At dusk (साँझपख)

- Ramesh Kshitij

(Translated by Hari Adhikari)

At dusk

A gloomy face is sitting on the window

Watching the setting sun

And the east-west path which goes fading slowly,

A young boy

Playing his flute

Is climbing up a hill trail

A deserted young desperate fellow

Sifting on the bank of a still lake

Is watching the sun's young rays

Into the water

And is reminiscing the old days

At dusk.

Faces of flowers are frightened

Hearing the footsteps of the wind

A housewife is sitting on the yard

At this moment

Remembering her husband who is aboard

Far away,

The water mill is weeping continuously

Children are flying kites from the top hills

One can hear the indistinct voice

The old man is fitting on the verandah coughing

Occasional passersby on the street are silent

The birds are chirping in the bamboo trees

The boy who had lost his marbles

Is wandering in front of his school

As dusk.

In the village tea-shop

There is a crowd of people

Some playing cards and the others

Talking about matters some big and some small

politics, violence and terrorism.

  

At dusk.

The distant thin river looks like

The traces of tears that flow in one's cheek

Women carrying water pots

In their belly

Are returning home slowly

At dusk

  

Carrying a high volume radio on the shoulder

A villager is walking

All alone

A peon who closed the health-post a few moments ago

being the doctor if this village

is standing outside the wine shop

And after grazing the cattle a whole day

A small girl is returning home

At dusk.

In this moment

Taking a harrowed gulley of maitidevi

and after entering a damp corridor

one sees a small room

There's a stove at a corner

bamboo racks and some old utensils

Some books and a small radio

At the other corner

And under the bed

some old tin tanks.

Lying in the bed

I am thinking

A village

At dusk.

(Anthology: Ghar Farkiraheko Manis)