Pochiram Kamble: The Saga of Jai Bhim

 

Once upon a time when Marathwada was burning…

 

‘Pochya, ’ asked the Upper Caste goons, ‘Will you say Jai Bhim?’

Pochiram said, ‘Yes I will. Jai Bhim.’

Pochiram’s hands were chopped off.

‘Pochya, ’ asked the Upper Caste goons, ‘Will you say Jai Bhim?’

Pochiram said, ‘Yes I will. Jai Bhim.’

Pochiram’s legs were chopped off.

 

Eventually, Pochiram died

Upholding ‘Jai Bhim’

Even at the cost of his life.

 

Dilemma

 

My father sang to me

In a language his father taught him

Which is why his rage had clarity

And his love was sublime

 

But I grew up so greedy

I wrote in English and kept writing

Later Father’s words turned voiceless

I became deaf to his song, I grew up mean

 

Today I imagine

If I have a son or a daughter

What song shall I sing to them

Precisely in what language shall I sing?

 

Capturning

 

It is true that

We never had

Photos of our dead ancestors

Inside our homes

 

What we had

Were the sad memories

Of our brave forefathers

Coming down to us

From conspirators

 

Now since we have seen the Sun

We know that

Those stories were not true

 

Now since we wrap our bones

With the flesh of the sky

And pour the Earth into our hearts

Those were buried for ages

We must fill blood in our pen

Instead of ink, and write

 

Believe me

We can write immortal photos

Of our brave ancestors