Home utensils —

signs of ancestors

but since grandfather

has departed

these have been relegated

to the backyard —

the bronze glass

that could contain

three quarter litres

of milk

utensils

bronze plates

brass pitchers

without these

the tradition of bride giving

was incomplete

but today from oven to parandy

everywhere I see steel

my grandmother

used to knead dough

for twenty persons in one go

in big brass platter

but now

as the walls go up

in the courtyard

sizes of home utensils

are getting smaller.

Parandy :        A place in house where pitchers or other utensils filled with water are kept

A girl had fled from the village

with someneighbour´s boy for the first time

many faces in the street

had started gossiping

in ears of women looking through veils

eyes had sprouted, a father's dreams

had been swept away by time's flood

a pair of slippers lied on the quiet wall

the sound of her feet was ringing loud

for the first time a girl had fled

wearing her mother's old slippers

she had crossed the limits of honour

on the door, she had left no marks

of her rough palms covered in turmeric

for many days in the village

smoke of tobacco, bidi

rising in the squares

made the girl's bright face dark

her yellow scarf was shredded

in their stories

for months in her mother's dreams

she knocked at the door

for the first time a girl had fled

a father had been saved

from drowning in debt

the daughter's ears were far removed

from her mother's curses

a girl had fled with someneighbour's boy

for the first time.

I have been observing this mom-child duo for a while

and I can’t quite understand what precedes what—

the tantrums of the child or the temper of his mother

But I see the relationship between the two is that of intense

disobedience, hopefully momentarily

He throws away his cuddly bear, she picks it up with a frown,

he pulls her hair, she grabs his arm, he begins to scream and cry,

she tries to shush him up, he bangs his head— and this goes on

until she shoves a blue silicon nipple in his mouth, swaying him

up and down in her arms

I am not sure if this is a troubled mom and child or if there exists no

troubled mom and child. But I most certainly see them in the pattern

of my life, which when hits me hard is my tired mother rocking me

besides her primordial child to sleep, and that whatever is keeping

me grounded at the moment is but a pacifier in my mouth

Dehradun Military Academy

(Motto: Valour & Wisdom).

Papaji takes off his British Army uniform -

he is acquiring military skills

in order to turf the British out -

and dons the robes of a Krishna gopi.

He has spent all his salary

on saris and jewellery.

All night long

he dances with Krishna.

Morning.

Papaji is glowing.

His commanding officer asks:

'Has that man been drinking?'

-Gabriel Rosenstock

Nuair a dhamhsaigh Krishna i mBeairic Bhriotanach

Acadamh Míleata Dehradun

(Manna: Calmacht & Gaois).

Baineann Papaji a éide airm Bhriotanach de -

scileanna míleata á sealbhú aige

d'fhonn na Briotanaigh a chaitheamh amach -

agus cuireann uime róbaí gopi Krishna.

A thuarastal go léir caite aige

ar shárithe is ar sheodra.

É ag damhsa le Krishna

an oíche ar fad.

 Maidin.

Luisne ina ghrua.

Arsa an t-oifigeach i gceannas:

'An ag ól a bhí an fear sin?'