A Strange Problem
I have a strange problem these days
The power to hate with all my heart
Is ebbing by the day
I want to hate the English
{They ruled us for the two centuries}
But Shakesphere sidles up
To whom i owe so much
I want to hate the Muslims
But ghalib stands before me
Tell me,is it possible to stand up
To him?
I want to hate the Sikhs
And Guru Nanak fills my vision
And my head is bowed
And this Kamban,this Thiagaraja,this
Muthuswamy…
A hundred thousand times I tell myself
They are not mine
They`re from the place far South
But the heart does not rest
Till they are made mine
And that lover
Who Betrayed me the first time
I`d as soon kill her as look at her!
I do see her,but
Sometimes she is a friend
Sometimes a mother
Often like a sister
And i drink from the cup of love,and still
All my days
I wander like a madman
In search of someone I can
Hate with all my heart
and ease it for a while
But precisely the opposite happens
Somewhere,sometime
I find someone
I cannot help but love
Day by day,this disease of love is growing
Rooted firmly in the fantasy
That one day my love
will show me paradise
– Kanwar Narain
{translated from the hindi by pratik kanjilal}
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“A Strange Problem”