[Translated from Nepali by Dr. Sarita Sharma]
It was in the year when
the mud was fully satiated
that the seeds had transformed into
tall trees of despair!
the barren land now gazes
with arid eyes
at the hushed path through which rain would arrive!
where every other thing has an edge
rivers roads clothes faces thoughts weapons
sandals spade sickle stove weed chapati blanket dreams
is exactly the place where a market thrives
this is not to conclude anything
time also has an edge
and it is on that edge
where there is a dense tree
that the desperate one sits under the dark shade
and thaws himself in the pools of the sky
pummelling it with an uninterested palm!
he gulps down a palmfull of sky
yet remains parched like the kakakuli!*
crossing over the geographical barriers
marches a thick mas of thirst
on the flag
the image of a combat bird beating its wings like fire
the cavalcade is subjugated
tear gas bullets
the force of domination
was no less an abettor to the flame of suppressed anguish!
this is not about others
it is about you about me about us!
dumb some voluble some
falling some standing some
knowingly or unknowingly
what actually are we sowing here?
at fire sprouting
tearing the seed’s flesh apart!
just like the fairy tales of yore
our desire to consummate change
should have matured by now!
yes our battle has begun
we are just waiting for the beagle to sound
waiting with news eager ears
in reality the circle of dying and killing
has continued unabated since
long long ago!
the tottering generation had vowed
the nameless lost generation
calls out to the person floating on time’s edges
you float down the river of struggles
the ocean of fulfilment shall stream to meet you
enfold you within itself
up and above!
it is exactly now that
our haste our wars
like the combatant Phoenix
plunges in and out of fire
now dead now reborn
fly over the burning kop of Kanchenjunga
the traitorous sky lynches at your wings!
(Kakakuli – Mythical bird which is supposed to remain thirsty despite drinking any amount of water)