Experiences of a common man!
सूर्यले बादललाई सिन्दुर लगाएको त्यो साँझ
राजकुमारीझैँ सझिएकी
कोमल हातमा गुडिया बोकेकी
एउटी सानी नानीका आँखाले
आफ्नी आमासँग
प्रश्नहरू सोध्दै थिए–
“आमा घर जाने बेला भएन ?
कति खेप बोक्न बाँकी छ
ईँटा र बालुवाको भार ?
कति समय लाग्ला बनाउन
हाम्रो पनि यस्तै ठूलो घर ?”
“We’ll create a Global Village,” they said.
And they laid
The basic foundations
To connect people
From different Nations.
***
The Global Village to people is dear;
It’s brought them near
And they understand
The world better than ever.
***
Is the world getting better, though,
I wanna know
When we are closed
In the closeness
Of this virtual world?
Are we going farther away
From our families?
From our friends?
From our neighbors?
From our society?
***
How do we balance between the world’s
Real and Virtual?
How do we carry on
Ourselves without
Being enthralled by stuffs
That are not quite real?
He sits in the corner of his dark room
And cries
Remembering the girl who cheated on him
And then
Threatened to sue him for no crime
He did.
He knows her tears will melt the mass,
Her voice will resonate in the crowd,
Her accusations will kill him even if
The court proves him innocent.
He knows no one, no law can
Help him.
That’s why
He sits in the corner of his dark room
And cries.
In towns and cities connected by roads
Never distant are the daughters
With no compromises and loads
Close to parents are the daughters.
***
Never distant were the daughters
We hope all our lives
Close to us were the daughters
We dream all our lives.
******
We hope all our lives
To return again to our parents
We dream all our lives
To see once again our parents.
***
To return again to our parents
We lament in this far off land
To see once again our parents
We pray in this desolate land.
******
[Note: I had written this poem in Nepali (माइती जान नपाउने चेली). After I received a comment from Mick Canning and read the translation, I felt so bad. So I tried translating the poem myself. This is also my effort on the Pantoum form of poetry.]
मध्ययुगीन युरोपेली शैलीमा
सेतो रङका पाप्रा उप्किएर पहेँलो, कालो बनेका
दिवार चिरेर उम्रेका उन्यु र पीपलका पात बोकेर
उभिएको कुनै भुतघरजस्तो संरचना देख्दा
नतर्सिनू,
चारैतिर दुईतीन फिट अग्ला घाँस, दुबो, सिस्नु,
वनफाँडा, काँडा र गाँजाका झाङमा
खेलिरहेका, गफ हाँकिरहेका अनि आफ्नै कुनामा
सर्को तानी मनोरञ्जन लिइरहेका थरीथरीका मानिस देख्दा
नझुक्किनू,
छतमा, फूलबारीमा, लाइब्रेरीमा, कोरिडोरमा,
रुखमुन्तिर, ल्याबमा अनि क्लासरूममा
निश्चिन्त ग्याङ, ग्रुप र जोडी बन्दै
टङ्टङ बज्ने घडीघरको पेन्डुलम जस्तै
यताउता गरिरहेका विद्यार्थी देख्दा
नअल्मलिनू,
भर्खर शताब्दी पार गरेको
भुकम्प, राजनीती र
बेवास्ताको मारमा परेको
जन्ममा नै पिताको
मनमा बिस्मात जगाएको
यो त्रिभुवन-चन्द्र बहुमुखी कलेज हो !
Were they humans when
they dragged me to the streets?
Were they humans when
they tore my clothes to tatters?
Were they humans when
they fed me their excreta?
Were they humans when
they scalped me and kicked me and punched me?
What had they become when
they called me a witch?
***
Had i been a witch
wouldn’t i have pushed them away?
Had i been a witch
wouldn’t I have stolen their riches?
Had i been a witch
wouldn’t i have inflicted terror upon them?
Had i been a witch
would i have prayed the Lord
to make them humans again?
All she ever asked for was–
a morsel of good meal
with her family
in a house that
protected them
from the blistering sun,
from the drenching rain and
from the chilling cold.
***
Her wish never came true
but she hoped it would,
until one day–
the dark clouds
washed out her crops,
washed out her hut,
washed out her hopes,
washed out her life.
***
She now wails, but in vain!
For it is not loud enough
to wake the gods up in heaven
above those dark clouds
that brought the rain!
