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MALATHI MAITHRI Poems in Translation
1Large As the World
By some turn, obscure, of the season,Each part of my body turnedInto an animal or bird; and beganTo wander away from my side
A few returned on their own Oftentimes, they were tracked And brought home like lost sheepThen they left again, as if on pilgrimageThus, routinely straying, they beganTo roam in all of Time’s expanse
Now, it is a long time sinceThey went their several waysIn search of water and landI am unable to knowOr guess which partMight now be traipsingDown which wayOn their return home, laden with the scentsAnd voices of different lands, They graze all over my body, Shuffling and rearranging my identity
Some girls who went to gatherFirewood in the jungleReturned to say that they had sightedMy vagina as a butterfly,Flitting about among the hills
© 2003, Malathi MaithriFrom: Neerindri Amaiyaathu Ulagu© Translation: 2008, N. Kalyan Raman
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2Mental Illness: Before And After
Stray cattle on the streetsChewing on used tamponsEmpty cans of CokeAt the gutter’s edge
This house is a stockade for the powerlessThis afternoon, it is raining hot cindersOn the streets from which all dogs have vanished,Coke cans are running about in play
The noise persistsAll through the dayWhen evening bloomsWith the yellow of emptiness,Alongside the rustle of human beastsReturning home as usual,Television boxes, too,Commence their blaring
Mechanical birds raining bulletsTanks striding like iron beastsBodies scattered like coconut splintersBuildings razed to the groundWails of maimed childrenA typical late evening, spewed outBy television sets in every home
I lie in bed, wrappedIn terror’s black quiltAfter midnight, one by one,The empty cans have begunTo lay siege to the streetThe infernal soundOf earth being crushedGrows louder by the passing hourA great din risesAs giant Coke cans
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Advance towards me,Razing the walls inBetween to the ground
I am unable to expelThese iron beasts,Crawling all nightInside my skull
I pluck out and flingMy hairs, one by one
When dawn breaks,Who will rescue the sun,Mired in this bog of dead meat?
© 2007, Malathi MaithriFrom: Neeli (2nd ed.)© Translation: 2008, N. Kalyan Raman
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3Proscribed Blood — 1
In the sanctum’s dark standsOur half-female Goddess,Waiting on her one aching footInside her stone prison, Bolted shut and bakingIn April’s stifling heat
With his lone right eye, SivanGlares askance at ShaktiAs she wriggles in discomfort,Caused by the sticky trickle of oozeIn her vagina from her bursting eggs
As the blood scent spreads, causingOne half of the snake to slither down, Bearing the other half in its memory,She grabs and pulls the snake Towards her to wipe the bloodBefore flinging it away
Feeling extremely worn todayFrom the more copious than Normal discharge of blood,She asks Sivan to move awayTo offer some relief to her bodyThe one who is one half Of her feels upset:How can I survive with this half-bodyFor three whole days?Our contract must not be breached, he says
Without you, I don’t exist,He declares, as he folds her
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In a tight embrace with his right handI need to sit with legs stretched outI must sleep with my own bodyShe rips and throws Sivan awayWith her left hand, and sits downOnce again in the vacant spaceOf her age-old throne
All along the pathway aroundThe temple’s perimeter are foundThe bloodied tracks of a lone foot
© 2007, Malathi MaithriFrom: Neeli (2nd ed.)© Translation: 2008, N. Kalyan Raman
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Proscribed Blood — 2
On this rainy night The full moon hangs precariouslyFrom the temple’s sacred mastThe radiance dripping Into her nose-ring slipsAway and flies out To catch her pecking parrot
Meenakshi follows the light, giving chaseAs the moon pours down with the chill windAs cold mist on the stone plinth,Her soles sting and her body thrillsWiping the trickle descendingHotly between her thighsWith her long skirt, she runs
After flying through the thousand-pillared hall on the outer perimeter,Her darling parrot alights and perchesOn the moon afloat on the surfaceOf the Golden Lotus pond
Removing her undergarment,She rinses it in the pond’s waterImpelled by the blood scent,Fish swarm to her feetAnd peck at her handsShe sets out to catch themAs in the days of yore,Casting wide her sari’s end
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Seeing the marvelOf the pond’s moonTurning red, little by little,The parrot calls her, shrieking:Meenakshi! Meenakshi!
© 2007, Malathi MaithriFrom: Neeli (2nd ed.)© Translation: 2008, N. Kalyan Raman
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5Slaughterhouse
After closing the doors,She draws the curtainsAcross the window; andRemoves her skirt with her back to me
A white lady past her sixtiesWhen I saw the olive-green pantherOn her right buttock, poisedFor a leap, with its forepaws raised,I hung back a few seconds without pulling upThe jeans, yearning to touchThe tattooed figure with my fingers
The jeans fit her perfectlyNow our seamstresses were boundTo stitch and stack this modelFor a whole month – even in their sleep:“Spicy shorts”
In the trial room,She stands in front of multiple mirrors,Admiring again and againHow well the garment sculptsThe buttock’s lower curveInto a crescent, and grips the thighThere is hope for high growthIn sales, she says, and offers praise
Ordering us to designA top for the jeans,She removes her vestTo aid measurement:She wants it high, she says,Level with the lower ribs
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A webbed brassiere,Prettily embroidered with lace,Holds up her sagging breastsThe tail of an animal,Crouching on her left breast,Snakes upward, below her neck
I stand close, waiting,Measuring tape in hand
Tongues jutting out,Leather jackets suspended on hooksThrow us their fixed staresLike cattle hanged to deathThe room’s heat keeps rising
What can I do?When I pulled the too-tight jeans off her legs,Her bum, the skin dry and fleckedWith minute cracks, was scratchedAnd bruised by my fingernails
The wound resembledA panther’s claw marks,Says the autopsy report
© 2007, Malathi MaithriFrom: Neeli (2nd ed.)© Translation: 2008, N. Kalyan Raman
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Driving rain
As a tiny fish nibbles
at a toe, lust bites softly,
hesitantly, into this
body of mine –
how may we call it?
The sound of November’s
heavy rain, laden only
to pour itself empty,
thrumming and leaping
in a gently extended
cup of water.
Warmth of low heat inside the refuge
of a nest lined with soft feathers.
Fresh toddy fermenting in a gourd-flagon.
Sky not exhausted yet by the moon’s kisses.
Sea turning abundant for the full moon.
Chill wind stroking the pale
down on the back of the neck.
Lilies that flower when it thunders.
Meadow traversed by December’s dew.
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Creeping darkness of groves and jungles.
Relief at the easing of a long-repressed bladder.
Ecstasy of an infant sensing a scent of breast.
Arousing words.
Silk-cotton bud as it bursts,
unable to bear the body’s load.
It soars and swarms about
everywhere in space,
this bare body.
Translated by N Kalyan Raman from the Tamil poem, Thengadu peidha mazhai by Malathi Maithri
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Cinderella’s country
West Mada Street, East Mada Street
Rajagopura Street, Theradi Street,
Alley, road,
police station, prison complex,
wine shop, temple, ruined wall
of a roofless house – the king’s son,
who roamed free like a pet animal,
claims to have found it at a feast of revelry;
swears that he is here with the lone glass
slipper to rescue his princesses.
High-heeled glass slippers clacking,
Cinderella enters the stage.
All right, O prince!
Along with the kings of many nations,
may you also adorn my harem.
Rows upon rows of glass slippers
are wiped clean and stacked inside cupboards
in Cinderella’s country.
Translated by N Kalyan Raman from the Tamil poem, Cindrellavin Desam by Malathi Maithri
12
Thousand and Two Nights
On a sightless night, eyes blindfolded,
he begins to throw his knives.
She is a whore who keeps
thousands upon thousands
of her lovers hidden, he sputters –
Inside the pillow case?
On the bedsheet?
In the rolled up mat?
On the bookshelf?
In the attic? Inside the spice box?
None of his former girlfriends
had betrayed him so.
Nights harden like a thick rope
with recriminations.
His fear was all about
whether she might fashion
a man merely by kneading the dirt –
and that, with a member as big as an elephant’s trunk.
The full moon of the Thousand-and-Second night
shone hot and bright inside his skull.
Translated by N Kalyan Raman from the Tamil poem, Thousand and Two Nights by Malathi Maithri
13
Seed Word
A land deserted by rains
My language remains scorched and cracked
No moisture anywhere in the air
In the days to come…
Tankers would plough the field;
To grow roots, to gain green
Missiles would plant seeds;
Sulphur would gather all around the space.
My suffocated words
Lie toppled
As a boat on shore.
In every yard Horror of death
Lie in packets On the table
A corked coke bottle with rain.
With the sprinkling of ritual milk*
Tomorrow
Words will sprout ceremoniously**
On each grave.
*Pal thelippu is a ritual conducted on the third day after death.
**Mulaippari is the sprouting of seeds in rituals of happy occasions. The poet uses the verb form of the word. (Neeli, 2005)
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Ocean Floating on the Wall
The artist must have run out of colours.
Like Von Gogh’s orange,
May be he had only pale blue.
Or else, why would the deep blue
Of midday -ocean turn so pale?
As a consolation, I had a calendar sea
Spread like a wet saree with waves,
With the fear of a child on seeing a snake
By me.
In the nights my room
Is wet by the drizzle
Letting my lips taste salty,
I don’t know how? (Neeli, 2005)
15
Hunters Holding Cards
Heads of families
Started burying the corpses
Thrown into each house, in secret.
Days passed without food or sleep
With unease and disgust.
For a short while,
One could hide it from children.
Each house will become a burial pit
Spread itself and take in the bodies
And the earth would be leveled again.
Numbers increased.
Children helped.
It became a daily chore.
Later, the adults got used to
Celebrating the bodies
As the ones defeated in the rehearsals for fight
By young boys,
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Sharing their heroic adventures all around.
Later, each one shared
The kinds and number of corpses
In each house, as daily news
In teashops, offices and colleges.
Human beings were allowed
To remember two words:
Faithful and obedient.
Those who knew the meaning of
These two words were blessed to live on.
Those who did not know
Were allowed to be hunted down.
They have the permission for that. (Neeli, 2005)
17
Elephant Story
My mother's gift
an elephant in a story
That her mother told her once
After a long, long time
Faint with summer heat
I went to the sea
with my elephant
Like mountains, the sea's waves
rose over me
Up, then down
Tumbling, reeling
I rolled, slid,
this way and that
that way and this
the waves picked me up high
and cast me on the shore
along with a drowned elephant's half trunk
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The sea and sky in each other's arms trumpet loudly
Saddened, I walk away
The entire town stares, gapes at me
An entertaining exhibit.
Confused, I turn back
In waves, as the water,
the crowds surge behind, follow me
An elephant sank into the sea,
my daughter says
to the townspeople,
and it had a thousand trunks,
She tells her tale and walks away
(Sangarabarani, 2001) (Tr. V. Geetha)
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