Christmas in India

It is the description of a day.

Talks about the different parts of the day. Christmas day in India. It is in
chronological order.
Look at the different colours of India.
Each stanza starts the same way.
In England it is a Religious Holiday, whereas in India they don’t celebrate it.
Imagery: auditory, visual, etc.

Dim dawn behind the tamerisks -- the sky is saffron-yellow --

As the women in the village grind the corn, they are working (we don’t work on
Christmas day, British don’t either)
And the parrots seek the riverside, each calling to his fellow
That the Day, the staring Easter Day, is born.
O the white dust on the highway! O the stenches in the byway!
O the clammy fog that hovers over earth! All sentences start with “O”, because
of the feeling of nostalgia, he is missing England. He’s speaking about his own
place. This was home for him, instead of the beautiful colours and sky.
And at Home they're making merry (being happy) 'neath the white and scarlet
(red) berry -- Amanece tenuemente detrás de los tameriscos - el
What part have India's exiles in their mirth? cielo es amarillo azafrán -.
Mientras las mujeres de la aldea muelen el maíz,
están trabajando
Y los loros buscan la orilla del río, cada uno
llamando a su compañero
Que el día, el día de Pascua que mira, ha nacido.
¡Oh, el polvo blanco en la carretera! ¡Oh, los
hedores en el camino!
¡Oh, la niebla húmeda que se cierne sobre la
tierra!
Y en casa se alegran bajo la baya blanca y
escarlata --
¿Qué parte tienen los exiliados de la India en su
alegría?

Full day begind the tamarisks -- the sky is blue and staring --
As the cattle crawl afield beneath the yoke,
And they bear One o'er the field-path, who is past all hope or caring (if he is past
all hope or caring, it’s because he is dead, they are carrying a body),
To the ghat (steps) below the curling wreaths of smoke.
Call on Rama (addressing Indian people, Rama is an Indian King) this is also
showing a contrast between English and Indian customs, in England we have God
and the Holy Spirit, here they have Rama, going slowly, as ye bear a brother lowly
--
 Call on Rama -- he may hear, perhaps, your voice!
With our hymn-books and our psalters we appeal to other altars,
And to-day we bid "good Christian men rejoice!" El día completo comienza en los tamariscos -- el
cielo es azul y mira fijamente --
Mientras el ganado se arrastra bajo el yugo,
Y llevan a uno por el camino del campo, que ya
no tiene esperanza ni cuidado,
Hasta el ghat debajo de las rizadas coronas de
humo.
Llama a Rama, yendo lentamente, como llevas
a un hermano humilde --
Llama a Rama... ¡quizás oiga tu voz!
Con nuestros himnos y salterios apelamos a
otros altares,
Y hoy pedimos que "los buenos hombres
cristianos se regocijen".

High noon behind the tamarisks -- the sun is hot above us --

As at Home the Christmas Day is breaking wan. (In England the day is cold, here
there is warm)
They (English people) will drink our (Indian people) healths at dinner -- those who
tell us how they love us,
And forget us till another year be gone! This is how he feels about his family at
home.
Oh the toil that knows no breaking! Oh the Heimweh, ceaseless, aching!
Oh the black dividing Sea and alien Plain!
Youth was cheap -- wherefore we sold it. He feels that in a way he was bought.
Gold was good -- we hoped to hold it,
And to-day we know the fulness of our gain! Ironic: their gain = nothing.
Alto mediodía detrás de los tamariscos -- el sol está
caliente sobre nosotros --
Como en casa el día de Navidad está rompiendo
wan.
Beberán a nuestra salud en la cena -- los que nos
dicen cómo nos quieren,
Y nos olvidarán hasta que otro año se vaya.
¡Oh, el trabajo que no conoce descanso! ¡Oh el
Heimweh (NOSTALGIA), incesante, doloroso!
¡Oh, el negro mar divisorio y la llanura ajena!
La juventud era barata, por eso la vendimos.
El oro era bueno, esperábamos tenerlo,
Y hoy conocemos la plenitud de nuestra ganancia.

Grey dusk behind the tamarisks -- the parrots fly together -- (visual, auditory
imagery, you can imagine the sounds)
As the sun is sinking slowly over Home;
And his last ray seems to mock us shackled in a lifelong tether (correa). They are
not free, they’ll never be able to leave that place.
That drags us back howe'er so far we roam. We may go somewhere, but the tether
hold us and bring us back. No way they can leave permanently.
 Hard her service, poor her payment -- she in ancient, tattered raiment –
PERSONIFICATION: he’s talking about India.
India, she the grim Stepmother (place where you come from=motherland, so
this “stepmother” is like a substitution) of our kind. The ones who came to serve
England or came to perform some kind of duty there.
If a year of life be lent her, if her temple's shrine we enter,
The door is shut -- we may not look behind. Goes on with the idea of being
trapped. Probably they were promised they would stay there for a year, but they
won’t actually. Atardecer gris detrás de los tamariscos -- los loros
vuelan juntos --
Mientras el sol se hunde lentamente sobre el
Hogar;
Y su último rayo parece burlarse de nosotros
encadenados en una atadura de por vida.
Que nos arrastra de vuelta a pesar de lo lejos que
vagamos.
Duro es su servicio, pobre es su pago, ella con
sus antiguos y andrajosos ropajes...
La India, la sombría madrastra de nuestra
especie.
Si le prestamos un año de vida, si entramos en el
santuario de su templo,
la puerta está cerrada, no podemos mirar atrás.

Black night behind the tamarisks -- the owls begin their chorus --
As the conches from the temple scream and bray.
With the fruitless years behind us and the hopeless years before us,
Let us honor, O my brother, Christmas Day! In spite of all the situation, come, we
should celebrate it anyway.
Call a truce, then, to our labours -- let us feast with friends and neighbours,
And be merry as the custom of our caste (the ones who are from England);
For, if "faint and forced the laughter," and if sadness follow after,
We are richer by one mocking Christmas (not real, fake Christmas) past. Even
if our laughter is not genuine or it’s a bit forced, or even if we feel sad after the
celebration, at least we have the fake Christmas.
Noche negra detrás de los tamariscos -- los búhos
comienzan su coro --
Mientras las caracolas del templo gritan y
rebuznan.
Con los años infructuosos detrás de nosotros y los
años sin esperanza ante nosotros,
honremos, oh hermano mío, el día de Navidad.
Hagamos una tregua, entonces, a nuestros
trabajos -- festejemos con amigos y vecinos,
y alegrémonos como es costumbre en nuestra
casta;
Porque, si "desmayan y obligan a la risa", y si la
tristeza sigue,
Somos más ricos por una Navidad burlona
pasada.

This poem shows the question of displacement, it’s what evidences it not only
in the people who were colonized. This geographical displacement. In this
case these people belong to the colonizers who settled, controlled and
administered India, sent by the colonizers.