While returning I'm hemmed in. By six or seven. All
by Malay Roy Choudhury
Have weapons. I knew it when I came
Something bad was going to happen. But framed
My mind that first attack would not be from my call.
A mugger holds the shirt-collar and blurts: Want a dame?
Why here? Mama and not in chawl?
I keep my cool, teeth on teeth. Right then a blow on chin
Feel the hot blood lather.
A jerk and I sit down. In my socks I spin.
A stainless knife beams in halogen shadow
Rama inscribed on one side and Kali on other.
The crowd disperses. Power in the name of gods
Not known to all. Why are men jinn
Why don't they love the lver? The six or seven encircling me
[Translation of ‘Dotana'1986; by the poet]