| Purandara Dasa's "We Poor Milkmaids:" A Translation |
Haalu Maaralu Bandevamma (We poor Milkmaids are on our Way to Sell Milk) We poor milkmaids are on our way to sell milk. O mother of that purple-skinned rascal. You know well how long it takes for us to get ready to go to the market. We are up before sunrise. We don our best saris and wear our precious gold bangles. Then we dance our way to town with milk jugs on our jasmine-adorned heads. No easy trick, mind you. A few minutes into the trek, who do we see but your naughty little boy? He wraps an arm around our waists, grabs a hand; Says he will unwrap our saris if we don’t pay his tax. How can we pay this stealer of kisses his tax? Decked out in gold diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, He wants no money, but a kiss and loin-loosening hug. Make him listen to our entreaties, O mother of that blue-skinned rascal. You don’t want us to be beaten black and blue by our jealous husbands. We wish we knew how to say no to him. “Come here, pretty girl, I want to tell you a rumor,” says he. Teach us how to resist the invitation. The moment we are near him, his hands are exploring our hills and valleys. Teach us how to break away from him. Tell him to leave us alone. No one will buy milk at noon. And there is none left unspoiled After we pay the tax demanded by that blue-skinned little thief. Please tell that little rascal, Purandara Vitthala, to leave us alone. We poor milkmaids are on our way to sell milk.