ON RECALLING THE YEAR 1947 Poem by Kedarnath Singh

Do you remember Noor Mian, Kedarnath Singh?
Wheat-coloured, Noor Mian?
Dwarf-like, Noor Mian?
Noor Mian, who was always
the last to return
from Rambagh market
after selling collyrium?

Do you remember anything at all
Kedarnath Singh?

You remember
the madarsa
the tamarind tree
the Immambara.

You remember from beginning to end
the nineteen-times table.

But can you
on your old and forgotten slate
add and subtract
and figure out
why Noor Mian
suddenly left
your basti one day?

But do you know
where he is now?
In Dhaka
or in Multan?

Can you tell
how many leaves
fall each year in Pakistan?

Why are you silent, Kedarnath Singh?
Is your arithmetic weak?