Tabish Khair

God­huli (Cow­dust)

The London Magazine - - CONTENTS -

Be­yond the bend there were buf­faloes, Cows and a sin­gle boy perched, Half-naked, on the back of a buf­falo. It was the twi­light hour of cow­dust.

Sud­denly the an­gle of a woman’s arm Col­lect­ing cow­dung cakes by the road­side Made clear this blended hour, a word That had nes­tled like a bird in my soul, Made clear the dungsmoke swathed Out­lines of a mud vil­lage, its cow­dungSmeared walls and floors, clar­i­fied A whirl of cows. Our driver honked, Scat­ter­ing some. Oth­ers con­tin­ued Their slow, sway­ing walk across the road. We inched through a gap in the herd, Wreathed in cow­dust, head­lights switched on, Cast­ing faint, elon­gated shad­ows of cows On this world of dust a word could touch.

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