ON THE HORROR OF [EEZHAM]WAR AND ITS AFTERMATH
THEEPACHELVAN'S 11 POEMS
IN ENGLISH
Translated by latha ramakrishnan
PRAY FOR MY LAND
[On The Horror of [Eezham] War
and Its Aftermath]
POEMS OF THEEPACHELVAN
TRANSLATED FROM TAMIL INTO
ENGLISH
BY latha
Ramakrishnan
Poet Theepachelvan has
emerged as a significant voice highlighting the plights of the Tamils in
Today's Eelam. He is one of the important poets of Eelam. He depicts the
war-ridden life of the Tamils with shells pouring from above day and night in
the Sri Lankan soil, in a very poignant manner, being there right in the midst
of it all, experiencing the miserable life of the hapless Tamil population in
the Island .
Apart
from poems he is revealing his skill and expertise in other fields too, such as
painting, photography, writing critical reviews, using all his talents and
potentials towards creating the much-needed awareness about the hardships that
the Tamils of Sri Lanka are undergoing.
His
poems have been published in four volumes and have won wide-acclaim. His
blogspot (http://www.deebam.blogspot.com/,
is also giving a true and graphic picture of the miserable life of the Tamils
in the island.
The
sufferings and hardships that the Tamils plunged all too deep in a life of
violence, discrimination and uncertainties are undergoing, their extensive
loss and miseries that are hidden from the world's knowledge and purview and
the innumerable cold-blooded murders, shielded from the world's eyes are being
recorded with a sincerity and seriousness that make Poet Theepachelvan’s poems
and interviews stand apart.
The main reason for Theepachelvan’s poems to be so powerful and poignant could be his life in Eelam, witnessing the horror and sorrow from close quarters. This proximity has raised his poems from being empty rhetoric to powerful and poetic documentation of all that is going on in the
In
today’s power-mongering and conflict-ridden global scenario we feel it a must
that his poems should have a wider range of readership and hence I have
translated almost 100 poems of poet Theepachelvan in English. Of which some eleven are given here. The other poems can be read from his blogspot.www.edeebam.blogspot.com.
-Latha Ramakrishnan
1.STREETS THAT WE DARE NOT STEP INSIDE
Translation
of Theepachelvan’s
poem in Thamizh titled ULL NUZHAIYA ANJUM THERUKKAL
[உள் நுழைய அஞ்சும் தெருக்கள்]
01.
Streets
that none dares to step inside
are
aplenty in our city.
It
was in a grand function that the military chains
blocking
entry into the street
through which alone one can reach the city
were
removed.
The street that stands all dilapidated
in the
interior of the city retains still
signs of humans, living there once upon a time.
This street had always remained closed
since the time I was born.
Just the way I have lost all of my time
I have lost this street also.
Even in this prohibited street
I keep searching for children.
The tales that children read and turn terror-struck
I do read on the walls of this street.
What can I tell my father’s aged mother
who still clings to life with the hope of
visiting
those lands that remain barred still,
waiting for the opportune time?
How
have you understood her dream-filled great expectations
of stepping inside the house with bush grown
dense
covering
it on all sides?
She
keeps lamenting that someone tells her to die
as an insane old woman.
From
when onwards she began to wander?
With wounds I keep going along the street
in the interior of the city
where entry is allowed.
A boat with the name of the girl,
who bore the
brunt of bomb and is sleeping
in the depths of sea, inscribed
stands there, detained.
I read
her words dissolved in the sea
and
the tales in between.
Streets
where none can step in
are
aplenty in our city.
The
dilapidated city is giving out a real big warning.
02
Children
fear the prospect of going along the streets.
Regarding those streets that remain closed and
barred
my dear children have all the relevant details.
In those passages where the State Power is forever
traveling
with a military van and its jarring sounds
these children dare not step inside and go to
their schools.
for, that might end up in the dangerous barbed wires;
that might
cause us bang against the board barring entry.
In the end
it might be discoursing endlessly of the methods of
punishment.
One day they have thrown open the street
which we had never seen for years together.
Ending the penance for the street
undertaken during those days so full of
the cruelty of hunger
We have a look at the street.
They have left behind nothing save destructions.
Nothing except colossal damage they have left behind
for our street.
We
dread the prospect of stepping inside this street
which
is totally changed in the hands of destruction.
Not
having the strength to fight against all kinds of injustices,
invasions
and entrapments pursued with a soft approach-
not
having any means of putting an end to them all
the life of the hapless old lady that keeps
breathing
in days under siege
and surrounded on all sides by Power so cruel
keeps narrating within
the tales of the street.
03
The blood spread all over the streets has turned dry
The blood spread all over the streets has turned dry
and remain glued; embedded.
The lives killed in those streets
stay on, smashed and fragmented beyond recognition.
stay on, smashed and fragmented beyond recognition.
The dreamy slogans written along the stretch of
those streets
have been stamped, crushed and bitterly broken.
You
know the frozen tales of all that we have lost
for
treading along this street.
Please allow those streets to open up
for these children to run and play.
We will surely clap for the streets thrown open
but, please open those streets closed down.
The children are terrorized with the thought that
the thief who steals and takes away the streets
is forever haunting and frequenting this region.
This city after the colossal destruction
has been abandoned
by the invaders.
Those who capture the city
Those who capture the streets
Turn them into their fortresses and seize them off
our hands.
Or, demolish them with no second thought.
Streets that none dares to step inside
are
aplenty in our city.
Cities
to which entry is still denied
are
aplenty in our Land.
2.CHILDREN OF WAR
These children carry along a cane or some wooden-pieces.
They
go in search of some pits or bushes.
The
stones that they throw
land
at a great distance.
For
bleeding
they
mix kumkum or some ‘paper flowers’ in
water, apply it on themselves and lie there tying worn-out and ragged saris.
In
the coconut-trees at the corners of agricultural fields
Tender
coconuts have once again come to be.
In the region of those people displaced and chased
away
none returned.
Taking their cycles Loordhamma and Abiraj
go along all the streets and lanes.
Lotuses have bloomed in the pond at Konaa.
Loordhammaa’s
eyes turn blood-red.
Abiraji’s hands have become hardened.
When they think of playing hide-and-seek
the bunkers lie close by.
The tents sway, unable to bear the words of kids.
At times the children succeed in dismantling the
tents
Loordhamma goes,
seeing those who get into the agricultural fields.
In the eyes of Abiraaj who lights the lamp in
Chinnakoil
the tortures of those chill nights kept burning.
The guns entrusted in the hands of Loordhamma
were snatched away.
The shells that Abiraaj had were also taken away.
For having a
count of the bullets,
for identifying bombs,
for placing books in empty cartridges,
for carrying the landmines and throwing them at the
backyard
these kids are well accustomed.
Not to tread into some roads and streets that with their name-boards in Sinhala threaten you not to dare-
Not to tread into some roads and streets that with their name-boards in Sinhala threaten you not to dare-
not to go anywhere near those houses enclosed with
tall fences-
these children are severely cautioned.
Raising the wick of the hurricane lamp
these children carry the ‘kuppi’ lamps in their
hands.
In the streets along which Loordhamma had been
dragged away the Landmines lie hidden now.
In the fields where Abhiraaj hid himself, dangerous
words
are written that keep you out.
With those who dragged away Loordhammaa and Abhiraaj
wandering in
the streets once again
those who went in rows, waving, have been wiped off
the Land.
In the land that has turned red with the blood of
people
there is nothing for children save the particles
and fragments of bombs and bullets.
In front of everything the children keep going.
In the Land filled with the leaves of tree uprooted and thrown away
where none remains
in frozen-fall
the life full of dreams keeps
perishing.
The birds with no branches to
sit and rest
wander all over the sky
destroyed.
In the trees made of sticks
decayed
the Sun that jumps down in a
leap moves on
with morbid wounds.
The wind keeps dragging life, lifting it high
and
casting it away.
The
children scratching pictures of oppression writ large on starving faces, with
their nails
fill
up the Spaces.
The Land keeps perishing.
The cruel birds that devovour
the Land
merrily hunt the birds of the
Land.
The land-birds with their
wings burnt
have safely tugged the dream
wholesome in time
and rich in history
inside the holes.
In this time when the rain and the sun
kept
eating the land
life was contained in a bundle
hanging suspended in a rope
torn apart from the land
and dangling in the air.
In the barren land the birds
uprooted are wandering above
the withered leaves of the
fallen tree wander below.
4.THE DESERTED LAND OF
A poem in Thamizh by Deebachelvan
titled
THAMIZHSELVIYIN
YAARUMATRA NILAM
Thamizhselvi has a tent
She never looks back at those
sand-beds and canal-banks
that are lost
She never looks at the withered
memories
strewn along the streets.
She never looks for kindness or
embrace of kinship
from anybody.
Earlier Thamizhselvi had a Mother.
Thamizhselvi has a ration-card.
She
doesn’t have to run for relief-measures.
She
is unable to carry the rice-bags
offered
to her.
She
is unable to bring those tin-sheets and
other
accessories provided to her.
Earlier
Thamizhselvi had a Father.
Earlier Thamizhselvi had two brothers.
Earlier Thamizhselvi had two brothers.
Now
she doesn’t feel like playing in the backyard
or
in the courtyard of the house.
She
doesn’t like dolls that close and open their eyes.
Earlier
Thamizhselvi had several Dolls.
Earlier Thamizhselvi had a God.
Now
she has no temples
nor
any prayers.
She
knows not boons and blessings.
Earlier
Thamizhselvi had a beautiful World.
Now she has a deserted land
where none lives on.
5.THE
GHOSTS BROUGHT TO THE EARTH
A POEM
BY Deebachelvan in Thamizh titled
BOOMIKKU
KONDU VARAPPATTA BOODHANGAL
In
this life that dissolves us underneath
the feet of demons
losing
the Sun
we
have become the inhabitants of Dark
Land
Despite
being destroyed
in
totality
The
demons are not prepared to leave us.
Grabbing our legs they topple
us.
Though we have suffered defeat
in the war waged by the Demons
their hunger remains burning.
In the field where
blood
and flesh-particles
decaying
into corpses and growing with stench unbearable
the
demons relished them and danced deliriously but yet
their
hunger remains burning.
In order to offer us as sacrifice and so
In order to offer us as sacrifice and so
anhnihilate
us without a trace
the
demons were brought to our Land.
Have you seen the Demons?
In
the cups held in their hands
they
have filled the eyes of children
and
are happily eating them all.
The Demons wearing red badge in their neck
or
wearing military uniform on their persons
are
so covering their mortal bodies.
At those times when we had
playfully covered our
children’s eyes
they tore apart our chests and
sucked deep our blood.
The Demons that keep wandering,
feeling heady to the hilt with
the drunken revelry of death
keep hanging there, suspended,
in the demolished buildings along the roads.
They drive wagons along our
roads.
When we firmly cling to our life
declaring that
we would never let go of life
even in the face of
annihilation
the Demons too keep chasing us
declaring that they would never
let go.
in our beloved Land where Demons are brought forth
nothing
remains,
save
mere skeletons with life fully sucked out.
Will
our children live in an era
when
they could gain back all things lost?
When
will the Sun come to our Soil?
Just the
tender palm-leaf that had withered without getting resurrected
do I leave behind and go.
do I leave behind and go.
In all those
bunker-like holes that had caved inside the walls
my dreams are
filled to the brim.
Unusually the
lizards fall down and creep away in great haste.
If you want
let me also leave behind
cups with tea
stains still damp;
dish-particles
turned taut and dried up.
The cruel
dangers that keep driving away the dream
indulge in
revelry and celebration, drinking my yet to be dried blood.
The lizards
carry the torn poems.
The residual
fragment of the soap
are made wet
by the water-drops oozing out of the pipe.
I wander in
the room
that isn’t.
In the
semi-portrait that stays glued to the wall
wherefrom
remembrances removed-
ashes pour
down.
From cabin created out of threats
the bird
that has not come into life
goes off
to the cruel field created by bullets; bombs.
To wipe my face that turns damp with bleeding dreams
Oh, there is none!
7.THE
DEMON THAT DEVOUR
THE CHILDREN
A poem
by Deepachelvan in Thamizh titled ‘KUZHANDHAIGALAI THINNUM BOODHANGAL
Deleting the
tales read by children which know not
anything but fear
anything but fear
the cruel
Demons come and shake the very Life.
The Demons
that drink blood slice off the breasts
that nurse the
children
and swallow
them in one gulp.
The Devils
search for kids too along with the Land
and swallow
them.
In order to
pluck away the eyes of little children
hiding the
army uniform and the red leather-box
and wearing
cruel attires,
with
razor-edged knives fixed to the nails
the Demons
sought entry into the world
and floated.
With acts yet
unknown regarding the Demons
the
children are terrorized more and more.
The kids fear
visualizing the demons
near the compound wall and behind it
and behind the
door too,
devovouring
the houses without a care.
With the
demons that reside inside the well
and turn
delirious by the hour
the children
spend their time
in hunger and
horror.
The demons that spring from the seats of power and dominance
that dance in
frenzy
rise up in
full view of us and go out of sight.
With the
Demonl reigning supreme the devils wander
With Devils on
the throne the demons have a hay day.
In the street
where the Demons wander in hunger unleashed
throats lie
slit and cut.
The Demons
that along with blood gulp words too
climb up the
trees and hide themselves,
from where
they shake everything along with
the land.
Demons that no
mothers nor children had ever seen nor read
Oh these
children are cursed to come face to face.
After the entire stretch of Land has been
captured
The roots of dreams are sought to be destroyed.
In walls pierced by shells
In houses eaten away by bombs
In fields demolished by aircrafts
Dream sprouts from wounds.
In
the maimed land so barren
The
tomb-stones of Buddha forcibly broken
and
brought forth
become
the walls.
With
Poovarasam trees killed
Arasamaram
is planted
the land which escapes the hand and is oozing out
the land which escapes the hand and is oozing out
The sleeping children
Grasp in their hands and retain
The land drenched -
oh, when will it dry?
Fences Walls and Roofs
Fences Walls and Roofs
grow differently
and annihilate the Land.
In this time when guns go grazing the
land
the lives buried for the sake of Land
are on the verge of sprouting anew.
9.THE LONG PASSAGE
AND A CUP
OF TEA
A Poem by Deebachelvan in Thamizh titled
‘PERU
In the long passage how many
thousands of people
kept on moving…
None had cups
Time held the sorrows
Those who were returning and
migrating _
what at all they could share?
The roads that
spread across thousands of miles_
Wherefrom they were
created and how?
In the town where
nothing save the remains of destruction
exist
machines were sown.
At the end of
endless wandering
the people had been
mortgaged for a cup of water.
Mother remained all
hungry
Loads became dried
up
Turning weak, on the verge of falling down on her land
Turning weak, on the verge of falling down on her land
She
asked for a cup of water;
And
also, a way out of the barbed wire.
In the night
shrouding the Land,
from beyond a
thousand miles
came I running, with a Cup of Tea.
came I running, with a Cup of Tea.
10. CHILDREN ARE BEING BORN
IN THE LAND THAT CAN’T BE DONE AWAY WITH
English Translation of Deepachelvan’s poem
in Thamizh
Titled ‘ KOLLA MUDIYAADHA NAATTIL KUZHANDHAIGAL
PIRAKKIRAARGAL
Yesterday also some
children were born.
They cry
They laugh aloud, making
a hell of a noise.
The children keep
growing
The children view
this Land
with their eyes.
Swinging and swaying
their hands
they begin to walk
with their legs
in the Land that
cannot be done away with.
Even after a
hundred-thousand had been dead and gone
the children of
those maimed
are being born hale
and healthy.
These children
start speaking
straightaway.
Questions in
thousands unasked by me
would gush forth out
of them.
And
they would see those aspects of life
that
my eyes have failed to see.
They will earn their
Liberty
For, they are born
as the seedlings of the
Land that cannot be
done away with.
11.THE CHILDREN WILL BREAK THE CANNONS
A
poem in Thamizh by Deebachelvan titled
BEERANGIGALAI
SIRUVARGAL MURIPPAARGAL
[பீரங்கிகளை சிறுவர்கள் முறிப்பார்கள்]
Guns
and Cannons are collected
for
children.
What
do the guns intend to do?
They
might either turn terribly exhausted and
fall
upon the ground.
Or,
turning all the more sharpened
they
would tear off the faces.
It
is you who insists on turning revolution into a
Weapon.
It
is you who throws open the Field
that
brings forth resistance and rebellion.
When
it proves beyond you to contain and do away with
the
rebellion and revolution
and
you start oppressing the people
Revolution
gushes forth in the streaming blood.
From
the Land where we remain singing the Hymn of Life
oh,
you alien forces-
When
will you leave?
Oh,
when will you choose to remove the shadow of your
arrogant
power
that
shrouds our very Life?
When
the aged ones feeling all spent out
go
past Time - shrunk and huddled
the
small boys would grow into full-fledged adults
and
break those guns and cannons that you have
brought
along.
The
whole lot of generations of this Soil
are
being annihilated by war.
Oh,
when will all these annihilations cease to be?
When
destruction is forced upon our children
When
once again annihilation-spree commences
This
land of decay would tremble and writhe in pain.
Yet,
when cannons and guns would be brought
to
this Land
the
boys would break them all, for sure.