MY MOTHER'S PROFILE

MY MOTHER'S PROFILE

¼ekr`eq[k& yhyk/kj txwM+h English translation by GPBahuguna½

At twelve thirty five in midnight

There is no sign of any season around,

Any season which is free from the grip of darkness.

There is only cold

Deflected by doors and windows

Forcing its request to stay in my lungs

knocking every thread of my body.

Taking seize on every pore of my skin,

It is making me realize

How a day passes into another

Changing a person altogether by next day

Million stars are spread beyond my reach

In night's labour room

I stand fastened in the grip of wanton cold

Hitting at the doors of my lungs

Can I remember my mother?

Who died of small pox.

The trees are blowing whistle

Who they want to fight with in this solitariness?

Whether it is I?

Because the memory of my mother haunts me this moment.

Having seen thousand faces I can imagine

How the Disease had dug holes into her face

Gazing at stars on the face of night

Why a picture is emerging in my mind?

I can still remember the tresses of jet-black hair covering her face

To me the memory of those dark hair tresses only

Stand for the visage of my mother's face.

The wait rotted men for thousand years past

I am also waiting to see

If ever I am able to carve out an image of

my mother's Pox-infected face.

But at twelve thirty five in midnight

how can I designate time to say "this moment"

At this instant I have around me

Hair tresses which covered the face of that moment

The color and memory of which breathe in my hazy lungs

with a sweep of affection.

At twelve thirty-five in the night

Could I find an object to stand for my mother ?

The shroud piece draped around her like sari,

was symbol of belly before consigning to earth

The origin of my birth in this world.

From that day onward the darkness of my home

represents the face of my mother

keeping awake all night pressed close to my cheeks.

The pock-marked image of night dripping from my mother's hair tresses

has moved slowly down to the Pacific Ocean.

Oh! Night,image of my mother's visage!

Plead with this menacing darkness

It is another child of your like me

you had given birth to it from your locks

It should not be whistling around when I recall you.

Translation into English by Govind Prasad Bahuguna