Pramod Sarang
People, saying the last prayers of their life
Land in the villages
Tired of living;
Or say, those waiting for doomsday
Too show up in the village
Vanquished in a war with men!
A corpse, making a comeback in a coffin
In the prime of life
Also ends up in the village.
Desires, sent astray by struggles in the city
And the vestiges of lingering wishes
Too convene, at the end, in the village.
Be it a crisis or a pandemic
Be it a nuptial procession or mourners’ queue
People invariably show up in the village at the end
Even those who had absconded the village forever
Are seen making a return
Carrying with them a baggage of innumerable bends
They had moved past during their long voyages!
In the first place, what is the treasure
The constantly receding village has in its domain?
[Pramod Sarang is a Nepali poet, lyricist, composer, singer and translator. Some of his seminal works are Aprilfool Baanchirahecha Desh (poems), Awaaj ra aawaajharu (quatrains) Quaafiya (ghazal) and Anudit Aakhaharu (haiku). His works have been translated into a number of languages, including English, Korean and Hindi.]