IT IS THOSE WHO TOIL

IT IS THOSE WHO TOIL                            

Rowing along the current of effortless time,

my mind travels gazing at the empty sky 

On the journey to that vast open space, 

pictures made up of shadows are seen.         

For so many ages, group after group of countless people             

-triumphantly and in great speed-

marched away in the distant past.

Obsessed with imperial greed,

came the bands of Pathaans and then the Mughals;            

Wheels of their victory- chariot kicked up dust in air,

The banner of their triumph fluttered away.

Now, when I look at the sky

I can’t find even a trace of them today.

On that clear blue sky- in mornings and evenings –

the rays of sunrise and sunset - over the ages -    

continued to display their various colours.

Once again, under that vast open space

-along the rail-roads and in carriages

driven by steaming engines –in group after group,

came the powerful Englishmen, show-casing their might.                                                            

I know for certain, that the current of time

will flow over their path too and the network of their empire

surrounding the colonial countries will just be swept away.  

I also know that their mercantile marines will

leave no mark whatsoever, in this celestial world.                       

When I open my eyes and look down on mother earth,

I can see streams of people - amidst great uproar-

crisscrossing different roads in different groups

and from time immemorial, searching for their            

everyday needs in life till death.     

Forever and ever, they row their boats and steer the sails,

In open fields, they sow seeds and harvest ripened paddy –

They keep working in cities and in large tracts of arid land.

The umbrella over the king’s head comes down;  

The bugle of the battle falls silent;           

The victory-tower – out of ignorance - forgets its own relevance;

All those with blood-shot eyes carrying blood- stained weapons          

hide their faces inside the stories of  the text books of children.     

Meanwhile, the working people continue to work            

- in homeland and abroad –

in Assam, Bengal and Orissa near sea-coasts and river-ghats

as well as in Punjab, Bombay and Gujarat.

Rumbling noises, humming notes - day and night -

clinging steadfastly add clamour to life’s daily journey.

Sorrow and happiness – throughout the days and nights

give the chanting of life’s most sacred hymn,             

a grave and sonorous tone.

Over the ruins of hundreds of empires,

the working people continue to toil.

Dr DEBIDAS RAY

English translation of Rabindranath Tagore’s poem entitled

“Ora  kaaj kare” from his collection of poems “Aarogya”

in SANCHAYITA, 11^th ed,2010, pp831-832.

First line of original Bengali poem – Alos samaydhaara beye               

Published in THE VISVA-BHARATI QUARTERLY

Volume 23 Number 4 & Volume 24 Number 1 January 2015 - June 2015 pp1-2.