The Song of Caliban

A Poem by harishbabu

from 'rereading Shakespeare'

Two songs written for the adaptation Shakespeare’s “The Tempest” in Mumbai

The song of Caliban

Prospero! You vile, pushed me into darkness,
Laughed at my sorrow, cursed my way....
Ah! With your fatal magic you poisoned my stream of thoughts
And I should be silent....silent...silent...

You fed me only to serve you,
Taught me to fear you,
Against my hope; you incestuous!
Conspired with your daughter,
Accused me of immorality and smashed my life,
And I should be silent....silent.....silent....

In childhood my bosom would overwhelm with contend
My life...My rule ....My absolute world...
I sprung like a deer for the voice of cuckoo,
In the merry... merry ...merry spring.

There in the ocean,I gave ear to the sprouts of whale
And ran to the valley down, galloped to the hill top
Only to come back for mother’s hug,
In the fresh....fresh....fresh....autumn.

I helped bee fetch honey from afar,
Played with sheep, sprung water over edelweiss,
When in night fall, made puppet with snow
In the frosty....frosty ....frosty winter.

When rain came, when thunder came, and when fire came
My mother embraced me in our caves,
Began to teach the world....to know...to love...to save,
My dear....dear....dear...mama.

You came, the white venom of the distant world
Destroyed....destroyed....destroyed my infancy,
And killed....killed...killed... my root,
Drops of blood fell on your clothes,
And imparted the sin to sceptre.

Your abhorrent magic made me shrink in to silence
Taught your daughter pointing to me “this tearless creature, the other”
And convinced the world-“she”-my mother- “wicked”
You ppressed my peace, my freedom and I crept into ugliness.

God put you in Italy and me here,
Whom I should accuse, nothing to say...nothing
But I am content. Ariel and me, two races
You caught the chance, provoked him against me.

But still hope rings... rays of better tomorrow shine in my dreams;
When your life haunted in the revenge of crew,
When red drops of blood fall on your holy pulpit
I will get back my edelweiss you stole for daughter, my pearls too.

When your generation teach themselves to suicide in white night
When your dearest ones negotiate behind you
This ugly Caliban will resurrect to fresh tomorrow,
And teach you the sweetness of the absolution.

Prospero! You will curse me and leave my world,
I won’t mind.....go to Milan and be incestuous once again.
I will whistle my old tune and play with dew drops,
I will breathe the fresh air and taste the fresh brook.

You cursed me, tore my heart, put me in destitution,
You put sword on my being, but still I’ll rise
And look forward to fresh tomorrow,
And the resurrection of the heart of my entity
And here Iam,
The helpless Caliban from this deserted island with nothing to lose.

harish babu. g
6th April 2013
Mumbai