Sahachar

The scanned copy I got from The Prajatantra was not
in good quality. Some of my esteemed blog visitors
pointed out. Hence, I am posting the original I sent to
Prjatantra. I will be thankful for your comments.

regards
Hrushieksha

Sahachar

This Poem is published in The Prajatantra, 13th June 2010

Mati Maa Gatha Mun Gaibi

This poem is all about an old lady who used to assist my mother in house-hold activities. Now she is in her last stage of life. Whenever, I visit my village, meet her to listen from her sweet queries on my kids and my wife. She pleads to bring kids to my village. I feel bad to say her my kids somehow have gone far away from rural settings.That could be there preoccupations with their future. That is different issue. But the point that stuck me is her innocence telling nothing of her problem.

Most of us, in urban area call such ladies as 'kamabali' (the lady who works particularly does morning chores like sweeping, cleaning plates etc.) I wonder who's is not 'kambala' or 'kamabali'. One day, interestingly, one day I heard from a very sensible lady a word 'house assistant'.

Most of such ladies have sorrows to take up these odd jobs at different households. This poem is dedicated to all of them.


Hrushikesha Mohanty



The poem is published in Nabapatra March-April 2010 by Odisha Cultural Academy, Rourkela, Odisha.

On Poems in Sagarika, February 2010

This is my letter to the Editor, Sagarika published
in April-May 2010 Sagarika. The letter presents a
review of the poems published in Sagarika Februray 2010.


The review ponders over untimely departure of a boy Aditya
of a Patnaik family the editor knows well and she puts
that pathos in her editorial.

In my review I have tried to console the Patnaik family
sighting the poems in the issue that address some
dimensions of life.

Hrushikesha
25th May 2010

Only for a Wait

Hrushikesha Mohanty
(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!

KebAla ApekshyaRe

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.

regards
Hrushikesha

Mama Pain Upahar