Poetry

My favourite lines are:

But what use is a poem,
once the writing's done;
Words looking for what
in the dark of the soul;
I know that much,
When all else has failed,
poem's words are perhaps justified.

-Jayanta Mahapatra


My fav poem is

A 'FANTASTIC' POEM

The girl who dedicated herself to my love
Is now committing suicide

Blue beads of perspiration on my forehead
I was total fulfillment to her
Maybe a certain dishonesty was within me
Or she has never seen a sea
She is committing suicide now
Her fingers, hidden soft blood, white throat is still alive
Only her eyelids are still
In the mirror of frozen consent
She is still alive
And has never seen a sea

We were to go to the seaside together
She is still alive
Even now the trip could be made
Blue icicles of perspiration on my forehead
even now she could be kissed through the night
even she could be kissed after her death
she looked so beautiful while asleep
a deeper sleep would create beauty more
but she is alive yet now
only her eyelids are still
her fingers are trembling in doubt
trembling are the diamonds and the faces
soft blood is darkening in fear
transparent wind and night in her white throat

I am nothing in front of these waves
And the warning signal of the storm
In this foam and roars of ea-horses of dark coral islands
My own lips are unknown to me

I was total fulfillment to her
Like death, to die, like dead
Blue beads of time on my forehead
The girl who dedicated herself to my love
Is committing suicide now.

-Nabarun Bhattacharya


Another of my fav is FINAL ENCOUNTER WITH THE SUPREME MALE. This poem is based on Indian Mythology and has a note of criticism in it.


FINAL ENCOUNTER WITH THE SUPREME MALE
( The title refers to Purushottama, both Vishnu and ‘The Supreme Male’)

Fish, turtle, boar, man-lion- you don’t bother me as these.
Your dwarf-aspect that scuttled brave Bali-I don’t dwell on that.

That sixth incarnation of yours stays in m mind,
the face of Parashurama. For I was Renuka then.
Out of my blood and flesh and agony I had given that face its breath,
daily nurtured it with the breast’s loving stream.
And then-your axe came swinging down on me!
What was it my stunned sight tried to scream?
Did my ruptured throat cry out at all?
History keeps its mouth shut.

Next we met
in the Treta Age: I had hung my garland of love
about your neck, to follow you fourteen years in the forest.
And then you wanted to see my searing death by fire.
This time I spoke my mind-but History
stamped out my word of anger and let it die
beneath a chorus of hymns and paeans to my chastity.

Next we met at Dwapura-I, Rukmini
rebelliously had braved my father’s wrath
to take you to my heart, my loving husband.
You welcomed me, your loving wife-and then
what was this rebel’s reward? An inner-room incarceration
As so-called chief wife in with a thousand wives.
At this point History was busy taking down ‘Gita’ to your dictation.

In the first days of ‘Kali’ we next met.
In your ninth incarnation you aimed to rid the world of sorrow.
My sadness alone was of no account to you.
When I sought to follow you in the path of liberation,
you thought it would make it hard going for the male disciples.
(You allowed it only after Ananda’s plea)

In the last days of ‘Kali’
we meet for the last time, here at creation’s end.
Today your face has no divine mask.
Today my face has shed its veil of devotion.
Today my eyes flame with hate,
as scorn switches to astonishment in yours,
astonishment to anger.
Now fury is ablaze
in your eyes. Hatred in mine.
The fires meet and the skies are full of lightning,
the forests are on fire, the seas are on fire,
you are turning into ashes, I am turning into ashes,
an inferno makes an ash-heap of Creation.

And then- the ashes thrust aside
one day- a new world may be born
to live and last, that has no supreme Male.

-Sushmita Bhattacharya