The rural disguiser showman used to show the roles
After the harvest time
Even in teh small town,
Soemtimes dressed in a khaki robe
He used to come and call
Alighting from a bicycle,
Ringing the bell
And knocking at the door,
Is there anyone in the house,
There is a letter,
Bye-bye, I am going, again shall come.
The other day the artiste in disguise used to come
running with the one tied around
And the thick rope into the hands of his,
Criminal, criminal! ,
A criminal trying to flee
With the abnormal behaviour of his own,
Trying to pull the rope
And he trying to hold in.
A prisoner, a prisoner has escaped,
Have you seen, seen him
And he trying to catch at
And the prisoner running ahead,
The prisoner ahead of
And he as a warden after,
Trying to catch,
Who has escaped
After having crawled and jumped over
The high jail walls.
Sometimes the showman used to come as a telegraph deptt man,
Clad in faded light blue shirt and pants,
Saying, there is a telegram for you,
Receive it with the envelope
And put your signature here
With a smile,
Finally, taking the signature not
And returning back for other homes.
Sometimes in the plastic toy goggles
And older pants and shirt but ironed
And outmoded boots but polished
He used to come rounding the baton
Into the hnads of his
Just like a juggler
And with a hat on the head
As one from London, a sahib
Or a Bomabayan cine artiste
Whistling a song
Or hearing a transisitor.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.