A Song 168

Narayanathu Prandhan
is fact-fiction.
Has no shadow.
At cremation grounds,
fiery and weepy,
one may spot Prandhan
or Pagal,
resting under a banyan
head to a stone.
Cooks rice over burning pyres,
if rice there is.
A night when deaths were not burnt,
a goddess sidled to Pagal,
woke him from thought,
promising favours.
'Ask, and you will get it,' she sweet talked.
Maybe, she loved him.
Asked Pagal:
Can you shift my
elephantiasis
from right to left leg?
'No,' said she.
Can you shift my death?
'No', said she.
A miffed Prandhan
lay down on bare earth.
Goddess nudged:
'Quit praying,' she suggested.
Tired of beggars, prayers,
Prandhan had quit,
long ago,
goddess did not know.  


(From Narayanathu Prandhan in Aithyhyamala, a collection of stories in Malayalam)