One evening
as he played with the earth and mud
they dragged my Kannan away
to the cremation ground,
driving me off when I followed –
My Kannan
who slept by my side for days together.
I stay awake all night
and let loose the calves calling,
calling for their mother.
My Rain-Cloud plays his flute
as the dew falls in the early hours.
In the noonday’s heat
when even the crows rest,
I fling stones at the doors
locked to stop him entering
to steal their butter.
The belly that bore him burns.
My clothes have turned to ashes
and fallen away.
My loosened hair tumbles, matted,
down my shoulders.
My stiffened and oozing breasts
hang heavy as small gourds.
I wander through the streets
bearing sweetmeats in my hands,
the birds wheeling about me,
searching for my little Elusive One
who forgets his hunger, lost
in his game of hide-and-seek.
I have made my way through woods
and captured little snakes
for him to play with;
with my own body I warm eggs
to hatch chickens for him.
They gossip about me, asking
who I search for –
he who ate my body?
Or he who went away from me?
Like a palmyra frond
tied to a donkey’s tail,
my lament rustles and flows
through the entire town.
From the low horizon, dust flies
as the cattle return.
And now, look, look –
lurking amidst the herd,
hiding, hiding from my eyes
my Kannan comes home!