The Gypsy Curse

a poem by Rita Joyce Singh, India

"This is not love, she is not one of us".
A month ago had begun all this fuss.

The Bandolier spat the word romance,
As if spitting would create distance.

The elder in charge, he rasped in anger,
"This Rakli! Gaje! Not a day longer".

"Nai, Nai this cannot be, she is non gypsy".
"Take her back where you found her, leave her be".

This was Thar Desert, their ancestral home,
His clan lived here before they came to roam.

Spirits of his ancestors and gypsy code,
Stopped him in his track,just off the dirt road.

No mirage,'stead in the heat of the noon
Was some city girl face down on the dune.

He couldn't have left her for the vultures,
Now all this noise about drifted cultures.

His code was duty but love came first sight,
When gypsy loves, he looks not left or right.

Though his compania folks had nursed her
Now they called her marime, they cursed her.

A Diwano was convened to decide,
Elders shouted "Dilo", and spat one side.

Kalia the green eyed should be banished,
Gypsy familia has been tarnished.

One wise manus, an elder with insight,
Delivered the two lovers from their plight.

"There's no such bad-luck of a non gypsy,
We can adopt her through ceremony.

Let's prepare the initiation cup
She'll drink the magic potion at sun up.

They will be wed if she passes the test,
May be she is Basht and we may be blest.

Trust is our friend, do not think it a snare,
Our life is to trust, to love, to share.

We healers, tinkers,we celebrate,dance,
And are vowed forever to keep balance.

The earth is ours wherever we stand,
No land is mine or yours but is our land.

We are scroll writers, alchemist of change,
Our lives are not of violence and revenge.

If a gypsy does not have Romani,
His trust, spirit or love has not any.

If a didikai wears a gypsy heart,
He is more like the gypsy for his part".

Next day, prospective bride, she walked steady,
All drank from the cup when she was ready.

She drank the last with cheering all around,
Then smiling, she slipped stone dead to the ground.

Gyped? No, but the Gypsy curse is real,
The magic potion, false heart will reveal.

For fear the gypsy curse will strike with death,
A gypsy loves with passion, every breath.

It is not some myth perpetuating,
Gypsy life is fuller, less of hating.

Lacking which one cannot encompass all,
Humanity,earth,creatures big and small.

Gloss: Rakli/girl....Gaje/gadj.gajay/ others, outsiders, Dilo/fool.....Basht/Lucky....Bandolier/the oldest membeer of a family or caravanserai, an elder....Romani,Romaniya, Romane etc..language.'gypsy-traits', customs, the clan,the gypsyfolks.......Nai,Nai /No,No....Manus/Man...Diwano/ Gypsy court of law.... Marime ..Impure.....Didikai,didkai/nongypsy, but a good trusted friend(any outsider)..Kumpani-a, compania/caravan group/family......familia/family

Note: 1.Gypsy-ies originated supposedly in Thar Desert,Rajasthan migrated to Gujrat,Punjab areas of India and travelled throughs Afghanisthan further to Europe.(1000 years ago).etc.many words are still used in Indian various dialects eg. manus, nai, Basht, rakli etc........this is a highly concocted story..for gypsies if you check their history are clannish..(pure..unmingling people) They have a long history of immense persecution..Today Punjabi Jats are still thought of as gypsies besides the Bopa,Bhil,Gujjar tribes of North India and Banjaras of South. So far their genetic(research) strains show Gujarti and Bengali genes. Also, they are again in the news as some book'Bury me standing' by Isabel Fonseca has hit the bestsellers list i believe.

2. There is a myth about one gypsy tradition if some Gaje is being accepted into their clan his blood must be converted to gypsy blood by drinking the magic potion..initiation..the magic potions brings death if the
person is false.

3. Have fun..let your imagination run wild. regards rita

Top Viewed Not Categorized Poems & Top Viewed Poems

Other poems from Rita Joyce Singh, India

If you like this poem, post a message below to the poet!


Viewed 1271 times

VoicesNet Likes