my new poems

Grandma invites Yamadev
Grandma invites yamadev
but
arrives always some new disease.
She calls for “Narayana”-the divine doctor
but
a human doctor gives an injection
laughing cheerfully.
She summons the daughter-in-law
but she doesn’t hear (intentionally)
in kitchen, busy with cooking .
Grandson is looking at TV cartoons.
The dear son is in hurry
to rush to the office.
The maid servant never hears her cries.
Grandma is gladdened
on hearing wailing dogs in the street,
but
a neighbour passes away the next day.
The grandma wants to go
to “Vaikunth”
but the ambulance
takes and brings her back again.
She starves for food
but someone gives colourful pills and runs away.
She calls for the death
but it sends new agony again.
Now she doesn’t call anyone,
because she has forgotten
the synonyms of life.

Tr. By the poet
Harshdev madhav,





The dark night of “Amavasya”
This
wound is
the offence
to fetch water from the Brahmin’s well.
The wound on the hand
is the sign of tongs
hit by the mother
for half-baked bread
to show my disability to cook.
The wound on the forehead is
the mark of love to forbidden cast.
The wounds on the back
are the gifts of
mother-in-law’s anger.
The black marks on the thigh
are the memories
of cigarette-burns
inflicted by the drunkard husband.
Wombs of moonlit nights
are desecrated by abortions.
I am the dark night of “Amavasya”
since-
wounds are not seen in darkness,
only deep agony is to be felt.



Tr. By the poet
Harshdev madhav,







In my absence
Tomorrow
poor hungry bugs
will run around old empty bed.
For whom will mosquitoes
hum their melodious tunes?
Who will send affectionate smiles
to ugly neighbour girl?
Who will be bitten
by torn old shoes with nails,
to whom will rogue vendor
give stale vegetables?
On whom will the crow of home tree
pass faeces?
On whose wound
the humble bees sit happily.
The shoe-robber
standing outside the temple
will be helpless.
The mouse,
eager to bite old shirts
will do “mahabhinishkraman”
from its hole.


Tr. By the poet
Harshdev madhav,