(TRANSLATION BY ARJUN CHOUDHURI)
MANASA MANGAL
OR
THE LAY OF MANASA
Seven bedecked boats wandering, endless waters everywhere
In Sravan incessant drones this lay of Manasa
and clumps of pullulating reeds rearing snakelike hoods
Rags to cover oneself in and the agony of Behula
While whistling breezes waft home a benighted evensong
The daughter of Sa’ha hastens on her eternal voyage
Far it is from Nichhani to home in the city of Champaka
Back in the homestead hangs a seven-tiered shika
At night by the light of an improvised oil lamp,
The old woman blinded bewails the passing of Lakha.
My son the fisherman this night fares in the waters
Keep him unscathed, Manasa, O let him prosper.
The Sravani breezes from the southern quarters
Bear hence the uterine odours of the waters
Even now does the twice-born bard Bansidass this strain sing
Not hither, not hither, it is another dour lake...yet to be seen.....
In the entrancing gloom of the dim evening hour,
Called up by the pull of the unknown beyond,
The daughter of Sa’ha hastens on her eternal voyage
UDBASTUR DIARY
OR
PAGES FROM THE DIARY OF AN EXILE
1.
He who has seized my homestead, has dispelled all my fear
The sky on its breast the imprint of my name does bear.
No more doubts, for I will wage a war to end all wars
My mekhlaa-clad sister has gifted me a single tambul.
I, for now, have learnt my lessons
Devoid of all language, in an academy of affection.
Bangla is my mother-tongue, the world is my shelter
For me, Prafulla and Bhrigu are each a blood brother.
2.
Ten brothers, each a champaka blossom
A single sister among them like a parul bloom
They tore out their hearts to inscribe
“This, the Ishan quarter, rejoices, weeps
In what language, listen, and know”
You cannot hear it. And these conspirators thrive as yet
Come hither and listen to this tumultuous roar
Rising from three hundred thousand souls
“Bangla is my mother-tongue, Ishan-Bangla my mother”
