Salaam Comrade
Salaam Comrade
the shifting space, the step
outside, away into another life
on a street next to mine
that drew me to itself, you and her
a few bricks, some wood, a little
withered grass, and children, shrieking
as they played
so save the hours, the days, the months
that you dreamt of a new spine
in the universe, as you made tea
listening for the whistle calling, calling..
for time spent
amongst spindles, shuttles
wisps of cotton, bundles of cloth
steam, sweat and that hollow
sense of tomorrow
that it could be different
was the difference that drew us together
a brief season amidst
the dogs, the smouldering coal, the filthy fields
all lit up with certainty
that it could be different
you spent that time, saved a life or two
looking beyond the evening’s embers
upon which the last cups of the day’s earnings
swelled up in the pan as surely as
the day would come
when it would be different
in another world
in the street next to mine
http://www.caravanmagazine.in/Story/1151/Salaam-Comrade.html
Bishambar Dayal (aka Bishen) was a mill worker, a proletarian communist in Delhi’s Birla Cotton Mills. He, his wife Chameli and his family were dear friends to me and other members of our student Maoist group in the late 1960s. We went through many vicissitudes together. Bishen was jailed during the Emergency and died about a decade ago.
See also
My friend
the shifting space, the step
outside, away into another life
on a street next to mine
that drew me to itself, you and her
a few bricks, some wood, a little
withered grass, and children, shrieking
as they played
so save the hours, the days, the months
that you dreamt of a new spine
in the universe, as you made tea
listening for the whistle calling, calling..
for time spent
amongst spindles, shuttles
wisps of cotton, bundles of cloth
steam, sweat and that hollow
sense of tomorrow
that it could be different
was the difference that drew us together
a brief season amidst
the dogs, the smouldering coal, the filthy fields
all lit up with certainty
that it could be different
you spent that time, saved a life or two
looking beyond the evening’s embers
upon which the last cups of the day’s earnings
swelled up in the pan as surely as
the day would come
when it would be different
in another world
in the street next to mine
http://www.caravanmagazine.in/Story/1151/Salaam-Comrade.html
Bishambar Dayal (aka Bishen) was a mill worker, a proletarian communist in Delhi’s Birla Cotton Mills. He, his wife Chameli and his family were dear friends to me and other members of our student Maoist group in the late 1960s. We went through many vicissitudes together. Bishen was jailed during the Emergency and died about a decade ago.
See also
My friend
