(A POEM)
PAZHAMALAI
The train crawled
southwards
past Maasthoor
Hereafter, for me
only shortcuts
through gardens.
In the ears of the Thirugukalli
lizards announce my arrival
The newts make it manifest
As if it had waited only for this
a cuckoo in the grove
transmits the news.
Along the newly-laid
Ponparappi-Kulumoor road
I walk westwards.
And the withering circle
of a sun irritates me.
Crossing the eastern channel I reach the roadside.
Behind the tankbund
emerges the church.
The soles don’t forget
the irritating gravel.
With shoes on
I step over the terracotta figures
obstructing my way.
The pillayaar on the tankbund,
enquires the atheist
of his welfare.
The film songs
that waft on the air,
proclaim marriages.
I reach the Village.
Facing north
the Kulumoor Buddha
Sits in constant meditation.
The face has smiled
for centuries
hearing the stories of the demand
for the Sacrifice of seven buffaloes
and a pregnant woman,
and seeing our folly
in sitting on the altar
and easing ourselves there.
On the Long Street
the rubbing-post for cows.
And the mind will mock at
the universal love
of our ancestors
It is simple,
still,
the sauce Amma prepares
mingles with the soul
and its taste does not cloy.
Next morning
I started.
Amma asked me,
“Are you attending
the marriage in the colony?”
“The villagers will laugh
at you,’
Appa tried to dissuade me
from going there.
Appa would say,
“Such statues of the Buddha
are found in big villages.”
School master Sabapathi would say,
“All are equal to the Buddha.”
The Village forgot the Buddha.
I remembered him,
I went to the Ambedkar colony.
(Translated by Mr. M. S. Ramaswamy)