The Hungry Stones XIV
At this very moment coolies screamed, ‘train',
We scampered packing up our bags and bales,
A long-awaited train’s a certain bane,
But this one turned a boon, such were the tales,
An English gentleman hailed our hero
From his carriage and we parted to go
Our diverse ways—to our cattle-class seat,
There was no chance to know who that man was,
Nor yet more light on his tale could be lit,
Indeed, never-ending may prove some pause.
Some truths, some lies of life lie ever so,
Maybe, he took us as credulous fools,
A painful nerve and anxious seldom cools,
Some truths and lies born are never to know,
Perchance the man minted fun at our cost,
And damsels in distress lay buried, lost.
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Narrative |01.04.2024|
Note: A poetic translation of Rabindranath Tagore’s story in Bengali: Kshudhaarto Paashaana, divided in I to XIV parts, largely in blank verse that lapses into rhymes along with its twists and turns. The story is known to have happened during Tagore’s stay at Shaahibaug palace in Ahmadabad, the nearby river Sabarmati becoming river Suista in the story.
Copyright ©
Aniruddha Pathak
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