Alauddin, why, why did you

Jisei bhula naa saka.Yah gajab ki prem-kahani,Ek dastaan.Your memoryStill now haunts meWhich I could not forget it.This a strange love-story,A story.

And the rows of flowersWeeping,What has,What has happened to them,My God, my God,Why are,Are they so sad?My God, when together withAnd when separated from,Sometimes memories take me overAnd I fail to shake them offWith the tears welling in the eyesAnd none but I,I myself wiping the tearsIn hidingFrom the worldAs and when get I remembered…

Or frolicking them,Hanging onto,Blooming uponIn clusters or bunchesDecorating the treeFlamboyant, fiery red,Reddish, flame-red,Ornate and floweryAnd decorating the barren earthEven in squelching, sweltering heatOf Indian summer,I stop by,Pause a bitUnder itAnd dream my dreamOf bringing a brideIn sixteen shringaras,In Benarasi handloom silk sari,Embroidered and brocaded,Kajal, tikli, bangles, myrtle, vermillionAnd others

Worship of forefathers, ancestors,Offerings for forefathers, ancestors,My salutation to them,My offering of respect, homage toForefathers, originator men, for the patriarchs,Respect for,Pinda-dana.With the end of the pitri-pakshaThe beginning of the matri-paksha.Pitri-paksha,Pitron ko ahuti,Pitron ki puja,Pitron ke prati naivedya,Unko mera naman,Meri shraddhanjali,Purvazo, adi-purusha, pitaron ke liyeiShraddha,Pinda-dana.Pitri-paksha ki sampti ke saathMatri-paksha ki shuruyaat.

And feel about their journeyFrom Nagaland to Prayag.

Have you,YouThought aboutThem,ThoseCleaningLatrines?And ifThey don’t,WhatWill itHappen,IfTheyDon’tLatrines?