The moor is restless today

 

The moor is restless today

(an English translation of Aaj Maal Bechain Aahe by Indira Sant)

The limitless, barren moor, with a single, dusty path

A path, seldom awakened by footsteps.

Sparse, dry grass, chewed by a stray animal.

Desolate. Barren.

 

The day, from four days ago, dawned

And the moor chuckled.

From lands unknown, horses arrived, carrying loads,

Dogs arrived, leaping, jumping,

Kids arrived, giggling,

Families arrived:

And a few dozen tents were up in no time.

 

The moor was suddenly human (“mansaat aala”?):

Dogs happily played on its body.

Kids rolled around in its dirt.

Horses grazed lazily on its grass.

With the smoke from the chulhas, aromas wafted across the moor. Savoury.

With every swing of the makeshift cradle, the moor quivered, as if bewitched.

Suddenly perky, the moor became human.

 

 Last evening,

All of a sudden, police jackboots

Surrounded the tents.

And before anyone knew, everything crumbled,

The loads disappeared from the horses,

The dogs left.

The children went.

The moor had never known a darker night.

Square trenches dug for the tents,

The ash smoldering between three rocks,

And somewhere nearby, a little puppy yelping in agony,

Left behind:

A quivering… shivering orphan life,

Because of whose heart-wrenching lament

The moor has now become restless.

Helpless, like a handless man,

The moor is staring at the sky.

 

- Indira Sant