To you the universeWas a constellation of starsTowards which you took a leap,Only some of the starsWere shrouded in a darkness, so deep.You went close, you felt deeply,And in your manner so intense,Arose the speech of ants,Within a sentence;The sound of snails speaking,The torment of a hungry child, weeping.You discarded the middle-class morality of the Bengali bhadralokFor the mud huts of the Sabar tribes of Purulia,And from them arose the words of Dopdi,Defying the cop who raped her,‘Can you look into my eyesAnd see the undefiled, unvanquished dignity of my tribe?'For the tribals you were a tireless scribeRaising their issues in the Supreme CourtAs to why Chotti Munda had slit the darogah's throat.He had gone to plant three papaya seedlingsOn his own land,When he saw another man's hut on what was once his own fields.You extended our depth of field,Moving our inner compassUrging the rich, powerful and pompous,To see, that we were intent on occupyingEvery stream, river and forest.That belonged to the tribes,And was now being parcelled to theNew India Company.
Sagari Chhabra