Hands of God
We trodded on to reach the seashore and looked up at the sky. The ship loaded
with sailors was moored nearby.
The sea made us delicate by diverting our attention from the world. On our
return both our feet got pricked by thorns and were bleeding. Still we are
eternally attached to the sea.
God asked then, at that very moment, extending both the hands. It had been
us who were busy calculating planetary positions. But could not conclude.
Events do not occur with an advance notice. It arrives and grinds the life with
its pestle. Is it just a matter of joke to reassemble a fractured life! Then we
sought for God. Extend both your hands, hold on to us. There was no streak of
lightning as expected, no manifestation of divine light.
He arrived silently. Holding the X-ray plates against light, commented – matter
sensitive. We actually traversed through a sensitivity. We kept on invoking God
extending both our hands. The sea appeared to move closer during the moment
the life support system held on to my life. The multihued boats were floating
around me transforming into a sea of possibility. Which country the merchant
heads to setting sail on his cargo loaded vessels. The smiling nurses asked –
Where do you wish to set sail to? This marine life.
He entered again silently into the cabin. Then said – It appears possible. Are
you ready?
God is extending both his hands. I am exploring not for the sea but for a return
path.
Exchange
I seek someone to speak of the living tales
Else the emptiness in front mocks me
Once unveiling the secret I told you my favourite colour reddish.
Said I’d decorate this canvas of mine with my colours – just keep watching.
You thought – this is just audacious.
That day I called you to say the words that I reared long in my heart
But again in my front the prance of dead emptiness. A portion of my lungs was
sought in exchange of my release from cabin. I was denuded – thrown – picked
up. But I continued treading on.
Now only you are looking at me mesmerized keeping the canvas of my favourite
hue in front. Pacifying me pointing at the red sky. Groping for my doe-eyes of
the bygone days in darkness.
Would you go if I take you in flashback. Would take you to the cabin, shut the
oxygen flow. At that moment would seek a portion of your heart. You’d clutch
my hand tightly and ask – friend what type of justice is this?
Had the answers been with me, I’d never have been seeking you madly. Alas,
that day I was asking the eternal emptiness the same question again and
again.
Lost a portion of my lungs in exchange. You had not been anywhere. This was
just a matter of joke or the unwanted silence of life.
Surreal
The air inside the room is shuddering briskly
A breathe is wreathing
So many windows in the closed room
Ok, now just one is open
We appear naked in the grid of sun rays
Hyacinth flowering in stagnant water
You are smelling in closed air
We heard growling of tiger the entire night
The voice wafted in from the eerie woods
Heard the cackling of birds towards dawn
At that moment we climbed the hillock
The rounded Sun playing with mist in front
The air shudders in the closed room
The rapid breathes
We return turning into hyacinth flower of summer rain
When’d the people ventured out return.
Bat Time
The pair of eyes looked at me sternly through darkness and said – I have
something to discuss with you. I said smilingly – Come once during daytime,
we would discuss. Then I did not realise that these eyes are active only during
darkness. They stab, pierce, kill and fade away before the day breaks. The
stories of the day is so unique. No one cares about the eyes wafting in the air.
I enjoy talking sitting face to face. Speak the utmost necessary else thorough
silence. The eyes proposed truce and said – else the situation extreme. The
conditions are distorted and hazy.
A pair of eyes were flickering and gazing at me intently. The eyes had a
language of its own and perhaps a little sadness.
Those had not been a gloomy pair of eyes.
A pair of vanquished eyes in a trap. That flickers and glitters amongst flock of
eyes.
I know this pair of eyes. It was flapping turned into a firefly on the banks of
Buredehing on a dark moon night
What could I give you
(Dedicated to Swati Kiran)
What could I give you
Million ordeals of being lost
in the unending expanse of the sky
You tied me up so tightly
Who dares to untie the knots
That I could come back
Backed by your immeasurable devotion
Your prayers lay hanging
Turning into star-diya in the night sky
There is immense joy in returning thus
To look anew to live again
To count time while opening the closed eyes
Seeing you opening the eyes
To chase the entity called God
Left behind so much
What I lost there in no trace at all
You don’t allow me to keep account of that.
All poems are translated from Asssamese into English by Bibekananda Choudhury