by T. P. Sabitha
translated from the Malayalam by the poet
first published in Mathrubhoomi (Sept. 14-20, 2008)
To Omana and Gopalakrishnan –
translators extraordinaire from Russian into Malayalam –
for the gift of a Soviet childhood
All of a sudden
a pelican landed
on our verandah.
The river Volga
rushed along
circling the deity
in the temple of
Koodalmanikya.
Sometimes,
when the monsoon channels
froze into a Moscow snow
we – Bipin, Roopa, Chechi, Bimal
huddled close to make a fire
with our small warm bodies.
Chestnuts and apricots
aligned themselves next to
peanuts with Russian precision.
When Sasha and Nikita
flew precariously
in the circus tent
of the Three Fat Men
we crossed the taiga,
our bellies in our maws.
A poplar tree sprouted among
parrot-green mangoes,
stout cypresses in between
stern coconut palms.
The multi-hued ball
bounced unbounded
redrawing boundaries and
making maps on the sand
merrily mixing up Here and There.
One day
a nasty wind blew away
the little red flag, furiously
unfurled against the fat men.
All turned red –
rivers, earth, clothes, bed.
I saw the incandescent sunset
of childhood in the scandal
of scarlet between my legs.
