• Parabaas
    Parabaas : পরবাস : বাংলা ভাষা, সাহিত্য ও সংস্কৃতি
  • পরবাস | English | Poem
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  • Temper : Subhas Mukhopadhyay
    translated from Bengali to English by Angshuman Guha


    Muttering with her hand inside a bag,
    mother-in-law fumbles with her prayer beads.
    Daughter-in-law
    struts off –
    arrogant footsteps, not ordinary.
    Like something new
    bought on a whim
    from a passing hawker.
    Therefore
    the prayer beads stop, and
    with poison oozing from her eyes,
    the woman’s neck turns
    towards the girl’s departure.
    Jutting her lower chin out,
    she grinds her teeth.
    With the anger exhibited,
    her teeth eyes shoulder jaws
    return immediately to their proper positions.
    Then, clawing at the entire house,
    clanging cracking clattering
    comes a sound,
    from the wash-yard.
    Never do the dishes show such attitude -
    this is going too far!
    The beads stop going round and round.
    There needs to be a cutting down to size -
    the prayer beads jolt
    and then start moving again.
    With a snuffle from the nose,
    the hand inside the bag
    suddenly strangles the beads.
    Damn the buster’s wit!
    Where did he find this dark jinx
    of a hoofed gangling girl?
    And why did he shove her on to the son?
    Why? Wasn’t there a fair girl in Bengal?
    Sure, the father gave a good dowry -
    yes, he did.
    But wasn’t it extracted
    with a rope around his neck?
    But he gave only with a foot on his neck.
    Mother-in-law’s face suggests
    she is hiding something
    with her hand inside the bag.
    Something -
    just a few months ago
    the girl had swallowed poison.
    If not for a doctor in the family
    she’d have brought disgrace to the household.
    Why? Couldn’t she get sick and die?
    Such a drama queen!
    Carrying a load of dirty clothes,
    the dark-skinned girl
    passes by again, strutting.
    No! This has to be stopped.
    “Daughter - “
    “Yeah?”
    Nah, the tone isn’t polite.
    It’s rather blunt.
    From where this sudden pride?
    – No one from her family
    has visited since Brother’s Day, have they?
    It is as if the house
    is tensely awaiting a storm.
    Youngest son has gone to college.
    The middle one is sitting on the front porch
    watching girls –
    fair-skinned girls,
    not charcoal-black like his sister-in-law.
    With a bucket clanging,
    the girl stands in front
    like a blood-thrirsty Kali,
    sari tied around the waist,
    eyes meeting eyes.
    Mother-in-law feels something,
    like a sudden premonition.
    Hiding her hand quickly inside the bag,
    and lowering her eyes.
    she says, “It’s okay, you can go.”
    The girl struts off
    with her head held high.
    Then, mother-in-law sits alone
    with legs outstretched,
    sewing a quilt,
    her thick glasses on,
    and stitching away, broods –
    the girl is suddenly so defiant.
    There should at least be an investigation.

    Later,
    after all doors are closed,
    she evesdrops
    through her eldest son’s door.
    She hears the girl saying, “I have good news.”
    The next few words are inaudible.
    After that, noises suggest smooching,
    embarrassing for a mother to hear,
    but the investigation has to finish.
    The girl’s voice gets her attention.
    “You’ll see, it will be as dark as me.”
    Right here should be a slapping sound!
    Wow! The girl sounds all lovey-dovey:
    “You know what name I’ve picked?
    Africa.
    Black people are doing such wonders there.”



    অলংকরণ (Artwork) : Ananya Das
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