— Mishra Baijayanti
I shouldn't have left the village,
I shouldn't have crossed either
the village river—
I shouldn't have left the village,
I shouldn't have crossed either
the village river—
Shouldn't have put the spade down
from my shoulders, shouldn't have
taken the namlo* away from my scalp;
these soles of mine
are for going round and round
like tethered bullocks at a threshing,
these hands
are not for modern skills,
these eyes
not for seeking our
ways to the future.
Oh lords! Come, take me
to the broad square of your city
and put me in chains there!
Let all the people see and realize
that it's forbidden for birds to flutter
their wings.
It's my fault
to have a stomach from birth
it's my fault
to be born with
parts to be covered ...
fed up
the people might have become
seeing me in their auspicious moments,
defamed
your city might have become
all because of my ragged clothes,
dirtied
your city must have been
by my poor, desolate face ...
I don't know where in this city
is a fountain of water
where I can quench my thirst,
I don't know where humanity,
humans' shelter, is!
It might be here! People having
faces upon faces! People who
have lost their faces ...
It might be here where here are the people!
And the long lost faces ...
All of these ... always divided
by their own existence,
all of these ... always burning
in their own fire,
and changing into cinders
out of their malicious drives ...
O postmodernist KINGS!
Hang me up
from the highest tower
and stone me to death!
Let the earth and its power
quake long and terrible;
not again
may people be found
in hungry faces!
So deep is my wound,
I might have uttered so;
I might have uttered
that a huge pit of sorrow
I have; Your Jazz
might have been starkly contrasted
by my baby's cries. But listen!
Not even a surname
I have,
nor the citizenship card—
only mother
I have,
and father
is what I don't have.
Mother does not have that footing
to provide me with father,
Come, oh lords!
Stand in my place!
Secretly, impregnate me
and be born
on your own from my womb
and plead with yourself
for that identity card!
Namlo*-- a band put round scalp/head to support a load being carried on the back
*******
(Translation: HARIS ADHIKARI)
अनामिकाको ऐलान
— मिश्र वैजयन्ती
मैले गाउँ छोड्न हुँदैनथ्यो
मैले गाउँको नदी तर्नै हुँदैनथ्यो
हुँदैनथ्यो काँधको कोदालो ओराल्न
थाप्लोको नाम्लो उतार्न
यी पाइताला दाइँजस्तै वरिपरी हिँड्नलाई हुन्
हातहरू उन्नत सीपका लागि होइनन्
होइनन् यी आँखाहरू भविष्यका बाटाहरू खोज्न
ओ शासकहरू हो
सहरको सबभन्दा खुला ठाउँमा ठिँगुरा ठोक मलाई
सम्पूर्ण मानिसहरूले देखून् र चाल पाऊन्
सहरमा चराहरूले फटफटाउन निषेध छ ।
जन्मदै एउटा पेट हुनु मेरो भुल हो
भुल हो छोप्नुपर्ने अङ्गहरू लिएर जन्मनु
आजित होलान् मानिसहरू आफ्नो साइतमा मलाई देखेर
बद्नाम भएको होला तिम्रो सहर मेरो मैला कपडाले
फोहोर भएको होला तिम्रो सहर मेरो मैला अनुहारले
मलाई थाहा छैन यो सहरमा कहाँ छ प्यास मेट्ने पानीको धारा
कहाँ छ मानवता, मानिसको सहारा !
यहीँ होलान् अनुहारमाथि अनुहार भएका मानिसहरू
यहीँ होलान् अनुहार हराएका मानिसहरू
यहीँ होलान् मानिसहरू हराएका अनुहारहरू
यी सधैँ आफ्नै अस्तित्वले विभक्त छन्
यी सधैँ आफ्नै आगोले डड्दै छन्
र ईष्र्याले खरानी हुँदै छन् ।
ओ उत्तरआधुनिक महाराजहरू हो
सबभन्दा अग्लो टावरमा झुण्ड्याएर तारो हान मलाई
काँपोस् जमिन र यसको शक्ति
फेरिदेखि सहरमा नभेटियोस् भोको अनुहारमा मानिस ।
फेरिदेखि सहरमा नभेटियोस् भोको अनुहारमा मानिस ।
धेरै गहिरो छ घाउ मसँग भनेँ हुँला
भनेँ हुँला मनमा दुःखको खाडल छ
तिम्रो ज्याज मेरो शिशुको रुवाईले बद्नाम भयो होला
न मेरो जात छ
न छ देशको नागरिकता
मसँग केवल आमा छ बाबु छैन ।
आमासँग मलाई बाबु दिलाउने आधार छैन
मेरो गोडामा तिमी उभिन
ओ शासकहरू हो आऊ मलाई गोप्य गर्भाधान गर
आफैँ जन्म मेरो कोखबाट
र आफैँ माग नागरिकता आफैँसँग ।
भनेँ हुँला मनमा दुःखको खाडल छ
तिम्रो ज्याज मेरो शिशुको रुवाईले बद्नाम भयो होला
न मेरो जात छ
न छ देशको नागरिकता
मसँग केवल आमा छ बाबु छैन ।
आमासँग मलाई बाबु दिलाउने आधार छैन
मेरो गोडामा तिमी उभिन
ओ शासकहरू हो आऊ मलाई गोप्य गर्भाधान गर
आफैँ जन्म मेरो कोखबाट
र आफैँ माग नागरिकता आफैँसँग ।
