Drum-roll
In the God’s Creation
And the Emperor’s domain,
By the order of the town’s police chief…
All and sundry are hereby warned
To remain vigilant,
And bolt all doors from inside,
Pull down the window curtains,
And keep the children from getting on the road;
Because a seventy-two year old man
Has come out on the roads
Speaking the truth in his trembling voice.
Every townsman knows,
For twentyfive years,
It’s been hazardous to speak
Of things as they are;
To call a thief, a thief,
Or a murderer, a murderer;
Or commit the folly of protecting
A good soul being bashed,
Or a woman being violated;
Or a skin-and-bone skeleton
Pressing its hungry belly,
Or a child getting crushed by a jeep;
Being the Emperor’s jeep
Has it not the right to run over the child’s belly?
After all, the Emperor built the road!
O you ungratefuls,
Running after the old man!
Have you forgotten
That it’s the Emperor who has
Given you this excellent ambience
Where you can see day-time stars,
Even if only because of your aching hunger,
And angels keep you on the footpaths through the nights
Under the benign shadow of their wings,
And damsels wait under every lamp-post
Ready to pounce on the car-borne clients.
As if paradise itself has descended upon the earth:
After all, what more will you get
By running after that old man?
What’s your spat, after all, with those gentlemen
Quietly sitting on their respective chairs,
Waking through the nights
And working for the welfare of the kingdom;
Rambling like mendicants
Through Moscow, New York, Tokyo, London
To find out how best to mend
The gutter in the village.
Your legs will be broken,
Eyes gouged, if you walked down
To the inner courts of the royal ladies
And tried to peep down their walls.
Haven’t you seen that long stick
With which our burly young soldier
Thwacked the old man - doddering and unarmed?
We have buried that stick deep in a time-capsule
So that coming generations can have a look
And applaud our gallantry.
Now ask me where is that truth
That the old man was muttering about on the roads?
We have raised the volume of our radios
And ask for playing film songs ever so loudly
So that they drown the old man’s balderdash
In the entrancing might of their swaying tunes.
Half-witted children have flung down their schoolbags,
Tossed their slates and chalk away,
And are running and romping like mice
Behind this numskull magician;
And the woman whose child was killed day before
Has come out on the road
Unfurling her sari’s end like a flag.
Beware, this is your own country,
But stay where you stand.
No rebellion will be tolerated –
So that you cover distances and reach your destination;
We ourselves will jam the wheels of the trains.
Boats will be stalled in midstream,
Bullock-carts stopped beneath the roadside neem trees;
Trucks will be sent back from the turnings –
All traffic stopped where it is.
‘Coz, remember, the kingdom must march ahead,
And so it’s important that everything’s stopped
Right where it is!
Be not impatient.
You like jostling, processions and hullabaloo.
The Emperor, too, sympathizes with his people.
By his special orders, just to fulfil your fad,
His own court will come out in a procession
For you to have the Emperor’s darshan!
Those same trains will carry you for free.
The bullock-cart drivers will get double bakshish
The trucks will be festooned with buntings.
Water stalls will be set up at every corner,
And whoever asks for water
Will be served perfumed soft drinks.
Join this procession in hundreds of thousands,
And walk the road scraping your feet
So that the spattered blood of the old man
Is wiped off!
The Emperor does not relish bloodshed.
In the God’s Creation
And the Emperor’s domain,
By the order of…
Dharmveer Bharati’s Hindi poem ‘Munaadi’, written during the Bihar Movement (1974), rendered into English by Dr Mangal Murty
© Dr Mangal Murty.
They call him Jayprakash!
The lulled storm, the hushed gale,
The sea waves dashed on the shores,
But all their might echoes aloud
Even now in your robust roars.
The foot of the mountain shook awhile,
The sea waves ebbed from the shore.
But in the nations hands were bestowed
A brand new lusty sword.
Victory come to Bharat’s new sword
O soldier of a new country.
Victory, O new fire, O new flame.
Victory to the archer of the bull’s eye.
Welcome O trampler of the Time Serpent
Who ride on its fanned out hood.
Welcome O priest ready to jump
And burn In the holy fire as its food.
You hold the nation’s future in your fist
With a mighty roar in your throat,
Descending from the mind you hold in your hand
A world in which your dreams float.
O soldier give your salute to the future
As history heralds your coming.
The planets in the darkest sky burn out
With you the sky starts glowing.
The new effulgence formless and abstract
Has found its tangible form in you.
The fire that you swallowed and ingested fearlessly
Has turned into a glowing ember true.
The winds of our country get hot and hotter
By the countless breaths exhaled,
While the shadow skimming the Ganga waters
Sets it ablaze in its trail.
You are the diamond disgorged by revolution
Like a she-serpent at the mouth foaming,
Which the Mother gathered as a precious gift
As she went about searching and roaming.
You came back to your land as an icon
Of sacrifices made into the holy fire;
And now that name ‘Jayprakash’ rings loud
From the ardent unshakable youth’s choir.
They call him ‘Jayprakash’ or ‘Victory be to light’!
He is one who always defies death,
And leaps undaunted into the midst of fire
When he finds it dwindling in the youth’s breath.
Jayprakash is the one and only name
Whom no power can ever restrain
Holding aloft a burning beacon in darkness
Spreading light, like a hurricane!
Jayprakash is he who gives feet to the lame,
He is the one who gives voice to the dumb.
It is Jayprakash who embodies the hope
Of the country’s freedom soon to come.
Yea, Jayprakash is truly the name
Of turning time, and time’s tide;
Of the earth-shaking youth’s pledges
With their hurricane power and pride.
Jayprakash is the name, aye
Who is revered by the annals of history,
Seeking fervently to get his footprints
To record their enigma, their mystery.
The wise offer their obeisance to him
And the brave sacrifice their lives.
The singer sings him songs of praise
And to enkindle his voice he strives.
The poet’s talent, his fervent imagination
Glows and takes flight on its wings.
The tide of imagination roars and rolls
On the shores of humanity it sings.
O hear, hear, the future is calling
The saviour of the downtrodden many.
Jayprakash is the dreamer of dreams,
The maker of our country’s destiny.
Ramdhari Singh ‘Dinkar’s Hindi poem ‘Kahte Hain Usko Jayprakash’, recited by the poet himself in a public reception accorded to Shri Jayprakash Narayan in Patna Gandhi Maidan on April 21, 1946, after his release from imprisonment - rendered into English by Dr Mangal Murty.
© All text and photos: Dr Mangal Murty
In the God’s Creation
And the Emperor’s domain,
By the order of the town’s police chief…
All and sundry are hereby warned
To remain vigilant,
And bolt all doors from inside,
Pull down the window curtains,
And keep the children from getting on the road;
Because a seventy-two year old man
Has come out on the roads
Speaking the truth in his trembling voice.
Every townsman knows,
For twentyfive years,
It’s been hazardous to speak
Of things as they are;
To call a thief, a thief,
Or a murderer, a murderer;
Or commit the folly of protecting
A good soul being bashed,
Or a woman being violated;
Or a skin-and-bone skeleton
Pressing its hungry belly,
Or a child getting crushed by a jeep;
Being the Emperor’s jeep
Has it not the right to run over the child’s belly?
After all, the Emperor built the road!
O you ungratefuls,
Running after the old man!
Have you forgotten
That it’s the Emperor who has
Given you this excellent ambience
Where you can see day-time stars,
Even if only because of your aching hunger,
And angels keep you on the footpaths through the nights
Under the benign shadow of their wings,
And damsels wait under every lamp-post
Ready to pounce on the car-borne clients.
As if paradise itself has descended upon the earth:
After all, what more will you get
By running after that old man?
What’s your spat, after all, with those gentlemen
Quietly sitting on their respective chairs,
Waking through the nights
And working for the welfare of the kingdom;
Rambling like mendicants
Through Moscow, New York, Tokyo, London
To find out how best to mend
The gutter in the village.
Your legs will be broken,
Eyes gouged, if you walked down
To the inner courts of the royal ladies
And tried to peep down their walls.
Haven’t you seen that long stick
With which our burly young soldier
Thwacked the old man - doddering and unarmed?
We have buried that stick deep in a time-capsule
So that coming generations can have a look
And applaud our gallantry.
Now ask me where is that truth
That the old man was muttering about on the roads?
We have raised the volume of our radios
And ask for playing film songs ever so loudly
So that they drown the old man’s balderdash
In the entrancing might of their swaying tunes.
Half-witted children have flung down their schoolbags,
Tossed their slates and chalk away,
And are running and romping like mice
Behind this numskull magician;
And the woman whose child was killed day before
Has come out on the road
Unfurling her sari’s end like a flag.
Beware, this is your own country,
But stay where you stand.
No rebellion will be tolerated –
So that you cover distances and reach your destination;
We ourselves will jam the wheels of the trains.
Boats will be stalled in midstream,
Bullock-carts stopped beneath the roadside neem trees;
Trucks will be sent back from the turnings –
All traffic stopped where it is.
‘Coz, remember, the kingdom must march ahead,
And so it’s important that everything’s stopped
Right where it is!
Be not impatient.
You like jostling, processions and hullabaloo.
The Emperor, too, sympathizes with his people.
By his special orders, just to fulfil your fad,
His own court will come out in a procession
For you to have the Emperor’s darshan!
Those same trains will carry you for free.
The bullock-cart drivers will get double bakshish
The trucks will be festooned with buntings.
Water stalls will be set up at every corner,
And whoever asks for water
Will be served perfumed soft drinks.
Join this procession in hundreds of thousands,
And walk the road scraping your feet
So that the spattered blood of the old man
Is wiped off!
The Emperor does not relish bloodshed.
In the God’s Creation
And the Emperor’s domain,
By the order of…
Dharmveer Bharati’s Hindi poem ‘Munaadi’, written during the Bihar Movement (1974), rendered into English by Dr Mangal Murty
© Dr Mangal Murty.
They call him Jayprakash!
The lulled storm, the hushed gale,
The sea waves dashed on the shores,
But all their might echoes aloud
Even now in your robust roars.
The foot of the mountain shook awhile,
The sea waves ebbed from the shore.
But in the nations hands were bestowed
A brand new lusty sword.
Victory come to Bharat’s new sword
O soldier of a new country.
Victory, O new fire, O new flame.
Victory to the archer of the bull’s eye.
Welcome O trampler of the Time Serpent
Who ride on its fanned out hood.
Welcome O priest ready to jump
And burn In the holy fire as its food.
You hold the nation’s future in your fist
With a mighty roar in your throat,
Descending from the mind you hold in your hand
A world in which your dreams float.
O soldier give your salute to the future
As history heralds your coming.
The planets in the darkest sky burn out
With you the sky starts glowing.
The new effulgence formless and abstract
Has found its tangible form in you.
The fire that you swallowed and ingested fearlessly
Has turned into a glowing ember true.
The winds of our country get hot and hotter
By the countless breaths exhaled,
While the shadow skimming the Ganga waters
Sets it ablaze in its trail.
You are the diamond disgorged by revolution
Like a she-serpent at the mouth foaming,
Which the Mother gathered as a precious gift
As she went about searching and roaming.
You came back to your land as an icon
Of sacrifices made into the holy fire;
And now that name ‘Jayprakash’ rings loud
From the ardent unshakable youth’s choir.
They call him ‘Jayprakash’ or ‘Victory be to light’!
He is one who always defies death,
And leaps undaunted into the midst of fire
When he finds it dwindling in the youth’s breath.
Jayprakash is the one and only name
Whom no power can ever restrain
Holding aloft a burning beacon in darkness
Spreading light, like a hurricane!
Jayprakash is he who gives feet to the lame,
He is the one who gives voice to the dumb.
It is Jayprakash who embodies the hope
Of the country’s freedom soon to come.
Yea, Jayprakash is truly the name
Of turning time, and time’s tide;
Of the earth-shaking youth’s pledges
With their hurricane power and pride.
Jayprakash is the name, aye
Who is revered by the annals of history,
Seeking fervently to get his footprints
To record their enigma, their mystery.
The wise offer their obeisance to him
And the brave sacrifice their lives.
The singer sings him songs of praise
And to enkindle his voice he strives.
The poet’s talent, his fervent imagination
Glows and takes flight on its wings.
The tide of imagination roars and rolls
On the shores of humanity it sings.
O hear, hear, the future is calling
The saviour of the downtrodden many.
Jayprakash is the dreamer of dreams,
The maker of our country’s destiny.
Ramdhari Singh ‘Dinkar’s Hindi poem ‘Kahte Hain Usko Jayprakash’, recited by the poet himself in a public reception accorded to Shri Jayprakash Narayan in Patna Gandhi Maidan on April 21, 1946, after his release from imprisonment - rendered into English by Dr Mangal Murty.
© All text and photos: Dr Mangal Murty
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