Twice a month I go to Hariahati and drink haria
Among the drunkards, peasants and labourers all,
Two pigs skinned and men have their heyday!
Round some fat women, haunch men nine or ten,
The fire fall on rugged cheeks, eyes shine bright,
And they drink and brawl, howl and growl.
The mango grove screened four sides by
Swaying paddy fields stretched miles upon miles,
And yonder on a huge treetop fifty white herons bask.
No tin shade, no tarpaulin over heads
And when the rains fall, they drench open,
And mad eyes glue to the wet women!
(First published in Setu)
