Where Would I Go

Where would I go

I shall only stay here,

like a handprint

on a door

just to be there,

I’ll be hidden in

the smell of a suitcase

sitting on an old ledge,

I will remain buried in a register book

under the letters

where my permanent address is written.

Or if I can,

I will be the bell

the donkeys wear, carrying salt

up steep slopes,

or a nail,

on a boatman’s bridge.

Where would I go,

You will see,

everything will stay as it is,

only my routine will change.

When the birds return in the evening

I will also return,

and in the morning when they fly,

I’ll fly away with them.

(Translation of “Jaunga Kahan,” a poem from Srishti Par Pahra)

Mother Tongue

As ants return to

their nests,

a woodpecker

returns to the wood,

and the airplanes return to the airport

one after another

stretching their wings in the red sky,

O my language,

I return to you,

when my tongue feels

stiff from

remaining silent,

hurting my soul.

(Translation of “Matribhasha,” a poem from Akaal Mein Saaras)

Grass

She is a gypsy

driven from all the cities in the world

now looking for its lost name and place

in the dust of your town.

In the democracy of mankind,

there should be

an ongoing long debate on grass,

and until this is not happening,

so to initiate this dialogue

I announce that in the next election

I’ll vote for grass,

and whether elected

or not elected by anyone,

she is always going to be in the field

holding a banner, a small leaf.

She is an obstinacy to rise

from anywhere,

anytime.

(Translation of “Ghaas,” a poem from Srishti Par Pahra)

Translations from the Hindi

By Kalpna Singh-Chitnis