Long Paddy field Poems
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The village where my father was born.
After many years
Still has not changed
Except that electricity has arrived ,
The road blacktopped has deteriorated,
And thatched-roof houses are hardly seen.
Yet what I wonder is
As I saw in my childhood long ago,
The village road today is still lonesome,
Cactus and wild bush plants ,in that quietness
Are still growing here and there by the roadside.
And the sprawling paddy fields are as calm
And beautiful as they were seen from the road long ago.
The aged banyan tree standing in the meadow
At the roadside is still in its grandeur.
Under it, I saw my grandfather cremated,
Consigned to flames
When I was a boy of about 10 years old.
My grandfather during his youthful days
Sometimes might have been resting
Under that banyan tree
Tired of wayfaring or working in the paddy field.
Sometimes he might have been waiting
For somebody he loved beneath it
Wearing kurta ,dhoti,and clogs .
My father died six years ago
And I today am an old man
Yet whenever I visited the village
And see the lonely old banyan tree
I remember the days I spent there during my childhood
Particularly the day my grandfather died
And cremated beneath it.
The old peepal tree ,
Growing at the gate of my residence
By the busy road ,
Often I collect its fallen leaves with a broom
In the winter mornings and burn them.
Yet never ponder about its long past.
12th August 2012
I rambled once, riding my bicycle
on a foggy day of winter.
The fog remained suspended long in the atmosphere -
so impatient I to go out,
for such a weather decades not seen.
Going farther and farther,
excited seeing the veiled country
on a lonesome village road not seen before,
the fogs dissipated; evening sun appeared
giving a pleasant apricity .
The countryside was calm, and gentle -
sprawling paddy fields, brown with stubble,
on both sides of the quiet, and peaceful road.
To the east, they stretched to the foot of the distant Blue Hill;
a grove of trees in the middle,
mist resting still at its foot,
while a few clouds seen floating above the brae,
top and above the idyllic blue hill.
There, a moment, I longed to sit
by the paddy field under the tree,
branches wide spreading
with a maiden of my imagination long ago.
(PUBLISHED IN THE INTERNATIONAL POETRY ANTHOLOGY - It is Still Poetry)
Emerald green that shines on
gleaming green jewel bug
Algae green of the serene pond
And there swim the shoveler ducks
Harlequin green from areca leaves pinnate
Softly grins when sunrays gently penetrate
And the dark green on betel leaves
Oh ho, the deep red on tongue it leaves
Light green of the Mandevilla
That climbs high to shine bright
Mixed hues of the leaves of taro root
And turquoise green on the crystal clear Lake
O! The iridescent green hues
of peafowls whose vibrant colors ooze
off his pretty long feathers,
Do I need to apprise further?
Green paddy field glares
And sways like a girl's hair
Teal green from singing river
Accumulates minerals and delivers
Did I mention the grass green?
Hey! Isn't our earth's screen?
Raising that lustrous curtain,
unfolds vivid scene by scene
Our earth breaths through these shades of green
Without these green, there is no pleasant scenes
On the wind,a bell
Muffled from across the square
Raindrops fill the air
on the lawn
as summer draws to its close
lily petals timeworn
kissing-gate swinging-
eternally hitched to you
my heartfelt love
shadows in the sky-
fluttering across my eye
a brown butterfly
the country stile
hedged the wild flower meadow
where I sit awhile
he dusted the album-
a memory of love
trickled down his cheek
out of the blue
the honey bee
sings with delight
nearby in sunshine
a blackberry blossoms
winter's summer pudding
in the silence
my thoughts plod the path
of yesteryear
In my old calendar
her yesterdays-
in tears I reminesce
waters of Spring
in the paddy field-
green shoots in my heart
In the countryside,serene and wide
Sprawling paddy fields on either side.
Yet,day by day, they fade away,
As the charms of nature begin to sway.
Houses rise where once greenery grew
Schools and brick fields now claim their due.
Tenant farmers toil with heavy hearts
As their cherished lands are torn apart.
Once rich in rice, the fields decline
As construction takes what was once thine.
The roadside bushes, a memory lost
And chongas(jungle myna) pecking now bear the cost.
Tarnishing the village where life was once thrived
The lovely paddy fields that grace the way
Are vanishing slowly day by day.
.
One fine morning, I went to the paddy field I thought this year would produce higher yield.
The fields were completely covered with dew. A good harvest would remove the last year's due
The winter season made tiny dew drops on paddy I had seen small sun in it with my daddy. Little mice came out of the mud banks 'hole. And drank the purest water of dew as its goal.
Stone sparrows came down from their nests And filled their stomachs with dew drops and red pests.
The cattle struggled to eat the dewy grass
But the dew drops was the winter season's pass.
Children tried to catch the dew drops The dew drops made many rainbows on the crops. Farmers welcomed the seasoned cold water. And it made the crops grow better and better.
A Night of '89
Footsteps at midnight
the knock no one dared answer.
Dogs howled in silence.
Charred Bodies on the road,
eyes still open to the sky.
The crows never ask.
Posters on the wall
by morning, the faces fade.
Smoke curls from tire pyres .
Mother lights a lamp.
Her son's shoes still by the door.
She dares not whisper.
Gunfire in the dusk,
then a scream the wind carries
who will name the dead?
Red water flows past
the paddy field in full bloom.
No harvest this year.
Schoolbag on the step—
its owner taken at dawn.
Chalk dust on the floor.
Whispers fill the lane.
Even silence has been killed.
Eyes blink like shutters.
A list with red marks—
young names, crossed out by the state.
The clerk still records.
Cicadas still sing
though men hang from tamarind trees.
Life pretends to go.
Recently,one winter morning,out of the blue,
I heard the caw of a lone crow -
Once found in flocks across our land,
Now vanished many years ago.
Its caw awakened in me the
Memories buried in the wavering wash of time.
The weather those days was fine,
Water in the ponds and rivers was pure.
Rills full of fish would twist and flow
Through the villages.
The cricket’s song at dawn and dusk,
The farmer's call in the early morning,
As he headed towards the paddy field
With a pair of bulls so charming.
His caw recalled the temple bell’s ring
From the palace shrine in early morning,
A sound that once brough heart’s delight.
Oh,the Uthum’s song on a sunny day,
And Tamna’s call at night,
No longer heard,nor seen the fireflies,
Twinkling far and near at night.
Gone are many local varieties of fish,
Plants,and greens once found in abundance
In our land.
Today, that lone caw in the air
Brought back to me the memories rare,
Yet worried for what we have lost,
Ecological balance now the cost.
A vision seized me, before
The marriage of my kin.
Betrothed to a faith apart,
Like a stray from the hallowed ground;
where forefathers had etched:
A devout Catholic and a pioneer,
A premonition of life truth.
I wandered through the paddy field,
Where crystal water surged;
Fishes of all sizes I had a huge catch.
Between, a river parted,
As white as a snowy flake and high;
Down and below, muddy water reaches their neck.
A laundry basket, brimming over their balanced head
I waved them to join me where abundance flowed.
But they insisted on not coming,
For they had decided their life: shallow and creek
They'd to fetch the water with a small mug.
Life's destiny weaves one's tapestry
And no external forces can confine us.
10.
the apparent golden pot that i thought
to be the underneath of a kadam-tree
in the dim light i can notice that
the stars in the sky are disappearing
this session of poetry
is coming to an end
now where would i
go
to that little home
the home
a tiny word of 4 letters
within that home
the children are giggling
playing … and making funs
when i entered
with a tri-cycle in hand
for them
i have been perplexed
many old persons are waiting there
to shake hands with me
11.
almost most of my desires
are very much hurt
to show it publicly
i wrap bandages
around all over my body
i keep on the stage-drama
in our programme of reading poetry
tea is served twice
current has gone off for three times
for four times the mobiles ring
to pick up love
some people think about returning back
from today’s dais to the ancient stage
of performing folk-drama
then they are also sympathetic
to my sufferings
12.
everyday
on my way to return home from the school
when my mom took hold of my hands
i could see in my body
the dancing of an unforgettable
aura
even now that mystical halo is walking
on the leaves of the trees
to fulfil my mornings
that wayfaring along the road
is ringing far and far-off
thus taking bath in every day’s
dust smoke hue and cry
many such love
gradually gets aged
is it true
in the long run
i too
would be the ingredient
of a fairy-tale
just because i love
that paddy field
some time later
she will also become
human
13.
then she will make all of us
join her walking
those inmost feeling
those memories meditations
the loneliness and solitude…
sans the touch of the imagination of
a crater…
a creator…
this blunder…
this socially outcast white …
this type of uneven…
and irrelevance…
sume words
when peep in the mind
i surprise to see that
it’s ten to 2 at night
then in the balcony
my father is crying
he always notices some grave-yard men
in front of him
and sheds tears