેલાં પુરાણા વૃક્ષો. તમે પેઢીઓથી અહીં હોવ તો તમે જાદુઈ નામનાં હક્કદાર છો. પરિવેશમાં સ્થિર ઊભેલાં આ જીવો.

એમના રહેઠાણના સ્થળની આજુબાજુ એવી પ્રાચિનતા વર્તાતી હતી કે તમને માથું ઢાળી દેવાની ઈચ્છા થઈ આવે. અગત્યની વિધિનું એ સ્થળ હતું. અમે જે વૃક્ષોથી ગહેરાયેલાં હતાં એ એટલાં વયોવૃધ્ધ હતાં કે જોનાર સ્તબ્ધ થઈ જાય. વૃક્ષો એટલાં તો વિશાળ કે પક્ષીઓના આખાને આખા ઝૂંડ વિસામો કરી શકતાં. સૂર્યાસ્ત ટાણે અને વળી પાછા સૂર્યોદય વખતે મોટા તીણા અવાજે વાતાવરણ ગજવતાં આ પક્ષીઓ.

ઍરપોર્ટની પડખેની ફાજલ જમીન એને ખુબ ગમતી. અવકાશની અનુભૂતિ વચ્ચે અને નાનકડા શહેરની પાશ્ચાદભૂમાં દૂર દેખાતાં ડુંગરા અેને અતિ પ્રિય હતાં. આકાશ કેટલું વિશાળ હતું. અહીં ધરતી કરતાં આકાશનો વિસ્તાર વધુ હતો, એની નાન જ્યાંના હતાં એ સ્થળ જેવું.

એક યા બીજા કારણે ભુલાઈ ગયેલા સ્થળોમાંનું આ એક હતું, ભારે અવરજવર વાળા ચાર રસ્તાની મધ્યે કાંકરેટ પાથરેલી જમીનના ટૂકડાં જેવાં, ધૂળવાળા અને પ્રદૂષિત. એની ફરતે ક્યારેક જુની ખાડી હતી જેને પછીથી કાંકરેટ વાપરીને વરસાદી પાણીના નિકાલ માટેની ગટરમાં ફેરવી નાખી હતી. ગટર ખાડીની બીજી તરફ હાઈવે હતો જ્યાં ગાાડીઓ તેમના મૂળ ગંતવ્યના માર્ગથી પુર ઝડપે પર્યટક સમુદ્ર કિનારે કે વળતર આપતી દુકાનો તરફ આવ-જા કરતી હતી.

ડામર-કપચી પર ગાડીઓની આવનજાવન અને પવનના કારણે ઊપર રેઝર વાયર બાંધેલી સાયક્લોન વાડ સામે કચરો જઈ અથડાતો હતો. સુકાઈ ગયેલી માટીમાં નિંદામણ ઊગી નિકળ્યુ હતું. આ સ્થળ નજીક આવતાં મોટા ભાગનાં લોકો ક્યાંક જવા મુસાફરી કરી રહ્યાં હોય, કોઈક વધુ મોટા, વધુ મહત્વના, વધુ સુંદર સ્થળે પહોંચવાની કલ્પના કરતાં, પોતાની પેટીઓ સાચવતાં, એકબીજા સામે સહેજ ગભરાટમાં નજર કરતાં હવાઈ માર્ગે જવાની રાહ જોતાં હતાં. અનાસક્તિ કેળવવાના આશયથી તળેની જમીન વિશે વિચાર કરવાનું તેઓ ટાળતા હતાં. હવાઈજહાજો ઉડાન ભરતાં હતાં અને ગાડીઓ ઊભી રાખવાના નાનકડા ચોખટાઓમાં ગાડી ઊભી રાખી લોકો દ્રશ્ય માણતાં હતાં.

ઍરપોર્ટના છેડાની જમીન ઘણાં સમયથી પ્રેમ વિહોણી રહી હતી.

સાંસ્કૃિતક વિચારકો કદાચ વચલા ગાળાને વ્યાપ્તતા અવકાશ તરીકે વર્ણાવે અેવી એ જગ્યા હતી, શ્વાસ લેવાની તૈયારી રૂપે ફેફસાને ઝીલી રાખતા પોલાણ જેવી. એક અને બીજી જગ્યા વચાળની. બે ભાષાઓ વચ્ચેની ગલીયારી સમી, જાણે અનુવાદનો અવકાશ.

એ યુવાન મહિલાને લાગ્યું કે આ સ્થળ સાથે એ નાતો બાંધી શકે એમ છે, ઉપેક્ષિત પરન્તુ ગજબ મત ધરાવતું, પડતું મુકાયેલું માત્ર કલ્પના દ્વારા એવું સ્થળ. બોદ્રીયારે એને વાસ્તવનું રણ કહ્યું હતું. કિનારેથી કોહવાતું.

નકામી જગ્યા, ઘર કહીને ફરીથી પ્રેમ કરવાની જગ્યા.

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

mtDNA

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Hannah Donnelly

Translated from the English to the Konkani (Roman script) by Favita Dias

Ashir ghannitlean ami payachea botacher chollun darvatea tarfen gelim. Durgachi deg sodun kadit, grey mulgachi zhada soglleak ximpadleat ani parkhe ton sagllem bhirankull. Poilim folini girest desh atam fugavacho bi. Ho toh ek jago avoin kennach amka vaat sodun chalpak diunk na. yadichea ghatnasthalacher tapaspak rebyat murgallo shetkar xitkavnnecho far marta hyo tajyo kannyo aikunk etat.

Sakaile lakdachea poola vailyan cholun ami kharizachea monya pravaha kaden pavli ani eka mekachea xantin sangata boslim. Hya pauti soglleank amka kankri mellim. Bhoorya rangache kudke kadun havem botani pillun tancho pito kelo. Puravya khatir avoin ek photo kadpak suchoilem. Hi poili paut nasli ji tika bhashtailli. Havem mhoji botam granite fatrachea khol katrya madi bhonvdailim. Jardin and vanjiv lokani ekda chintle ki tika katrun vastusangrahalayat ghatlyar barem.

Ek tarnatti chali mogan padli. Raktsambhandha bhair lagn jail. Ho manis aple padven granitachea pikavelean aplea lokakadsun begin pois dhanvlo. Pun te tin kavebaj bhivkute dadle sodanch nadir davrun asle. Puro jallyan ternate chalyen kharijachea xhant vhanvnnekaden dimi ghatli. Jadugar hya tarnya mogak tapoita astana kavebaj bhivkutya dadlyanchi savlli vhad vhad jayat vatali. Tiche vhont udkan lagle ani ti fatar jail.

Mhaji avoi mhaka sadanch aslya jagyani vhortali. Bapui kennai yetalo. Titlench. Avoi saddanch ani bapui kennai. Fatar jalle tiche fativelyan udak nisarta te havem polloun aple rakt sambhand kasha vollkunk etat hem chintalem. Havem amchea char gotrchinhache antah pravah ani ghuspallem parikramacho sambandh aikallo. Hanv ani konakuch hacho sahbaghi karche na. kenna kenna tuka kahbar asta kitem kitem dusreanche nhai tem. Tya rebyant murgallya shetkara bashen jaka tya mhellya yantrik nagarachea apghatat maran ailem.

Kennach vidvata kaden meter jaunche nhai. Vasovchea nasdhusan ragtavhea gajalini bhirant giraslya. Pun havem tar svata sabhavik manovriti damun davarpache chalu davarlem jalyar sanvsar sompta mhallyar chad vait jatlem.kashe taren eka vaighyanikan manshabhitar hormone thyroxine-achea samantayecher kavtuk kellem havem ek paut vachilem. Hormone mhanche khar kayamat ani hawamanat tigav. Tanni taka jannshastra parivartan hem nanv dilem.

Avoi ani bapaikaden mellillya amchea ranganuche parat ekikaran badlap eka kallar purvachinntit aslem hem sangpak amka konn dhave katiche nakat. Jivanshastravishi ghadillo mhalyar puro. Mahje avoin mhaka tichi mitiokaindriyal DNA dilli hi kani tiche avoi paryan saan chalet ailya. Sangatan saral avoi vatentli voll hya jagya vaili nhai pun mhajya bapaichi ranganu hangache, hya deshantle. Hanv sodanch chintam jhe mhoji avoi mhaka xikounk shakli na tem ti kasha shikli? Pun ti mhunno, tyo nhoiche degevoilyo pasoyo, to khariz ani khatkhatit kaydyacho masudo. Saglyakun chad tinnem amkam marg sodun chalpak dilem ami amchi apli vat parti ghara bhavishyachya raktnatyank sodunk.

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

Ancient Man | पुरानो मानिस

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Shrawan Mukarung

Translated from the Nepali to the English by Prakash Subedi

One needs the newest thing
to kill the most ancient man on earth

What thing of that kind
do you have left?

An amended democracy?
A republic?

Sophisticated guns
tanks, missiles, rocket-launchers
or
biological weapons
or
an international anthem?

You burned down his house
and with it
burned his children
his wife, brothers and relatives
the bhangra, bhoto and gado
bakkhu, dhoti and hakupatasi
that he wore were burned
but why didn’t he burn
do you know?

You called him a terrorist
a government spy
your extreme torture
severed his humble hands
plucked out his innocent eyes and tongue
hacked off his neck and legs
you pierced his earth-like heart
with your bayonet
and roared in victory
but why didn’t he die
do you know?

One needs the newest thing
to kill the most ancient man on earth

What thing of that kind 
do you have left?

Language?
Relgion?

Caste
culture, tribe, nationality
or
human rights?
or
Supreme America?

What thing of that sort
do you have left
that 
can wipe out the most ancient man on this earth?
Can you
wipe out the smell of paddy from the fields?
Can you
wipe out the smell of the wind in the hills?
Can you 
wipe out the smell of water from the sea?

What thing of that kind
do you still have left?
Tell me! What do you have
that can
wipe out the brown smell of sweat from this earth?

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

थाई | Thai

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Graham Akhurst

Translated from the English to the Devnagari by Ajay Navaria

हम एक चमकती ढलती रात में तुम्हारे घर जाते हैं
हम नहीं सोचते अपने मूलनिवासी होने के बारे में
तुम एक नस्लभेद रहित लतीफा सुनाती हो जो तुमने सुना था
अचानक एक फैरी की प्रतीक्षा के समय
मुझे विश्वास है कि लोग सोचते हैं कि तुम श्वेत हो हालांकि मुझ से कुछ सॉंवली, गुदगुदाने वाली बात
मैं कभी इस बारे में नहीं सोचता
जब हम थाई प्लेस से गुज़रते है तब वह
सुगंध हमारे आसपास होती है।

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

Water Song

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Ken Canning

Translated from the English to the Lepcha by Pushpa Thomas

J:&cWc, wcAi_&, wc]fR, dnaWc KaKcPh ]whKa. wc]HgAc dZa D>cPh ]QhcW[&Vi:* V*hWc AIc]V*c D[afH>Pc. dQ[]C%h oaMc – k ]VgPgfL>Ki_& – AcUhkc wcQhkc wcdI:aPh dQ[]C%h, U<gJi<A>aAc dQ[]C%h cwVi wcPi[cKAc fR:fL>, cwVikc ]fL]dKaAc kc[cA& dnaWc dZaD>c. fY:]whAc QgdQajM ]VgD>cQ, wccKkc IcKkc k[cfK{, wccKkc QgfVjkkc k[cfK{, L:c fC& Hi_Wi> fr{kc wcEajM fW_fZ;Q-cV:QaWc dQ[dG_. wcP[g-wcfk_, ]HgM_g, k[cnhW_a, R>a]fKjM ZhQ_cLgjC AcU:h AcUhkc wcQhkc Ag Sg JcfT wcEa. ]JacK, k[cfQ?Ei> w>g wcIi_& I[cdZ[cJPh kVijTPhVi wcfA;& ]UcLi fV_I>a&AcWc QgVi;* A_cLg ]Vgk?ajo fW{fI?W_a QfI:Li. QcC>, M_gPh w>g wccWPckc C>g QgdQajM QgfVjkL>g- T[hoa&cJPh dG[fIjM C:g w:hWcVi:* IcK fB{ kC:%\c cJdZPh fAfWLi; MidC[%\. dQ[]C%hjM fT{Ug]Wg ]whKaAc fFQ.
]whfX?jML>g LaWcjT QcW[&Ph W&hjM dw_Q, fX fN{cK wccV:kc wcfY?Ac S_gQ. fAfWLi; K_gjML>g Ci&cB C wcfXg, ]wh]cA&kc wcdM;Vi:* dZafH>Q. XgL>g ]whkc Y:a ]JiQ IcKkc wc]fDAc k[cdK[Wc W&hAc. wccKkc wcW_g I:a&jZ fW_&Q. XgcKkc ]HgW_a w>g ]fEW_aAc fX k[c]fwfL>Q.
XgL>g kKgQ_c wccK: W[ccK Q_cLg dW[Q. Ki_&D>cPh ]wh J:&cWc D>h]Wg C>g fW_ L{cfL>Q.
dQ; Cg XgcK: w>g ]QhcW[&Vi:* I[gE[h Q_cQ. k[cD_hl:cjT fXL>g ]wh fw{Lg jJQ. wccKkc QgTg kaAi&Wc D>h]Wg k[cR:hL>g qi>&]fX%Q, fX fN{cK ]fRfL> w>g fM>fL>. fXL>g fW_ cN A_c ]QhcW[&W_a wcJi>*Vi:* Da[fH>Q. D?hfT{Wc w>g k[cR;hL>g qi>&dKaPc Ci*fBVi wccKkc D>hQ, AcUhkc A?gk[hkc QgfVjkkc.
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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

Strains of Unknown Birds | অচিনাকি চৰাইৰ গান শুনি

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Jiban Narah

Translated from the Mishing (Assamese script) to the English by Krishna Dulal Barua

It’s all right that you’re accompanying me
don’t get frivolous
seeing the doves at play

Don’t fling stones at the middle of the river
the fish would be aggrieved
the affliction would cause measles

If you come across a downpour on the way
the herdsmen would arrange plantain leaves for you
or else you’ll catch fever
when you run a temperature you’ll blame the village
regard rains to be a nuisance
abuse the river
O townsfolk, the unknown lads who had
arranged plantain leaves
wouldn’t be asking your names

Can you see how the sun has been hidden by the hill
the boat on either side, by the river
the buffaloes by the herdsmen
the flutes by the lips

Night has fallen
O townsfolk
you’d do well to return home
don’t lose yourselves in the strains of unknown birds
go and strive with your books on the table

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

Farewell, O Setting Sun | ਅਲਵਿਦਾ

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Lal Singh Dil

Translated from the Punjabi to the English by Nirupama Dutt

Farewell, O Setting Sun
Do return tomorrow
I will bow before you
But I will not indulge
In the ritual of
Offering you water
I will take up arms
You may even hide the Moon
I will take up arms
Don’t you know
Humanity is the fire of the sun
Whose songs light the lamp
Of your glow!
Namaskar!
Farewell…
O Setting Sun!

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

Fractured Notions … Fractured Identity

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Anonymous

Not translated. Written originally in the English by the author, a native Konkani speaker.

Caste, I never understood it
I thought I wasn’t part of it
I thought it never affected me
I thought I was casteless.

In the class they told us
Caste was hindrance to equality
I hated caste
but now when I look back,
low caste were lowered
in the lectures of the teachers
(a position which I’m trying to thread cautiously)
through the re-reading of the
old texts, without hint of the present.
They told us the caste pyramid
could be broken and reformed into a circle
when everybody would be equal
when everybody would be same.

Same! The word haunts me now
as I reflect back
look forward
and live in the present
Same? What does being same
as in similar means?
I understand now …
it got deeper implications
Who will become like whom?
Who will imitate whom?
In the quest of
becoming similar, same, equal?
(or did I confuse the words and misunderstood it?)
(But in the end this is what I understood!)

Why do I deny my caste?
Why do I say I don’t?
believe in caste?
My experiences I have understood
only in terms of rural-urban,
rich- poor and healthy- unhealthy.
But caste? It didn’t exist in my world
I am trying to make sense of it only now
it eluded my curiosity for long
and when I came to know about my caste
the next thing that I knew was
“It is low, lowest in the Varna”

And being a Shudra!
(I’m finally writing on this!)
Shudra! I only studied in books
Shudra or in Goa, the Sudir
came from the feet
were the lowest in the varna I knew
but when I came to know
that I am a shudra
I didn’t know what it meant …
what implications it had for me.

And moreover
Why do I want something low
when all my life I held my head up
and lived without it
why would I put myself
knowingly down when I was already
fighting a battle of being a
rural, middle class, unhealthy woman?

But no! I was fooled
Fooled to believe that there
is fault in caste- in my caste
and there is urgent need
to believe that we
all are equal
or on the path to equality.
They shut my mouth up
when I was about to declare
my caste to the class
And I wondered why? Is it so bad?
By believing that caste is bad
inequality was swept under the carpet
on which I stumbled now and then.

Life is not as simple as
the theories that I study
My experiences, my positions
are shaped by structures
which are beyond my comprehension
and it is more frightening to know
that I existed into it
without having any knowledge of it
and what havoc it played with me!

Under the guise of equality
we embraced their notions
and fractured ours!

Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS |

कार्डबोर्ड कारावास | Cardboard Incarceration

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Jeanine Leane

Translated from the English to the Nepali by Prakash Subedi

अभिलेख भनिने यो कार्डबोर्डको जेल
चिसो, हावाविहीन, र मृत्युजस्तै निस्तब्ध छ ।
भुइँदेखि छतसम्म चाङ् लगाइएका बाकसभित्र
सुनिन छाडिसके पनि भित्रभित्रै आर्तनाद गरिरहेका
आवाजहरू छन्
अनि छन्
अरूका एक-एक अंश बटुल्न छुटकारा दिने
विज्ञान, इतिहास, मानवशास्त्र वा अरू कुनै त्यस्तै विशिष्ट नाममा
संसारभरका सङ्ग्रहालय र विश्वविद्यालयका छिँडीमा
व्यवस्थाका साथ बन्द गरेर राखिएका
काटिएका शिरहरू र विखंडित विखण्डित शरीरका खुइलिएका हाडहरूजस्तै
देखिन छाडिसकेका, तर
अझै हराइरहेका बन्दी टुक्रा, बिम्ब र स्मृतिका जेलमा गुमनाम अनुहारहरू ।
चाङ् का चाङ् रेकर्डहरूले बताउँछन्
तिमीले कसरी हाम्रा टाउका पश्चिमा गजले एक-एक गरी नाप्यौ
आफ्ना दृश्यरतिक लेन्सले हाम्रो परीक्षण गर्यौ
माइक्रोस्कोपले हाम्रा बच्चाका नङ्हरू नियालेर हेर्यौ
र तिनलाई सार्है पहेँला पायौ
र, हेर्यौ महिलाका योनीभित्र
जहाँ कालो र गोरोको बिचमा देखिने
बुद्धि, उद्यम र बस्ती बसाउनेजस्ता
स्पष्ट अन्तरहरूका बाबजुद
गुलाबको त्यो कोपिला त्यति नै गुलाबी छ जति गुलाब गुलाबी छ ।
हामी कार्डबोर्डका कालकोठरीहरूमा थुनिएका कैदी हौँ
जहाँबाट एकनाससँग काटिएका अनि चिटिक्क पारेर सजाइएका
निर्जीव अक्षरले चित्कार गर्छन् :
यी सेता पन्नामाथि लेखिएको
कालो विषाद पढ ।

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

कहानी कहना बडा अच्छा लगता है | Loves to Tell Stories

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Celestine Delvine Rowe

Translated from the English to the Hindi by Rupalee Burke

बडा अच्छा लगता है मुझे
पालक माता के साथ टहेलना।
जानती है वह मुझे, मेरे जीवन, मेरी यात्रा को।
सबसे ज़्यादा पहचानती है वह मुझे।
मुझसे भी ज़्यादा वह मेरे जैविक परिवार को जानती है।
बहुत पसंद है उनहे मेरे बच्चों को बताना
कहानीयां मेरी दादी की और मेरी देखभाल करना उनके हिस्से में कैसे आया।
रेगिस्तान और मेरे बुज़ुर्गों की कहानियां बेहद प्यारी है उनहे।
कैसे हम निकल पडते, खेलते, झाडीयों में शिकार करते।
मेरी कहानीयां बहुत प्यारी लगती है मुझे।
बांटती हुं यह कहानीयां मेरे बच्चो के साथ तब सुनते है बडे चाव से।
चलती गाडी में बंध, बिना संगीत बैठे हुए
धंटो तक एक दुसरे के साथ का आनंद उठाते
एक राज्य से दुसरे तक की सफर के दौरान बनाते है अपनी कहानियां हम।
बडा प्यारा लगता है जिस तरह मेरे बच्चे उसे जकड कर रखते है
जो मुझे पेट पकड कर हसने को मजबुर करते है
बेटा मेरा अकसर जिसकी याद दिलाता है
हसा देते है वह मुझे।
उस समय में रची स्मृतियां
जब थे सिर्फ हम एक दुसरे के पास ।

बहुत ही अच्छा लगता है जब दौड के आती है मेरी बेटी
हसती और कहती हुई मां याद है तुझे उस वक्त जब …
तब स्मृति से ऊभरती है कहानीयां, और याद है यह हुआ, वह हुआ।
यात्रा और संगीत और जगहो की, खाने की और लोगों की कहानीयां।
जब मैं छोटी थी, दुनिया में पैर रखा ही था
एहेम अर्थभरी कहानीयां धारण किए हुए जगहो पर जाती थी।
‘गुंडीगाय’ और ‘डॉग ऑन ध टकर बॉक्स’,
‘रॅडफर्न एन्ड ध टॅन्ट एम्बसी’ की कहानियां सुनकर मैं बडी हुई।
बच्चों के साथ बांटी हुई कहानियों में बायरन बे और ऊलुरु जैसी जगहों
और उनके साथ गए NT, SA, QLD, VIC जैसी जगहों
रेगिस्तान से समुद्रतट, सभी जगहों।

बीच सफर बांटती हुं उनके साथ ताकी जब वह बडे हों
उनके बच्चों के साथ बांटने के लिए कुछ खास हो उनके पास
कहानी कथन में बडी ताकत है।वह उपचारात्मक है और
हृदय स्पर्शी भी और उसकी शुरुआत तब हुई
जब मेरे बच्चों की तरह मैंने देखना शुरु किया था दुनिया को।

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

Puppet | કઠપૂતળી

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Priyanka Kalpit

Translated from the Gujarati to the English by Gopika Jadeja

Histories roar within me
at orders
from their fingertips

A puppet,
I dance on
to fill the empty stomachs
of my tribe

I too
have a story to tell
Large as the sea
but
I am merely

a puppet.

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

Lhonak

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Tashi Chophel

Translated from the English original to the Lepcha by Pushpa Choden Thomas Lepcha

Triangulating the contours
It might escape attention
Amongst high passes
And crashing glaciers

Mule trains to Tibet are over
Only soldiers frequent the windswept houses
Seeking forbidden liquor and border gossip
Women would be a bonus

But streams still pass through
Playfully, making horseshoe
Crescent, ellipse
And at times a full stop

A days’ journey north west
Treading on a spread of alpine flowers
Steal a glimpse of exquisite Chomiomo
Behind bearded Khangchen’s jealous back

Nodding yaks point to
A necklace of lakes
Arrayed like water offerings in a chodsom
The afternoon sun makes for a lone butter lamp

Across Dolma’s rickety bridge
And many a weary stride later
Witness a miracle from a low rise
108 streams gush from the lotus born’s strewn beads

Beyond the pass of the morning rays
They say lies a lake and a line of stupas
Where pilgrims arrive to atone
The sin of the bone

On a dry flat plain
the mule suddenly rears
unsaddling a cousin
unhurt but rattled

It always happens here
whispers the muleteer eerily
At these cracks between the
visible and the hidden world.

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

Old Scores: An Occasional Poem for Girrilang

Posted on October 1, 2016 by John Mukky Burke

Translated from the English to the Malayalam by Manarkkal Dasan

aq¶ncp]Xm­pw ]ns¶mcp]¯pw?
Po³ ]dªp
hm¡pIfpsSsbmcp hoXw sh¡Âþ
]ns¶….. Ah D]tbmKn¡q \o ihsa!
sshIrXsat¶m?
AsX, Hcpthf kXyamhmw IfhpamImw,
Po\ns\¡mÄ {]ikvX\msbmcmÄ XÀ¡n¨p.
F´mWv kXyw?
hnävK³ ss̳ ]dªp
‘kwKXn F´pXs¶bmbmepw’
AbmÄ ]dªXv icnbmhmw.
XncsªSp¸v hmkvXh¯n Xpd¶n«ncn¡p¶p.
Cu Øew FhnsSbmWv? kqcy\n \n¶pÅ aq¶mw]mdtbmbnXv?
iq\ymImit¯¡b¨ kzÀ®¯fnIbnt•emWnXv
aq¶ncp]Xm­pIÄ¡v ap¼Ã,
HcmSnsâ Im s]m«n¨t¸mÄ BZyþ
i_vZw \½psS ImetZiss\cy´cy¯neqsS…..
Hcp \nanjw \n¡q,
AsX, XnI¨pw bm{´nIambnt¸mIp¶p.

Hcp \mWbw IqSn B ]m«v b{´¯ntebv¡nSq
Cu ]gbIme lnäv ]m«pIÄ CjvSamWv.
tam¡nwKv t_ÀUv lnÂ
]Xnsb sIm¶p sIm­ncn¡ps¶s¶…..
hnkvXmc¯n sNIp¯ms\, Ipdn¨pÅ AÚXtbm?
ssZh¯n\dnbmw.

BcmWo ]pebmSn hnävK³ ss̳?
GtXm Hcp Ingh³ kzhÀ¤kwt`mKn
X³ an{Xamw kz¶nt\msSm¯v
t\mÀshbn hnt\mZbm{X \S¯nbh³
ho­pw tIw{_nUvPnÂ…… HmIvkvt^mÀUn Xncn¨ph¶h³
AXnse´v Imcyw?
saämen¡m BtemNn¨nÃ…….Bcv sN¿pw?
kcXpkv{S ]dªp
Rm³ {Iqin¡s¸«h³….
AtXm Xsâ hm¡pIsfÃmw XoÀ¶t¸mÄ
{`m´mbn acn¨hsâ aI\mb \otjtbm?
Po\nsâ thZhmIyw
Rms\´mWpt±in¨sX¶v \n\¡dnbmtam
F\n¡v Xs¶ XoÀ¨bnÃ

Hcp Idp¯ Ncn{Xw ]nt¶m«v hfbp¶p, t\mhn¡p¶p
]gbIme¯ntebv¡v …..
ASbmf§fp­mbncp¶hnsS,
bm¦nIfp­mbncp¶hnsS
(AanXt`mKnIÄ) (IW¡ntesd i¼fw ]äp¶hÀ,)
(ChnsS apIfnÂ,)
BcnÃmbncp¶p?
R§sfÃmhcpw htc­n h¶p.
NneÀ IogS§n
A\ytZihn[hIfn hn¯p ]mtI­ Bhiyap­mbncp¶p
]pf¨p hcps¶mcp ]qt´m«hgn
]pXnsbmcp Idp¯ Ncn{X¯ntebv¡v \bn¡p¶p.
\n\¡v am{XaXnsâ, \nKqVX Ipgns¨Sp¡mw.

Ncn{Xsa¶mse´mWv?
Hcp tImi¯n\p]pdsa asämcp t`mKw
FÃmadnbmsa¶v [cn¨v
hnUvVn¯w ]pe¼n ]cnlmkycmhp¶hÀ
“Zn lnÌdn t_mbvkn”se s{]m^kÀamcpsS {]Xn[z\n t]mse
]s£ Abmsfmcp {Iqcamb Imcyw ]dªp
(Nncn¨Xn\v tijw, \n§Ä¡njvSsa¦nÂ)…..
AXmWv \n§Ä¡v Ncn{Xw.
amä§Ä.
]gbXv ]pXnbXmIp¶p.
]pXnbXv ]gbXmIp¶p.
F\n¡v hbÊmhp¶p, Rm³ hbÊ\mIp¶p.

{Sukdn³ ]n³`mKw tatem«p Npcp«n hbv¡pw Rm³
Bcpw ]dbmsX Npcp«n h¨ DuSphgnIfnÂ
Ncn{X¯n³ Nne cmP]mXbnÂ
hÃhsâbpw h­nbn Ibdn DÃmkbm{X sN¿pw
Fs´mcp hr¯nsI« ZpcqlX
AsænÂ, Xpd¶p ]dªmÂ
Rm\Xv FtâXmb hgnbn sN¿p¶p.

Idp¯ Ncn{Xw, Ccp­ Ncn{Xw.
bp²s¯¸än ]dbcpXv!
\osb´pXs¶ sNbvXmepw,
B \in¨ bp²s¯¸än ]dbcpXv.
\o h¶Xv AXv I­p.
h¶p ]ns¶ AXnPohn¨p.
A¶papXÂ Ft¸mgpw bp²w.
an¡Xpw \o t\Sn
Ct¸mÄ AhnsS aq¶ncp]Xm­pw ]ns¶sbmcÂ]hpw ]ns¶
aq¶ncp]Xv apdn¸mSpIfpw ]ns¶sbmcev]hpw.

kv{XoIÄ ho\kn \n¶v
]pcpj³ N{µ\n \n¶v
ho\kv XnI¨pw apdn¸mSpÅhÄ
F¶m aXnbmwh®w ssIIfnÃm¯hÄ
tPm¡v tPmbvkv!

Zb\obw. s_¶äv, Hcp]mSv \µn
“F\ns¡mcp Iq\p­mbncp¶p” F¶ \nsâ \mSI¯n\v.
shfn¨w ImWm³ Ignªp.

C\nbpw F\n¡v ]dbm\pÅ Nne Imcy§Ä,
aänÂUm ]dª `bm\Iamb IfhpIfpw
C\nbpw apgph\mbn ]dbs¸Sm¯ aäp \nKqVXIfpw
D¨¯n hnfn¨p ]dbm\pÅ AhImiansænÂ
]ns¶ Cw¥ojv kmlnXy¯nsemcp _ncpZw F´n\mWv..?

\osjbpsS “D_Àsa³jns\”t¸mse
A[nImc Xzc
\nsâ PohnXw F§s\ t]mIp¶p?
\nâÑs\§s\bp­v?
AsænÂ, \nsâ AÑ\mcv?
aäpÅhcpsS PohnX¯nsâ “»m¦vam³Pns\”¡mÄ
Rms\sâ Ncn{Xs¯ G¡p¶p.

F³Ñsâ `mcybv¡v \à ssÌembncp¶p.
s{^Uns\t¸mse, AbmÄ acn¨p, Ahfpw.
\msaÃmw thK¯n A§s\¯s¶bmhpw.
kplrs¯, kwkmcw sasÃbm¡q.
F´n\v [rXns¸Sp¶p?
\o sshInà kplrt¯ \o hnjant¡­XnÃ.
\nsâ kabsaSpt¯mfq.
\ap¡v A\´amb{Xbpw ]ns¶bpap­v
aq¶ncp]Xpw ]ns¶mcp]¯pw t]mse.

Ioävkv ]dªp, kuµcyw kXyhpw
kXyw kuµcyhpamWv.
AXv am{Xsa \obo `qanbn Adntb­XpÅq.

]gb ]pÅn¡mc\v Ht¶m aqt¶m
Fgp]tXm Adnbmambncp¶p.
Hcp]mSp Imcy§Ä þ
\n\¡pw AXpt]mse Xs¶
clky§Ä ]¦v sh¡m\pÅXÃ
ImcWw \o hfsc IqSpXÂ kq£n¡p¶p
AXpt]mse F\nbv¡pw Fsâ Iq«¡msct¸mse
Aev]w Idp¯ Idp¯ Ncn{Xap­v.
\nsâ `qXIme clky§Ä \nsâ am{XamWv.
]Xnsb \S¡q,
Fsâ kÀÆ apdnthmÀ½Ifpw
Nhn«n¯mgv¯msX AsænÂ
Rm³ acn¨p t]mIpsa¶v tXm¶p¶p.

Cu temIw Xs¶ Hcp \nKqVXbmWv.
Fgp]Xv tImSn IYIfpw…
Ct¸mgpw F®nsIm­ncn¡p¶p. AsX{Xhsc?
\o? Rm³? AhÄ? Ah³? \mamcmWv?
tKmKn³ ]dªt]mse
F§p\n¶v hcp¶p?
FhnsS Xmakn¡p¶p?
FhntSbv¡mWv [rXn ]nSn¨v?
\msaÃmw sImgnªp t]mtI­hÀ
\ndw a§n Idp¸nte¡v
sImgnªp t]mtI­hÀ.

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The Colour Blue | नीला रंग

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Hemlata Mahishwar

Translated from the Hindi to the English by Mridula Nath Chakraborty

blue
blue coloured weals
would form
on body on heart
blows of forced labour and insult

remember?
the pot hanging from the neck
the broom tied to the waist
the rope on the broom
bubbling up drops of blood
just under the skin

green wounds red bruises
turning blue then black
leaving behind their indelible marks
bloodying the mind

though there isn’t today
the rope around the neck
the broom at the waist
the broken-sounding bamboo board
in the hands
but why don’t they go away
those blue marks?

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

untitled poems

Posted on October 1, 2016 by N D Rajkumar

Translated from the Tamil to the English by P Rajani and Rajamanickam Azhagarasan

After gorging a pan full of pig’s blood
and gingili candy
our gods do savage dance,
striking fear and terror.

Like our Gods
We also don’t like that vegetarian curry.



***

Translated from the Tamil to the English by Rajamanickam Azhagarasan

Some forget the past.
But everything still keeps floating before my eyes-

The Hundi coins fixed with shells of the fish
that I caught and sold for the first time;

The nose-ring glittered in the light of the camphor
that I bought by selling the dry fish;

The Amman’s tongue hung-out like the fish-crazy cat
that had tasted the fish kolambu in the temple;
Everything seemed like yesterday.

The last time I met you was
At the festival in the Mandaikkattamman temple
Before that clash.

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ବିଶ୍ଵରେ କ’ ଣ ଘଟୁଛି | What in the World

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Kerry Reed-Gilbert

Translated from the English to the Odia by Prabhakar Palaka

ବିଶ୍ଵରେ କ’ ଣ ଘଟୁଛି ଓ କ’ ଣ ଘଟିବାକୁ ଯାଉଛି :

ଯେବେ ମଣିଷ ଅନ୍ୟର ରଙ୍ଗକୁ ଘୃଣାକରି, ତାର ଜାତିକୁ ଧ୍ଵଂସ କରୁଛି ତ
ପୃଥିବୀ ସମ୍ମତି ଜଣାଉଛ,
ଯେବେ ଜନତାଙ୍କ ଦେଶ ଉପରେ ଦାରିଦ୍ର୍ୟ ଓ ନୈରାଶ୍ୟ ସବାର ହେଉଛି,
ଯେବେ ୨୫ ଅଯୁତ ଲୋକଙ୍କ ଆଦର୍ଶକୁ ମୂଲ୍ୟହୀନ ବୋଲି କୁହାଯାଉଛି ,
ଏକ ଚିତ୍ର ର ମୂଲ୍ୟ ଯେବେ ଜଣେ ଶିଶୁର ଜୀବନଠାରୁ ମଧ୍ୟ ମୂଲ୍ୟବାନ ହେଇ ଉଠୁଛି,
ଯେବେ ଅନ୍ୟକୁ ବଞ୍ଚାଇବାକୁ ଯାଇ , ଜଣେ ମା ତାର ନିଜ ଛୁଆକୁ ବିକିଦେଉଛି,
ତେବେ ବିଶ୍ଵରେ କ’ ଣ ଘଟୁଛି ଓ କ’ ଣ ଘଟିବାକୁ ଯାଉଛି ।

ଯେବେ ମଣିଷଗଢା ବୋମା, ରକେଟ ଓ ମହାକାଶଚାରୀଙ୍କ କାର୍ଯକଳାପ
ପୃଥିବୀର ଅକ୍ଷକୁ ଆଘାତ କରୁଛି,
ପୃଥିବୀର ଅସନ୍ତୁଳନ ଯୋଗୁଁ ସୁନାମୀ, ଆଗ୍ନେୟଗିରି ଓ ଘୁର୍ନିବାତ୍ୟା,
ଆମ ମାତୃଭୂମୀ ତଥା ମନୁଷ୍ୟ ଜାତିକୁ ଯେବେ ବିନାଶ କରୁଛି ତ,
ବିଶ୍ଵରେ କ’ ଣ ଘଟୁଛି ଓ କ’ ଣ ଘଟିବାକୁ ଯାଉଛି :

ଯେବେ ମଣିଷ ଧରିତ୍ରୀ ମାଁ ର କାନ୍ଦଣା, ତାର ହୃଦୟର ବେଦନାକୁ ଶୁଣୁ ନାହିଁ ତ
ବିଶ୍ଵରେ ଯାହା ଘଟୁଛି, ହୁଏତ ତାହା ଧ୍ଵଂସ ଆଡକୁ ମୁହାଁଉଛି ।

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

మేమిక్కడున్నాం | We’re Here

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Natalie Harkin

Translated from the English to the Telugu by Joopaka Subhadra

మేము మీ …
వైద్యులమ్ కళాకారులమ్ కవులమ్
మీకు చదువు చెప్పే గురువులము , మీ న్యాయ వాదులమ్
మీ సమాచార సాంకేతిక నిపుణులమ్
మీ పారిశుధ్య కార్మికులమ్ , సంగీతకారులమ్
నటులము , మీ మూల దుకాణాల్లో పనోల్లమ్
బస్సుల్ని నడిపేవాల్లము , భవన నిర్మాణకులం
జీతమ్ లేని వెట్టి వాల్లము
మీ నైడాక్ (NAIDOC) కమిటీ సభ్యులము
మీ పాఠశాలల్లో స్వచ్చంద సేవకులము
మీ ఆదాయ వనరులమ్, నర్సులము
మీ వంట గదిలో ‘ చాయ్ గిన్నె‘ మీది మూతలము
మీ ఇండ్లల్ల పనోల్లం, మీ యిండ్లకు యెట్టి కాపలాదారులము
సైనికులమ్ , క్రీడా నాయకులమ్, ప్రముఖులమ్
సకల వృత్తులకు మేమే ప్రతినిధులమ్
మేము కొంటాము , అమ్ముతాము
కాపాడుతామ్, ఖర్చు బెడ్తామ్

2

మేమిక్కడ వున్నాము
మీ అంతం దాకా మేమిక్కడే
మీ చావు దాకా మేమిక్కన్నే

మేము మీ …
తోబుట్టువుల బిడ్డలము , కొడుకులము
అక్కా చెల్లెండ్లము అన్నదమ్ములము ,
మీ పిల్లల్ని పెంచే ఆయాలము
తండ్రులము , తల్లులము , మరదండ్లము , బావ బామ్మరుదులము
అత్తా చిన్నమ్మలము , మామా చిన్నాయినలము
కొడుకులమ్, కూతుర్లము, దోస్తులము
మీకన్నీ అయినోల్లమ్, మీ పక్కింటోల్లమ్
మీ బండ్లు నడిపేటోల్లమ్, చిట్టి చెల్లెల్లమ్
హిజ్రాలము , ఆడ మగ కలపోతలము , ఎల్జీబీటీలము
మేము పోరాడుతాం , మేము కలలుగంటామ్
మేము ప్రేమిస్తాం , మేము ప్రార్ధిస్తామ్
మేము నవ్వుతాం , ఏడుస్తామ్ , మేము నెత్తురోడుతామ్

3

మేము పురా తరాల్నించి మెరుగవుతాము
మేము కిందకు పడిపోయినము
మేమిక్కడ వున్నాము
మీ చావు దాకా మేమిక్కడే
మీ అంతం దాకా మేమిక్కడే

మేము మీ …
పాటల రచయితలము
నల్ల వారి హక్కుల ప్రచారకులము
రాత్రి క్లబ్బుల్ల ఆడి పాడే వాల్లము , మీ పూల హారాలము
మీ ముసలోల్లకు చాకిరీలు చేసెటోల్లము
మీకు కాఫీలందించే వాల్లము
మీ పొయిలకు వూదు గొట్టాలము
మీ చలి నెగల్లము , మీ వాహనాలము
మీ పర్యటనలకు దారి దీపాలము
మీ నాట్యశాల గానాలము , స్వాతంత్ర్య సమరాలము
మీ చర్చి గంటల నాదాలము

4

అల్ప సంఖ్యాకుల్లో అల్ప సంఖ్యాకులమ్
తళ తళ మెరిసే యీ భూగోళం భిన్నత్వాల చిన్నెలున్నది
ఆ ఏడు రంగుల ఇంద్ర ధనసు దారుల్లో మేము నడుస్తామ్
అప్పుడూ ఇప్పుడూ ఎప్పుడూ మల్లీ మల్లీ
మేము నడుస్తానే వుంటాము
మేమిక్కడ వున్నాము
మీ చావు వరకు మేమిక్కడే
మీ చావు దాకా మేమిక్కడే

నెత్తుటి యాది కతలు , మాట , మట్టి
జెండా ఎత్తుగ ఎగురుతుంది
మేము తలెత్తుకుని నిటారుగా నిలబడ్డాం
ఎడారి , పచ్చిక మైదానాలు , నదులు , సముద్రం
మేము కారుణ్యం తో కదిలాము హుందాగ
మా మానవత్వాన్ని గౌరవించు
మా భిన్నత్వము మా సహజత్వము
ఎప్పుడూ వుండింది , ఎప్పుడూ వుంటుంది

5

మేమిక్కడ వున్నాము
మేమిక్కడే వున్నాము

మూలం ; నటాలీ హార్కిన్
తెలుగు అనువాదం ; జూపాక సుభద్ర

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

That Is Where Life Resides! | જગનૂઠ ત તેઠ જ!

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Mahendra Patel

Translated from the Kunkana to the English by Rupalee Burke

Limbe panting at the fourth step of the stairs
How he once roved hills and vales
Untiringly
No sooner he hit the pillow would he fall fast asleep.
When his wife shook him from slumber
Awake he would
Weighing equal to a four maund male buffalo
With great difficulty
Then
Mumble to himself: Truly!
None there is like me.
Seated at the dining table
Paneer-handi curry to eat
Uncovered basket with parathas in it
Chikus, apples and bread-butter too.
Everything but the heart missing.
Back then Shevla, bhopid, alim, ambadi, vans,
Umbra, anla, keri, karamda, timru
And
Flowers of all hues!
Pockets stuffed with siridoda blossoms
That’s what you would call a feast! Truly health-giving.
Here withered vegetables
Pulses cultivated with chemical fertilisers and rotting fruits
This is what makes the doctor proclaim
It is this … It is that …
Eat this … Drink that …
No way comparable to the bhagats, our own medicine-men
No matter what sickness, they cured without a fee
This mop of hair, do you see?
White as white can be
While
Rinsing hair with sticky mud
Those elders there bearing no trace of age!
Cannot think of sitting without a chair
Whereas yoking male buffaloes elders plough the fields!
Sweetness of ice-cream pales when it comes to
Goat milk thickened with drops of the karvat tree
Thoughts come by the dozen
Thoughts … Thoughts …
Shrugging them off, had barely put on the television
When
Not the television, wifey said:
Will need money, the roof is leaking.
Oh God …
How much can one earn?
There is no hunger! Yet no happiness!
One life, a million worries
Roof of teak leaves elders made in no time
In return for a meager charge.
Haunted by a host of thoughts … Sleep eluded the eyes
Memories of teacher arose in my mind
If you do not complete your work I will drive you out, he would say.
How much work I have accomplished yet no compassion-love.
Hard as stone are people here
None to call our own even within family
Feeling drowsy while turning sides
Fell asleep.
Trin trin rang the doorbell
Who is it? Wifey answered the doorbell.
Oh … Mother … Father … Mother-in-law …
Limbe sprang up from his bed
Why Mother … Father …
Indigestion … Digested …
Pain … Cured …
Mother had brought food tied in a bundle
Knot was undone
Ate to heart’s content
Then
Burping aloud
Wiped his mouth with his mother’s sari
Much like a bubble
In a hushed tone
Muttered: I am full!
That is where life resides!!!

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

To Progress | આગલા વાદાઁ

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Jitendra Vasava

Translated from the Dehwali to the English by Gopika Jadeja

When I read my poetry
In our language
In the raga of my ancestors

They look beneath my mouth
Clap enthusiastically
for a few moments

But in order to understand
They ask me to speak
In their language
I cannot dissolve my life
In their language
And explain it to them.

So they teach me their language
To write in, sing in
And explain:
If you want to progress
You will have to
Or else—

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Posted in 76: DALIT INDIGENOUS | Tagged ,

ਕਾਲਾ ਸੋਚਣਾ * ਕਾਲਾ ਬੋਲਣਾ * ਕਾਲੀ ਔਰਤ ਹੋਣਾ | Thinking black * Talking black * BEING BLACK WOMAN

Posted on October 1, 2016 by Sue Stanton

Translated from the English to the Punjabi by Raj Paul Sandhu

ਲੋਕ ਅਕਸਰ ਪੁੱਛਦੇ ਨੇ।
ਜਦੋਂ ਤੂੰ ਕਹਿੰਦੀ ਹੈ ਕਿ ਤੂੰ ਇੱਕ ‘ਕਾਲ਼ੀ ਔਰਤ’ ਹੈ, ਇਸਦਾ ਕੀ ਮਤਲਬ ਹੈ ?
ਆਦਤਨ ਇਹ ਸਵਾਲ ਵਾਈਟਫੈਲਾ ਗੋਰੇ ਹੀ ਪੱੱੁੱਛਦੇ ਨੇ।
ਅਤੇ ਫ਼ਿਰ ਉਹ ਮੇਰੇ ਮੁੰਹ ਵਲ ਵੇਖਦੇ ਨੇ ਅਤੇ ਸੋਚਦੇ ਨੇ ‘ਪਰ ਤੂੰ ਤਾਂ ਸਾਡੇ ਵਰਗੀ ਗੋਰੀ ਹੈ। ਜਰਾ ਵੇਖੋ ਤੁਸੀਂ ਇਸ ਵਲ, ਇਸਦਾ ਰੰਗ ਗੋਰਾ ਹੈ, ਅਤੇ ਮੁੰਹ ਤੇ ਝਾਈਆਂ ਨੇ’।
‘ਅਤੇ ਇੱਕ ਹੋਰ ਗਲ ਵੀ ਸ਼ਰਤੀਆ ਹੈ ਕਿ ਉਹ ਉੱਤਰੀ ਇਲਾਕੇ ਦੀ ਕਿਸੇ ਦੂਰ ਦਰਾਜ਼ੀ ਨਦੀ ਕੰਢੇ, ਅੰਬ ਦੇ ਰੁੱਖ ਹੇਠ ਪੈਦਾ ਨਹੀਂ ਹੋਈ ਲਗਦੀ’।
ਉਹ ਇਹ ਵੀ ਸੋਚ ਰਹਿ ਹੋਣਗੇ, ਕਿ ਇਹ ਸਿਡਨੀ ਜਾਂ ਮੈਲਬੋਰਨ ਦੇ ਕਿਸੇ ਤੱਪੜ ਇਲਾਕੇ ਵਿੱਚ ਜਨਮੀ ਨਹੀਂ ਲਗਦੀ।
‘ਤੇ ਇਸ ਕੋਲ ‘ਨਸਲ ਚੋਰੀ’ ਦੀ ਕੋਈ ਕਹਾਣੀ ਨਹੀਂ ਹੋਵੇਗੀ ।
ਐਪਰ ਬੁਝ ਕੀ ਗੋਰੇ। ਅੱਵਲ ਤਾਂ ਮੈਂ ਤੇਰੀ ਰਿਣੀ ਹਾਂ ਕਿ ਤੂੰ ਮੇਰਾ “ਰੰਗ” ਵੇਖ ਲਿਆ ਹੈ। ‘ਤੇ ਤੂੰ ਸ਼ਾਇਦ ਸਹੀ ਹੋਵੇਂ ਮੇਰੇ ਜੰਮਣ ਭੂਮੀ ਬਾਰੇ। ਹਾਲਾਂਕਿ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਵੀ ਨਹੀਂ ਪਤਾ ਕਿ ਮੈਂ ਕਿੱਥੇ ਜੰਮੀ ਸਾਂ।
ਸ਼ਾਇਦ ਮੈਂ ਕਿਸੇ ਪੁਰਾਤਨ ਅੰਬ ਹੇਠ ਪੈਦਾ ਹੋਣ ਦੀ ਕਹਾਣੀ ਘੜ ਲਵਾਂ ਯਾ ਫ਼ਿਰ ਗੁੰਦ ਲਵਾਂ ਕੋਈ ਗਾਥਾ, ਕਿਸੇ ਦੱਖਨੀ ਮਹਾਨਗਰ ਦੇ ਤੱਪੜ ਇਲਾਕੇ ਦੀ ਕਿਸੇ ਗੰਧੀਲੀ, ਭੀੜੀ ਗਲੀ ਵਿੱਚ ਪੈਦਾ ਹੋਣ ਬਾਰੇ।
ਨਹੀਂ ਤਾਂ ਫ਼ਿਰ ਸ਼ਾਇਦ ‘ਨਸਲ ਚੋਰੀ’ ਬਾਰੇ ਕੋਈ ਕਹਾਣੀ, ਜੋ ਕਿਸੇ ਮੌਕੇ ਤੇ ਸੂਤ ਬਹਿ ਸਕੇ।
ਐਪਰ ਸੱਚ ਤਾਂ ਇਹ ਹੈ ਕਿ ਮੈਂ ਕਾਲ਼ੀ ਨਸਲ ਦੀ ਇਕ ਕਾਲ਼ੀ ਔਰਤ ਹਾਂ।
ਮੇਰੀ ਕਾਲ਼ੀ ਬੰਸਾਵਲੀ ਵਿੱਚ ਮੇਰੀ ਪਹਿਲੀ ਮਾਂ ਮਿਮਬਿਂਗਲ, ਛੇ “ਦੂਜੀਆਂ” ਮਾਵਾਂ, ਦੋ ਨਾਨੀਆਂ, ਦੋ ਪੜਨਾਨੀਆਂ, ਦੋ ਲੱਕੜਨਾਨੀਆਂ, ਦੋ… ਕੀ ਮੈਂ ਹੋਰ ਗਿਣਦੀ ਜਾਵਾਂ?
ਮੈਂ ਮਿਮਬਿਂਗਲ ਦੀ ਕੁੱਖ ਵਿੱਚੋਂ ਜੰਮੀ ਹਾਂ, ਜਿਸਨੇ ਮੇਰੇ ਕੰਨ ਵਿਚ ਕੂਵਾਰੱਕ (ਗੁੜ੍ਹਤੀ) ਫ਼ੂਂਕੀ ਸੀ।
“ਤਜਾਲਿੰਗਮਾਰਾ, ਲੁਕੜੀਕਾਨ ਪੋਂਗਾ ਤਜੁਦਾ ਲੋਕ ਕੁਰੀਂਦਜੂ”।
“ਤਜਾਲਿੰਗਮਾਰਾ, ਪੋਂਗਾ (ਸ਼ੀਤਾਂਸੂ) ਰੁੱਖਾਂ ਨਾਲ ਘਿਰੇ ਕੁਰਿਂਦਜੂ ਲੋਕ ਦੀ ਕੁੜੀ”।
ਮੇਰਾ ਕਾਲੇ ਬੰਸ ਦਾ ਆਦਰ ਅਤੇ ਐਲਾਨ ਕਰਨਾ ਬਹੁਤ ਜ਼ਰੂਰੀ ਹੋ ਜਾਂਦਾ ਹੈ ਕਿਉਂਕਿ ਇਹ ਸਿਰਫ਼ ਮੇਰੀ ਨਸਲ ਤੱਕ ਹੀ ਸੀਮਿਤ ਨਹੀਂ ਹੈ ਬਲਕਿ ਮੇਰਾ ਰੁਤਬਾ, ਮੇਰੀ ਸਾਖ ਅਤੇ ਸਭ ਤੋਂ ਵੱਧ ਇਹ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਆਪਣੀ ਭੋਏਂ ਨਾਲ ਜੋੜਦਾ ਹੈ। ਜਿਸ ਵਿਚੋਂ ਸਭ ਤੋਂ ਪਹਿਲੇ ਗਰਭ ਨੇ ਜਨਮ ਲਿਆ ਸੀ।
ਮੈਨੂੰ ਇੱਕ ਕੁਂਗਾਰਕਨ ਲੜਕੀ ਰਾਹੀਂ ਇਸ ਦੁਨੀਆਂ ਨੂੰ ਹਾਸਲ ਹੋਣ ਦਾ ਸਬੱਬ ਮਿਲਿਆ ਹੈ।ਉਹ ਕੁਂਗਾਰਕਨ ਲੜਕੀ, ਜਿਸ ਲਈ ਗੁਰਿਂਜੀ ਔਰਤਾਂ ਸਦੀਆਂ ਤੋਂ ਪਵਿੱਤਰ ਇਸ ਰਸਤੇ ਤੇ ਮਾਰਗ-ਦਰਸ਼ਕ ਬਣੀਆਂ ਨੇ ।
ਮੈਂ ਮੰਨਦੀ ਹਾਂ ਕਿ ਕਾਲ਼ੀ ਔਰਤ ਰਾਹੀਂ ਇਸ ਦੁਨੀਆਂ ਵਿੱਚ ਆਉਣ ਨਾਲ ਮੈਂ ਇੱਕ ਖ਼ਾਸ ਸ਼ਕਤੀ ਅਤੇ ਗਿਆਨ ਨਾਲ ਭਰ ਗਈ ਹਾਂ।ਕੁਝ ਖ਼ਾਸ ਲੋਕ ਹੀ ਇਸ ਪੈਂਡੇ ਲਈ ਚੁਣੇ ਜਾਂਦੇ ਨੇ।
ਇਹ ਜਨਮ, ਇਹ ਕਾਲ਼ਾਪਨ, ਮੈਨੂੰ ਉਸ ਗਿਆਨ ਨਾਲ ਸਰੋਬਾਰ ਕਰਦਾ ਹੈ, ਜੋ ਸਿਰਫ਼ ‘ਕਾਲ਼ੀਆਂ ਰੂਹਾਂ’ ਦੇ ਅਮ੍ਰਿਤ ਕੁੰਡ ‘ਚੋਂ ਨਿਸਾਰ ਹੁੰਦਾ ਹੈ।ਅਤੇ ਇਹ ਸੁਗਾਤ ਉਨ੍ਹਾਂ ਨਾਲ ਹੀ ਵੰਡੀ ਜਾ ਸਕਦੀ ਹੈ, ਜਿਹੜੀਆਂ ਰੂਹਾਂ ਇਸ ਸਫ਼ਰ ਤੇ ਤੁਰੀਆਂ ਹੋਣ।
ਕਾਲ਼ੀਆਂ ਔਰਤਾਂ ਵੱਲੋਂ ਮੇਰਾ ਪਾਲਣ ਪੋਸ਼ਣ ਹੀ ਮੇਰੀ ਜ਼ਿੰਦਗੀ ਦਾ ਬਿਹਤਰੀਨ ਤਜ਼ਰਬਾ ਹੈ। ਭੰਗੂੜੇ ਤੋਂ ਪੱਕੀ ਉਮਰ ਤੱਕ ਦੀ ਸਿੱਖਿਆ, ਜਿਸਨੇ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਬਲ ਦਿੱਤਾ, ਤਾਂ ਜੋ ਮੈਂ ਉਸ ਵਾਈਟਫੈਲਾ ਗੋਰੇ ਨਾਲ ਗੱਲ ਕਰ ਸਕਾਂ, ਜੋ ਮੇਰੇ ਰੰਗ ਬਾਰੇ ਸਵਾਲ ਕਰੇਗਾ।
ਮੇਰਾ ਸੱਚ ਕਾਲ਼ੀ ਔਰਤ ਹੈ। ਮੈਂ ਗਰਵ ਨਾਲ ਖੜ੍ਹਦੀ ਹਾਂ ਕਿਉਂਕਿ ਮੈਂ ਕਾਲ਼ੀ ਔਰਤ ਹਾਂ।ਮੈਨੂੰ ਮੇਰਾ ਪਹਿਲਾ ਸਾਹ ਇਕ ਕਾਲ਼ੀ ਔਰਤ ਕੋਲੋਂ ਮਿਲਿਆ ਸੀ। ਮੈਂ ਕਾਲ਼ੀ ਔਰਤ ਵਾਂਗ ਸਾਹ ਲੈਂਦੀ ਹਾਂ, ਅਤੇ ਮੇਰਾ ਅਖ਼ਿਰੀ ਸਾਹ ਇੱਕ ਕਾਲ਼ੀ ਔਰਤ ਵਾਂਗ ਹੀ ਹੋਵੇਗਾ।

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