Kavita Torzonn


- Melvyn Rodrigues

These sands have leased life
    to many a dying, back home.
These sands have lent flesh,
    to many an impoverished bone.
Our people toil, to extract oil, abundant in its womb,
    due to which, roses rich, in our gardens bloom.

Yet this blessed land,  seems cursed, beyond an iota of doubt.
As every person,  labouring here, burns both inside and out.
Konkani mothers, feed Arab children, humbly, with a smile.
As their hearts bleed, for their loved ones back home, all the while.

As grooms, these sands scurry for a secure future
    of fortune and happiness,
their young brides constantly worry and suffer the torture
    of long spells of loneliness.

And fathers forlorn, their sorrows drown,
    in bottles & bottles of liquor.
Their dreams vanish,  and hopes perish,
    bouts of miseries they suffer.

At some hands,
    our native tongue is throttled due to their newly gotten gains.
Some even desert their culture –
    a heritage preserved with great sacrifices and pains.

These sands have given us breath
    and a noose as well, around our necks.
These sands have given us flesh,
    as also, constant heart breaks.
People boil, to extract oil, flowing in its veins.
A few s, for self, to preserve, draw on their last reserve,
    and endure endless tortures and pains.

(Translated from Konkani by Eric Ozario)