The Kash field sways in the raging wind,
heaving like an excited chest,
as I hop along the trail
And my stunned eyes see the sky getting swallowed,
By the smoke of the roaring train
Piercing through the landscape like a snake
And the shadow disappears.
And
Hundreds of crows fly with a tremendous flutter
The lights sway in the river in Varanasi
As darkness falls, once again
And
my fingers caress the hairpin
never seen before, never found before, on this pillow case
As the fragrance of tea wafts across the kitchen,
with the sound of water bubbling on the stove
And
Light scatters from the chandelier swaying from the ceiling of that derelict palace
The light lacing the shadows
and who knows from which room, from which window
I hear
the tinkling of anklets
And
The loud banging of drums drowns the goddess’ voice
only her sharp, alert eyes visible
And
As the loud, frightening burp of the truck’s diesel engine quietens
Candlelight spreads through the hut
brightening Gulabi’s face
And
From the blinds of the window on the upper floor,
Charulata observes the scene below through her opera glasses
Later in the afternoon she sits on the swing,
rises and falls,
excited like her breathing
her face focused
on his smile
and on her lips plays that song
rising on the steps of the piano,
her lips quiver
as she recalls him saying
Mediterranean – like the sound of a tanpura
Then, months later,
her hesitant hand shivers, uncertain,
moves towards his hand
The ocean washes the beach
the fingertips so close
so eager so keen –
the image frozen.
And
the snow-capped Kanchenjangha plays hide and seek with the clouds
and the sky changes colours
as if on a palette
reflecting emotions
And
amidst the noise of the tram and the chaos of the Big City
With each footstep
Arti erases inequality
And
distraught by the shrunken dreams of Indrajit
Siddhartha roams around the city,
looking for himself.
And
under that tree by the river on the mat
the rasleela of words
– Rabindranath
– Karl Marx
– Cleopatra
– Atulya Ghosh
– Helen
– Shakespeare
– Mao Tse Tung
– Don Bradman
– Rani Rashmoni
– Bobby Kennedy
– Tekchand Thakur
– Napoleon
– Mumtaz Mahal
And clinging on their shoulders
He seeks an excuse
makes lame attempts
To form a relationship
And
intoxicated by the game of chess
the noblemen are so engrossed
that they forget the erasure
and disappearance of their princely state
And
crossing the threshold
the bride steps out, walking towards widowhood
Neither at home, nor in the world
And
on the mountaintop
He releases the pages which tie him to his past
The sheets float with the wind
and he lifts his son on his shoulders –
Like an unknown visitor
Apu walks on that lonely road
in search of tomorrow.
Read the Gujarati original below:
For Satyajit Ray by Salil Tripathi – Original Gujarati
