Night of the Scorpion

I remember the night my mother
was stung by a scorpion. Ten hours
of steady rain had driven him
to crawl beneath a sack of rice.
Parting with his poison -- flash
of diabolic tail in the dark room --
he risked the rain again.

The peasants came like swarms of flies
and buzzed the Name of God a hundred times
to paralyse the Evil One.
With candles and with lanterns
throwing giant scorpion shadows
on the sun-baked walls
they searched for him; he was not found.

They clicked their tongues.
With every movement the scorpion made
his poison moved in Mother's blood, they said.
May he sit still, they said.
May the sum of evil balanced in this unreal world
against the sum of good become diminished by your pain.
May the poison purify your flesh of desire, and your spirit of ambition,
they said, and they sat around
on the floor with my mother in the centre,
the peace of understanding on each face.

More candles, more lanterns,
more neighbours, more insects and the endless rain.
My mother twisted through and through groaning on a mat.
My father, sceptic, rationalist,
trying every curse and blessing,
powder, mixture, herb, and hybrid.
He even poured a little paraffin
upon the bitten toes and put a match to it.
I watched the flame feeding on my mother.
I watched the holy man perform his rites
to tame the poison with incantation.
After twenty hours
it lost its sting.

My mother only said:
Thank God the scorpion picked on me
and spared my children.

-- Nissim Ezekiel, poet and scholar, born December 24 1924; died January 9 2004.

Nissim Ezekiel (1924 - 2004) was born in India to an Indian Jewish family. He studied in Bombay and London.

He wrote eight collections of poetry and won the Akademi Award for a volume called 'Latter Day Psalms'. He was also a renowned playwright, art critic, lecturer and editor.

He is credited with beginning the modernist movement in India and was one of India's best known poets.

Read about 'Night of the Scorpion ... here.
Discussions on his style of poetry ... here.