A NIGHT IN A TRIBAL VILLAGE

Here the moon has lost idea of her own self

with  hangover of ‘salapa’ in night’s cold vein,

with the pristine stream’s eternal delight  in

soaking  in her ever burgeoning   rustic pain--

of days of wallow in hunger quenched by  mango seeds

of long bouts of  malarial sleep on bed of dry weeds

under low thatches, where the moon descends to hug

the tears of  their inexpressible sorrow’s obstinate bug

sqatting on their silent minds of profound innocence

where glowworms read startling chapters of patience ;

in face of no roads and for years no  visits by babus

and  with none to redress their  small, little woes ,

they have learnt one lesson so well in everyday  life

to love whoever comes their way, and love of strife .

I have forgotten myself here in dance with ‘Dhangdas’ and ‘Dhangdis’

In beats of their handy drums, with wooden horse rides and cool music

Let me not awake to my reality anymore and be lost into this joy ethnic .

@ saroj k. padhi  *16/01/15

N.B.   ‘Salapa’ is an intoxicating drink from a tree of the same name;  ‘dhangdas’,’dhangdis’—tribal unmarried boys n girls