Επιμέλεια: Εύα Πετροπούλου Λιανού
Govinda Giri Prerana (Born 1958 ) is a published poet and writer in his mother language Nepali. He has published 27 books of poetry, short stories, novels, essays, travelogues etc. He has received many awards. He moved to US in 2004. Now he has started writing poems in English. His poems has been appeared in FLAR (Frederiksburg Literary and Art Review), NOVA Bards and Virginia Bards Fairfax County Poetry Review, Paradise on Earth, an international poetry Anthology. He divides his time in US, India and Nepal.
Mother
Here’s a chilling instance of buhartan
—torture, a daughter-in-law is subjected to
at the hands of women at her in-laws’ home.
The daughter-in-law, ready to deliver any moment
goes out to gather fodder
fills her basket with utter difficulty
gathers turfs,
added to the burden inside the belly
is the load of grass on the back
a surge of perspirations drips
down the earlobes
the load of sweats from the back
flow down, towards her petticoat
the feet are bare; there’s no slippers
It’s Tekkar Bhansari—some three hours’ drive from the capital
and three ages removed from luxury and amenities
The pang of a need-kada spine stuck in the feet
pain from inside the belly
the anxiety of half-sleep
the anxiety whether the child will be born alright
memory of those born and departed
love for those born and survived
o, what will happen to her now!
Worries knock her down aground.
With torrents of perspiration dripping down
as she reaches the front-yard
right in the middle of it
she is driven by labor pain
so acute that it drives her half-dead;
intact is the burden on the back
and so is the one inside
as she throws the fodder load
on the edge of the porch
crushing with her feet the fading sights
That moment
right at that moment
she happens to throw on the yard
the nine-month old burden from the belly;
a commotion ensues all over the house
and before it sneaks into the neighborhood
she hears emanating from an impenetrable forest of pain
a juvenile voice of the newborn!
That child—emanating that faint cry
was none but I;
away from those hills that vouchsafed by first cry
I am today ascending the heights of my dreams
amid commotions in America;
the mother that bore the load on her back
perhaps survives faintly in the firmament of memory
yes, once in the firmament, once away from the earth
off to a world beyond reach and beyond the eyes
she thrives in memory; mere memory
Mother! My mother
who gave me eyes to look at the world
is, henceforth, nowhere to be found.
(Written originally in Nepali and translated by Mahesh Paudel)
After the war
The city was mashed
The road was broken
People were dead
The city was not city
The road was not road
People were not people
There were debris
There were pits
There were dead bodies
Dead bodies were scattered
Bodies were not bodies
Bodies were pieces of bones
And fleshes
There was no smile
No tears
No cry
No face of people
A dog was seen there
Holding a piece of human
His eyes full of tears
For his loving owner!
Guest
You left nothing
But memory!
Empty tea cup and plates
Were washed
Used napkins
Thrown in trash!
Bed sheet changed
Floor was mopped
New air freshener
Was spread in the room!
You said in cold voice
Goodbye
And You were gone!
You are already gone
But I feel badly
You are here
Somewhere
Smiling and joking!
Oh Guest
You left nothing
But yourself in my heart!
000
