Bijay Kant Dubey
O, Crow, Black Indian Crow…
O crow, blackly Indian crow, sly and taking the loaf of bread
From the bowl of the countryside child
Taking the stale bread at dawn
Somewhere in the typical Indian village,
Where poverty, backwardness, superstition, illiteracy and underdevelopment
Perched on the roof, coming to the courtyard or from tree nearer to the house,
You crowing and crowing and calling others,
Competing with the other crows,
I know, I too can feel it that you too are hungry and thirsty,
But from this morning you have started crowing
And on seeing you crowing incessantly, may I ask you one thing,
Is any guest is coming to our house,
If he is, when will he, who is he
And these you know them not of course,
But perhaps somebody is coming and so are you crowing
Strangely by taking water, making a noise.
Please say it that the guest who is coming to our house with a cloth-bundle
Into the hands of his,
Will he stay for long or for a shorter period,
As I have seen an illiterate woman abusing you in the town
As for the frequent and untimely coming and staying of the villagerly guests
For their district headquarter relating jobs,
Without paying anything else for.
Crow, Indian crow, black and cleverly, I see you playing with
The small countryside children,
Lifting the piece of the bread crumb and flying away,
Just running with a shortish flight
To relish upon
With your somewhat longer beaks,
Thanks for your natural information, wireless transmission,
Tell me, if any guest is coming to my house?
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