Shrawan Mukarung
My Lord!
I have gone mad
in the kingdom of Gorkha
after two hundred and fifty years
I suffer giddiness
The earth is towards the sky
And the sky towards the earth
My eyes dazzle
Your one head I count ten
Where are my feet ?
Where is Bisé Nagarchi?
Master,
I have gone mad.
I should have served my king
to protect history
Touch the feet of this Gorkhakali
In gratitude for two meals
What’s wrong with me today
After two hundred and fifty years
Bad luck has befallen Bisé
My master,
I have gone mad!
It was only my wife that was murdered
It was just my daughter that was raped
It was merely a useless hut of Bisé that was burnt
Just for that, this Bisé dared to jump?
Spit on you Bisé!
My master,
I have really gone mad.
I have broken my hand
I can’t sew the labedas for your courtiers
I can’t play the narshimha or the sahanai
Nor can I sing hymns
Or the songs of seasons;
I have broken my leg
I can’t guard your kingdom anymore.
My mind is not in order
I can’t even talk in balance
Your Majesty! I have gone mad.
Master, how come
The towering mountains of yesterday
That stood in front of this Gorkha state
Have all gone so low today?
The perfect and lively men of yesterday
How have they become so ugly and gory?
Why do I see Daraundi flowing up-steams
And see this palace all but in ruins?
Master! I have gone mad.
Master!
Does your sword butcher
A head or a flower?
I am in delusion
Your gun kills a man or his thoughts?
I am in utter perplexity.
Who created this state my lord:
The subjects or the king?
I am in delusion.
For two hundred and fifty years
I have been with you.
My Lord
How can I be a terrorist?
I have only gone mad, Sir!
I have gone mad.
I admit
I must not have obliged with your holy instructions.
In a drunken fit
I might have claimed that I also worked to secure this land
Or claimed, songs of Bhanubhakta and my needle are equal
And exposed my nude body
To those clad in neat clothes I stitched.
In visitations of madness
I might have abused even my own gods.
My master !
Once he is mad
A man happens to wrangle with himself
Master
I perhaps wanted to know where my children,
Who grew in the rags I stitched for these two hundred and fifty years
Had really gone?
The pores in my fingers and the blood oozing out of them
Must have provoked me
To claim that the country sewn by my thread
Was greater than the country won by you by your sword.
My master !
Together with the history of this soil
I am in your nation;
How can I be antinationalist?
Of course, I went mad Master
I really went mad.
I suffer giddiness
The earth is towards the sky
And the sky towards the earth
My eyes dazzle
Your one head I count ten
Where are my feet ?
Where is Bisé Nagarchi?
Master,
I have gone mad.
Translated by LB Chhetri
Shrawan Mukarung (b. 1968) is a famous Nepali poet, lyricist, essayist and dramatist. Born in Bhojpur in Eastern Nepal, he stated writing in 1983. His popular publications are Desh Khojdai Janda, Jeevanko Laya, Hiunko Darbar, Yalambar (a play, 1996), Phoolko Aawaz (songs), Niskarsh (songs), Bisé Nagarchiko Bayan ra Anya Kavita (VCD, 2006 and book, 2010), Sun Re Siyaram (songs) and Bhawalaya (a collection of essays). He lives with his family in Kathmandu.