Joshua Bodhinetra

Poems and Text

Labani Jangi

Paintings

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<p><i>“Azaadi! Azaadi!”</i>  A billion filthy critters waited at some distance from the palace. He hated when those animals shook the skies in unison. “<i>Azaadi! Azaadi!”</i>  He hated when the beasts dared to live dignified lives. “<i>Azaadi! Azaadi!”</i> He simply abhorred the fact that those pests were getting adept in the dark arts of unity. “<i>Azaadi! Azaadi!”</i> How dare those vermin turn dirt and sweat into such majestic seedlings? What sorcery? What madness? “<i>Azaadi! Azaadi!”</i> How dare those witless worms demand money in return for their labour?</p><p>He needed to put those raging beasts back in their cages. Thanks to the god-emperor, the smiling lord of the cloud <i>minār</i>, a new sickness appeared from nowhere and his coffers had begun to overflow from a brisk trade. It was thinning the herd. “<i>Azaadi! Azaadi</i>!” He held the elixir, the only cure for the miasma, firmly in his hands. How ridiculous of those insects to demand this panacea for free?</p><p>Night had fallen on his kingdom and from his window he longingly looked at the dome of his new palace. <i>“Azaadi! Azaadi!”</i> Damned be these voices, damned be those fingers that turn mud greener than emerald. Hush! Something rustled near the window. A strange vine crept and slithered up, with nails for leaves and crimson cadavers for flowers. </p><p>Two moons rose outside his bay-window. One was the sickle of our banished Ramadān, the other a lone wheel of a tractor.</p>

<h3><b>Sickle of our banished Ramadān</b></h3>

<h3></h3><h3></h3><h3></h3><h3>Her eyes,<br/>her eyes,<br/>like a guillotine sighs,<br/>or a <i>darvīsh</i> drenched in a bourbon moon.</h3><p><br/></p>

<h3></h3><h3>Burn like a farmer, breathe like a bee,<br/>dance like a summer on a mulberry tree.</h3><p><br/></p>

<h3></h3><h3>How do you spell shame,<br/>is it with a sigh?<br/>Is it with a bullet in a labourer&#39;s eye?</h3><p><br/></p>

<h3></h3><h3>Moon is a <i>dastak</i>.<br/>Moon is a pall.<br/>Moon is a bottle of blue Folidol.</h3><p><br/></p>

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<h3>Her pain,<br/>her pain<br/>is a Vaisākhi rain.<br/>Ever under the sands of a Buddha again –<br/>unaware that her plough<br/>is a bridge to the sea.</h3><p><br/></p>

<h3></h3><h3>Just a sip of a<br/>thirsty pin will hammer the<br/>clouds of porcelain.</h3><p><br/></p>

<h3></h3><h3>Death is a <i>nargis</i>.<br/>Death is a shoe.<br/>Death is a miner&#39;s caramel blue.</h3><p><br/></p>

<h3></h3><h3>A heart has four chambers,<br/>hunger has none.<br/>One for a Lohri, three for a gun.</h3><p><br/></p>

<h3></h3><h3>Shame is a songbird.<br/>Shame is a rye.<br/>Shame is a sickle in a <i>chaudhvin</i> sky.</h3><p><br/></p>

<h3></h3><h3>Lilacs at our windowsill.<br/>They drip, they drown,<br/>they dream until<br/>the children of our eventide<br/>in driftwood shall a phoenix hide.</h3><p><br/></p>

<p><b>Glossary</b></p><p><i>chaudhvin</i><i>:</i> the 14th day of a lunar phase, generally marked by religious fasting (mainly by women in Hindu communities)<br/><i>darvīsh</i><i>:</i> a Sufi mendicant<br/><i>dastak</i><i>:</i> a knock on the door<br/><i>Folidol: </i>an insecticide<br/><i>Lohri</i><i>:</i> a Punjabi festival to mark the passing of winter solstice.<br/><i>minār</i>: minaret, a slender tower<br/><i>nargis</i><i>:</i> the flower <i>narcissus poeticus</i> or poet’s daffodil<br/><i>Vaisākhi </i><i>(</i>also<i> Baisakhi):</i> the spring harvest festival mainly in Punjab, but also some other parts of the north<br/></p><p><b><i>We thank Smita Khator for her significant contribution to this team effort.</i></b> </p>

The king and the lone wheel of a tractor

அரசனும் ஒரு ட்ராக்டரின் தனிச் சக்கரமும்

ରାଜା ଓ  ଟ୍ରାକ୍ଟର୍‌ର ଏକମାତ୍ର  ଚକ

اکیلی رات تھی، چاروں طرف اندھیرا تھا

अकेली रात थी चारों तरफ़ अंधेरा था

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The king and the lone wheel of a tractor

He abhorred those pests getting adept in the dark arts of unity. A poem for the present times

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