IDENTITY CARD by S Joseph
Translated by K. Satchidanandan
In my student days
a girl came laughing
Our hands met mixing
her rice and fish curry
On a bench we became
a Hindu-Christian family
I whiled away my time
reading Neruda’s poetry;
and meanwhile I misplaced
my Identity Card.
She said,
returning my card:
'the account of your stipend
is entered there in red’
These days I never look at
a boy and a girl lost in themselves.
They will part after a while.
I won't be surprised even if they unite.
Their Identity Cards
won't have markings in red.
