When the king goes down the street

A young band called ‘Rain of Heart’ has come up with a sad song about bomb blasts in Assam. This translation is an acknowledgement of how much I like it. Many thanks to the person who introduced me to this song….

When the king goes down the street

Happily blowing his siren,

A hungry man on the sidewalk

Runs and hides in a dustbin.

Sleepless lies the dying city,

Shopping malls, discos and bars;

False men, false times, false love:

The birth of a hollow civilization.

O mother! O father! O my children!

In this future of sooty gunpowder,

Nothing seems to make any sense;
The foxes have invaded the borders,

Why is Lachit's sword fast asleep?

A youth lies in a pool of blood

His beloved’s message on his mobile;

The lifeless body of someone’s sister,

The burnt remains of someone’s brother.

O mother! O father! O my children!

When the king goes down the street

Happily blowing his siren,

A hungry man on the sidewalk

Runs and hides in a dustbin.

Invigilators and examinees

There,

Where the silence
Is earth-shattering,

With the scratchings

Of your scrawling pens,

With a commotion of voices

Inside brains

Cluttered
With last night’s crammings,

There,

We will meet

At the appointed hour
Like enemies
On two sides
Of a dusty old desk—

My tryst with eternal boredom!