Siddhicharan Shrestha, Nepal (1912-1992)
Poem:
I don't have time,
Death, do not call me,
I don’t have time to mop up
the blood from a broken head.
Lady, do not detain my advancing feet,
I have no time for your blandishments.
The people of my country
have canceled their meals,
and are struggling: look!
Shidhhicharan was born
on Jestha 9, 1969 BS in Okhaldunga Bazar of Sagarmatha Zone, Nepal. Siddhi was
married to Mishree Devi Shrestha.
They had nine children. Their eldest son, Viswa Charan Shrestha, died at the
age of four. Siddhi wrote poem "Viswa Betha" in his son's memory.
Siddhicharan Shrestha is honored as "Yuga Kavi", meaning -
"Poet of the Era". Siddhicharan wrote many poems. He wrote both in
Nepali and Newari. He also wrote a religious poem “Devighat”. “Mero Pyaro
Okhaldhunga” is the most famous poem by him.
Siddhicharan Shrestha started writing poetry from around 1930. Early in life, he worked as editor of Sharada and Gorkhapatra and, later on, as chief editor of Awaj and Kavita. In the 1940s and 1950s, Siddhicharan continued articulating the hopes and frustrations of a politically suppressed people who were struggling for democracy.
Siddhicharan was a revolutionary writer of the time. He was sentenced for 18 years in prison and his properties were also seized by the then autocratic Rana regime. However, he was released after five years. He was a then political prisoner. He was not even allowed to attain his father’s funeral whilst in the jail. The great leader Ganesh Man Singh and other political activists were in same jail and they were inspired by Siddhi Charan's poetry. Ganesh Man Singh once recalled the time in prison with poet Sidhhicharan and said “If Siddhi was not there in prison, he would have gone insane”. In 1940, he wrote, "There can be no peace without revolution." For this, the Rana rulers sentenced him to eighteen years of detention. During this time he wrote Urwasi and later on, The Sacrifice of Bali. After his fortunate release from gaol in 1944, he continued writing about poverty, injustice, untouchability and other social issues of the time.
Poem:
I don't have time,
Death, do not call me,
I don’t have time to mop up
the blood from a broken head.
Lady, do not detain my advancing feet,
I have no time for your blandishments.
The people of my country
have canceled their meals,
and are struggling: look!
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