(A English translation of Odia poem 'Kebala ApekshyaRe')
[published in SurjyaPrabha odia daily on 25th April 2010]
Today the Sun is dim and so also my pupils
and I'm threatened in my despair; it swears to stay with
unlike before. Henceforth, I will succumb to
and shrink to shell; stopped boarding running town bus
and got late to office hours.
All the days being washed brought-in dark clouds to my afternoon sky
and I sat down to polish my brash near rear door under water tap to lit-up
and watch to self, wishing a fresh shower for worn out summer day.
But nothing that sort happened; and the cuckoo never returned.
'Will call on your cell later you dear
And you call whenever you feel boiling with reminiscences.'
But seldom it happens and so empty the benches
the balcony, the garden, the kitchen - not needed
but my legs got tied with the strings I spawn
for they are grown to be away of my hands, stretch of my eyes.
Where is garden when the fence has eaten it away
and the roses denied to bloom anymore?
Then why do I need rose now
when victorious or defeated -I don't know.
Were all these myths
and so also my walks on razor blades?
Who knocks at my door now -
to sell me in fillers?
Some unknown may become too kind to sigh
and some knowns may drop in with replicas.
But will that return me back?
Or would I curl to self, if not called
draining out my remains in vain
only to wait for lightning to strike my Sun!
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
The poem is published in Literary page of Sunday Surjya Prabha Odia daily on 25th April 2010.
There are so many typo - sorry for bad reading. I have also put a English translation of it for my n visitors who don't read Odia. Hope, they will also find the poem interesting. Thanks again in advance for your time, comments as well as interest.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
(English Version of the Odia poem published in Digbalaya April 2010)
This is not a kind of question
For which you choose to live in a cave filled with solid darks
Where bats fly tearing off the space and time
With stinking smells of droppings
And the present sits in despair!
This is not a kind of question
To be asked by you like a Parikhita
And I will be a Suka Muni to reply and get rid-off.
Why didn’t Sita ask this question being cornered-
Being afraid of whispers or cursing to her fate
Or deciding to forget the footsteps of yesterdays’?
Why do we ask those questions in every evening
To tease each other or to offend each other ?
As if there is a lot of fun in weeping in hidings.
Often we have decided to forget the question
That does not have any answer
Neither in stuffed purse nor in weaponry of tongue.
But the question again appears with the rage of Durbasa
For anger, desire or suspicion?
There are so many other questions to answer
That can be searched and searched
Gazing and pondering at the restless sea.
Why don’t you understand – there need not
Be answers to all the questions to live with - The Present.
Let me confess – it’s not a beautiful translation.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Please click twice for better view
'IeTa Semiti Gotie Prashna Nuhen' - "This is not a Question of That Kind' is poem published in Odia magazine 'Digbalaya' April 2010 published at Bhubaneshwar.
The poem talks of silly questions we raise with unusual interest may be for apprehensions in our daily day to day life. These questions probably can be overlooked for answer on the prime question
on this life.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
This poem written by me published in Sagarika March 2010.
And would like to share with my distinguished guests at
my blog. My blog MoKatha i.e my words has become Ama Katha -
that's our words as I have started posted stories written by
my wife Anjali.
Anjali infact is a very good story writer. As very obedient son
when I was asked by my parents, I got interested of Anjali for her
literary background. That time also I used to have deep love to
literature. Sometimes, I think I should have taken up literature
as my career. There is no point to regret now.
Anjali could not keep up her literature being deeply drawn into
family and rearing up our two kids Vakul and Anwesha. Vakul is
studying BITS Pilani in 2nd year and coolly got into his study and
publishing research paper. His first paper will be coming
in Lecture Notes on Computer Science, Springer. He also edits
his department magazine and columnist in college magazine. Our
daughter Anwesha is a lovely girl just wrote her CBSE X final exam.
She is deeply into painting and fine arts. She wants to pursue
Suddenly, we two at home have started feeling lonely. Evenings are
no more noisy. Even holidays and festive days are dull. We can
foresee what future is hiding for us - loneliness, internet chatting
with kids - still plenty of time with longings to get them very near.
Not only we two, many parents in current times are or will be passing through
Anjali is very sensitive lady. Since, our son has gone to hostel
she has started brooding over it. Gets more of it when thinks of
forthcoming days. In order to get her attention elsewhere
somehow, I could encourage her to write and she has started writing
stories. Hope, with all your encouragements she will escape herself
from loneliness and she will write good stories.
For the same reason I have also resorted to writing poems,
eulogizing life and accepting it
as it appears before.
This particular poem published in Sagarika,
March 2010 tells of Smruti O Sarahada
reminiscence and boundaries. Remembering
my village and pushing the boundary to chase a moon has brought me
to Hyderabad but the life finds confused remembering the crossed boundary
of sweetness of childhood and lamenting on chasing the golden deer never ending
wishes, system defined index of excellence - that the current presents. Sometimes
person wishes to sleep with the plaques of sweet memories.
Click on image for better view
We deeply thank all of you, our distinguished blog visitors for sharing
your time with us.