THE GREAT LAND : THEY HAVE EATEN AND THROWN YOU

A poem by Deebachelvan in Tamil titled
(PERUNILAM: UNNAI THINDRU POETTIRUKKIRAARGAL)
Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan

(More and more things unknown lie buried in that Great Land)

_______________
Yesterday an image of yours was
taken out of a bush and displayed…
Sister! Out of those hands
that had disrobed and destroyed You
our Time extends.

For the miserable Mothers
whose hands beat their own heads
with pain and anguish indescribable,
born of the apprehension of
what might have happened to the corpses
that are yet to be unearthed -
For those sisters who were ended with
deluge of blood-shed
the photograph of your mutilated person
keeps telling tales of all that had taken place at
innumerable nooks and corners.

Destroying, where they had thrown you-
Who had butchered You-
You are reading out yourself
as Headlines…
In the Channel where the Songs and Films
that you’ve acted in
are being aired
Your semi-size image
hangs in a corner as
a sight unbearable.

In the land laid under siege
by the same troops
a woman just like your Mother
is searching for her daughter
feverishly, as the very personification of
Agony.
In the farthest end
of the battle-fronts of those troops
which have reared and nourished
the male organs
and placed blood wide-spread
as Offerings
They had peeled off your uniform
and cast them away.
They had dissolved your
courage and valour.
Your missing revolver
is in the hands of those Troops.

In the same land where
You were earlier rendered victorious
You seemed to have surrendered.
Guns and Penis
with similar gaping mouths
had gobbled the whole of You.

In the courtyard, street, agricultural fields
underneath the landmines, wherever the soil
rolls over
Uniforms and such other attires
Blood, Cyanide bottles , Photographs,
and also some Notes keep on
surfacing.
Oh, where would you have left
the Poem which you had got from me?
______________________
( To Isaipriya ) 25.12.2009

BROTHER KILLED IN THE PHOTOGRAPH

A poem by Deebachelvan in Tamil titled
PUGAIPPADATHIL KOLLAPPATTA SAGODHARAN
Translated into English by latha Ramakrishnan

------------------------------------------------------------
It was only after renouncing all our memories and dreams
on the last day that we could surrender
the Mothers, on their own tore off
the photographs of their Sons.

My Brother, till the final day of War
Somehow we had kept you hidden
On a night when it rained cats and dogs
And when all our faces were swept away
by the floods
Your face alone remained with us.

The moment had arrived
When even those photographs having you-
We had to do away.
The lights have turned dead.

On the day when we were
said to have surrendered,
or when we felt that we were taken
as prisoners
the news reached us that
Your tombs had also been exploded.

I saw you all writhing and bleeding
It was said that they were gong to bury you
in a wide, deep pit.
In that mammoth coffin, blood was seeping,
drenching our Beloved Land.
Learning that you had been butchered by them
Even unknowing to others, silently,
we couldn’t shed tears.
Where and how did your death place _
we are unable to know.
The evenings that love and rever You
turning forever lost
and the memories turning terribly vulnerable
in too huge a coffin they have filled to the brim
ashes of the whole lot of tombs.

My Brother, Mother says that when she had to come,
leaving behind Your photographs,
her hands bled.
We have nothing with us by way of reminding you.
They have killed you in the photograph itself.
The coconut-shoot which You had planted
had also been uprooted.

The candle that your younger sister
and my child
hold and go around,
glows and burns my hand.
______________________
20.11.2009

WISHES OF CHILDREN OF THE TENT-DWELLERS

A Poem by Deebachelvan in Tamil, titled
KOODAARA MAKKALADHU KUZHANDHAIGALIN VIRUPPAM
Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan

---------------------------------------

I have told you
that these children always want to go out of the Tents.
So small and narrow-
this Tent is intent on throwing open
demonic tortures in the manner of jail.
Unable to walk anywhere, the roots of wild trees keep
pricking the faces hard
Friend, beware, talking about the Tent-dwellers
might prove Dangerous to you.
Stopping our speech, avoiding our demands _
So everything keeps taking place.

Even in this dust and mud, They
forever remain beautiful children.
We are unable to answer their questions.
All the tales that they share
revolve round the Tents of the Globe.
In the all too sharpness of Power
Their smiles and their playgrounds
have all been damaged beyond repair.
For people, like us, of the world
Tents are being made.

Friend, for the sake of these kids
we are not able to tell any tales-amusing; amazing.
They throw away dolls and other such toys.
Inside the Tent their World remains all too narrow.
‘Well within the thorny-fence
the children can very well wander anywhere,
play and return’ – So the Camp rules say.
Boys, a little older, feel the urge
to do anything whatsoever
for finding a way out of the Camp.

We have been here in the Tents
for quite too long a time.
Without refusing, permission is given
for allotting Tents made of mud
and also for these Tents for the Dying.
We have been asked to
give birth to babies inside this
and also to rear them here.
Looks like with all that The children speak
as they grow
The refugees all over the world would be in peril.
Our movement is arrested
Well within the boundaries of the Tents.

These Tents with windows and doors
_the growing children have all drawn
in their note-books.
The Tent-Dwellers keep piling up.
For our growing children also
Some Tents would be given next week
_ So they have said.
And, they keep unloading Tents
Of different hues and shades.

That our children and our selves are prepared
to step out of the Tents when permitted
Or remain inside for ever _
We have told the Media
voluntarily.

After having given Tents
all too hastily
they have been planted
permanently.
__________________________

(*27.10.2009. the Chief of the Committee of Asian Human Rights’ Commission,
Basil Fernando refers to the Vanni refugees as ‘Koodaara Makkal’(Tent-Wellers)

How Far/Long Would Mother Wait

(Photograph taken from inside mother’s tent)

A Poem by Deebachelvan
Title of the Original poem in Tamil-
AMMA EDHUVARAI KAATHUKKONDIRUPPAAL
Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan

____________________

01
Mother is one who could patiently bear everything.
Just for the sake of going home
she keeps waiting in the scorching heat
and in the dense rain
of the horrible wilderness
My Friend, after so many days
You have given me a glad news.
Your happiness born of the fact that
your mother is waiting for you
with dishes prepared by her own hand
in her own land -
that alone has caused the smile to sprout
in the faces of all those here

I am waiting for that.
How far/long my mother would be waiting.

For the permission to take me with her
For the loudspeaker which would call aloud
her/my name
Mother is waiting.
When the days are getting postponed
She tolerates it all.
How long/far she would be waiting -
I don't voice this as a query.
after all, aren't people returning to their homes...

2)
They have let her go out just today
She didn't go carrying any bag
to the fish-market
or to the cloth-shop.
That the return to the camp is inevitable
Mother doesn't deny.
She is always prepared to
get back to the camp and confine herself there.

That the way they have returned your houses
in your own hands
they would return ours too-
So Mother hopes and believes.
A friend of mine has asked the size of
the breadth of the door that has thrown open today.
What would you do if the thorny wires are again to be
tied together tight and taut - asks he.
I add this one also with the queries
we have not answered.

At the time when the Camps would be thrown open
the lenghth of the waitings of so many
would be known to one and all.
The tents with sorrows piled up
everyone would have seen.
Your Mother would surely be knowing well
the long wait of my Mother and myself.


the hapless people are let out
so that they can give something in return
that they have now
are but dried-up and weakened bones.
after the residual blood in the deep corners of
the bones too got sucked
what little remains of our bones
would be taken to our respective places.
Mother is prepared
to give even that.


Mother would bear with everything.
in this space
My Friend
your consolation
and happiness at going home
I do share with my Mother.
_____________________
(29.11.2009 for Sathish and his Mother)

THE CURRENCY-NOTES OF WAR__COLLECTED FOR THE SAKE OF CHILDREN

A poem by Deebachelvan in Tamil titled
KUZHANDHAIGALUKAAGA SEGARIKKAPPATTA PORIN NAANAYATHAAL
Translated into English by latha ramakrishnan
______________________
“who lived in Kudumi-Malai?”_ the children ask
Having a whole lot of questions as to
why that mountain is being attacked by boats
filled with weapons and missiles
They keep looking at the currency-notes
where the battle is taking place

The War is somehow being reminded repeatedly
This currency-note has drawings of all the
annihilations
right till date
etched on it.

The incidents and defeats
that would prove unbearable to retrieve-
They’ve heaped
with the help of that mocking sheet
made of the Tales of those days
that indeed freeze our memory
They have collected for Children
Only those success of the
Cruel Times
that horrify Us

that why these aircrafts
still keep flying everywhere
with a diabolically hungry speed
and that why helipads
kee flying so low
still
_ these children keep on asking.

The smile of the face so sinful
Wearing the very holiness
Engraved at the backside
And the hands
Extended towards a direction-
I’m not able to translate.

For everything we have to go, carrying these
Currency-notes.
And hold it in our hands
And not only we have to live so
But, work for IT also.

In the all-burnt nation what for the Cheyinflec
tear apart the land still _ ask I.

Terrorizing forms get inside
the Iranaimadu Pond.

The act of biting and devovouring
the burnt land
and your smile on the other side
stay inseparably together;
one upon the other.
The all-too sharp dagger
that this monarch holds aloft
Is sure to slice my children
in all the days to come.

Oh father, who has drunk our Sea?
_ so our children have started asking.
“on what they had planted the ‘Big flag’?
And whose blood was shed there?
And where were those pour souls
residing there
chased away _
The children of our Tomorrows
are sure to enquire.

In the Currency-Notes collected
and kept safe for Children’s sake –
The guns of the troops in action
The Stars where Rank and Power grow
_ all the children keep calculating it all.

______________________