My Fellow-Traveller

 

Late JANAMANCHI VENKATRAMIAH

 

[The original poem was written on 21-10-1921 recording the poet’s life experience of 1907–long long before there was any thinking in the country of Harjan uplift or removal of untouchability.]

 

The sun was sinking in the West;

the evening clouds floated like

sand-dunes after a flood,

in colourful saffron hues,

 

For the traveller, soft were the sands

of Godavari under his feet;

the ripe corn waved its head in joy

at the touch of the eastern breeze.

 

Earth and heaven thus mingled in unison,

as I walked alone

to reach my destination not far off.

 

I heard the footsteps of a strange woman

behind me, her tender feet sinking

in the sands, her natural slow pace

made slower by the weight of the bundle on her head.

 

I queried her in kindly words,

“What is that heavy bundle on your head,

O maid? where do you come from

and to where do you go?”

 

And replied my way-side companion;

“From my parents’ village I come,

on way to my husband’s house

in younder village, sir,…..and you?”

 

“I go the same way, maid, step faster;

O your bundle retards your steps,

but the village should be reached

before dark.” I said.

 

“This bundle. sir, may retard my journey,

but without it I cannot subsist for a day,”

said the maid, and continued.

 

“My elder brother, simple soul, presented me

with a new saree with Kumkum; and,

in spite of my protests, made a bundle

of yellow corn, and put it on my head,

 

“Anyhow, as my house nears, this bundle

grows lighter; I will follow your footsteps

fast, sir, you can proceed with speed.”

 

The words of that maid, pure-souled,

more innocent than a child,

touched my ears tenderly

and pleased my heart.

 

When we reached the crossing of the river

before reaching the village

the boatman said as he saw us,

“Before the Brahmin gentleman crosses

to the other bank, the untouchable woman

should not enter the boat.”

 

“O boatswain, sir, I have to reach home

before it is dark and I am a helpless woman;

I beg you, pity me and take me first

to the other bank.”

 

The piteous outcry of that lowly woman

touched the depths of my heart,

and I said to the boatman:

“No harm should befall any one

because of me,”–and then I spoke:

 

“I, she and you drink the same sacred waters

of Mother Goutami;

Its very sight makes us pure, and

a dip in it gives us salvation.

 

“One born in the untouchable’s shed,

is that one untouchable to God?

Even an animal, is it unfit

for His love? Does not He embrace all like the air?

 

“While by the grace of one and the same God

we all have to get into the same ship

and cross the same ocean,

and reach the same shore,

why all these doubts now for us?

 

“Therefore hesitate not, O boatman,

let this woman get into the boat with me;

no harm thereby to anyone and no loss to me.”

 

Neither am I a follower of Dharma

like Dharmaja,

nor is this woman untouchable

as the dog that followed him;

and yet, the boat into which

both of us entered that evening

was verily that first step to Heaven

which they entered!

–Translated from the original in Telugu by M. Visweswar Rao

 

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