Water Poison

Manini Mishra

Here flows poison, bubbling over,

In the ascetic god’s tangled locks,

Writhing, it questions in whispers:

"Why does Ganga not descend through prayers,

Through love, through the incense of devotion?"

They point, scoff, and display her—

Ganga, with slender waist, elongated nose,

A body slick with sins and rotting filth,

Now, they dissect her.

"Look, look!" they cry,

"Corpses drift within her veins,

A mass of corpses, rotting, bloated, countless—

A trident corpse, a phallic corpse, a drum-beat corpse!"

(2)

You make love to your water-swan,

Bathe in the ashes of burnt remains,

Sip from the charred river, head bowed.

Your fire-scorched body—

Like camphor, burns in her waters,

Dissolving into the sacred flame.

Letters of holy scriptures—

Scattered in the sands of Prayagraj,

Coins cleanse sins,

Hiding black money, illicit love,

A higher offering buys sandalwood logs.

(3)

She drips, drop by drop, dissolving herself,

Once a kingdom flourished in her embrace,

Now, she swallows the empire whole.

Now, her kingdom is a corpse,

Her throne—an empty shell,

While diamond-studded crowns

Hang from decayed bones.

And now, what Ganga remains?

Who weeps for her?

Here, in the valley of death,

Water turns venom.

A true lover drinks the poison whole,

Let the dead stop screaming.

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Translated into English by Sanjay Bhatt