Friday, 14 January 2022

I Shall Console Myself



This poem is in reply to Vineetha Mekkoth's poem "Shall I Console Myself" (from the collection 'Penpiravi - Birth of a Woman'), which is a translation of the Malayalam poem "Njan Ashwasichotte?" (from the collection 'Penpiravi') by Girija Pathekkara. The original poem is dedicated to the one-and-a-half-year-old vagabond child who was cruelly raped and abandoned some years back near the Kozhikode Medical College.


I Shall Console Myself

 

that
the pain in your shuttered eyes
will fog their vision so
they remain blinded
to the last light
on their shady life road,

that
the cries on your hushed lips
will split their ears so
they remain deafened
to the last rhythm
of their heart's highs and lows,

that
your body they twisted, tore apart
will haunt their limbs so
they are weighed down
till the last lap
toward their own dead-end goals,

that
the blood you drained
will drench and soak them so
no fire will ever rise
in their belly
to rouse what's left of their soul.


The translated poem by Vineetha Mekkoth is quoted below.


Shall I Console Myself


That child's
tiny feet
used to measure out
the burning roads - 
sucking on her thumb
like a clay doll
lay her naked little body.
Her tiny lips
lisped 'Ammmma...'
Now I see her
on the TV screen.
Tired, dark body
smattered with
drops of blood.
Wide eyes
unwilling to cry,
silent.
A one-legged doll
clasped to her chest.
As you grow
may the dark memories
of that roaring lustful night
be erased from you,
my child.
Thus, may I console myself?


And here's the original poem in Malayalam by Girija Pathekkara.


ഞാൻ ആശ്വസിച്ചോട്ടെ?


പിഞ്ചു കാലടികളാൽ 

ചുട്ടുപൊള്ളുന്ന പാതകൾ 

എന്നും പിച്ചവെച്ചളക്കാറുണ്ടായിരുന്നു 

ആ കൂഞ്ഞ്-

തള്ളവിരൽ ചുരത്തുന്ന പാൽ 

ഈമ്പി വലിച്ചുകൊണ്ട് 

കളിമണ്ണിൽ മെനഞ്ഞപോൽ 

നഗ്നമായ, കുഞ്ഞുടൽ.

'അമ്...മ്...മ്മ' എന്നവ്യക്തമായ് മൊഴിയുന്ന 

പാൽച്ചുണ്ടുകൾ.

ഇപ്പോൾ ഞാനവളെക്കാണുന്നത് 

ടി.വി. സ്ക്രീനിൽ 

തളർന്നു കരുവാളിച്ച മെയ്യിൽ 

നിറയെചോരപ്പൊടിപ്പുകൾ 

കരയാൻ കൂട്ടാക്കാത്ത കുഞ്ഞുമിഴികളിൽ 

കൊടുംശൂന്യത 

കാലറ്റ കളിപ്പാവയെ 

നെഞ്ചോടു ചേർത്ത ഇളംകൈകൾ 

വളരുമ്പോൾ നിൻ്റെയോർമ്മകൾക്ക് 

തൊടാനാവാത്തത്രയും 

പിറകിലായിരിക്കും 

അലറുന്ന കാമത്തിൻ്റെ

ആ ഇരുണ്ട രാത്രിയെന്ന് 

മകളേ,

ഞാൻ ആശ്വസിച്ചോട്ടെ?   



4 comments:

  1. Powerful Sujatha -Poetry becomes a weapon here

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you! And other weapons seem to work less and less as we can see from what's happening around us. The world seems to be getting incredibly indifferent to this issue.

      Delete
  2. Replies
    1. Thank you! Your poem was the source of inspiration.

      Delete