KOUBRU MOUNTAIN’S DAUGHTER

*A poem in Tamil by Theepachelvan captioned KOUBRU MALAIYIN MAGAL
(Daughter of Koubru Mountain)
rendered in English by Latha Ramakrishnan

You, the darling daughter of Koubru Mount
with deer aplenty, frightened and apprehensive
wandering hither and thither _
and the red jasmine flowers blooming all over
call off your decades-long fasting and have something to eat.

In this soil that is for the sale of guns
don’t you remain hungry any further.

The pricking sense of guilt that those people
who stood by the side of your emaciated body
experienced at every lunch time -
whenever they hold their cups and bowls _
Oh, let it subside at least from henceforth.

Let the punishment of forceful feeding inflicted upon you
and the imprisonment of food tubes inserted into your nostrils
end now
and please have your food
the memory of which has left you long since.

You, the Iron Woman who,
bearing the hunger of Manipurians
who faced Assam Rifles’ ruthless assault
with their sacred nakedness,
has filled your empty stomach with dreams;
your heart is as soft and tender
as that of an innocent child.

Your body that bore the brunt of huger
drying up with desert-like heat
proving a veritable playground for Death
is indeed a powerful weapon!

Your voice that never ceased to rage and boil
never allowing death to come anywhere closer
and leaving it to taste defeat,
is but wild fire!

My friend, in bomb-cultivating soil
please don’t fight anymore with your tender heart.

The power to stretch their rifles
for inserting many a penis of the army
into hapless vaginas,
the power to arrest anybody
with no rhyme or reason _
thus many turned missing
children with their future dead and gone
eyes that search in all directions
for the Sun, in vain ....
In all these our lands prove
no different….

Oh, the darling daughter of Koubru Mount!
so endearing to my heart –
Our land which has borne Thileepan as its son
knows for sure
that the food you had after years too many
would not have appeased your all-consuming hunger.

For, your heart forever languishes,
starving for Freedom.
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For Irom Chanu Sharmila

Thanks to Kumudam

http://deebam.blogspot.com/2016/11/blog-post_23.html

LIEUTENANT OF PEACE

Hit by the cruel stone thrown
turning the dawn terribly darkened
the great blossom of words lay broken.

In the city where blasted words of peace dangle as
buntings
the great grand star was felled and thrown down.

Underneath the violently torn peace-treaty
lay strewn the particles of clever smile which could defeat
manipulations.

He who had extended an all warm smile
as bright chrysanthemum
to those who came to our capital city
giving them a helping hand
even yesterday
lay there with his lips covered by the wet sand.

The white-pigeon that was sitting on thorny Morniga tree
rose and flew.
The falguni wearing the face of deadly lion
with its wings broken
fell off from the
Jamun tree.

in the tiny drop of silence
Of his countenance
Filled with the smile of silent thirst
Your immoral war stands defeated.

-Theepachelvan

02.11.2007 : widely known as the lieutenant of peace, the leader of the political wing of LTTE, Su.Pa.Thamizhchelvan died valiantly in the aerial attack by the Srilankan forces

MY CHILD IS A TERRORIST

When he said that peace and harmony flowered out of their guns
I didn’t ask him how peace would be

When he said that security was being born of their eyes
I didn’t ask him how to feel safety.

When he said that they didn’t seize our lands
I didn’t ask about the Buddha statues and army camps.

When he said that we were all the citizen of one and the same country
I didn’t ask him how he would treat his brother.

When he said that none disappeared
I didn’t ask him where those surrendered had gone.

That they had not raped and killed any of our women
Nor disrobed any of our young men and shot them on the nape – when he claimed so
I didn’t ask wherefrom the blood flowed on the land.

While he went on to say
that they had killed none
and that all those killed were terrorists
I said
that my child was a terrorist.

Poem: Theepachelvan

Translation: Latha Ramakirishnan

his poem by theepachelvan captioned MY CHILD IS A TERRORIST is a very significant one, penned by one of the very poignant and effective voices championing the cause of human rights and Liberty, Equality and fraternity. this poem gives us a poignant picture of the children of Tamils who fought for their freedom and were betrayed and butchered, and branded as Terrorists. Latha Ramakrishnan, a reputed writer and translator has rendered this poem in English

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BUNKER OF THE DARK AGE

DEEPACHELVAN’S POEM captioned இருண்டகாலத்தின் பதுங்குழி
Rendered in English by Latha Ramakrishnan(*First Draft)

In the frozen faces of those wordless, voiceless
the flies revel, singing and dancing

In between day and night
when a mammoth army went past our village
a child playing there went missing.

There is none to accept the child
that was arrested on the land
sans witnesses;
The children hide and crouch
in a dark age once again.
No aeroplanes hovering above
Shells don’t come from any side.
Children feel threatened at the sight of
sky and directions.
We possess no guns;
No cannons;
No aircrafts;
We have renounced battlefronts;
Have shut all the barracks;
Yet we are surrounded;
A war is being waged.
Along the road where the army
goes around keeping vigil
someone had halted his cycle
and went away.
I am living in a house
where someone keeps knocking at the doors;
I am pedalling my cycle in the street
where someone keeps chasing with riffle.
In a land where everyone is being rummaged
where is a bunker for me?

Children have not seen glorious times
All I have _
darkened bunkers

THE VOICES OF THOSE SOWN

When the houses and tombs and
temples are being destroyed
a puppy wanders
wondering where to go.

For the departed souls without tombs
An d for those living without houses
What can the god denied of abode do?

When the houses of those living are being erased
A mother wandering with a
Kaarthigai month’s Kantthal flower
asks for a piece of land
for the tomb turned to rubbles
of her dead son.

No children
No tombs
Upon the trees where Kaanthal flowers
bloomed as a dream
lights glow.

When space is denied even while living
and after death too
what at all can the dead
and the living do?

What for we died
What for we survive

You might think –
when even God is
denied a place
with what hope the others exist.

Our land’s tombs
are not the ones awaiting Death
They are the dwelling place
where those buried
with the dream of a beautiful life
are reposing.

As the voice of children
As the voice of tombs
We will ask -
Because it is our Mother Land
We haven’t taken away anybody’s .

(POEM OF Deepachelvan captioned விதைக்கப்பட்டவர்களின் குரல் from his poem-collection 'எனது குழந்தை பயங்கரவாதி' translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan)

POEM IS THE WEAPON I POSSESS!

I possess no guns,
nor cannons;
Neither bombs nor Tanks.
All I have are mere words.
They are not mine
They belong to my soil.
They are the words of my people.

Those valourous troops
wandering vigilantly with guns
going around in tankers…
Oh, why do they fear my poems?

Enquiring in the neighbourhood,
in the dwellings facing mine,
counting my footprints in the street
calling from unknown numbers
and disconnecting without response _

Making the dogs howl in the well of night
Riding in the bikes menacingly during noontime
Searching for my books and probing them
All these would unsettle me – so thought the valourous troop.

Oh, you would always be afraid of my words
that break your guns_
that smash your explosives _
that bombard your tankers _
that destroy your camps _

We fight for our Mother Land
You wage war for stealing our land

Therefore, you would always be afraid
of my poems;
ofour people;
of our land.

Theepachelvan
Translation by Latha Ramakirishnan

Publish : Globaltamilnews (http://bit.ly/2aiyr3J)

SON OF THE WAVES

Your pet dog
languishes in the memory of the kisses that you lavished on it
when you came home
during your last vacation.

Mother who plungeddeep into
the gory tales written on the sky
with the sulfuric smoke
is yet to surface.

At midnight one day
when you exploded on our sea
massive lightning flashed across.

If only she had known that you
would return as a mere news of victory
Amma would have givena few more kisses at least,to her heart’s content.

In the tea-cup you last drank
a drop of your smile lingers.

In the sea where you exploded
fetching water in an earthen-cup
looking at your thirsty face
Mother speaks.

On the day
when thechant your name
that rises along the waves
ceases to be
this ocean
would have turned dry.
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Poems: Theepachelvan
Translation: Latha Ramakirishnan

SMOULDERING PLANT

The secrets piled up,
the tales aplenty untold _
in the countenance concealed
blended in fire
as darkness embedded in the ocean.

In the wings of a bird that surfaces from
the sea wherein your all merciful smile
dissolved
there seeps a cinder.

Swallowing fire
the black warriors sleep in the air.
With dark clouds melting and dissolving in the soil
the seeds burst.

In the spot which exploding, melted
carrying sulphuric,
popped up a plant
with fire-flowers.

The world writhed and twisted
with your oceanic quiet
filled with the fragrance of smouldering fire.

Your hand waving infinitely
and the ocean-frozen live smile
would prick as thorn
till the very end of this world.
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Poems: Theepachelvan
Translation: Latha Ramakirishnan

I AM NOT A SRI LANKAN - II

For crossing passages
I have a visa
as Israelis passport
in the hands of Palestinians.

For going past the ‘Checkpoints
I possess an identity card
as the American ID that the Iraqis have.

For spending
I have several coins
just as those French coins
with Syrian citizens.

In our soil
a national anthem is aired
just as the Indian National anthem
sung in Manipur.

In my land
a flag is hoisted
as the flag of China
flying in Tibet.

In my finger
the impression of landless refugee is seen
as that branded by fire
in Myanmar’s hand.

Theepachelvan
Translated from Tamil by Latha Ramakirishnan

Publish:jds (http://bit.ly/29Ry6UI)