Maithan Dam Lake

Boatman Sukul Marandi paddles our boat
with his eyes spiralling down, looking for
the fishes -- rohu, katla or the smaller ones,
no one knows about this search except him.

And shouts at the profile of wrinkled hills of
Jamtara and Dumka and then starts singing a song
from his native place -- Santhal Paraganas,

His heart is pure, his eyes are dark and lonely,
inviting me for tonight’s festival at the small hillocks,
while allow me to steal a smile from his face.

Just open, just open the door of memories --
where is the voice coming from?
grandmothers’ voice reaching from Jamtara house?
or fathers’ voice from Kumardhubi staff quarters?

they are willing to converse but you cannot go that far,
or is it a tiny bird, what bird? where it is?

Fresh breeze though repairs our lung cells
Water winds through the channels of the body,

But there is nothing except our orange canoe
sailing merrily to pass the island of joy.