Kaliyo, our blackie

poor Kaliyo,

how shall he know

that we cannot flex our muscles?

barking ferociously

and running at a lighting speed,

he pounced like a panther,

upon Motiyo.

sturdy as he was with beef-eating in the dalit basti!

he caught Motiyo by neck

and bit a whole mouthful.

Motiyo’s bowl of milk was spilt in soil,

the beads in his belt were lying scattered in sand,

his long tongue was out of his gasping mouth,

his mouth was foaming

and foam-bubbles were bursting.

whole village assembled :

that bloody son of a bitch,

dhed’s rotten Kaliyo.

he bit our beloved Motiyo.

come on everybody—

even their dogs have dared to become arrogant !

and all were chasing Kaliyo :

Kanabis, Kolis, Patels and Darbars

with spears and sticks and bamboos and dhariyas

as if at war with

poor Kalio, the king of dalit basti!

but Kaliyo was brave

and was running faster and faster,

running along the bank of the river.

they were falling and stumbling

and licking the dust.

but Kaliyo was Kaliyo

the black panther, the darling of the dalit basti

running and running and running!

and as the saying goes

the crest-fallen crowd at last

turned towards the Dherwada, the dalit ghetto,

started beating the roof-tops of the harijan huts,

beating the neem trees in the chowk

beating the deity shikotari’s small mud-temple

beating Mani, Rami, Dhulio, Parmo.

crying and entreating with folded hands

they were begging for pardon

‘how shall Kaliyo know

that we cannot flex our muscles !
he is a poor dog

and you are human being, our lords !