Pleas of Himal
O' re Ganga Maiya,
Shall I come,
Or shall I go?
O' re Ganga Maiya,
I haven't seen much,
From the river of yours,
Maiya fills the pot; talking shit about their man,
Her sahiliyas laugh—walking with the pots on their head, holding his amma's fingers, Bablu counts—one, two, three, and four...
O' re Ganga Maiya,
Here sings the danfe and munal; only through them, songs I've learned
Between the hills, through the jungle, to the woods, barefoot, I still run
I would miss them—Bayer and Kafal, laligurans in the hills,
Springs here are warm, and kind, winter's breeze gives me the chills
If I leave them all behind, how would that make them feel?
O' re Ganga Maiya,
You tell me, how would that make me feel?
O' re Ganga Maiya,
This world of yours,
This body has to follow where the heart leads.
Somewhere near the land, with beaches, palm trees,
Where you flow freely, somewhere around the hustle and bustle, somewhere near you—there my heart is.
O' re Ganga Maiya,
I might not have much in common with the city of yours,
But my heart resides there, about that I'm sure...
Wind might be warm,
But when he tells me to come,
Crossing the hills, mountains, and plains, tumhare kinara—for him I would run.
I'm not sure how far is considered far,
1000 miles seems achievable for me, for God's sake,
But 360 km makes my heart ache....
O' re Ganga Maiya,
I'll leave indeed, but you hear my plea,
When I leave for the land of sun and sea,
When I'll miss my air, my land, and my trees,
When we'll completely become one together, no longer him and me,
I beg you, make sure it won't be like my fears, but make it more like the butterflies in the blue skies or fireflies dancing in the moonlight, please.
O' re Ganga Maiya,
When your daughter comes to you,
Leaving everything behind, in his love—from this world to hide,
Be kind to her, please.
O' re Ganga Maiya,
In the moment of crisis...
Help your child,
Shall I come,
Or shall I go?
tum zara bolo....
Shall I come,
Or shall I go?
O' re Ganga Maiya,
I haven't seen much,
This big world of yours,
But I know—
The old man no longer rushes,
After his lugai died, for him time has become a nuch.
But I know—
The old man no longer rushes,
After his lugai died, for him time has become a nuch.
From the river of yours,
Maiya fills the pot; talking shit about their man,
Her sahiliyas laugh—walking with the pots on their head, holding his amma's fingers, Bablu counts—one, two, three, and four...
O' re Ganga Maiya,
Here sings the danfe and munal; only through them, songs I've learned
Between the hills, through the jungle, to the woods, barefoot, I still run
I would miss them—Bayer and Kafal, laligurans in the hills,
Springs here are warm, and kind, winter's breeze gives me the chills
If I leave them all behind, how would that make them feel?
O' re Ganga Maiya,
You tell me, how would that make me feel?
O' re Ganga Maiya,
This world of yours,
This body has to follow where the heart leads.
Somewhere near the land, with beaches, palm trees,
Where you flow freely, somewhere around the hustle and bustle, somewhere near you—there my heart is.
O' re Ganga Maiya,
I might not have much in common with the city of yours,
But my heart resides there, about that I'm sure...
Wind might be warm,
But when he tells me to come,
Crossing the hills, mountains, and plains, tumhare kinara—for him I would run.
I'm not sure how far is considered far,
1000 miles seems achievable for me, for God's sake,
But 360 km makes my heart ache....
O' re Ganga Maiya,
I'll leave indeed, but you hear my plea,
When I leave for the land of sun and sea,
When I'll miss my air, my land, and my trees,
When we'll completely become one together, no longer him and me,
I beg you, make sure it won't be like my fears, but make it more like the butterflies in the blue skies or fireflies dancing in the moonlight, please.
O' re Ganga Maiya,
When your daughter comes to you,
Leaving everything behind, in his love—from this world to hide,
Be kind to her, please.
O' re Ganga Maiya,
In the moment of crisis...
Help your child,
Shall I come,
Or shall I go?
tum zara bolo....
A stunning ode to Ganga Maiya—heart-wrenching dilemma of home vs. love, with hills’ whispers and beach dreams beautifully entwined. Pure poetry! 🧿
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