Sow the seeds of memory
In the soil drenched by the rains of Shravana (monsoon).
Whether they sprout or not,
Nourish them with the fertilizer of hope and faith,
And weed out the wild, unwanted grass of despair.
Wait…
Just wait…
But do not harbor the blind belief
That a tree planted during an auspicious hour (Amruta Kala)
Will only bear nectar-sweet fruits.
From the rainbow visible on the distant horizon,
Pick the color that suits you best.
Play politics with those colors,
Create your own gods,
Or else, declare yourself a messenger of God!
A new history has already been written;
Now, keep your mouth shut and support it.
Stand on the grand royal street (Rajadanda),
And loudly proclaim your caste, your lineage,
Your history, and your birthplace!
Do not hide your stained, tarnished body
Among the Kashatandi (white thatch grass) of the riverbanks.
With your mind drenched in the colors of the Parijata flower,
In which river’s water will you wash yourself?
At which bathing ghat (Tutha) will you bathe
To purify your soul?
To which mountain peak will you climb
To proclaim your nationalism?
Wait…
Those sown seeds of memory
Will pierce right through the hard rocky floor and rise.
Gathering the harvest of success,
This nation, this race, will smile once again.
—————–
— Ratnamaya Tripathy
Adhyayana, Balangir
—————–
Original Odia : Ratnamaya Tripathy
Translated by : Dr. Khyatimaya Tripathy
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