|
|
Thangjam Ibopishak Singh
The Land Of The Half-Humans
For six
months just head without body, six months just body without
head, has anyone
seen a land inhabited by these people?
No ? I have; it’s not a folktale; I’ve not only seen but have
been to that land.
For six months to talk and to eat is their job; like a
millstone grinding. The following six
months Bhima gorging and Shakuni suffering; for the headless
body only shitting is its
share. The head talks, eats, drinks; just talking, eating,
drinking. While the body is
working, laboring, shitting; work, labor, shit. To sweat, to
be bone-weary. In the land of
the half- body.
Do women live in that land? What does the species of women
look like ?
There are women; there are children. The same goes for women
too, half-and-half body.
They have long hair like the women of our land. They are big,
tall, buxom, broad and
well- proportioned. As for clothes, they hang them below the
waist. The law of the land
does not permit a body hidden by clothes. When the body dwells
for six months it is
springtime for them. (Since the bodies are headless when the
men and the women meet,
they are not fastidious). The head-only gives birth within six
months. Besides talking and
eating the mouths of the women also deliver babies. The women
have more attributes
than the men do. That is why the women have no teeth. God
created them with ingenuity.
When the head walks, its two broad, fanlike ears, spread wide
and it flies like a bird,
beating its wings. When they speak, we can comprehend their
language; they speak the
language of men. But when the headless body speaks, a voice
that no stranger can
recognize emits from an orifice of the body. This voice is
also accompanied by an odor.
A land such as this one is in the news; a land much talked
about. The moon shines at
night; the sun shines in the afternoon. There is no
predicament of poverty; dearth of food
and clothes is unknown. Some men even surpass Kuber. And the
earnings of the body’s
sweat of six months, the six month-old head eats up with a
vengeance.
There are political rights; a government is set up in the
land. Democracy functions with
total success. An election is held every five years. But for
the people in this land there
are no names. So for the nameless citizens the nameless
representatives govern the land
of the half-humans. Because whether to give human names to the
head or to the body —
no one can decide. A land such as this is very much in the
news, a land much talked
about.
Translated Robin S Ngangom
I Want To Be Killed By An Indian Bullet
I heard the news long ago that they were looking for me; in
the morning in the afternoon
at night. My children told me; my wife told me.
One morning
they entered my drawing room, the five of them. Fire, water,
air,
earth, sky - are the names of these five. They can create men; also
destroy men at whim.
They do whatever they fancy. The very avatar of might.
I ask them:
“When will you kill me ?”
The leader
replied: “Now. We’ll kill you right now. Today is very
auspicious. Say
your prayers. Have you bathed ? Have you had your meal ?”
“Why will you
kill me ? What is my crime ? What evil deed have I done ?” I
asked
them again.
“Are you a
poet who pens gobbledygook and drivel ? Or do you consider
yourself
a seer with oracular powers? Or are you a madman ?” asked the leader.
“I know that
I’m neither of the first two beings. I cannot tell you about
the last
one. How can I myself tell whether I’m unhinged or not ?”
The leader
said: “You can be whatever you would like to be. We are not
concerned about this or that. We will kill you now. Our
mission is to kill men.”
I ask: “In
what manner will you kill me? Will you cut me with a knife?
Will you
shoot me? Will you club me to death?”
“We will
shoot you.”
“With which
gun will you shoot me then? Made in India, or made in another
country?”
“Foreign
made. All of them made in Germany, made in Russia, or made in
China.
We don’t use guns made in India. Let alone good guns, India cannot even
make plastic
flowers. When asked to make plastic flowers India can only produce
toothbrushes.”
I said:
“That’s a good thing. Of what use are plastic flowers without
any
fragrance?”
The leader
said: “No one keeps toothbrushes in vases to do up a room. In
life a
little embellishment has its part.”
“Whatever it
may be, if you must shoot me please shoot me with a gun made
in
India. I don’t want to die from a foreign bullet. You see, I love India
very much.”
“That can
never be. Your wish cannot be granted. Don’t ever mention
Bharat to
us.”
Saying this,
they left without killing me; as if they didn’t do anything at
all. Being
fastidious about death I escaped with my life.
Translated by Robin S Ngangom
|
|
|
|
|
|
