18.1 C
Kathmandu
Sunday, November 24, 2024

Dil Bahadur’s Confession

Must read

Phoolman Bal

Yes, my lord!
I have committed a theft
You may put me into the jail
The warmth in the prison
Is far lovelier to me
Than the cold in the road, rest house and inn

Do you ask: ‘Don’t you fear?’
What should I fear of, my lord!
Though the police post was nearby
The gold trader was tempering – in the ember nearby
The café nearby was open, my lord!
People were moving in the road
I don’t know, what happened to me
My eyes –
Could not see, my lord
Anything other than the gold ornaments
My goodness, by God!

O, you talk of the newspaper?
Why should I feel ashamed?
Who knows this Dil Bahadur, my lord?
What matters to me
If my name and photos are printed?
Am I a king?
Am I a prince?
Am I a minister or an MP?
Am I a government secretary?
Am I an IGP?
King/Prince/Minister/MP/Secretary/IGP
The news of their thefts have been printed, my lord
In the newspaper?
Who am I, really?
And who do I have in life?
Does the name give food, my lord?
Does prestige give clothes, my lord?

Do you talk of my education?
No, nothing, my lord!
I was admitted in grade one
I could not understand the language
My lord, why didn’t the book have
The language I had dreams in?
My goodness, to study in class one
Was harder than carrying loads in the Saudi
Aa..! in the name of my pubic hair,
I left the school-siskool.

My lord, what is the case history?
O, in the past?
I was in the gulf, my lord, in the gulf
Dropping the sweats in the midday sun
I carried the cement for two years
Looked after sheep for one year
They did not give any salary –
They said the broker took it –
Not sure, what happened!
The embassy returned me to Nepal
With just five riyal in my pocket
I could not clear the debt
The lender captured my homestead
My mother and my Dolma
Carry the sand in the town
My father died of TB
The son got marasmus
I could not save them, my lord!

Yes, my lord!
I have committed a theft
You may put me into the jail
The warmth in the prison
Is far lovelier to me
Than the cold in the road, rest house and inn.

Trans: Dr. Ramji Timalsina

[Phoolman Bal (b. 1979) is a Nepali poet, film director and journalist. His published works include Kajol Khatun (stories), Mahabharatki Maichyang (poems), Mhendomaya (play in Tamang dialect) and a few films. He was the winner of National Poetry Competition 2018, organized annually by Nepal Academy. ]

More articles

LEAVE A REPLY

Please enter your comment!
Please enter your name here

Latest article