Discontinuity Poem by Matrika Pokharel

Discontinuity


Kale the blacksmith
finds it hard to sustain himself
in spite of day and nightlong
submersion in toils!
When with his smithy
he too sits to rest for a while
and starts contemplating over his wrinkled temple
your democracy falls into jeopardy!

Rana Kanccho
a tiller since his father's time
doesn't merely yoke up bulls afield;
he is himself yoked up, at times.
Heat, storm or downpour
day or night
makes no much difference to him
doomed to toil ever as always
and yet
like the son of his landlord
his own son could never make it
to the school with books.
Like himself,
his son befriends the smudge
the spade and the lever
as though they came genetically!
To reckon this paradox
when Rana Kanchho
stops for a while, away from the plough
your democracy is shaken!

With hills of his feet, all cracked
like the untilled terraces in the field
Thuli, his wife
scales from jungle to the water spout
then to the cattle shed
and the course repeats each day!
Rest? Nay, it figures not in her planner.
If medicines be named
banmara and teetepati - two weeds are hers
and she knows them too well!
If any day for any reason
she lays aside the load of fodder
along a narrow lane
and tries to decipher this ghastly cycle
take it for sure
your democracy is in danger!


With whatever you might resist the danger
with gun, or with bombs
or seek help from across the border
or extend hands beyond the seas
or chew up the consciousness within men
or roast as popcorn all shreds of probabilities!
If ever in a spring day
after the showers
when a ray of the sun appears
you see flights of locusts
think! Think deep-
many Kales will take to the street
many Rana Kanchhas will come out of home
and many Thulis will break silence.
Tell, which hole will you dent?
Tell, which palm will mend holes on the ground?

Many things can be resisted, granted
but there are equally many
that are immune to resistance.
How will you stop a storm?
How will you stop the surge of a river?
with a sod of soil
or with a stone?
This too is a rule
a harsher rule, though
one made by history.
Tell, how will you avert this danger?
How will you shoo this truth away?

banmara and teetepati: medicinal herbs

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