Translated from the Original Odia by Pitambar Naik

Chittaranjan Padhan is an undergraduate student. He writes poetry and fiction in Odia. He has poems published in numerous Odia journals. He grew up in Dunguripali in Odisha, India. 

Pitambar Naik is an advertising copywriter for a living. When he’s not creating ideas for brands, he writes poetry. His work appears or is forthcoming in The McNeese Review, The Notre Dame Review, Packingtown Review, Ghost City Review, Rise Up Review, Glass: A Journal of Poetry, The Indian Quarterly and elsewhere. He’s the author of the poetry collection, The Anatomy of Solitude (Hawakal). He grew up in Odisha and lives in Bangalore, India.

God

Nothing functions without him, the old wall clock
hanging near the knotted rope, the bicycle kept outside,
the education of both brothers
and the rice vessel near the hearth place.

God can’t carry bags of rice from the house of
the landlord as he has no stamina in his back like before
nor can he take me to the nearby car festival.

A spell fell upon a body that dares the sun,
rain and cold; hot air comes out of the two nostrils
and hiccups continue even in the hot weather.

Eyes can’t see these days properly, they‘re blurry
now when I see the teary eyes, I feel
how much grief and sniffles are stashed inside!

When the evening descends mom lights a lamp
at the holy basil invoking god and
praying and the smoke of the incense goes up
to the sky through the aperture of the cattle shed.

Mom believes, there’s someone in the blue sky, who
can offer a palm full of paddy for the field, longevity
and can return back the lost laughter of god.

I don’t know, cascading all the happiness upon others
perhaps god can giggle at ease, and I think he may
have a wider chest like our grand old mountain.