three mahabharata series poems
by Yasho
Translated from Bangla original by: Jharna Sanyal
Translator’s Note
The three poems herein situate three of the characters of the Mahabharata, Bhisma, Krsna and Kunti in our contemporary political and domestic world. Yashodhara Ray Chaudhury, the poet, demythifies the epic characters in her inimitable style.
Bhisma
That gentleman could understand everything but could do
nothing about anything. That gentleman with thick glasses,
read The Statesman the whole day and wrote letters :
Dear Editor
Why this abysmal rate of child mortality in our country…
His wife had a tough time meeting the two ends meet,
the girls had grown up; that gentleman could understand
everything but could do nothing about anything.
Salt and pepper stubs on sunken cheeks, he was busy writing letters:
Dear Editor
Why this pathetic condition of women in our blasted nation…
He had spent his entire gratuity fund on the ornaments and furniture
for his daughters' wedding; his wife sighed as she had started knitting,
selling pickles and bori1…that gentleman could understand everything
but could do nothing about anything.
When the grandsons were admitted to English medium schools
and the two sons-in-law were scraping to meet the expenses,
to help the daughters save some money his wife herself
began doing the chores; – got ulcers on her toes, had cataract and
her neck and hands – bare of ornaments.
Skeletal chest, loose dangling vest
even then that gentleman:
Dear Editor
Why is there arsenic in water? Why is the education system
of the third world so faulty, why is our inflation rate so high...
1Bori: Sun-dried lentil paste nuggets.
Krsna
No one looks forKrsna unless it's an emergency.
I am sound as ever, trustworthy and my own boss.
Such an agency as mine has only one USP: success.
You can't find any fault with that. I am despondent at times.
I am Krsna, dark beyond any shade. Even if despondent, I carry on
with my karma. A seasoned diplomat. Shrewd and intelligent.
In all conflicts, as an envoy, I am hundred percent successful.
I enter war fields with a microphone in hand.
In the midst of an acute crisis, I initiate conversations.
I know once the conversation stops, dialogue comes to a standstill,
curfew, bombing, riots, blood and feud would follow
as inevitable consequences.
However, with all such efforts I couldn't ever stall any war.
Well, that's your karma. I am just an excuse. Hari is for the poor.
I let all air their opinions on the flickering screen.
In this agency, karma is supreme.
As and when required, I provide women with attire; at times, I don’t.
Oh! How cool!
Despondent as I am, shattered within,
I look effective, successful, and unbeatable.
Krsnas should not be much involved.
Kunti Aunty
We have hardly ever talked about Kunti aunty
as we will never write biographies of such
characters who merge with the foundation
of our lives and then may easily be forgotten.
At the time of her marriage, Kunti aunty
was quite accomplished, had a Rabindra sangeet
degree as well. She was quite educated, ‘but didn’t
get the school job because she got married.’
Kunti aunty had a well-shaped nose. A warm heart.
At the right age, she gave birth to five sons and took
good care of all. She played on the rooftop with her brothers’-
and – sisters-in law’s children – ‘touch n’go’, ‘crocodiles’ den’.
There were song rehearsals, anniversary Tagore plays,
a makeshift stage on a bed, bedcover screens pulled with string.
She treated us many a times to phuchka at the street crossings.
Whether there was anything else Kunti aunty did not do, – we can’t tell.
Who needs anything else? Are there any other human desires?
Children are not aware; they do not know what paleness is,
even we did not have any idea whether uncle loved her at all.
We could not make out anything from her face.
We couldn’t ever make out whether she had any anger or sorrow.
However, all these showed up in her breast cancer; and
suppressing all her ailments, she just fizzled out one day.
