Tribute to Our Great Contemporary Poet
S. Vilvaratnam
On his sudden Demise

The Worship Scar
By S. Vilvaratnam

After my friend
Introduced his father,
Casually
I asked about the scar.
“This is Tholuhai – scar”
The Periyavar said
Stroking his forehead,
His eyes lighting up
I bit my tongue
Grieved
By my ignorance.
Calling for Allah
He had bowed low
Till his native soil
Scarred
His bowed forehead
Whence sprang my impudence
That dared chase them away
From the soil of their birth
Like striking
Their worship - scarred forehead
With a hammer?
How thus could I
Injure myself?
Their worship-scar
Seared
My guilt-stricken conscience scar
Like the third eye
They grilled and drilled
My battle-field scars too.
When, oh when will my scar
Disappear?
When, oh when will my crime
Of violating the soil’s beauty
Etched on their foreheads
Be expiated?
When from exile
They return home
And full-throatedly
Calling for Allah
They renew their worship-scars
And stroke their foreheads
The tears dammed up
For years and years
Will burst the eye-dykes
Only at the moment
I immerse myself
In that cleansing cataract
Will my blemish
Recorded by history
Be washed clean.
That moment only
Will consummate
My liberation.
Friend,
Allah have I entreated
To hasten
That sweet moment
Of reconcilement.

Translated By: A.J. Canagaratna

Source: Forehead Soil (1st ed. 2000)
(One of the poetry collections of S. Vilvaratnam)

Reproduced From
Third Eye (7th Issue January 2001)