Translated from the Hindi by Carol Blaizy D’Souza
Now
Now
when I recognize
my world as I do my towel
what possibility remains of any poetry-shoetry.
What were once my sensitivities
Have now become my irritabilities
All my subtleties have scattered
and I am left
Cent percent a physical attestation
Whenever I speak
people stare
like the radio has started up at the wrong time.
I know this and still continue to talk.
Afterall, it is I who make and serve
them tea at all and odd hours.
Earlier when I would talk to you
my voice would suddenly drop
Now, it suddenly rises.
People say
you have started being afraid of me.
I should be sad
but I am happy; at least, you are being something.
Your mute tolerance
otherwise
goes around insulting me constantly.
Without your reactions
the maps of my future fights are incomplete.
In Some Days
In some days
I will end up being a mere foolish presence.
Wits will fly away and fade
like the colours of saris
All sensations will come to hang
on the smell of the street and the sound of hawkers
In the name of memory
I will know by heart the prices of vegetables.
I will write
Solely, to my parents, letters of complaint.
Gradually
you will do every right thing,
I will be behind everything wrong.
When we
will talk to each other
only a buzzing noise will emerge
You will get accustomed to my annoyance,
regarding it the ultimate female reaction.
And I will think
that in work, you going out
is more important than you coming back.
People will weigh your prosperity
by my weight
You will benefit in every way.
If on some free evening
you try to be serious toward me
you will find
that your dear girl has left you years back—
only I
with uninterested eyes
am sitting staring at my worn slippers.
I Want to Know
I want to know
so much about you
First of all, name.
I mean, an identity
Then this:
which cigarette you like
and
which soap you use to wash.
Which bus you take at what time to go home.
And why, often, you stand around
by that trash tea stall.
Do you like watching a cricket match
or
reading Hemingway?
Are you fond of that street in this city
where often the fragrance of jasmine lingers
or of that
where every second day there is a mishap.
I want to tell you
that when you laugh, eyes and all,
you look yet more handsome
but
gloom does not become you at all.
Many times, I feel like
I have chatted with you
without uttering a word
And you
have come closer
without crossing the road
keeping a friendly hand on the shoulder.
But such moments are very few
like money lying around in the purse.
Often, I find
there is a tired loneliness
around me
bearing which
is as difficult
as wearing damp clothes
in the rain.
By now
I have come to know well
even the number of cockroaches in my room
and unanswered letters
on my table.
Mamta Kalia is a bilingual Indian writer working in Hindi and English. Her collections of poetry in English include A Tribute to Papa and Other Poems and Poems 78. Her collections of poetry in Hindi include Khanti Gharelu Aurat and Kitne Prashn Karoon. She is well known for novels and short stories in Hindi. Notable novels include Beghar, Narak Dar Narak, Daud, Sapnon Ki Home Delivery and Dukkham Sukkham. Short story collections include Chhutkara, Seat Number Chhah, Bolne Wali Aurat and Thoda Sa Pragatisheel. She is a recipient of many awards including the Vyas Samman, Ram Manohar Lohia Samman, Yashpal Katha Samman and Sahitya Bhushan Samman. She currently lives in New Delhi.
Carol Blaizy D’Souza is a poet, translator and teacher from Bangalore. A collation of her work can be found at linktr.ee/cblaizd.