We

Bhupi Sherchan

Bhupi Sherchan

No matter how high we go how much we run roar

in whatsoever loud voice

but, we are mere a drop of water

feeble drop of water that raises higher with the Sun

and becomes a cloud

run here and there with the wind

and regard ourselves dynamic

and once we reach high up

we forget our earth

to the river

sandy bank with indifference

as a pet dog barks at stray dogs 

so do we

and consider our barking a lion's roar

and finally fall into pieces with the downpour

turning ourselves into the drops of water again

fragile drops

and the rest life get contaminated in any well, puddle or a pond

harboring abominating frogs that croak all the time

hugging snakes sans venom

no matter how high you go

how much we run

roar in whatsoever loud voice

but, we are hollow from inside

our height has no value

our race has no aim

our roar weighs

just a sizzle that a thrown burning log makes with water.

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Whatsoever standard we pretend from outside

but from inside we are wearing and rubbing away

our height from outside is false

a mere illusion

that is of no more than a mushroom grown in a mountain peak

or significance of an Indian magician who walks with bamboos on his legs

or the characteristics of a circus clown dances with his high sharp cap

we are enjoyed, intoxicated and swollen with our fake height

but we have forgot

the continuous erosion and corrosion in the mount of our belief

slipping in the small hill of our guilt

we have lost our past memory

we have forgotten our former height

we have missed normal height of the people

so, when a lay man lies down in our mount of belief

like Guliver in the story

we gaze at him with big surprise

we get surprised gazing at him

we feel amazed at his height

we fear with our own dwarfling

so we attack him with our needle sized weapons of our delinquency

we climb over his each body parts

jump

bite

pinch

and finally get down being tired

calm down

surrender ourselves

and as sea wave rides over a big rock

and washes its legs

we worship that lay man

regarding him a great figure

whatsoever standard we pretend from outside

we are continuously eroding from inside

we are the people from Lilliput

we are tiny people.

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We can not compromise among ourselves

but need an agent

we can not set free ourselves

but seek for an agent

we can not move forward

but need someone to push us from behind or lead us

we are discolored

torn, broken

old dices of carom board

paraphernalia of a funny game

depend upon a player

having no self-motion of ours

run by a striker

yes, we are less man but more dice.

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We are brave

but we are stupid

we are stupid

so we are brave

we have never been brave without being stupid

we are Eklabya mentioned in the Mahabharata

the Dronacharya of each generation is indifferent to us

denies to teach us

to attest our qualification

power

and existence

but we make the idol of the same Dronacharya

adjacent to our hut

worship it

bow our head

practice the course of bow and arrow

and learn better skills than his elite disciples

but being astonished and fearful with our efficiency

Dronacharya visits us in each generation

and claims his tuition fee

and in his wink

we offer him our thumb

we sacrifice our existence for him

and feel proud over our devotion to him

over our self-power

thus, we are brave

but stupid

we are stupid

so, we are brave

so, we have never been brave without being stupid

we could not become brave 

without establishing someone's idol

we are a foot

only a foot 

and just a foot

foot: upon which stands a body

foot: based on which a body walks

foot: that considers body its master

takes with it being full of pity

feels pride on the greatness of the body

and bears the total weight of the body

lives on the lowest part of the body

never looks up raising its head

always gets indebted

we are the feet

we secure the first position in a race

and our forehead gets red mark of victory

we secure the first position in a race

and our neck gets garlanded

we secure the first position in a race

our chest sticks medals

our forehead for victory is different

our neck for garland is different

our chest for medal is different

we are mere feet

to step, walk and run

in someone's signal

only a foot

just a foot

we are nothing

that's why, probably, we are something

we are nowhere, nothing

that's why, we are somewhere, something

we are not living

but, that's why, probably we are living

so, come all the worshipers of nothingness

let's greet this vacuity 

to the god of our existence.

Translated by: Ishwor Kadel