Translated from the Hindi by Annie Zaidi
He’d gone out to fetch milk
You killed him
He’d come to scrub dishes at a wedding
You killed him
He’d come home after a long time
You killed him
He’d stepped out after saying his prayers
You killed him
He was screaming Allah Allah
You killed him
They’re sobbing, missing their dead
They are not waiting to be killed
They’re wondering how they’ll live without the dead
Yes, living is what they’re thinking about
And you are thinking about killing them
***
Story
What have you lost that you’re sad about
I asked the man pulling the rickshaw
He said, we’re three brothers
Mother died when they were little
He wanted love to bind the three of them
But all his efforts have been in vain
I saw that his story is done
But he wants me to stay for a bit
His body is still shaking in agitation
***
The Metro-dwellers
The metro-dwellers saw that a drunk man has barged into the metro
The metro-dwellers saw he’s a gamcha-wearing labourer of minimal status
He’s stumbling, mumbling, but still on his feet
which tells the metro-dwellers, his intoxication is wearing off
The metro said: This is Ramakrishna Ashram. Doors will open on the left
The drunk said: Rubbish, there’s no Ashram-fashram
All ashrams are rubbish. No door will open. Nobody will get off anywhere
Some metro-dwellers smiled
Some preserved their dignity by hiding smiles
Some moved further up lest the drunk fall upon them
What was most palpable in the conditioned air of the metro was this:
Once his intoxication wears off the man will know
He’s lost. He is not a true metro-dweller
Perhaps we will never see him again
***
