The Mountain’s Home Is Gone

The mountain is crying.
The river is sobbing.
The waterfalls of Jharkhand are weeping.
The earth and the hills are all in mourning.
All the Asurs are crying.
There’s no water in the springs.
No flowers or fruits on the hills.
No water flows in the rivers.

There’s no place left
For the tiger, monkey, bear, jackal,
Snake, elephant, rabbit, or birds.
The mountain’s home is gone.

If there is no language,
Where will the festivals of songs be held?
We once made iron—
Now with that same iron,
The companies are ripping open the earth,
Spilling blood.
They are killing us with the same iron.
All the Asurs are crying.

But we will live—fearless like the plateau.

In the plateau lands,
You gave birth to us Asurs,
But showed us no path to survive.
In the plateau lands,
You made us laborers,
But gave us no money to go to school,
No path to move forward.

Now we have no language.
Now we have no culture.
How shall we call to you?
By what means shall we remember you?

O ancestors of the earth, O ancestors of the sky,
O our mothers and fathers, O all you Asur elders—
The responsibility of your meals was the forest.
The responsibility of your labor was the field.
The vast plateau was your school.
The mountains and springs showed you the way.

O ancestors of the earth, O ancestors of the sky,
O our mothers and fathers, O all you Asur elders—

You never knew kachiya-dhibba (money).
You never knew dependency.
We do not blame you.
We do not put you on trial for our helplessness.
But when the companies come pounding,
And when the government crushes breath with its weight—
Whom shall we cry out to?
Where shall we find shelter, whose chest to lean on?

O ancestors of the earth, O ancestors of the sky,
O our mothers and fathers, O all you Asur elders—
We will learn to speak like you.
We will learn to dance like you.
We will hunt like you,
All those beasts
Who are digging into the homes of the Asurs,
Who are sweet-talking our springs away,
Who are addicted to consuming the earth and human life.