Santhali gathering to worship the rain god, Orissa. Picture credit – Anpa Marndi

(Translated from Santhali through a Hindi translation by Pratishtha Pandya)
 

A SPIDER WEB AND A CHOPPED THUMB

Gurudev,
I am a pure Avadhi, a moron Adivasi boy.
I don’t understand complexity.
How does a spider weave a web
with such ease?
Mindboggling!

One can’t tell foot from hand,
or hand from finger.
And what stuff is this?
Where does this material come from?

Does a spider have fingers, or not really?
I wonder if it has had the good fortune
of a Guru like you in life.

I remember my lost thumb these days,
quite a lot.
I stare at my hand, fingers
without a thumb,
but tears don’t come.

Gurudev, I never understood
what the real meaning of Guru Dakshina is.
The darkness emitting from the question
enfolds me like a spiderweb,
swinging here, there
all around.

I am troubled, Gurudev:
Is Guru Dakshina about accepting
the gratitude of the disciple,
who gives whatever he wishes,
and what he can afford
in his individual capacity?

Or does it mean asking for something?
A well thought out demand, a name
coloured in unblemished hues?
Which one is the real meaning?

I am not searching for an answer to why —
Why did you ask for my right thumb?
I myself don’t know what was so precious about it —

but for the bright red blood
flowing from my finger,
for the time that stood still,
for the glum sky,
and the soil that was in tears:
that day was a dark day.

Do you know, Gurudev,
the real reason for this?
My big mountain Maaran Buru knows, my Sin Banga sun knows,
my mother earth knows,
and the small Jungle,
and the sal tree knows,
that my sheer innocence in
cutting the finger off my left hand
can only be matched by
your deceitful mind.
There was something fishy from the beginning.
I know what the truth is.

I have to believe that
a black spider
was weaving its web
even in your consciousness.
Believe it or not,
this is the truth.