GHAROTE (OR JATEY – THE STONE GRINDING WHEEL)

Dear God, this gharote, gharote
is a gift from deep within your heart
to fill the bellies of the world
the karma writt en on our foreheads

Arey, gharote gharote
what the vani-brahmans call jatey
hear the ‘ghar-ghar’ sound it makes
you should rather call it ‘gharote’

Arey, that which snaps soon as it forms
don’t call it a relationship
that from which the fl our comes flowing
don’t ever call it a ‘jatey’*

See how my gharote
whirs and turns with a ghar-ghar
and from within this ghar ghar
I can hear a tune emerge

Fool, can’t you hear in that ghar ghar
the hum, the thrum of our home
Arey, from inside that ghar ghar
hear the rumble of a gravid sky!

Look here, my dear gharote
I neatly lay out the grain before you
so now within an hour
turn it into flour for me

Your movement, my dear gharote
is a constant whir, whir, whir, whir
and from this constant ghar ghar
comes the swiftly falling flour

As your millstone, rey gharote
turns spinning round and round
so the milky white flour falls
gently to the ground

Arey, on you my dear gharote
your mistress rests all her hopes
with one hand I hold your handle
with the other I feed you morsels

Arey, gharote I give you
morsels of jowar to eat
and at some festive occasion I will
also feed you bajra and wheat

My dear gharote, gharote
of two lips and two molars
eating fi stfuls of the grain
and giving back sweet flour

Arey, gharote gharote
when my arms begin to ache
then I sit beside you singing
this, the song of my saunsaar

Arey, gharote, gharote
as from you the flour emerges
so from deep within my belly
to my lips, my song surges

I grind, grind, grind the grain
till I am soaked in sweat
so you too get your stone eroded
abrading and wearing down yourself

wearing down and abrading
you have become as smooth as marble
arey, look now the takrin is at the door
to chip away and make you rough again!
*Jatey also means ‘to go’