Kathmandu - Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar

Every morning in my bathroom, 

I submerge myself in meditation, 

cleanse my bowels

and attain fresh and anew.

I flush out all the dirt and dust

through the drainage

to the distant flowing river.

Beyond the river is

my urban city, Kathmandu, 

with the long building, 

like the chopping logs, 

and the small houses

like the dented tin.

The toilets and bathrooms

from the buildings and houses

flow to the river and

burst the stench of

only the excrete and urine

As in the garbage pit.

In the shimmering riverside

lies the bloated belly

like the bursting balloon

of the petrified cow

by indigestion of the poisonous grass, 

leaks out the pungent gas

from the rump of its anus

and reeks nauseous

during the summer time.

Crows picking at

crumpled hide and bones

thrown away by the slaughter house

squabbled over the food

with obnoxious sounds.

Grey vultures smell

the stench of the dead animals and

encircle above the sky.

A mangy lame dog

ousted from my urban city

picks its living from the waste

and spends every second of his life

in the wrecked house

nearby the river bank.

He licks his own wounds, 

satisfies the taste of meat

and hangs around his death.

Obsessed with the reek of rotten meat, 

the bridge connecting my city

gets vomited, 

neither can move out of this place

nor can hold the passerby

fed up by reeks and stenches, 

it might falls to the ground now or later.

Baseless, with no sands.

incapable to save itself from calamities

lingers for the rainy season to come

to breathe in peace.

When the Himalayas melt

into rushing rivers

washing all the dirt and dirt

away to the far ocean

to get my urban city cleaned.

Ocean licks by its tongue

though a bit of poisonous cyanide

emitted out of my city, 

swallows every wave of despair, 

falls dizzy and giddy, 

and surrenders to tranquility.

Outside the world reveals my city

as a coquettish beauty

of Sinhapata Mayaju. 

---

Pushpa Ratna Tuladhar (born 1948) Nepal

Source: Poetry Atlas