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A few poems of Rajeev Barua
Morning Stroll at Bhomoraguri
The sun was caught in the fisherman's net
As soon as it was born
It was held captive in a net
Woven with golden yarn
As a vigorous fish tossing and turning about
The scene was restless
The fleet steps craving to see
The long bridge stopped
A short while ago the boat that kept still
With the heron by the water-line
Was playing now with the sun
The sun settled at one end of the boat
Dipped into the water
The boat too pursued
And jumped onto the sun's back
The boatman paddles his boat to the bank
Beholding his face on the fish scales
Is it the sun on the boat's laps or
Is it the boat upon the sun's back –
The pedestrian stumbles on the dry land and light!
Hunger in the Scales
Last time with the sack of rice I bought
Came a pair of rats
Next day I approached the grocer to ask
What's the matter - some change in the system
As one free when buying two
As free toy-pistol with baby-food
Thus has the bamboo-flowering nation's plight
Been yoked with resources
With the new quotation of want and supply
If the problems were to be shared in this way
Perhaps it wouldn't take too long for equality to arrive
Strange are the ways of this country
Crops are distributed before production
Just as the rats burrow the fields
Before the paddy bears spadix
When consumers increase
Rice have to be bought in terms of sacks
Amazing indeed it's to see
The rats' knowledge of geography
Aspiring to be a model eating nothing
Though you grow emaciated
For the catwalk on the ramp
You must atleast be able to stand
None has emerged a victor
Playing around with hunger…..
Chinked Scripture
You regret
A chink has remained
In your new house
I said: You're a poet, a visionary
Through the window slits
It's only a maiden's face
That's most appealing…
Hidden in the earthen crack
Sita is an epitome of chastity
Through the chinks of broken glass
Even the songs of the dry wind can be heard
In the flute-holes flow songs of the earth
Beauty's charm pierces the nose, ears, navel
The keys too after all seek to bore the lock
The showers of the night
Scour for the earthen cracks in the darkness
Seeds drop… germinate
The forefinger scours for the mystery-hole
The stitching thread scours for the needle-hole
Creation… creation… creation
Game of pot-breaking
For no games had potters moulded the earthen-pots
Lest it should break
It was tenderly lowered from the wheel
And laid under the sun
The heat of fire poured colour on the potter's wish
The heat of the sun gave it the tawny hue
When the thrill of breaking yields value
How can the fragile pot remain unbroken
For the wont of smashing and remoulding
Dream-coins land on the potter's hands
Feigning blindness without a blindfold
I've seen many a mind shattered to pieces
Families teeming with joy
Yet we play the game of pot-breaking
Blindfolded
The thrill of breaking earthen-pots
Is akin to cracking prickly heats
Born from the weight of the grief of breaking
Dreams of moulding anew
Thousands are born from fullness
Fullness is born from emptiness
The Stool
I clearly hear my wife
Looking for me
Her needs are high above
At a height she can't reach
She needs my height
She hasn't been able to find me
Now and then I get lost in this way
She scours for me
On our first wedding night
I got lost
In the glow of her dowry
Today too I'm pretending to be asleep
I can hear her voice cold as a serpent
Finding no response she dragged out a stool
Lying under the bed
(I hadn't seen the stool before)
Mounted upon the stool
She got hold of her needs
With her nimble hands one after another
The wheel of worldly life rolled again
This time its sound really
Lulled me to sleep
In my slumber
I grew envious of the wooden stool…
P.S. My daughter is thirteen
I pray she grows tall enough
Not to need a stool
Tathagata
(Beside the Bodhibriksha)
Having traversed this distance can one return
On returning can I recover this life, Tathagata
When weary people are sunk in slumber
After a grand assemblage
All inert limbs and organs
Lie scattered around
I rise from them and stealthily
Drag myself to you, Tathagata
I miss you in the rocks and worship the trees
I crawl as the ants over their cool shade
Here none treads upon others' shadows even
I look for you to repay my debt
For the shade of trees
Tathagata you've gone much afar
: Can one return after being so afar
On returning shall I recover life, Tathagata
: No one traverses this distance to return
The journey is from nothingness to nothingness
Life is after all a worship of nothingness---
Sacred nothingness.
* Bodhibriksha - Tree of Enlightenment
All poems are translated into English from the original Assamese by Krishna Dulal Barua.
About the poet --
Rajeev Barua ( 1963) is a leading Assamese Poet and Broadcaster. Recipient of prestigious Munin Barkataki Award for poetry, Barua has seven collections of poems to his credit, namely, Aghari Dinar Diary (1985), Gosse Pohar Dia Din (1993), Panir Ghar (1997), Tumi Ki Kavi, Nijar Eta Pukhuri Nai(2001), Khali Botolar Malita(2006), Kisuman Bodhar Baran (2012) and Hoyto Mudradosh(2016). His recent collections of poems have received rave reviews and thereby wide admiration. Lines In The Void (2009) and Bodh Jo Abhivykti Banana Chahata Hai (2009) are two collections of his poems translated into English and Hindi respectively. These collections were reviewed by leading Hindi Literary Journal “Vagarth”of Bharatio Bhasa Parisad , Journals like “Indian Literature” and “Samkaleen Bhartiya Sahitya” published by Sahitya Akademi.
He is currently working as Assistant Director at All lndia Radio Guwahati .
About the translator
Krishna Dulal Barua is a teacher in English. He received prestigious Katha Award for translation in 2005. A collection of English translation of selecte poems ofrenowned Assamese poet Nilamani Phookan has been published by Sahitya Akademi in 2007.
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