Packing Up… HRK, Telugu, Indian
I am sitting in some railway station
Whichever way I look, there is
Just this bench-long space to move about
I don’t know who these people are
What country and what language it is.
I don’t like railway stations
For, the rails lie there idly
Stretching into the unknown both ways
The signals suffer from drop head syndrome
And eons-old stains mark the walls.
Some X should come
Would he?
Something should happen
Like a train running onto the road
Or a bus speeding onto the rails…
Or some such thing.
Would it?
Whether or not that X came
Or that ‘something’ happened
Half-sitting on this choking bench
Like a timber adrift in a whirlwind
Waiting for another to drift elsewhere,
I should wait here shy, timid,
Reticent and gesturing with my head
For everything in “yes, yes”es or, “oh, yes”es,
“May be yes”es and “yes, it could be’s
Till somebody shifts me to some other place
Or till the awareness that nobody
Would ever come dawns upon me
And sweeps me off the platform
Thus I sit in some railway station
Oblivious of hours, days, years and ages.
Sivaram, My Pal!
Whatever I say, whatever I do
I need to do in this lone moment
That is in my hands
That’s it
And that’s all
After that I too should leave
Doffing the attire, cleaning up and closing the box
Whatever battles we fight, win or lose
All that we have at hand
Is one fleeting moment
And an angstrom arena
.
HRK
అనువాదలహరి 