The Hand of Blessing

Know this—against the hand you have raised at me,

I cannot raise a hand of curses in return.

Now that you have raised your hand,

Perhaps you are forgetting that

Your hand, its veins, and even the very blood flowing through them

Belong to me.

Nurtured under the shelter of my hands,

Through the tender touch of my palms, and in exchange for my blistered joints—

Your hands and your entire body were shaped.

Patatting whose back and receiving whose support

Are you showing such audacity, my dear (Dhana)?

Perhaps you do not know—

Here, to apply healing ointment on a wound of the right hand,

Even the left hand refuses out of sheer contempt.

The hand that was once only worthy of touching my feet for blessings—

Do not attempt to rule or dominate with that very hand.

Once my breath leaves this body,

Even your hands will not find the strength

To carry my corpse on your shoulders.

Just like water that has flowed away, or words that have been spoken,

A hand once raised in anger can never be taken back.

You might manage to erase the scars upon your skin,

But how will you ever heal

The deep wounds inflicted inside the chest?

Because you have never witnessed the shattering of a mountain,

You have set out to pierce through rocks with your soft, delicate hands.

Try breaking a hard stone floor just once,

And you will realize how badly you need a strong, seasoned hand.

The very sky under whose roof

You pierced through the earth and grew upwards—

Once the protective hand is removed from above your head,

Where will you find another shelter

That will keep you fearless?

Raising a hand against someone

Is not a great achievement, my dear;

Only when you can walk the path holding everyone’s hands together,

Will you truly become a human being.

— Ratnamaya Tripathy

Adhyayana, Balangir

Original Odia : Ratnamaya Tripathy

Translated by : Dr. Khyatimaya Tripathy