A Night In A Tribal Village Poem by Saroj Padhi

Here the moon has lost idea of her own self
with hangover of ‘salapa' in night's cold vein,
with the pristine stream's eternal delight in
soaking in her ever burgeoning rustic pain-

of days of wallow in hunger quenched by mango seeds
of long bouts of malarial sleep on bed of dry weeds
under low thatches, where the moon descends to hug
the tears of their inexpressible sorrow's obstinate bug
squatting on their silent minds of profound innocence
where glowworms read startling chapters of patience;

in face of no roads and for years no visits by Babus
and with none to redress their small, little woes,
they have learnt one lesson so well in everydaylife
to love whoever comes their way, and love of strife.

I have forgotten myself here in dance with ‘Dhangdas' and ‘Dhangdis'
In beats of their handy drums, with wooden horse rides and cool music
Let me not awake to my reality anymore and be lost into this joy ethnic.


N.B. ‘Salapa' is an intoxicating drink from a tree of the same name; ‘dhangdas', 'dhangdis'—tribal unmarried boys n girls