My Village (Mocho gaon)/Halbi

A poem by Arjun Singh Nag

(Translated by Madhu Ramnath)

Deep in a thick forest, at the foot of the Baag Dongri1,
is my village, under the Long Drum with its beat,
about 10-12 huts, about 50-odd people,
in our thatched huts, that give us much peace.

The sur-sur sounds of the wind, brother, the wind blows in our village,
can put coolers and fans to shame.
Heat and sweat both fear the shade under the siyadi2 climber,
And smiling, the mango branch sways gently.
Deep in a thick forest, at the foot of the Baag Dongri…….

It’s easy to tell the time by watching the morning sun.
When the cowherd un-tethers the cattle, it’s seven,
and when from the Kadam Pond the girls fetch water,
and Sombaru asks for old rice, it should be about eight.
Mother says collar the little hornless calf at once,
and be quick to finish the household chores, and get on with the cooking.
At lunch time it’s eleven, when the ploughmen return home,
and mother gets everyone to sit and feeds them, even when she stays hungry.
Deep in a thick forest, under the Baag Dongri…….

After lunch everybody rests, when the sun says it’s twelve.
Old man Khotlu’s weaves his net, his usual custom,
and Kana Dada3 sings a tune of the story of Life’s web,
that sees the world with the inner eye and describes it.
Deep in a thick forest at the foot of the Baag Dongri…..

Kaki4 sit’s and grinds millet, the daughter-in-law’s pounding grain,
Mother-in-law’s sitting with her legs stretched out, near the mahua spread out to drying the courtyard,
Mother’s sat Balo down beside her and searches for lice in her hair
and each time the knife blade presses down on one she cries out in pain.
Boys and girls have come together under the Tendka Mango5
And play marbles and hide and seek as the sun goes down.

In the afternoon when it’s two, everyone back to work.
When the cattle return in the evening, it’s already six,
and when dusk gave way to night it’s seven, and the cowherd makes his rounds for bhandi6,
and as the elders talk of tomorrow’s work, we sit in the shed and listen,
in my beautiful village, where peace reigns.
Deep in a thick forest at the foot of the Baag Dongri……….

Dark black clouds rise up like ripe jamun,
and with its feathers fanned the peacock dances, the jungle owlet’s in a trance.
The warbler calls tilik-tilik, upside down swings the bat,
and uncle monkey’s full of antics in the maddening heat.
High up in the Sundari Mango tree that sways at the tip
which that little girl Butki watches, hands on her cheeks.
Deep in a thick forest at the foot of the Baag Dongri……..

Then the old friend rain came along, and all birds and animals smiled,
All the plants and trees were glad and danced in the wind.
The poor clouds blew the horn and brought the rain down
After hearing the entreaties of the people on earth below,
Where the strong winds and heavy rains merge and bend in play,
Deep in a thick forest at the foot of the Baag Dongri……..

The Tengri stream flowed into the village to announce the arrival of rain
and under the hill the waterfall thundered down.
The boys and girls were glad
and went out to play and to get wet, both young and old.
Seeing the rain the farmer Inder felt good
as a drop of rain on a colocasia leaf made it sway
Deep in a thick forest at the foot of the Baag Dongri…….

A friendship resumes with the forest when the green colour returns,
when many things are available, now that the rain is here.
Our life depends on the fields, as also on the forest,
Let’s forget about status, about rich man or cowherd,
And in the religious festivities where the sacred chanwar7 fans the gods,
Deep in a thick forest at the foot of the Baag Dongri…….

1. Tiger Hill
2. A large climber, Bauhinia vahlii
3. ‘Kana’ literally means blind; word also used to refer to something that may leak due to a hole
4. aunt
5. Referring to a specific mango tree
6. Cooked food given to cowherds at the end of day as wages
7. An ornamental fan made of yak’s tail used in religious ceremonies