Jyoti Shobha

A Dead Man
 
Yesterday I heard he took his own life
I couldn’t believe it
after all why would a man who 
survived the riots die 
why would he destroy the body 
that made it through the pandemic
 
a surviving man avoids all conflict
he scans the room before touching 
the familiar woman beside him
he steers clear of places where 
protest against tyranny is not an option
a surviving man 
rations his intimacy 
like matchsticks
 
I absolutely refused to believe it
this was the man who saved candles 
for a suddenly descending darkness
who said yesterday
The bus is on time these days
My mind feels at ease
And he was dusting his bookshelf
and I had thought to myself
Spring is the most transparent season
 
I am astonished
how much smoke can hide in a simple touch
I didn’t have the slightest clue
his hand was cold that first day
his eyes were cold
his language was stuffed with fog
in his pocket lay an old slip of paper
shrunken by the December cold
 
I met a dead man that day
yesterday a dead man 
took his own life



Translated from the Hindi by Sarabjeet Garcha
 

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