Mitti De Tibbe

To the right side of the mound of earth,

Right along the edge of the pond, [Ni: a gender-specific vocative used to address a woman directly]

The one who grazes sheep in the meadows,

Go ask that old man about my state of mind, [Ni: a gender-specific vocative used to address a woman directly]

Written on the wooden plaque of your room's window is my name,

In the kiln where your uncles work,

That is where my village is located.

You kept staring at the path I take,

Until your tea boiled over and spilled into the stove.

Your friend knows my whereabouts,

But you, oh crazy one, just kept on staring. [Ni: a gender-specific vocative used to address a woman directly]

Near the turning by the factory,

You wait for the horse-carriage by the banyan tree.

Come, sit upon my mare sometime,

And speak a word of love with affection.

You’ve already taken my sleep and my peace,

Only my life remains, come take that too.

How much do your eyes speak?

What do you search for in my face?

What is it that you saw in me,

That you’ve left so many other hearts in ruin?

You bring firewood from the forest in the evening,

Always wearing a neatly stitched [Sutthan: traditional baggy trousers/salwar].

The branch of the Kikar tree feels a sense of pride,

When you touch the [Daatan: a fresh twig used as a natural toothbrush] to your pearl-like teeth.

They look so graceful upon your waist,

The two brass pitchers you fill from the canal.

Checking the price of wedding garlands in the city,

There are many [Chade: bachelors/unmarried men] wandering behind you.

By pulling back the curtain of your attic room,

You steal secret glances at me.

One of my [Yaar: close friends/brothers] says,

That you pierce hearts with your eyes.

There’s a fair at the temple next month,

And your [Yaar: this friend/lover] is free on the day of the fair.

I’ll buy you a necklace as a token of my love,

Even though I only have a few [Dhela: an old currency unit, implying humble savings] in my pocket.

Why the delay? Devise a clever plan,

I have no patience left, let’s hurry this along.

By speaking to your paternal or maternal aunt,

Start the conversation about us at your home.

Your future sister-in-law has plastered our house with clay,

And drawn your face upon the wall.

Beside your face, she drew a dark figure,

And adorned his forehead with a wedding garland.

I’ve learned that you have a fondness for flowers,

And the rose is the king of all flowers.

To grow fragrance across four [Vigga: a traditional unit of land area],

Is the dream of your [Kaka: self-reference to the artist’s name/persona].

Blending into your breath as you walk along the field borders,

The fragrances themselves will feel joy.

Witnessing your dupatta fly in the wind,

Even the nightingales will burst into song.