Sometimes I managed to get
some broken grains of wheat, rice, milo
from Governments draught relief grant
Standing in the long queue of charity reliefs
my little brother perspired in the hot sun
How intensely I wished
to give him some red toffees, cheap lozenges
Then, putting my hand in my empty pocket
I used to shrink within myself
My humiliated self smouldered within me
In the evening
mother served us streaming porridge
in cracked bowls
and licking the bowls, and licking the bowls
my meek siblings and I
slowly grew up
day after day, bit by bit
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
dear sukumar.....it is a beautiful poem about life and the hard times one goes through.there is always a silver lining though.this poem i randomly picked up, touched my heart.you write very well! ritty patnaik