It was I who was ruined

Darise Shashinirmala

Your man

when he turned me

into a chicken shorn of feathers

do you remember what you said?

In your home

in your hands

do you know how many times I was treated cheaply?

The moment I wake up

such great distances emerge between us!

You called my husband

a dunce

but when your boy

grabbed my child’s hand

did you open your mouth?

You might protest

but I’m low born

you’re high born

you never did anything for me

my husband never considered me human

and your man never cared for you

but it was I who was ruined finally.

I’m the one who should fold my arms

until then

because a squint isn’t a curse for the blind

speak for me too

if it was about purely a man or a woman

there would have been no quarrel,

crossing these boundaries

will you climb down a step?

Shall we walk on the same bank?

Naren Bedide’s (Kuffir)  translation of the Telugu poem ‘ninDaa ceDindaanni nEnE’ (from the collection of Dalit poetry ‘padunekkina pAta‘) by Darise Shashinirmala

First published on The Shared Mirror on May, 2010