Beef is my right- a Poem by Sukirtharani

Poetess Sukirtha Rani

CPI - ML Liberation
10 hrs ·

SUKIRTHARANI, a dalit woman poet from Tamilnadu has come out with an excellent poem on the recent ban on cattle sale.

It is definitely difficult to bring out the agony and anger that have found a blast in this poem in another language.

The following is the translation of that poetry.

Beef is my life.
Beef is my celebration.
Beef is my festival.
Beef is my living.
Beef is my food.

When I woke up after being born
I first breathe the great fragrance
Of dry salted meat.

When I cried loudly
Kicking my legs in the air
Those pieces of bones
Kept in the corridors of my hut
Were the rattles for me.

When I grew hungry and licked my lips
That beef juice
Cooked in the night stove
Was mother’s milk for me.

Drying that yellowish fatty pieces
covering the meat
in the noon sun
And roasting it in its buttery fat
That melts like snow
Is my snacks.

It is my pass time
to chase away the crows
with the piece of black cloth
when the pieces of beef cut at length and dried
in the court yard of the house
over the thorny bushes cut into clusters

After bathing with the mud
And going out in fresh cloths
That smell of meat felt on me
Is my scented lotion.

That sound of the drum
Made of bovine skin
Hanging from the lower hips
Tied tightly by ropes
Is original beat for me.

Clad in folk costumes
That local dance of men and women
For rituals and deaths
Is my dance

Cutting good bovine meat
Spreading the pieces on fresh coconut strips
Shared in to ten and twenty
Collecting them in a bamboo basket
polished with dung
carrying the deep red beef
on those Saturdays and Sundays of the week
Is my festival.

This is my life.
This is my celebration.
This is my festival.
This is my living.
This is my food.

Who are you
to enter into my regime?
Where did you come from?
Where from you got
this saffron attire?

I will only swallow
The food meant for me
I will only spit the
Saliva meant for me

Do not smear your
Saffron color on my black skin.
Do not make my open hair
Into a tuft.

You’re saying
Holy... Holy...
Which is holy?
Who is holy?

The word holy itself
Is a word of oppression
Remove holy from
Your saffron – Hindi dictionary
Look at humanity

There is beef smell on me and
Of course I am not holy
Do not sprinkle cow urine on me
To make me holi
Do not smear burnt dung
On my forehead

Is gow matha your god?
And are you wearing
that god’s skin as foot wear?

Is gow matha your deity?
Are you drinking
That deity’s blood as milk?

You are shouting that
I am eating beef.
Did you allow me to wear foot wear?

You are bringing cow into the house
And not allowing me
To come from the colony into
The village.

Your are ringing the bell and
Showing camphor in the temple
And you did not allow me
Into the sanctum – sanctorum
To worship

You are linking up religion and cow
Have you tried to link up
Religion and secular country?

This is a secular country….
It is my prerogative to choose religion
It is my prerogative to choose beef.

What right you have
To rule me?

In Dadri You killed
Because there was beef…
What to do about you
For killing bovines for export

If you ban beef
We will go for beef festival
If you ban that festival
We will cut bovine meat
In every street

Beef is my living
Beef is my journey
Beef is my life
Beef is my right

If you want
you decide your shit
My Food. My beef.
I will only decide.


SHARED by Kasthuri Rengan 

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