L´iza ||Blessed Heart||
Episode : 5
On this episode of poetry House "Heart in Exile"- We express our agony, pain and reality of the people who are far from Native soil .
The day when millions of dreams blew away
Over a multitude of flying jets
I remember my childhood in the country
when I took the driftwood in the river
for a ship. (1)
When dad bought the first set of grade four text books for me
I wondered how would the days be
when I would get grade five books. (2)
The rainwater of July
The concluding hour of paddy plantation
The crimson "Teeka" from mom's hand
'Twas a carnival in the family. (3)
The "Bhai Teeka" offered by my elder sister on my forehead
The blessings with the wreathe of flowers
The nippiness of her mind
The soothing buoyancy of the day! (4)
The day when the uncle living next door summoned me --
"Hey you boy! Street drama is being staged at the "Peepal tree" down the road! Come and watch!"
When I recall these words, I tend to agonize from within. (5)
In the distant horizon…
Across the oceans
When multitudes of dreams dried away,
When life felt like
The curd that fermented in the lineal curd pot
The day comes looming in the flashback
When I had to pay a large sum of money to the "Manpower company"
When the certificates that were earned at the cost of milk and sacks of rice were proved worth useless stones
Shallow dreams were engraved in multifarious green passports. (6)
Three years back
When my eyes welled-up at Tribhuvan International Airport,
I remember my mother's last words:
"My child! Do take care of yourself!"
That day of departure
Still gleams in my eyes
Like the day of immediate past. (7)
Even the skyscrapers and superhighways of Arab
Seem lesser and narrower
When I have a reminiscence of the village. (8)
Workers crowd together in the company
To work persistently for full twelve hours each day
Yet the crowd knows no intimacy
And nobody realizes my misery (9)
Even on the days of festivity
Even on the day of Dashain
I'm to exert persistent labour
In this dreary gulf
Nobody knows the misery of having to work on such conditions.
Such is my unsung story
Such is the tale of the heart on exile.
In the midnight,
When the heart longs for my family members
The sweet remembrance of hanging out with pals
Hankers the heart
At times in the evenings
The forlorn sagas of my helpless life
Fade away in misery. (10)
The hard-earned money gives but
Momentary pleasure
Yet, fails to yield love of a beloved
The building I dwell in
Gives the anticipation of a castle
Yet, fails to give homely pleasure. (11)
The torture that inflicts the heart alienates it
The native land merely lashes on me.
Yet,
It does not exude compassion. (12)
When I work amid the scorching heat of the gulf
I reminisce the golden crops of my motherland
I reminisce the fragrance of the native soil
Yet, I console my heart
Thinking about the millions of youth
Who are doomed to sob in the alien land.(13)
In the alien land
When the heart gets benumbed
The mere words "daddy" from my daughter's mouth
Over the telephone
Even when the body is exhausted with toil
Gives the moment's bliss
Immense and boundless
Then, I tend to realize
That I'm torn apart by the obligations
In this alien land invisible. (14)
Such is the plight of our nation for ages and ages
Those who are exiled to Qatar
Have an epic of misery to share
The dignity of my elder brother who is exiled to Malaysia
Is but in low esteem
The Nepalese brothers who are trapped in the broker's trap
Are deemed worth useless stones. (15)
How long will it go on?
This endless saga of misery
I wonder
When the jets that sell dreams
Shall realize the value of the driftwood
flowing in the rivers of my village. (16)
Yet…
I envisage the day
When every individual will be employed in my nation
When every citizen will be home even with low income
When the nation will be advancing forth
and the toil will be regarded with dignity. (17)
When there will be no dead body in the red coffin
resulting from the compulsion
Of making both ends meet
When the character will no longer be bartered for a luxurious life
When self-sufficiency will be in profusion
When self-desired exile for foreign employment will no longer be
A compulsion (18)
I shall toil in: my own land
I shall walk: my own paths
I shall live in: my own nation
I do hope and I adore
My mother and motherland as heaven
Yet,
My mother, I shall return very soon…
The current year passed without hope
But, grieve no more, mother
I shall keep surging ahead in the land of Arab
Until I pay off my father's debt
Pawned from the "Mahajan"
Until I repair the thatched roof fully
Until I buy new saree for you!
Mom, I shall be advancing forth
For ever and ever…
Your loving child….(19)
Translated by : Mr. Ghanshyam Bhatt
#Nepalipoetry #Socialcause
Penned by : Nathan Rayan
🔴Inquires : Rayanblogs19@gmail.com
- Wisdomwriting19@gmail.com
📲Text us - 9842805646
▶Penned and Performed - Nathan Rayan
▶Concept - Nathan Rayan
⏩Filmed and edited - Studio Nepal 🇳🇵
Негізгі бет Ep-5 |विदेशीएको मन| (Bideshiyeko Maan) | A Tribute To People Far From Native Soil - By Nathan Rayan
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