Translated from the Gujarati by Gieve Patel
Ma Basanti Cakrabartti (20 CE)
Ma, If You Wore a Benarasi Sari
Ma, if You wore a Benarasi sari
and tied up Your hair,
You’d look so good—
and there’d be no harm in it, Ma,
no harm at all.
If instead of standing on daddy
You sat next to Him,
exchanging Your fearful form
for a sweet smile,
if there were no blood smeared on Your body,
You’d look so good—
and there’d be no harm in it, Ma.
What if Forgetful daddy didn’t lie
like a corpse at Your feet
but spoke to You honeyed words?
Think how nice that would be!
The whole world I am sure
would be astonished: Siva and Kali
are playing new games
such an improvement!
You’d look so good—
and there’ be no harm in it, Ma.
Translated from the Bangla by Rachel Fell McDermott
Joaquim Miranda (c. mid-18 CE)
From Jesus Entered the Garden
Verse 6
Said the Mother: My child, the time
You thirst for death, I know,
Angels of heaven, come to this hill,
Carrying with you pitchers of water,
The Creator thirsts for a drink of it;
He is gasping for life without it.
Verse 7
I abide by the foot of the Cross,
You have moved up to the skies.
If I were to give you water to quench
Your thirst, how would you drink it?
My hand does not reach there,
Find out a way to do it, my Lord.
Translated from the Konkani by Olivnho Gomes and Jose Pereira
Annamayya (1408-1503)
Imagine That I Wasn’t Here
Imagine that I wasn’t here.
What would you do with your kindness?
You get a good name because of me.
I’m number one among idiots. A huge mountain of ego.
Rich in weakness, in giving in to my senses.
You’re lucky you found me. Try not to lose me.
Imagine that I wasn’t here.
I’m the Emperor of Confusion, of life and death.
Listed in the book of bad karma.
I wallow in births, womb after womb.
Even if you try, could you find one like me?
Imagine that I wasn’t here.
Think it over. By saving someone so low,
you win praise all over the world.
You get merit from me, and I get life
out of you. We’re made for each other,
Lord of the Hill.
Imagine that I wasn’t here.
Translated from the Tamil by David Shulman
Narsinh (Narsi) Mehta (1408-80)
If You Abuse Me with Your Language
If you abuse me with your language
All will know we are in love;
Therefore darling, I beseech you
Do not abuse me with your tongue.
You burst into my house cursing
Disguised as a godly beggar,
Be careful, do not press me roughly,
My husband is uneasy, anxious,
He will surely seek the truth.
He will discover we are familiar.
Do not abuse me with your tongue.
My envious sister-in-law will find out.
She will scold me very hard.
Narsi’s Lord, I tell you truly,
I shall be banished from the house.
Do not abuse me with your tongue.
Translated from the Gujarati by Swami Mahadevananda
Anapiyya (19 CE)
From Napikal Nayakam Pillaittamil
Come So I Can Bedeck, with Anklets and Bells
Come so I can bedeck, with anklets and bells,
your feet like day-blooming lotuses.
Come so I can put on, with delight, your warrior’s anklets
that confound the enemies who battle you,
like the ocean that wars with the land.
Come so I can adorn you with tinkling jewels.
Come so I can anoint with attar, rosewater,
the four perfumes, and most fragrant sandalpaste
your shoulders and chest towering like mountains
and clothe you lovingly.
So I can place you in the cradle
and rock you happily,
come joyously.
Muhammad, who has the truth,
come joyously, come.
Translated from the Tamil by Paula Richman
Mahadeviyakka (12 CE)
He Bartered My Heart
He bartered my heart,
looted my flesh,
claimed as tribute
my pleasure,
took over
all of me.
I’m the woman of love
for my lord, white as jasmine.
Translated from the Kannada by A.K. Ramanujan
Ksetrayya (mid-17 CE)
A Courtesan to Her Lover
Pour gold as high as I stand, I still won’t sleep with you.
Why be stubborn, Muwa Gopala? Why all these tricks?
You set women afloat on your words,
break into their secret places,
deceive them with affectionate lies,
excite them in love play,
get together the whole crowd one day,
and then you steal away like a spinach thief.
Pour gold as high as I stand
You coax women’s affections,
make them amorous and faint,
do things you shouldn’t be doing,
confuse them, lie in bed with them,
and then you leave without a sound,
shaking your dust all over them.
Pour gold as high as I stand
You opportunist,
you excite them from moment to moment,
make mouths water,
show them love to make them surrender,
drown them in a sea of passion,
and by the time the morning star appears—
you get up and vanish.
Pour gold as high as I stand
Translated from the Telugu by A.K. Ramanajan, Velcheru Narayan Rao and David Shulman
Mirabai (1498-1546)
This Pain Has Driven Me Mad
This pain has driven me mad,
this pain no one can understand.
Only she knows what it means to be wounded
who’s wounded, the fire trapped in her heart.
The jewel gleams only for the jeweller,
not for the fool who threw it away.
Lord of Meera, this hurt will only fade
when the Dark One comes to heal me.
Translated from the Hindi by Ranjit Hoskote
Palalikkuttar (c. mid-14 CE)
From Tiruccentur Pillaittamil
You are truly great,
performing all three functions.
You created the entire wide world
around which Aruna drives his seven horses
in a chariot with fluttering banners.
You preserve the world you created.
You destroy it.
Your intention is to seize
entire cities of your enemies, isn’t it?
Is it really prowess
to destroy the homes
we made as playhouses?
We are just little girls
with anxious eyes,
waists burdened
with the support of our heavy breasts,
and flower-like hands reddened
from sifting sand.
With your holy lotus feet,
sought by Indra and the other gods,
don’t destroy the litt
le houses of us little ones.
Rich one of Tiruccentur,
where the waves cast up pearls,
don’t destroy our little houses.
Translated from the Tamil by Paula Richman
Kazi Nazrul Islam (1899-1976)
Let’s Be Girls, Ma
Let’s be girls, Ma,
and play with dolls;
come into my playroom.
I will take the Mother’s role, so I can
teach You how.
If You make one dull or wretched,
hold him to Your bosom;
who else will ease his pain?
One who gets no jewels and gems, Ma,
at least should get his mother.
Some will be quite naughty,
others lie about inside their homes,
but all play games of hide-and-seek
(our world here has no death, Ma),
crying as they leave at night, returning with the morning.
This little boy,
You made him cry
You made him fear.
Now love away his fear,
cease to make him cry—
or casting You aside
he’ll run away.
When this play is finished
lull him into sleep;
hold him in Your arms.
Translated from the Bangla by Rachel Fell McDermott
Sakalesha Madarasa (12 CE)
Both of Us Are Tired
Both of us are tired
justifiably so.
I am tired of this world you made
and of you, haunting me so.
In what way are you eminent
and I low
when you are a God
in this devotee’s frame?
O Sakaleshwara, my Lord,
you know
and I too know!
Translated from the Kannada by B.C. Ramchandra Sharma
Tukaram (c. 1608)
God’s Own Dog: VI
Pamper a dog
And it’s spoilt for good
It’ll loiter at your feet
And get in your way
That’s how I’ve become
With You
Staying too damn close
All the time
I come wagging my tail
When You eat your dinner
Says Tuka,
O Lord
I don’t even notice
If you are annoyed!
Translated from the Marathi by Dilip Chitre
Salabega (c. 17 CE)
O Sakhi, the Flute Plays in the Grove
O friend, tell me
who plays the flute
in the grove?
The bare trees bloom
at the sound of his flute.
The air stands still.
Stones turn into water.
The Yamuna flows upstream
and the fish seek the shore.
As the bell tinkles slowly,
freeing us from shame,
there’s no time left to wear clothes.
Strange! the Rishi loses his poise
and succumbs to love.
The deer chases the tiger.
Says Salabega: I am Muslim by birth
But my heart is
at the feet of Radhakrishna.
Translated from the Oriya by Sachidananda Mohanty and Smita Mohanty
Ramprasad Sen (1718-75)
What a Joke!
What a joke!
She’s a young woman
from a good family
yes, but
She’s naked—and flirts, hips cocked
when She stands.
With messy hair
roars awful and grim
this gentlewoman tramples demons
in a corpse-strewn battle.
But the God of Love
looks and swoons.
While ghosts, ghouls, and goblins
from Siva’s retinue, and Her own companions
nude just like Her
dance and frolic on the field,
She swallows elephants
chariots, and charioteers
striking terror into the hearts
of gods, demons, and men.
She walks fast,
enjoying Herself tremendously.
Human arms hang from Her waist.
Ramprasad says: Mother Kalika,
preserver of the world,
have mercy!
Take the burden:
ferry me across this ocean of becoming.
Hara’s woman,
destroy my sorrows.
Translated from the Bangla by Rachel Fell McDermott
Tyagaraja (1767-1847)
Tell Me Why This Bad Mood Now
Tell me why this bad mood now,
dear Rama, please speak!
I held your feet with devotion
and called you my friend
and my shelter, so speak
Tell me why this bad mood now,
dear Rama, please speak to me!
Even to the wise son of the wind,
Hanuman, that fraction of Siva
when he knelt to you
You asked your brother to tell
the story of your trials—so
What can a nobody like Tyagaraja
expect? Tell me
Why this bad mood now
dear Rama, say something
to me
Translated from the Tamil by William J. Jackson
Purandara Dasa (1485-1565)
I Swear
You swear, so do I.
Both are named by your devotees.
Curse on me were I, Ranga, to worship others but you;
Curse on you were you to abandon me.
Curse on me were I to be deceitful in
Mind, body and wealth;
Curse on you were you not to fix Your mind on me.
Curse on me if I have the company of the wicked;
On you if you don’t relieve me of worldly snares.
Curse on me if I don’t cultivate friendship with the pious;
Curse on you were you not to cut my contact with the wicked.
Curse on me were I not to resort to you;
Curse on you were you, Purandar Vitthal, not to bless me.
Translated from the Kannada by Keshav M. Mutalik
Andal (c. 9 CE)
From Tiruppavai
Son of the Lord of countless cattle,
Huge, unfailing in filling to the brim
And flowing over the jugs held under them!
Lord, you have wisdom and energy,
A pillar of fire manifest,
Rise now! Like your routed foes
Seeking your door to fall at your feet
We too have come to honour and praise you.
Translated from the Tamil by P.S. Sundaram
Subramania Bharati (1882-1921)
Krishna the Omnipresent
I see your complexion, Krishna,
in the crow’s dark feathers.
I see the divine green, O Krishna,
in the leaves of all the trees.
‘tis your music, Krishna, that I hear
in all the sounds of the world.
And I thrill with your touch, Krishna,
when my finger feels the flame.
Translated from the Tamil by Prema Nandkumar
S. Joseph (b. 1965)
My Sister’s Bible
This is what my sister’s Bible has:
a ration-book come loose,
a loan application form,
a card from the cut-throat money-lender,
the notices of feasts
in the church and the temple,
a photograph of my brother’s child,
a paper that says how to knit a baby cap,
a hundred-rupee note,
an SSLC book.
This is what my sister’s Bible doesn’t have:
the preface,
&nbs
p; the Old Testament and the New,
maps,
the red cover.
Translated from the Malayalam by K. Satchidanandan
Kailash Vajpeyi
Momin
There were houses of worship
Earlier too,
There were killing fields as well.
This is the progress we have made:
Now the two are one.
Translated from the Hindi by Ananya Vajpeyi
Minal Sarosh (b. 1960)
On the Loft
When the mind
meditates, turns off all the taps,
and sits on the loft—
cross-legged, like a tank
full of water, it hears only
the single leaking drop,
trickling into the ears and
filling up the whole
ocean.
English
‘I’M EVER VIGILANT’
Ravji Patel (1939-68)
Whirlwind
When I’d finished my bath
I wiped my body
with the smell of the green fields.
The moment I whistled
cows jumped in
through the window,
carrying the morning’s sunshine
on their horns;
buffaloes jumped in,
their bodies slick
with the waters of the lake
foul with fish-smells;
goats jumped in,
with lonely roads,
the muddy edges of roads,
deserted fields,
and peacock feathers
in their eyes;
I jumped in,
a whirlwind in the house.
Translated from the Gujarati by Hansa Jhaveri
Dhoomil (1935-75)
A City, an Evening, and an Old Man: Me
After taking the last drag,
I crush the cigarette in an ashtray
and now I’m a kindly man,
civil, suave.
On holidays I hate no one.
I do not have to fight
on any front.
I have finished the bottle of liquor
which says for defence services only
and put it away
in the lavatory.
(Like all good citizens,
I draw the curtains
the moment I hear the siren.)
I’ve done nothing to make me
These My Words Page 9