Before I Become A Servant - Poem by Kenebo Rajkumar
My feeble mother went to the astrologer to see the Kuthi
It’s written no ritual can get rid of the ill omen
Hare Hare Radhe Radhe! Laughingly fearful
I want that kuthi to be used as fire starter; I feel like becoming the astrologer and see the kuthi
Pulling up with the bamboo strip of belief, I try to tie
The fallen beam of my house of thought, it breaks, it splits again and again
The two prescriptions of varied tablets given by Dr. Bihari of
RIMS psychiatry Department couldn’t make me sleep a moment even.
I sleep with Che Guevara on my couch, pulling each other the shabby blanket
Talking for a new independence, he gaze Manipur in the moonbeam passing
Through the hole of the wall, and he put off his hat and gives gesture to me to shift to other planet.
And he put off his hat and gives gesture to me to shift to other planet.
Without a word’s utterance people, run hastily on the road.!
It’s like Japan War, story told by my grandmother.
I asked eagerly but replied tediously-“Ask to the people, we are not man” replied
“I imagine, I meditate and concentrate; I suppressed my feelings and make it calm down,
That opportunity of a moment has taken away from me; the last bullet of mala reached me
When I opened my eyes already I lay unconscious in the muddy field in nudity
Two ears of mine were sucked so freely by the leeches.
The stranger who looks not like man that ploughed the field
Repeatedly ploughed over me with his iron ploughshare where I laid down comatose
In the muddy, bloodshed field, that creature’s urine splash all over, what a horrible picture
A dream scene in a dream is not as ghastly as this
I have an aspiration
Before the mango flower blooms, before peach flower come into bud,
Before peach flower come into bud, before the smiling spring comes and stands on my door, before the smiling spring comes and stands on my door
That lady with a beautiful hair, has made me a bondage with her only mole
I kept many riddles only just for her, who always smiles when she see me
And many more questions that ignore an answer, But no more spring comes, it retreats, gone away.
My frail tongue couldn’t utter a word then
Just now I understand the gesture of Che Guevara before I become anybody’s prey
I feel like living in the beautiful bamboo hill slope to burn away in the forest fire
Before I become a servant in their air void planet
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