Francisca Kujur, "Just Think, Hira" (translated from Hindi)
A factory is being built on your fields and farmlands,
From which rises black smoke.
Massive apartments are going up,
And behind them, your hut has disappeared.
In your very own village now race
The shining cars of local and foreign contractors.
Just think, Hira.
Tempted by a few rupees,
You sold off your ancestral land—
And then poured the money away in mahua liquor.
Your children cry and wail—hungry, naked.
Your village has sunk into darkness.
Just think, Hira.
Little girls no longer play
In the dusty lanes; they no longer go to the forest to gather firewood.
They head toward the big cities.
They no longer want to plant rice in muddy fields.
They vanish into the crowd of the metropolises.
Just think, Hira.
At the border of your village,
Trees are being felled, the forest destroyed.
The wood is carted away to towns and cities.
Wild animals are creeping into the villages.
You sit in silence, watching it all, hands folded.
Just think, Hira.
Jharkhand was created for you—
Even the rulers now are your own people.
Yet your eyes are filled with sorrow.
You live far apart, like strangers.
Remember: you are the children of this land.
Be like Birsa, Jatra, Sidho, Kanhu—carry forward their glory.
Think how revolution rises in society,
How sparks smolder in the ashes,
How a tsunami rises in the sea.
Just think, Hira.
Just think, Hira!!
Published in the Kavi Man Jani Man Anthology
Translated from Hindi with the help of ChatGPT