Dead on the road, overrun by a car, Mooshik Bappa rots - his intestines pulled out by crows, one leg up in the air as if to ward off flies and a dog attempting to piss over him, pus oozing from his tail as bacteria go about their work - a whole ecology.
Morning Arti on Ganesh day - priest in a hurry, a lay worshipper and some stray onlookers who seem to have nothing better to do. It is late morning - lunch-cooking time say the society women. The men say nothing.
Loudspeakers blare devotional music all day; society residents pass by on their holiday errands. One or two stop to perhaps throw a few flower petals on the idol and peek at the empty prasad-dish.
Squabbles break out over the empty prasad dish.
Quick visits to private Ganpatis - sense of community, devotion and who is providing what in prasad.
Cultural program by children dancing to filmi music. A girl cries backstage about a tight Kathak dress. The audience claps religiously; eyes keep looking towards the snacks counter.
(This is the same poem as the one in Hindi below.)
Neither I said a word, Nor she. She came, Removed the ring And kept it on the table. Those ear-rings Which I had given Last Diwali, Those too. Neither I said a word, Nor she. I ordered Two cups of tea, Mine plain, Hers as usual - Without sugar, Without milk. All the letters That I had written, Tied with a Frail string. That mobile phone - cadeau d'amour - With its box. Neither I said a word, Nor she. The tea came We drank I paid the bill. She opened her handbag Kept twenty-two rupees Of her share And left. Neither I said a word, Nor she.
ना मैंने कुछ कहा, ना उसने| बस वह आयी, अंगूठी उतारी और मेज़ पर रख दी| वे कान की बालियाँ जो मैंने पिछले दिवाली को दी थी, वे भी| ना मैंने कुछ कहा, ना उसने| मैंने दो प्याले चाय मंगवायी, मेरी सादी, उसकी हमेशा जैसी - बिना शक्कर, बिना दूध| वे सब ख़त जो मैंने लिखे, एक नाज़ुक धागे से बान्धकर| वह मोबाइल फ़ोन - तोहफ़ा ए ईश्क़ - डिब्बे के साथ| ना मैंने कुछ कहा, ना उसने| चाय आयी, हमने पी, मैंने बिल भरा| उसने हैन्डबैग खोला अपने हिस्से के बाईस रुपये रखे और चली गयी| ना मैंने कुछ कहा, ना उसने|
Th' cottar in his clachan, Th' laird in his thane, All gang to th' same kirk, Th' God fer all is ain. Th' lochs and glens ay Alba, I likes them verra muckle. Th' firths and dales ay ma homeland I ken them syne I war a bairn. (In progress)