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Illuminated roots get uprooted
Filaments of jasmine droop on crooked genuflecting body
Pulling back the memories
the raven is cawing
Smouldering something or smog gets deeper
Mist either, or the reeking of smoking layer
Peeping through the lid
a sound rustes around the bride's anointing feet
A bud flounces to sprout
when sun leans to set
Wane voices float in coiling
Steps yearn for taking breath
Clueless night wants to have siesta within the eye
Bare falls
An edgy bawl sprouts
All the red buds
got drooped till the morning
Gazing at the budding sun of the darkling sky
The lowland girl kept sitting on the outer plinth
For the bird that had flown away at night itself
to stem the clouds
lay flat over a rock of the hill spreading its wings
The purple fingers of the eastern sun
got buried in the paddy stretch of the west
A stream of sadness wells up
How could she clamber the hilly path
Where could she hear the bird's call
Draping over her body
the red chadar woven by her mother
she goes down the bluff
Melting the patches of cloud
run down from her eyes
The quills of the bird drift down
With petals of red flowers stuck in them
A shoal of fishes
golden and silver
splashing in her heart
drag her to the whirlpool
At the time of burning Nahar seeds
the people on the banks see
a forest of red flowers
drifting down
tucking its head in the wings of a bird
Chadar: Typical Assamese scarf
Nahar: (Mesua ferrea) Indian Rose Chestnut
A lone tree raising its arms moves towards the sky
Heaps of countless people are in faint clutching the roots
Coming to senses for a moment
the peole ask one another the same riddle
"The pond gets dry the mere gets dry
The tree tops do not..."
Water
Where is water
No pond no mere
The tall building mock
Wailing in the graveyard of trees
the people faint once again
Let the tapering roads get broad
Let the subsided houses rise high
Let four-lanes and six-lanes gather the horizon
From the tallest of the tall housetops
let the sky be touched
The people jostle to hurry up
The people jostle to get taller
And dreamy and drunk they
remain suspended in the void
Slowly and slowly the tree turns yellow
The people get tired after fits of coughing
No water no water how to quench the thirst
No water no water how to wet the land
Lifting the crust of slumber
the people dragging themselves up
sit in prayer for a patch of cloud
raising their hands
The listless noon was falling drop by drop
from the thin-striped leaves of slender bamboos
Groans in the throats of boats lying in sands
Tucking its two drops in wings
the egret flapping in flight
suddenly cleaved the noon
Tapas reminded
Over there is the whirlpool
Over there is the abyssal kalohi
In the gazing eyes reflect
myriads of wavelets and ripples
created by the slick tails of mermaids
who can I narrate to
that at thrashing my heart
on the stone slab at the edge
how the tangles of memories too get snapped
Getting rid of tangles memories grip me again
I touch the venomous jaws
taking them for crab holes
even in the abyssal whirlpool
wilts the waterweed body
Melting down drop by drop
the noon sobs at a distance
Leaning against the heart of dusk
I turn into one of the boats lying in sands
my womb filled with hairy sand
Moments ago
We were in the same house
the same air we inhaled
Yet I hardly knew him
Did I see or didn't notice
the white scratches in his hair
his dry eyes like dead wells
in the drip-drop from his body
I did not know what salt melted
We were not that intimate to make out
Moments ago
he creamated the body of his son
The last piece of firewood placed on the pyre
moaned
Transient is wealth kith or kin
Transient is youth
Transient is family bond
Suddenly his eyes likened to still wells
raged like a fire
and sucked all the salt from somewhere
I didn't ask even once
To ask him I wasn't that intimate
Oh dear
as long as there is body there is shadow
as long as there is body there is maya
Why so long to make out this thing
At the time of his hasty leaving
he has sown his words
in the downstream baulk
Only when I stepped in
the bend engulfed by light and darkness
it dawned on me that I knew him
He is my father
I am that son
with those pyre's smoke
he wants to draw the subtlest line
between life and death
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