Sreekanth Kopuri
Mapping Machilipatnam
The blurred picture of an ancient city
A forgotten dog-ear,
now springs back
a blank, hyphenated between
the French and the Dutch
then fell an English footprint
in the Battle of Condore
on the Cormandal coast
some short Jupiter finger
dying on the chintz
long folded,
a leftover question today
in the nation’s renewed agendas
leaders make eyewash visits
and make saffron promises
before the people judge them out
We wait like those dilapidated boats
for some fishers of men,
who will redeem us
into a dawn of some noble king.
Our babus only educate us
about our castes and
we have been mere aging casts
of their artful hands
How long will you try to buy our trust
with your last-minute Foundation stones
to revoke the portals of history,
pulling the sweet unlettered folk
towards wine and brandy?
How long will you uproot
the overarching green meanings time
See how the angry blue jays
clutch the wires
of the government electric poles
and jeer aloud.
The silent drumstick trees
stand along the road
as spectators.
The templed village
conducts a grand funeral
to the monkey’s carcass
as he’s the incarnation
of Lord Hanuman.
This is my land
“sanctified” by the cow urine.