Kurmitola, Jehanabad, India

Corpse of a lower caste girl who has been murdered

Kurmitola, Jehanabad, 1989, Evening

Mother

while standing in waterweed, in the kitchen,  in her petticoat, was caught

by police, her hair unkempt

in wintery autumn flying horses stored in glass jar held in left hand, knitted in loincloth

a comet from the yellow piece of cloud

she floated her boat made of hay, unconcerned, lilies within shouts of children

I know what will happen to her now

Abdul, Gafoor’s brother, was first to bring the news

but Mother gave up, hazy domesticity in the dusts of her brows

why did she conceal behind Goddess Kali’s lamp-oil

broken pulses and rice crumbs  brought from Murshidabad

a little sun tainted skin, in unknown fear, palm on her chin, forgot her own name

damp shadows on her hung face

brain completely naked

in drizzling dewdrops, smiled a skinny deer

wooden shoes on snow, sky facing wolves, she cried whole day

the priest

drew blood in a syringe from her hand

pain at the corner of her lips, was tired to climb the stairs

( Translation of Kurmitola, Jehanabad, 1989, Sondhya )

To Save People of West Bengal