Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Gagan Gill ( ) Hindi Poet

She Will Come Back In Her Body

She will return in her body
She will need him
Like sins, like virtues.

At some unknown place,
In some unknown room,
She will love him in her heart.

As if walking in a dream,
She will go there,
Uninvited without a reason.

All within herself,
For centuries she’ll sit there
Where the dreams wait
To go crazy in desires.

She will need him
Like a dream
That she saw
Only with her open eyes,

As if he were a shoulder
To lean on to cry.
As if wanting someone is a curse,
An unending wailing
Or a dialogue with self,
She will need him.

As if needing someone is preserving happiness
And keeping sorrow at a distance,
She will need him.

As if it is an incurable malady,
As if it is to get out of a sorcerer’s spell,
She will need him.

She will need him
Like a sin,
Like a virtue
And will return in her body

Like a hidden wound.



Here she will hide in her skeleton
Escaping the assaults
On her youthful beauty.

Here she will bury herself
Under her grief,
Hiding from her soul.

Here she will go through
The ordeals of her body and dreams.

She will look for a corner
In the poetry of others.

This is the stone
That she will lick.

The one that is a fish
And the other, a fish without fins,
Both will drown here.
Right here.

Note: Gagan Gill is telling here the plight
of a married Indian woman. "Here" stands for the
home where she lives in a joint family. The poem is
full of metaphors, hard to put into English free verse.



Chepegi weh
Kankal main apne
Yuva chawi se baachkar

Yahan dhansegi weh
Santap main apney
Atma se chip kar

Noch dalegi
Yahan vipikhsta
Deh aur swapan

Dundeghi weh
Tinka bhar jagah
Dusron ki kavita main

Yahi weh pathar hai
Jisey chantegi weh

Ek jo machli hai
Ek jo a-machli hai

Dono hi

Yahin par



It is the first night.
The flour is spread
Everywhere on the floor.

She will come,
Perhaps, and go back,
Leaving her foot imprint.

We will sleep,
Perhaps, all morning,
We will sleep.

She will see us,
Perhaps, but later
She will not see us.

We will pluck,
Perhaps, in the morning
We will pluck our hair.

She will rest,
Perhaps, midway
She will rest.

We will forget,
Perhaps, this grief
We will forget.


A desire in bangles

A desire runs in the bangles of a girl
First they will break on his bed
then on the threshold of his house

Why on the threshold?

Because in the girl
there’s a mourning woman
The woman who is a widow
Not yet
But she will be

The girl’s fear throbbing in her veins
runs to her bangles
Her desire throbs in them
Her mourning throbs in them


Where is the girls’ man
the man for whom mourning runs in her veins
and for whom desire is in her bangles?

Her man is trapped
in some other body
in some other dream
other sorrow, other tear
His each suffering, dream, tear
is beyond the reach of the girl’s mourning…

But the girl is just a girl
She is filled with the same primal
innocence, madness, deadness
whose punishment
she will give that man
one day
when she breaks her bangles…