When Pain Struck Me Hard, I Saw Myself — Purna Biram



I saw the domes, and the power the domes held.
I saw the curtains and draperies veiling the domes.
When pain hit me hard,
I saw the domes vanish into thin air.
I saw the curtains and draperies turn to stone.
I saw umbrellas opened wide, and umbrellas tightly shut—
and a closed umbrella, sleeping in deep slumber.

With my signature still resting in my fixed deposit account,
I took out my soiled handkerchief
and wiped my own tears.
In the middle of sleep,
when a flood of tears burst within,
I found myself drenched.

And in a dream, I even saw myself dead—
with no one to attend my funeral.
I saw myself carrying my own bamboo bier,
sometimes poking, sometimes turning it,
remaining self-reliant all the while.

Although I was not from Kalikot,
I saw myself as a resident of Kalikot.
When hunger twisted my intestines,
I saw that, despite my permanent address being elsewhere,
it was still Kalikot I belonged to.

I saw the brush that could turn a deer's image into that of a wild buffalo.
I saw the registry book that could record a waterfall as a pond.
I saw responsibilities sleeping like Kumbhakarna,
and burdens exhaling cigarette smoke in weariness.
I saw a translator turning a safety pin into an INSAS rifle.

When the red light shone for pedestrians,
I saw myself crossing the road without reason
and causing my own accident.
And when I was injured and had to go to the hospital,
I saw I had to carry myself on my own back.

When the river swelled in flood,
I saw myself jump in,
although I did not know how to swim.
And when the flood hurled me to the bank,
There was no one there to press my stomach
and drain the water.
I saw myself pressing my own belly
to release the water I had swallowed.

When Charlie Chaplin was in my current account,
I saw a grand procession of Charlie Chaplins filling the streets.
I saw fingers poking my ribs in playful tickles.
But when Charlie Chaplin disappeared from my account,
I saw no one before me
to place a pinch of jokes upon my lips.

When pain hit me hard,
I saw myself stroking my flushed cheeks with my own hands.

Written in Kalopul, Kathmandu – Ward No. 30, Nepal.