A few poems of Urkhao Gwra Brahma
Better not to speak
A small road going through the dense forest,
an old man walks back and forth every day,
he knows everything about this forest
but never tells to anybody because he thinks –
better not to speak than to speak.
Many battles had been fought in this forest
between original first settlers animals
and second settlers’ human beings,
none of them won or defeated
wholly in the battles.
Again there are battles between
next to next other settlers,
he has the all information about that
who had the weapons of what kind and
what had been done by whom in the battles.
But he always used to say that
in those battles how much losers lost
winners also lost that much ,
later by forgetting and forgiving
they shook their hands
and embraced each other.
Now the forest can be gauged
animals and birds not much found,
here now going on is battle of life
battle for food and livelihood,
no one has time to talk about
who is the first settlers and who is the next.
That old man carries weighty load on shoulder
bundles of fire woods in front and
up-and-coming child in back,
he goes and comes everyday through this road,
he knows many things but never tells
because he knows that -
so much will not be believed by anybody
as how much will be told.
( Translated from Bodo into English by the poet )
Old homestead
I was the firstborn of
this old homestead,
it came into being
by the sweats of my fore-fathers,
now I have nothing here
not even a piece of land to stand on.
When the mango tree started blossoming
Karlung came and gave me news of
another new homestead,
there the rain had already started falling
the Mango and Jack fruit already on trees
plenty of vegetables and fish-meat.
Since then the dream of Don Quixote
kept playing in my mind,
made me get onto a decrepit cart
with my darling Jengreng besides me,
following Karlung to the new land.
“...A beautiful home would be
built for my darling
there would be a barricade
around our home ,
a place with fruit garden bountiful,
a throne would be in the new home
where we would sit together,
plenty of food and meat
no end of rice and vegetables
where my darling would have all smiles –
pools of wine, meat like popcorn
and plenty of rice.......”
Oh ! how many times I’ve cleared lands
in the forest of Himalayan foothills,
how many dream houses
I’ve built for my darling it is countless,
but the moment mango tree starts blossoming
Karlung come after that and say-
“....get ready for another homestead
here the air and water getting polluted.....”
I’m again on the old bullock cart
with the new dream of Don Quixote
for building a dream house
a palace for my darling Jengreng,
the lustre of Jengreng’s silky hair is gone,
her eyes have gone sunken
the rickety cart trundles along
I’m also feeling tired now.
Much of the forest has got cleared
roads come into being
through the forest lands,
there are also now many after me
looking for same land,
they are growing by every passing day.
But I’ve failed to establish yet
a permanent home,
I’ve failed to gift my Jengreng
pieces of new Dokhnas,
but even Karlung sings yet
another new song,
“oh....what an inspiration,
what a colourful dream...”
Rolling on in the wheel of time
one day I found myself
standing at a crossroad and
I looked towards the distance
and saw a home, our old home,
barricaded with fencing all around
the home has grown strong
now I needed a consent for re-entry.
We moved around the estate
looking for an way in,
for a morsel of food and little water
we were now ready to offer
our feeble energy found
in our emasculated bodies
to the owner of this home.
But, the door of the house didn’t open,
no one came to see us there,
we are going to swoon very soon,
then they will carry us to a new piece of land
and that will be our eternal homestead.
( Translated from Bodo into English by Sickna John Wary )
THE FLOWER HAD BLOSSOMED
Roses blossomed in front of
my house was kept for you,
I made it grow by the fluid of
my soul’s aspirations,
yes, a couple of red rose have blossomed.
I look forward to.....
one day you will come back here,
for I see the white pigeon
at the moment soaring into the sky
it’s wings flapping and beating the wind.
Tomorrow’s crimson sun in the morning
it will pat everyone’s shoulder with love
you’ll come back and erect the shining sword
and bow your head to mother and say:
“Dear Mom I’ve come back home”.
Then she would wipe her tears secretly
and would embrace you once
before all the people.
it would be better if you come earlier
because the battle you all fought
had started giving results,
but because of your absence
there were none to look after them.
Tomorrow someone’s spiked boots
may trample the new blossoms.
then you will have to wait
till the new blossom of flower.
then again your arrival will get delayed,
for we need flower to welcome you.
( Translated from Bodo into English by Sickna John Wary )
INCARCERATED PIGEON
The pigeon flies from a Wizard’s handkerchief
it keeps flying inside the pavilion of show
it imagines itself flying into the blue sky,
the tent of the show roars with claps
look at the wizard’s pride and antics!
Oh.. slave pigeon! It doesn’t know
that there is another free sky outside,
the inside of the cage is its world.
When the audience clap hands
it gets perturbed and starts cooing,
uncertain whether threatened or applauded
in the twinkles of evening light
the bird probably thinks
it has seen the familiar faces every day.
The wizard has more pigeons of the same kind
they are put in separate cages,
they’ve got no chance to fly in free air
how can they know the taste of freedom?
Yet they don’t know to revolt for freedom
because they’re said as
messengers of peace all the time,
as if they have to shoulder the burden of peace
no matter how far the road of peace goes.
When the pigeon falls to the ground dead tired
the greedy cat will pounce and devour
and the wizard will blame
none other than bird calling it a traitor.
Yet the wizard will not lack a pigeon
as he has got many more in other cages
and one or another will go singing: coo..Coo...
( Translated from Bodo into English by Sickna John Wary )
Urkhaw Gwra Brahma
About the poet
Urkhaw Gwra Brahma, who led the Bodo Nationalist democratic movement in nineties decade, is a leading poet, storyteller and a writer. He writes in Bodo, Assamese and English languages. He was conferred the prestigious Sahitya Akademi Award for his collection of poems in Bodo language “Udangnifrai Gidingfinnanwi” in 2014. He has published nine books so far, including a collection of his short-stories, three collection of his articles, two translated books and a Pictorial History about the statehood moevment spearheaded by the All Bodo Students' Union( ABSU). Brahma led the ABSU as its president from 1999 till 2001 and served as a member of Rajya Sabha from Assam from 2002 till 2008. Theree of these poems were recited in - Kabya Hotra - a National Poets Meet held in Goa in 2016.
About the translator :
Sickna John Wary is an Associate Professor, Kokrajhar Government College, Kokrajhar.