English Translation by Arvind Krishna Mehrotra

Breaking Stones

~Shubham Basu

By a road in Allahabad

I saw a woman

            Breaking stones.

No tree to give her shade,

A dark skin,

Firm tightly-cupped breasts,

Eyes fixed to the ground,

Thoughts of the night before

Going through her mind,

She brought down the heavy hammer

Again and again, as though it were

A weapon in her hand.

Across the road—

A row of trees, high walls,

The mansions of the rich.

The sun climbed the sky.

The height of summer.

Blinding heat, with the loo blowing hard,

Scorching everything in its path.

The earth under the feet

Like burning cotton wool,

The air full of dust and sparks.

It was getting to noon,

And she was still breaking stones.

As I watched,

She looked at me once,

Then at the houses opposite,

Then at her ragged clothes.

Seeing no one was around,

She met my eyes again

With eyes that spoke of pain

But not of defeat.

Suddenly, there came the notes of a sitar,

Such as I had not heard before.

The next moment her young body

Quivered and as sweat

Trickled down her face, she lifted

The hammer, resuming work,

As though to say

            ‘I’m breaking stones.’