~Dr. Dubasu Chettri~
Translated by Mahesh Poudyal
Enough has been the things
This pair of eyes have seen
I am tired now; stunned too
I am fragmented in myself
I cannot stand to see
My own calamity befalling me
I am trying to puke all darkness
Closing my two Swayambhoo’s-like eyes
I am willing to peek at myself
But then, I am tired
I have been defeated
I want to close the eyelids
Of both my eyes for a few days
I want to spill myself over time
Letting out from inside the light of my life-instinct
I
Want to sleep for a few more days now
I want darkness
I want not to see, ache or show
I want to raise Braille from inside myself
And keep me concealed
Do not confine me to one place
Do not make me stand
Beware; the Berlin Wall can surge up
And that shall take several years to crumble
Do not smash me at the same place
Do not force me in
Flames from the gas-chamber can rise; beware!
And the wound can take centuries to heal.
Oomph! Do not throw drift particles of atom or neutron bombs
Tears from Hiroshima had given the Pacific
The distinction of being the biggest ocean
It shall take centuries for this flow to stop
I cannot afford to keep crying anymore
I cannot anymore bear
To see inaccessible Berlin Walls being erected
Right through people‘s hearts
I can no longer stay mute
To see the most tender human flesh Being baked inside a gas chamber
I cannot stand particles of an atom bomb
Charring people‘s heart
I
Would rather sleep for a few more days now
I want some darkness
I want not to see, ache or show
I want to raise Braille from inside myself
And keep me concealed
Enough is enough;
Do not demarcate a boundary line
On my courtyard
Do not slice man Into Ram, Krishna Jesus or Allah
For, God is always one
And is always an insider an individual
Do not come close to observe my body
Do not scratch my skin
Never divide man in terms of colors
Black or white
The color of humanity is always one
And blood looks red everywhere
Blood, by nature, is always hot
Oomph! Do not declare yourself my master
Standing on my porch;
Do not call me a slave
In all ages, one‘s master is none
But his present
If one tries I can always stay together
I can no longer afford to see
Innumerable gods in people‘s hearts
I can no longer afford to see
The rise of scarecrows everywhere
I can no longer stay silent and see
The softest hears of people being pricked
In order to identify their colors
Let no one come near to me
And call me a slave
I
Would rather sleep for a few more days now
I want darkness
I want not to see, ache or show
I want to raise Braille from inside myself
And keep me concealed
Do not come to me
At my study hour
Merely to show your innumerable books
Do not point with your forefinger
On any of your Bible, Geeta, Tripitak, and Koran
And force me to read it
The book we read is the same, everywhere
And it‘s time!
Time is always single
And is worth reading for every individual
Be it a Hindu, a Muslim, or a Christian
It‘s useful to everyone, every moment
Do not appear
At the very outset of my journey
And show me the mountains of my destination
I am unwilling to climb any of those mountains:
The mountain of church, temple or mosque
The mountain of destination is always single
And this is the mountain of our goal
A goal always emanates
From the base of one‘s courage and self–esteem
Be it he, you or I
Success outstretches its arm
To hail everyone
Oomph! Do not come into my backyard garden
And slice it into fragments
Do not divide it
As his, mine or yours
I have tolerated a lot
Having been divided into Korea, Germany Yemen, Vietnam or Kampuchea
I don‘t want to get divided this way
The earth always remains but one
It‘s common to everyone
Do not draw borders on its chest
With lines of blood
The earth is for all of us
In all ages, I cannot continue to stare
At someone walking close to me
And forcing me to read only one book
I cannot continue to tolerate
Someone who comes and forces me
To climb only one mountain
I can no longer stay silent
And see someone come and draw
Lines of demarcation
On the breast of the earth
I
Would rather sleep for a few more days now
I want darkness
I want not to see, ache or show
I want to raise Braille from inside myself
And keep me concealed
——————
The ‘Third Eye – 1’ is one of the poems from Dr Dubasu Chettri’s book ‘Sacrificial Horses of Ashwamedha’.
(Source : Global Literature in Libraries Initiative (GLLI) website)
