Three traders set out, board the boat,
eager and dreaming of success
each with a sack of their wares
upright in the restless breeze
by their feet
it is a completely ordinary journey
their chat common, dealing
in bargains and markets...
until the storm bursts
until the boat floods
Uppulu
Aiiyo! I've lost everything
weeps the trader whose sack was full of salt...
as all the salt slips away in rivulets
of milky wetness beneath their feet
and the sack empties into nothing
Poppulu
Aiiyo! I've lost everything
weeps the trader whose sack was full of lentils...
though really, some lentils are soaked through
puffy as flowers ready for the pot this evening
but the rest may survive to sell after an airing
Koppulu
Aiiyo! I've lost everything
weeps the trader whose sack was full of coconuts...
though the coconuts look fresh as children just bathed
What? Say the others. No, you haven't lost anything!
Your coconuts look like they got a free wash. Shut up.
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Note: From a story my ayah told me in Telugu to illustrate how the well-to-do love to complain about their misfortune even when it doesn't really compare or isn't really a misfortune. (I wonder now if there was something that prompted it--like if she'd had some argument with my parents who would have seemed well-to-do to her.) I came up with the retort to the coconut trader and the subheadings (salt, lentils, coconuts in Telugu) because they so neatly nearly rhyme. And I gender neutralized the characters without losing the plot.
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Pic: The beautiful spring view from RS's window at book club today. There was more resistance talk and organizing than book discussion, which was ok with me. Especially since I'd read You Think It, I'll Say It literally years ago and forgotten many of its finer details.