Wednesday, July 9, 2014

No entry for the new sun: Vilas Rashinkar

Vilas Rashinkar

No entry for the new sun

With determination they set
The stamp of approval
On their own garrulous tongue
So it becomes easy
To collect a hundred tongues
And spit on the sun.
They prop up crumbled bastions
In ten places
With the twigs of history
They unwrap the scriptures
From their protective covers
And insist-
‘These are commandments
engraved on stone.’
From pitch-black tunnels
They gather ashes
Floating on jet-black water
And reconstruct the skeletons
Of their ancestors,
Singing hymns
Of their thoughts
worn to shreds.
There is no entry here
for the new sun.
This is the empire
of ancestor-worship,
of blackened castoffs,
of darkness.

Translated by Priya Adarkar

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