Literary Vibes - Edition CXXXI (28-Jul-2023) - POEMS & BOOK REVIEW
Title : Rainbow Gaia (Picture courtesy Ms. Latha Prem Sakya)
Prof. Latha Prem Sakya a poet, painter and a retired Professor of English, has published three books of poetry. MEMORY RAIN (2008), NATURE AT MY DOOR STEP (2011) - an experimental blend, of poems, reflections and paintings ,VERNAL STROKE (2015 ) a collection of all her poems. Her poems were published in journals like IJPCL, Quest, and in e magazines like Indian Rumination, Spark, Muse India, Enchanting Verses international, Spill words etc. She has been anthologized in Roots and Wings (2011), Ripples of Peace ( 2018), Complexion Based Discrimination ( 2018), Tranquil Muse (2018) and The Current (2019). She is member of various poetic groups like Poetry Chain, India poetry Circle and Aksharasthree - The Literary woman, World Peace and Harmony)
Dear Readers,
Welcome to the 131st edition of LiteraryVibes. We are lucky to have four new contributors with us in today's edition. Ms. Namita Paikray from Bhunaneswar is a prolific writer in Odia Literature whose stories and books have been translated into Hindi. She is a winner of many literary Awards. Ms. Bharati Kode is a celebrated Telugu poet whose powerful poetry stirs the heart with strong emotions. Shri Ajay Agnihotri from Delhi is a retired officer from Indian Revenue Service (Customs), whose competence and performance have bestowed on him a legendary status in his department. I recently met him and requested him to contribute articles for LiteraryVibes which he readily agreed to do. Shri Ashok Kumar Mishra is a prolific writer in Odia, known for his realistic, down-to-earth writings. Let us heartily welcome these new poets and writers to the LV family and wish them the very best in their literary career.
I recently came across a cute little story which immensely moved me and filled my heart with rare divine bliss. Those who have visited Puri on the way from Bhubaneswar would have come across a small village named Malati Patapur. There is a beautiful story about how the village originally known as Patapur acquired its present name.
Many decades ago there lived in the village Patapur a small, poor family. The man of the house eked his livelihood by working as a farm labourer, his wife used to look after the household work. They had two children, a son of around six years of age and a daughter four years younger to him. One day tragedy struck the poor family. The man of the house died of snake bite while working in the field. His wife was devastated, but gathered herself and started working as a maid in different homes and earned a paltry income to raise her two small children. A couple of years passed when tragedy struck again. The son also suddenly died of snake bite, leaving his mother shattered.
The following year as the Rakshya Bandhan day approached, girls in the neighborhood bought rakhis for their brothers. The small girl Malati asked her mother for some money and with the one anna given by her mother, she bought a beautiful Rakhi and came home running. Rakshya Bandhan was two days away. Eagerly she asked her mother, "Maa, all my friends are going to tie the rakhis on their brother's wrists. Where is my brother, tell me, so that I can tie the Rakhi on his wrist." The mother's heart wrenched with grief, she looked towards Puri where the temple of Shri Jagannath, the Lord of the Universe, is located and told her daughter, "You have a brother at Puri, I will take you there on Raksha Bandhan Day and you will tie the rakhi on the wrist of your Jagaa Bhai at the SriMandir and take his blessings."
Little Malati was ecstatic to know that she had a brother at Puri, a Jagaa Bhai, who she had not met so far. Out of excitement she could not sleep in the night. Next morning she got up at four, did not want to disturb her mother, and after getting ready with a bath, the innocent girl started walking towards Puri, a good eight kilometres away. She reached the temple, the SriMandir four hours later and looked for her Jagaa Bhai. No one could tell her where her brother was. She roamed around, restless. Some devotees took pity on her and gave her some Mahaprasad to eat. She kept looking for her brother, the precious rakhi clutched in her small hand. Gradually night fell and little Malati was tired. She went off to sleep in some obscure corner, unknown to everyone.
Sometime after midnight she was shaken out of her slumber by a soft, lilting voice, "Malati, wake up, your Jagaaa Bhai is here, tie the rakhi in my hand and go home. Your mother has been looking for you since morning and crying for you." Malati woke up and was overwhelmed with joy to find her Jagaa Bhai standing there with his hand stretched. She tied the rakhi and fell at her brother's feet, seeking his blessings. He blessed her with the most beautiful smile on earth and asked her to leave for home. She told him, "But Bhai, I feel so scared to walk alone in the night. Will you not come with me?" Her brother smiled at her, "Don't worry my sister. I have some work here, you start walking, I will follow you a little later. From now on, whenever you feel scared or troubled at any time, just stand up and call out my name, I will always come to you. Now hurry, my little sister, your mother is getting desperate." Malati came out of the temple with the help of her brother and started walking. Although it was dark outside, and even darker on the way to the village, she never felt scared, not even for a moment, as if some invisible force was protecting her. When she reached home, her mother was relieved to see her. Malati told her the story of how she met Jagaa Bhai at Puri and tied the raakhi on his hand, but the mother dismissed it as some kind of fantasy by an innocent child.
Much before dawn the priests opened the sanctum sanctorum and entered Mahaprabhu's abode. They were surprised to see the Lord smiling, a beautiful, bright tie adorning his right hand. A rare, beautiful fragrance was pervading the air. They were shocked, wondering if some thief had broken into the temple in the night. Some of them ran to the palace to inform the king who was traditionally the chief administrator and custodian of the temple. Daylight was yet to break, the king rushed to the temple and was stunned to see the smiling face of the Lord with the rakhi glittering on his hand. Unable to solve the mystery, he sat in deep meditation and prayed the Lord to show him the light. The Lord smiled at him, assured him all was good and He was happy to have received a rakhi from his little sister Malati who had come walking all the way from Patapur village to tie the rakhi on her Jagaa Bhai's wrist. He chastised the priests for not guiding the little girl properly when she was asking for her brother, but the Lord was in a happy mood and had forgiven them.
The king woke up from his trance and told the priests about this wonderful story. Led by the king, a group of priests rushed to Patapur looking for Malati, the little sister of Jagaa Bhai. Malati's mother was scared out of her wits, seeing the king and the group of priests before her house. Thinking that Malati must have commmitted some unforgivable crime, she fell at the king's feet and prayed for mercy. The king asked her to get up, gently pulled out the little girl hiding behind her scared mother. The king and the priests fell at the feet of the little girl, the sister of Sri Jagannath, Lord of the Universe and asked for her forgiveness. With tears flowing from the eyes the king told her, "It takes several births for many yogis and mahayogis to get a darshan of the MahaPrabhu, you got it with your simplicity and devotion at such a small age. You are a miracle child, the blessed one, we are nothing but specs of dust before you." The king granted plenty of land to Malati's mother so that they could live happily and decreed that from then on the village will be named as Malatipatapur in honour of the Mahaprabhu's sister.
I was so moved by this simple, sweet story that I had goosebumps at many points while reading it in Odia. All those who believe in God's limitless power must have felt His presence at the time of desperate helplessness. His words "From now on, whenever you feel scared or troubled at any time, just stand up and call out my name, I will always come to you" are so soothing, so reassuring for His devotees!
Hope you will like the offerings in this 131st edition of LiteraryVibes. Please forward the following links to all your friends and contacts:
https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/497 (Kid's Magic)
https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/496 (Short Stories, Anecdotes) and
https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/495 (Poems and a Book Review)
For those who are interested in medical anecdotes there is an interesting article by Prof. Dr. Gangadhar Sahu, the eminent Gyanecologist, at https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/494
Please take care, keep smiling.
Enjoy the LV131 in the backdrop of the lilting, joyous rains of August.
We will meet again with the 132nd edition of LiteraryVibes on Friday, the 25th August.
With warm regards
Mrutyunjay Sarangi
Table of Contents :: POEMS
01) Prabhanjan K. Mishra
A BOWL OF STRWBERRIES
02) Haraprasad Das
ULTRAMARINE KOHL
03) Jayanta Mahaptra
A HOT MAY AFTERNOON
EVENING
04) Dilip Mohapatra
MONSOONS
PAPER BOATS
05) Namita Paikray
STORM
06) Pradeep Kumar Biswal
LOLITA
07) Abani Udgata
STORY-TELLING ANIMAL
08) Jairam Seshadri
EVERYWOMAN – (Part 14 of many such)
09) Prof Dr Bidyut Prabha Gantayat
THE ARRIVAL
DISTANT TRAVELLER
10) Gita Bharath
TEACHERS
11) Hema Ravi
EPIC-CALM
THAT' S A CHILD....
12) Madhumathi. H
SHELTER
13) Meena Mishra
BECAUSE I AM A HOUSEWIFE
BECAUSE YOU ARE A HOUSEWIFE
THE IMPISH EAGLE
14) Jayshree Misra Tripathi
WHEN YOUR LOVE DIES...IN MEMORIAM
15) Anjali Sahoo
SOMETIMES
16) Tandra Mishra
LITTLE BUTTERFLIES
17) Arpita Priyadarsini
OF MAHOGANY AND MORE
18) Seetha Sethuraman
TIME RIDE
CALM ART
19) Bhagaban Jayasingh
THE PRAYER OF A SCORPION
20) Aneek Chatterjee
EPHEMERAL MOMENTS
21) Isha Bharadwaj
BUT, IT'S OKAY!
22) Dr. Ratan Ghosh
NERO
23) Setaluri Padmavathi
THE DOOR OF OPPORTUNITY
24) Nisha Luthra
HIM
25) Dr. Sumitra Mishra
MOONLIGHTING
HYSTERIA
MOURNING FOR BOU
26) Sudipta Mishra
A LOVE STORY
IN YOUR LOVE
27) Amakwe Destiny Chidera.
A CHILL PILL
A BITTER TRUTH
28) Nandini Mitra
WOUNDS HAVE HEALED BUT THE SCARS REMAIN
29) Sheena Rath
LIFE
30) Pankhuri Sinha
THE PERFECT MURDER WEAPON
31) Sujata Dash
A CREEPING SHADOW
32) Vidhya Anand
CHRYSALIS- AN ODE TO SUCCESS
33) Bipin Patsani
VISION AND VALUE
GATHER GRACE, NOT MOSS
34) Professor Niranjan Barik
WORLD COMES CRASHING BUT BUTTERFLY FLIES!
35) Sukanya Kunju
CONFIDENCE AND SUCCESS
36) Sheba jamal
DROP OF LIFE
37) Bharati Kode
COUNTERCURRENTS
38) Mrutyunjay Sarangi
TOYS
Table of Contents :: BOOK REVIEW
01) Sumitra Kumar
MAMINA by Sangita Kalarickal
Table of Contents :: SHORT STORIES
01) Sreekumar Ezhuththaani
PLANT PARENTING
02) Chinmayee barik
ANOTHER FACE OF HAPPINESS
03) Prabhanjan K. Mishra
RE-LIVING THE ‘PEEPLI [LIVE]’ MOMENT
04) Ishwar Pati
THE CHAPPAL SYNDROME
05) Ashok Kumar Mishra
UDGARA
06) Malabika Patel
THE WAIT
07) Snehaprava Das
ROSE IS A POEM IN RED
08) Sujata Dash
A TRYST WITH HAPPINESS
09) T. V. Sreekumar
KIDNAP
SOUND OF LOVE
10) Sheba Jamal
CLOSET
11) Ashok Kumar Ray
POVERTY
12) Mrutyunjay Sarangi
RETIRED, TIRED
Table of Contents :: MISCELLANEOUS
01) Ajay Agnihotri
DIAMONDS ARE FOREVER
02) Prabhanjan K. Mishra
POETRY - A MEDITATION
03) Bankim Chandra Tola
WHAT IS TRUTH
04) Gourang Charan Roul
A DESTINATION WALK ACROSS THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE
05) Ravi Ranganathan
GURU – SERVICE – GNANA – HUMILITY -- MOKSHA (MUKTI )
06) Avaya C Mohapatra
DRAMA, THEATRE AND THE SPECTACLE AND THE ANCIENT WORLD
07) Dr. Sukanti Mohapatra
EVOLUTIONARY POSSIBILITIES IN THE MINOR CHARACTERS OF MANOJ DAS
08) Nitish Nivedan Barik
A LEAF FROM HISTORY...
Table of Contents :: YOUNG MAGIC
01) Trishna Sahoo
MY DREAM INDIA 2047
02) Anura Parida
AN IDEALISTIC DESIRE
POEMS
A BOWL OF STRWBERRIES
Prabhanjan K. Mishra
Strawberries sweetened our days,
but have dulled into sour grapes.
Peaks of ever-proud Khandala Ghat
lose height, the berries their blush.
Tea in my cup
cools feet, tastes tepid, insipid.
Your bosoms no more smile:
confident, translucent, mysterious.
Our mummies sleep in casket-beds
in deafening silence of heart’s atrium,
our pyramid-full shibboleths manacle
our ankles, fill our ribcages with rags.
Dreams have gone meandering
to distant pastures of the past,
beyond recall. We live in fragments:
playing card's kings, queens, jokers.
Unseen shackles hold us back, or
have we played into mystery's hands,
we hope for wins by playing blind
betting our strawberries and tepid cups.
We would survive this pall of gloom
for sure, but would we rise triumphant?
Blush returning to your strawberries;
warm, curling vapor to my cup!
(New poem)
Prabhanjan K. Mishra is an award-winning Indian poet from India, besides being a story writer, translator, editor, and critic; a former president of Poetry Circle, Bombay (Mumbai), an association of Indo-English poets. He edited POIESIS, the literary magazine of this poets’ association for eight years. His poems have been widely published, his own works and translation from the works of other poets. He has published three books of his poems and his poems have appeared in twenty anthologies in India and abroad.
ULTRAMARINE KOHL (NILAANJANA)
Haraprasad Das
(Translation – Prabhanjan K. Mishra)
To come off my high horse,
courage was not enough,
rather, pretenses came handy.
When floating among clouds,
my image, resplendent
by the glow of the day,
fell into the water
scooped in your palms
to be offered to the sun;
and you fell in love with me.
I was not there
to share your tears of joy.
Believe me, in spite of
my best efforts, I could not come down
below my station to be with you.
Changes however
crept in surreptitiously
like the Bay of Bengal
changing colors quietly -
the meaning of love and pride
changing in my lexicon likewise.
Of late, I feel like being
your inseparable shadow,
unable to stay apart.
Wish, I smeared my timid love
by your eye-shores as ultramarine kohl,
color of the deep-blue sky.
Mr. Hara Prasad Das is one of the greatest poets in Odiya literature. He is also an essayist and columnist. Mr. Das, has twelve works of poetry, four of prose, three translations and one piece of fiction to his credit. He is a retired civil servant and has served various UN bodies as an expert.
He is a recipient of numerous awards and recognitions including Kalinga Literary Award (2017), Moortidevi Award(2013), Gangadhar Meher Award (2008), Kendra Sahitya Akademi Award (1999) and Sarala Award (2008)”
A HOT MAY AFTERNOON
Jayanta Mahapatra
Not a breath of air anywhere
Just my sinful shadow
Keeps craving for a kindred being.
Windows are shut tight
In houses everywhere.
And outside, farewell after farewell.
How can I break
This grating silence of the river’s
Burning sands inside of me?
When I muster
Enough courage
And reach for my lover’s breasts,
With a half smile
She hands me the First Book
Of an untouched life.
Leaf by leaf, in the remote stillness of the tree,
something hangs by a naked weariness.
A loose wind plays far out into the leaves.
What secret design had the day wedged into the dark?
All night something cries – a solitary cricket?
What sob does it press up in me: the ant-cry
I never heard when I dropped the ant
into the ant-lion’s devouring hole in the sand?
Childhood tears up my face and makes a hollow
in it full of fear. Years ago when I watched the trees
where koels flapped up, I thought I took
only what they brushed off on the trees.
Now I stand at the end of the world. Something
like night clutches with cold hands at my breast.
Tomorrow takes its time. When I would hear myself
dragging desperation like a little worm.
(Jayant Mahapatra, the internationally renowned poet, even at ninety-four writes nuanced poetry in his meditative and imagistic style. I got these two gems from his latest book ‘NOON’ and putting on this LV page with his permission.)
Trained as a physicist, Jayanta Mahapatra has read and published his poetry throughout the world. His work has been anthologized, among others, in The Vintage Book of Contemporary World Poetry (Random House, New York, USA.)
He lives in Cuttack, in India, where he edits the literary magazine Chandrabhaga.
Under the banyan tree in the street corner
few worn out scooter tyres and semi-wet sands
which once supported the earthen pots
filled with drinking water not long ago
now feel desolate and deserted.
The red flames on the Gulmohar trees
flanking the streets doused by the first showers
have lost their sheen to the verdant green.
Blue polythene covered sheds have mushroomed
along the rows of shops skirting the footpaths.
The summer has slipped away
and perhaps is hiding behind the clouds
and a farmer in his ramshackle hut
puts an aluminium pot below the dripping hole
on his thatched roof and scrapes
the dry mud off his overused plough.
Monsoon descends
and the clouds split open
the gutters running parallel
on both sides of
the narrow village gully
swell up in a spate and
bridge the gap
between them
to shake hands.
An endless ribbon of
muddy brown water
slithers on the road
like a huge serpent
after its prey
a faint and translucent sun
swims on its back lazily
a wanton wind whistling
through the coconut fronds.
Tiny dots of paper boats
appear from nowhere
riding the crests and troughs
of the gushing stream
dancing in tandem
to the rhythms of the ripples
wobbling aimlessly
with no compass nor chart
and no harbour to enter.
They set sail on their uncertain course
with no ropes nor even an anchor
and with no cargo in the holds
of their folds
but their transparent rigging
laden with laughter and cheer
and boundless glee
like the trinkets twinkling
on a Christmas tree.
The notebooks become
thinner and thinner
while some topple and capsize
and some continue to stay afloat
their keels becoming
wetter and heavier as they sail by.
An infinite joy abounds
in the air and
spirits soar high .
Dilip Mohapatra, a decorated Navy Veteran from Pune, India is a well acclaimed poet and author in contemporary English. His poems regularly appear in many literary journals and anthologies worldwide. He has six poetry collections, two non-fictions and a short story collection to his credit. He is a regular contributor to Literary Vibes. He has been awarded the prestigious Naji Naaman Literary Awards for 2020 for complete work. The society has also granted him the honorary title of 'Member of Maison Naaman pour la Culture'. His website may be accessed at dilipmohapatra.com.
(Translated by AnsumanPaikray)
Moment by moment
a gentle breeze
Carries with it
The fragrance of
Beautiful flowers
As the wind sleeps
in wilderness
Quietly in its own
it awakes in to a gale
Transforming into
a hurricane
As it creates havoc
on mother earth
Life is changing
with such twist and turns
It hinges on a
rope of trust .
Ms. Namita Paikaray from Bhubaneswar, Odisha is a bilingual poet and writer whose poems and short stories have also been translated into Hindi. She has two Collections of Poetry and three books of short stories to her credit. She is a wellknown literary personality of Odisha and has won eight distinguished Awards in a writing career spanning over more than sixteen years.
She’s handsome
In her tender age
Smarting pink skin
A petite face
Curly hair
Bright blue eyes
Leafy eyelashes
Voluptuous hips
Ripe bust
And the spring
Dimpled on her cheek
She’s like a fluffy flowering bush
In the forbidden garden
She came silently
And conquered
In a hilarious moment.
The world’s at her feet
She’s the princess
In exile now
Sitting cross legged
Pinging pebbles
At the shores
And singing a sweet song
She could hide
The troublesome days
Under her shoes.
She sat beside me
On the window sit
In the flight
And looked bewildered
At the mountains of clouds
Under the crimson sky
She imagined to dive into it
To collect the dolls
She liked most
But she’s the cutest doll
Ever I have seen
Her luscious fingers
Once touched mine
The sky dissolved slowly
On its own
Hardly it matters
Who chose whom
Surely a lavish afternoon
Waiting for us
Behind the curtains.
Mr. Pradeep Biswal is a bilingual poet writing both in Odia and English. His poems are widely anthologized. He is also an editor and translator of repute. A retired IAS Officer, Mr. Biswal presently holds the position of Member, Odisha Real Estate Regulatory Authority and stays with his family at Bhubaneswar. Views are Personal
As the night draws to an end
and the absent-minded camels look
eastward to the rising sun, you hang
the climax of your story on a cliff- hangar
and gingerly, leave on tip-toe while
the suspicious husband snores away.
Scheherazade, we are pale blue dots,
each one, in the space, waiting to be heard.
The stories dangle from the clothesline
to connect through the changing moods
of the weathers from the days of ancient summer.
Deep within, in a land of unknown travellers,
they gather by the fire-side for small gossips.
To run their fingers on the scaffolding of bones,
the latticework of our breathing, to locate
the rays of the sun leaping in to caves in the space.
Years grow like beards on hollow-cheeks, eyes speak
even as they turn opaque, tired veins drip red rivers.
A few burnt logs, dead embers on the river-bank
keep up the chatter with the wind.
Abani Udgata lives in Bhubaneswar. Writes poems both in English and Odia. Udgata has been awarded in all-India poetry competitions and published in anthologies. He has been a regular contributor to LV. Email: abaniudgata@gmail.com
EVERYWOMAN – (Part 14 of many such)
Your tone treading fragile,
Curlicued toes,
Careful not to hurt
Some unsuspecting ant.
Still wary, despite away
From the aftermath,
Emerging,
Surviving - yes!
But not unscathed.
And with a mighty heave,
Now slow-marching,
Fearful of stepping on shards.
Little glows within, flickering,
As in darting embers,
But not ablaze.
Yet.
Forward and on!
Those step will,
The surer
Unmindful
Of the jagged
The serrated.
That bruised knee, rendered soul
Will phoenix-like
Develop a sheeny hide
Over ticks and tocks
(Count them!)
For your good, others too.
For you know!
You can lead others
Through tempests, similar
And those whom you foresee,
Will be blasted…
And you do foresee!
With your words
Your voice
Your caring!
Rediviva!
In the process!
Getting there!
In your own time!
In search
Of your multi-hued self!
Jairam Seshadri is the author of MANTRA YOGA ( 2021 Rupa Publications) WOOF SONGS & THE ETERNAL SELF-SABOTEUR (2019 Partridge) and JESUS SAHASRANAM - THE 1,008 NAMES OF JESUS CHRIST (2018 Authorspress). He is a CPA with an MBA from the US and has worked in the U.S, Canada and England for over 30 years before returning to India to take care of his father.
He founded the India Poetry Circle (IPC)) six years ago, which has seven anthologies to the group’s credit, in addition to two more in the pipeline to be published this year. IPC, through its offshoot, IPC PLAYERS, has also produced and staged several skits, as part of its ‘POETRAMA’© series, including a production of Shakespeare’s MACBETH online. Shakespeare’s KING LEAR will be staged online this Christmas 2022.
Jairam lives in Chennai and can be reached at 9884445498 or jairamseshadri@hotmail.com.
You came galloping !
At this odd hour
Hurried like a hurricane
houffer over hot wheels
Is it that urgent ?
The buds yet to bloom
and whither
The dazzling of the
glistening sun
yet to dim.
And the cooly kept desires !
Shimmering like fire
yet to settle.
You came most
Unexpected !
Unwelcomed !
Unnoticed ! why ?
At this herald hour.
Could have signalled
At least once
In the footnotes of
the crecent moon !
You astonished me !
At this odd hour
Just have a glance
The glacier melting
But you hurried
Before the river could
nurture the greens
Distant traveller!
Do you know your destination!!
Rivers mountain creeks and ocean
Miles and miles to explore
Until your instincts say no
Who could
Fathom the secrets of nature's vastness
And the muse of sky sea and snow
Thousands of hurdles you cross and
Miles of deserts you pass
Halt a while and becon
Think a while how much you've seen!
Nature changing its robe
Season by season
Shadows of sky on
Valleys and mountain
The magnificent vasts of nature
Seen and unseen
An ever lasting secret
to probe and explain
Your legs bruise your body may pain and time a life span
Nature's wonders always remain
Seen and unseen.
Professor Dr Bidyutprabha Gantayat is a well known and acclaimed writer, poet and translator of odia literature. She belongs to Odisha, lives in Bhubaneswar. A retired professor in chemistry by profesion. She writes in Odia, Hindi and English and translates to and fro in four languages namely Odia Hindi English and Bengali.
She also pens childrens literature. She has published 18 books on all the above category of literature to her credit. Among her significant literary work the translation of Gyanpeeth awardee Mohadevi Verna's poems, short stories and essays form Hindi to Odia and published books. Since 2014 she regularly publishes The Japanese format of English poetry ( haiku poetry ) in different poetry groups of social media worldwide. Published and earned accolades.
She has also been honoured and felicitated by different litrary organizations of the state.
Children must be taught
To conform, I thought.
So I bent, l took their hand
To lead them to understand
My point of view.
But, pulled by their tiny hands
I glimpsed magical lands.
Like Alice through the keyhole
An astronaut through a wormhole,
I felt myself enhanced
By new thoughts that pranced
Through my mind.
I wandered, all entranced
Sipping Nectar from ixora flowers,
Pearly dewdrops in leafy bowers,
Spider webs and birds' nests and anthills
Were microcosms of romance and thrills
Should I then lead them to routine,to stagnation?
Or let them unlock my imagination?
Who is to learn, who is to teach
When we all are here to reach
Out to our new tomorrow?
Gita Bharath has enjoyed five years of teaching middle school before starting on a banking career that lasted thirty four years. Now, happily retired, she focusses on writing and trying out kolam art. Her first book Svara contains three hundred poems, comprising narrative, humour,and philosophical verses. Her work has featured in international anthologies, and won prizes from Literoma, Asian Literary Society, Story Mirror, etc,
(Photo Courtesy: N. Ravi)
Enticingly, the dainty beauties
sway to the delicate kiss and caress
from the winged visitors
For the brisk morning hiker,
extra intensity, not from
the dazzling sun
but from these stunners!
Spreading cheerfulness,
generating assured calm
to the rushed office goer, the tree-hugger
and the lone walker alike
Endless rows of lavender-flower shrubs
on the sidewalk – yours, to enjoy
not overlook.
(Pic: From Calvin and Hobbes comics)
'A what?' Mom shrieked.
'You've been watching too many shows
And imagining more...'
'Mom, you will ne'er understand!
Its just that Hobbes was mad at me?'
'It's you, who's gone insane, talking gibberish....And tiger cannot be your best friend! They're content in the Indian jungles..'
'Oh, Mom,ne'er mind. 'He's mad at me cos'
I refused to give him the special candy...
The one you've kept for my birthday...
'Ferocious tigers live in jungles!
And now, go back to sleep...'
'Buddy, won't you speak out?'
Note: Parents, how often do we thwart the child's fantasy and imagination...
Hema Ravi is a poet, author, reviewer, editor (Efflorescence), independent researcher and resource person for language development courses... Her writings have been featured in several online and international print journals, notable among them being Metverse Muse, Amaravati Poetic Prism, International Writers Journal (USA), Culture and Quest (ISISAR), Setu Bilingual, INNSAEI journal and Science Shore Magazine. Her write ups and poems have won prizes in competitions.
She is the recipient of the Distinguished Writer International Award for excellence in Literature for securing the ninth place in the 7th Bharat Award, conducted by www.poesisonline.com. In addition, she has been awarded a ‘Certificate of Appreciation’ for her literary contributions by the Gujarat Sahitya Academy and Motivational Strips on the occasion of the 74th Independence Day (2020) and again. conferred with the ‘Order of Shakespeare Medal’ for her writing merit conforming to global standards.(2021). She is the recipient of cash prizes from the Pratilipi group, having secured the fourth place in the Radio Romeo Contest (2021), the sixth place in the Retelling of Fairy Tales (2021), the first prize in the Word Cloud competition (2020) and in the Children’s Day Special Contest (2020). She scripted, edited, and presented radio lessons on the Kalpakkam Community Radio titled 'Everyday English with Hema,' (2020) a series of lessons for learners to hone their language skills. Science Shore Magazine has been featuring her visual audios titled ‘English Errors of Indian Students.’
A brief stint in the Central Government, then as a teacher of English and Hindi for over two decades, Hema Ravi is currently freelancer for IELTS and Communicative English. With students ranging from 4 to 70, Hema is at ease with any age group, pursues her career and passion with great ease and comfort. As the Secretary of the Chennai Poets’ Circle, Chennai, she empowers the young and the not so young to unleash their creative potential efficiently.
(Prompt: The Poetry Society)
Why did you often say
This too shall pass, while
I trudge each day, tears quivering
Dragged by pain, and fear…
Challenges suffocate, am in a dark room
With no windows
You said “Accept. That’s life.”
Salt sprinkled generously on my wound…
Why can’t you pull me closer
Hug, and allow me to cry
Listen to my heartbeats, understand my aches
Offer a cup of tea, and your shoulder
I shall sip warmth, feel at home
While you reassure, my pain isn’t an exaggeration
You understand, my wings are hurt, too tired
We shall cross this together, am not alone…
A bilingual poet-writer(Tamil, English), Madhumathi. H is an ardent lover of Nature, Poetry, Photography, Music. Her poems are published in Anthologies of The Poetry Society(India), CPC- Chennai Poetry Circle's EFFLORESCENCE, IPC's(India Poetry Circle) Madras Hues Myriad Views, Amaravati Poetic Prism 2015, and in e-zines UGC approved Muse India, IWJ - International Writers Journal, Positive Vibes - LiteraryVibes, Storizen, Science Shore, OPA – Our Poetry Archives. e-Anthologies Monsoon moods - Muse India, Green Awakenings - On Environment, by Kavya-Adisakrit.
Ignite Poetry, Breathe Poetry, Dream Poetry, Soul shores that have 10 of her poems published, Soul Serenade, Shades of Love-AIFEST, Arising from the dust, Painting Dreams, Shards of unsung Poesies, are some of the Anthologies her poems, and write ups are part of. (2020 to 2022). Besides Poetry, Madhumathi writes on Mental health, to create awareness, break the stigma, believing in the therapeutic, transformational power of words. Contact: madhumathi.poetry@gmail.com :: Blogs: https://madhumathipoetry.wordpress.com :: http://madhumathikavidhaigal.blogspot.com/?m=1
I want to spend a day,
When I am only myself.
Liberated from the position of
A daughter-in-law, a wife and a mother.
I crave to be free from all the responsibilities, duties, errands and tasks.
A day where I am left with
My hopes, my desires and my dream.
Where I commence my morning with a cup of tea served to me with a broad smile.
Then flutter like a bird and unleash my imagination
Dance, sing, run and play
Without thinking of another day
Alas!! I can’t do that
Because you are a Housewife
Every evening when I return from office,
Tired, exhausted, dead beat and fatigued.
You serve me a cup of tea that acts as refreshment,
I feel energised, calm and at home.
You get up early in the morning,
And make breakfast for all of us.
Your smiling face marks
A good beginning of the day.
You are always multi-tasking,
Managing all the household chores.
Upgrading yourself with the changing trend ,
Still taking time out to meet your friends.
Everything is systematic and organised,
You have converted this house into a paradise.
Your energy level comes as a surprise,
It’s probably because you are a housewife.
She didn’t look as stern as steel.
Moving around whirring like a wheel
Thousand things she would simultaneously do
Multitasking was always in her list to do
She never behaved like the ruler of the sky
Other birds felt she has forgotten to fly.
Started pecking the low breeds
Disturbing her in between through their feeds
Finding her innocent and ignorant of their plot
They pushed her harder thinking it would be difficult for her to trot
Only if they knew they were themselves too feeble
To deal with someone who was no ordinary bird but eagle.
Amazed were they at her effortless flight
“I am not born to waste time in petty fight,”
Said she rising in air currents barely giving a hint.
She was fully aware of all their foul stunt
Delicate she looked but was not fragile
Shocked were the low-breeds wondering, how come she was agile,
Full of vigour , undisturbed by the turmoil?
The Impish Eagle knew she was born to soar higher.
As her heart was filled with a very strong desire.
To take a flight to a higher realm
Reaching the region, the low breeds never dreamt.
An award-winning author, poet, short-story writer, social worker, novelist, educator and a publisher, are some of the words which describe Ms. Meena Mishra to whom The Impish Lass Publishing House owes its existence. Her poems, stories, and book-reviews have been published in many international journals and she is a recipient of several prestigious awards as well. Besides being an active member of Mumbai English Educators’ Team, in accordance to the request of the Education Department of Maharashtra she is also a part of The Review Committee for their new English text book. She has been working as the II International Coordinator for British Council activities for more than 11 years.
Meena Mishra has judged several illustrious and popular literary competitions and festivals notably the Lit fest. of IIT Bombay and the NM college fest., of which she is one of the sponsors now. She is also a regular panelist for various literary and educational platforms like the Asian Literary Society. Her poems are published in several magazines including the prestigious periodical Woman’s Era. They have been translated and published in Spanish magazines as well. She has been a contributing author and poet for more than 200 books. Her books include The Impish Lass, Emociones Infinitas, Within the Cocoon of Love and The Impish Lass Book 2. Her latest book – The Impish Lass Book 2 (TIL Stories and More) has received rave reviews from its readers including the highly distinguished Indian nuclear scientist Padma Vibhushan Dr. R. Chidambaram. It has achieved a remarkable five-star rating on Amazon. Ms. Mishra has received high acclaim from esteemed newspapers like The Times of India and Mid-Day. Her articles have been featured in The Times of India ‘NIE’ and in ‘Brainfeed Higher Education Plus’ a leading educational magazine of the country.
She has been a guest speaker on ‘Sony TV’ for their first episode of ‘Zindagi Ke Crossroads,’ based on the needs of differently abled children. She was invited to express her views on the special episode of ‘AajTak’ featuring the PMC Bank scam victims. Ms. Meena Mishra is the proud recipient of multitudinous awards in 2020-21 for her contribution to the field of education and literature. Some of them are the ‘Vishwa Shikshavid Samman 2020,’ Appreciation Certificate for Support Covid-19 challenges in education by Government of Maharashtra, ‘Regional Academic Authority Mumbai,’ ‘Pathbreaker of the Year Award,’ by Harper Collins, ‘Acharya Chanakya Shikshavid Samman 2020,’ for valuable contribution to empower the society, ‘Nation Builder Award,’ Super 30 Teacher nomination by IB Hub, ‘Most Outstanding Teacher of the Year’ award during World Education Summit in February 2021. She is the winner of the ‘Womennovator Award’ as well as ‘1000 Women of Asia Award,’ given in association with the Indian Ministry of Electronics and Information technology. She has been nominated for the ‘2021 ELTons Outstanding Achievement Award,’ by the British Council. Ms. Mishra is currently a member of the Maharashtra Women’s Indian Chamber of Commerce and Industry (Special Needs). Her poem ‘Smile a Lot’ has been chosen as an unseen poem for the LL student’s workbook by State Council of Educational Research & Training (SCERT), Maharashtra. ‘The Impish Lass’ SSC EDU Warriors,’ is her latest initiative for improving the standard of English in SSC schools across Maharashtra. Her book “The Impish Lass -Book 2,” was published as a research paper in American Research Journal of English and Literature under the title- Meena Mishra’s The Impish Lass Book 2 – A Study of Socio- Cultural Issues in India.
WHEN YOUR LOVE DIES....IN MEMORIAM
You were once feted for scholarship,
exasperating wit at debates,
and your endearing smiles!
Life threw a boomerang.
Joy was disrupted by needs,
always Theirs, not yours.
The albatross singed your neck;
your steps faltered, as you toiled hard
for their demands,
yet the icy rejection
of one you had nurtured,
broke your heart.
You waited not for Godot....
The duplicitous Crab
fed upon your sorrow,
and you died a Sudden Death.
Yet YOU live on.....
in memories.... across the globe,
your selfless kindness, oft retold.
True Love never Dies
and Kindness shines forever.
(Breathe deeply, exhale... as Life has so much more to embrace than memories of betrayal, even by family and friends. The word conjures up mixed emotions as you grow older. True love never dies! ) #poem #catharsis #love #wellness
Jayshree Misra Tripathi calls herself an 'arranger of words' and includes her maiden surname in her writing, as the eldest of five daughters. She lived a nomadic lifestyle from the mid-1980’s till 2015, an Indian Foreign Service spouse and wrote periodically, from across three continents. Jayshree followed up her Master’s Degree in English from Delhi University (1978), with a Post Graduate Diploma in Human Rights Law, from the National Law School of India University, Bengaluru ( distance education programme) in 2001. She has also taught English Language and Literature, been an examiner in English, for the International Baccalaureate Organisation Diploma and was their trained Consultant.
Jayshree's books include The Sorrow of Unanswered Questions, Trips and Trials: A Selection of Poems and Songs, Tales in Verse for Children Everywhere, Uncertain Times, written during the pandemic, and What Not Words, short stories on journeys through diverse cultures. Folk tales from her home state of Odisha are in Amar Chitra Katha. Her poems have been published in the Journal of the Poetry Society of India, online The Punch Magazine, Muse India, Huffington Post (now archived) and News18. Jayshree resides in Delhi, India and Bhubaneswar.
Sometimes it’s very great to think
About the great wanderers on earth,
Walking within the time’s traffic,
Who become themselves- the preferred paths!
It’s nothing but their deeds’ decor,
That knit their names on shimmering star,
And, the world’s to wink with warm wonder
And applause hour after hour!
Anjali Sahoo writes poems both in English and Odia. Her first poetry book A Tryst with Thunder (2021), published by Authors Press, New Delhi, sheds light upon manifold aspects of life. They take the readers to the world of imaginative vibrancy, unearthing hidden mysteries of the world. Her published works include three poetry books and two short stories collections in Odia.
Today my yard celebrates a ceremony,
A grand ceremony,
Princesses with colourful designed dresses appeared in my yard.
Oh!Don't disturb them! Leave them as they're.
Don't chatter.
Don't be louder.
They may fly somewhere.
Listen their sound.
Their fly is very loud -
I am free
I am born free
I have a mighty will
To flow with the scented air
To choose my flower
To sit,to admire
The creation,the nature.
My wings are never tired to find their best flower.
I sit here, I sit there.
I find my lovely attire.
I am flying with my desire.
That's why
I am colourful, I am brighter.
That's why,
That's why,
That's why
I am colourful, I am brighter.
Tandra Mishra is a poet from Raiganj,West Bengal, eastern part of India. She is an honours graduate and post graduate in English. She has been writing poems since her childhood. Many of her poems have been published in online websites, print magazines and anthologies. Some of her famous works are "Oh Lady!", "I, A Female Foetus", "A Heavenly Gift", "No More War, Please" etc.
She is a published author. Her first poetry book's title is 'Oh Father!'. She is a member of World Nations Writers' Union. She has received an award from FUREC, which was launched by our former President Dr. APJ Abdul Kalam. She writes on social issues, specially about women's empowerment. Her ironical and satirical works advocate peace and corruption free society.
It's been ages
since I last wrote of spring
making love with every ounce of me
may be it's been ages
since I've last felt that
We all are afraid
of being something
less than a memory
that becomes
the tool of one's survival
Delusion- A pair of pretty eyes
waiting for you
at the end of the horizon
promising you an eternity
Love never comes easy
it has either been caressed
or betrayed
by the last soul
it has touched
We measure life in age(s)
or years
When all life is
nothing but
a paradox of hope and shatter
We meeting our soulmates
is the light
at the end of the tunnel
and we loosing them
is that light being
of the train that hits you hard
You find yourself in disguise
cascading down
your memory lane
Witnessing the last lie
they've told you
A gust of autumn wind touches
the corners of your impious wound
that you've left untouched
since last five summers
And reminds you
Of that mahogany sky
And its continuous roar
I see
sorcery and serenity
lying together in a place
laughing over a grave
named after love and symphony
Arpita Priyadarsini, a Post Graduate of Department of Statistics in Utkal University, has keen interest in literature. She loves reading fiction and poetry. She started writing poems few years back and has been published by an international publication house twice. Her Instagram handle is @elly__.writes, which is solely dedicated to her love for poetry.
(Pen drawing by Seetha Sethuraman)
Time becomes short when you are having fun,
Time becomes long when you are stuck in the mundane.
Time becomes a struggle when you are grappling with difficulty,
Time becomes peaceful when you are enveloped in caring arms.
Time becomes ugly when you are having a bitter spat,
Time becomes beautiful when you are lost in someone's eyes.
Time becomes ordinary when you are caught in your routines,
Time becomes marvellous when you are discovering something new.
Time becomes dreary when you are feeling lethargic,
Time becomes a joy when you are feeling happy from within.
Time becomes fragile when your mind-body are weak,
Time becomes robust when you make them strong.
So, ride along the multiple phases of time that beckon,
And, in your stride, take the highs as well as the lows, with abandon.
Being calm is empowering...
It gives you presence of mind,
And helps you become one of the kind.
Being calm is disciplining...
It warrants work night and day,
And keeps you ahead all the way.
Being calm is exhilarating...
It fills your heart with joy,
And keeps you elated and how, Oh boy.
Being calm is liberating...
It gives you wings to fly,
And allows to soar high above in the sky.
Practice the art of being calm in every breath,
And experience "being in the flow" without any sweat.
Seethaa Sethuraman has had a creative orientation right from her school days – dabbling in writing,drawing and painting as well as learning Indian dance forms and Carnatic music. Thereafter, the usual suspect in professional education and corporate pursuits assumed centre stage (B.Pharm, MBA by education and a Health market researcher by profession); till the pandemic strongly nudged her to delve back into her creative side; alongside her continuing corporate endeavours. While formally learning Bharatanatyam had already begun since mid-2018; writing poems and drawing-painting turned somewhat prolific since the last 2 years.
As per seethaa, she writes/ draws-paints when the calling within her turns so strong at that moment; that it just cannot be brushed aside till it has been acted upon. So far, she has been doing them for her own self without giving much thought about publishing them. Coming across the Literary vibes platform has, however, enthused her to share this creative happiness with the outer world. Through this process, she also looks forward to receiving feedback/ comments that will encourage her to keep creative expressing; always.
The devotees begin to fold
their hands
Thousands of sighs
Curl into billions seas of tears
When you come out of your sanctum
Swinging into your cart.
Your wheels churning memories
of my innumerable births
My acts of transgressions
My frailties
Turn into mountains of sins
The repertoire of your raw grace.
Look, how I burn as fireflies
on the graveyard of my desires
the burden of which I carry
lifelong at every step
of my being.
I do not know how I should dance
to the rhythm of your dark will
hiding through the smokes
of my seared age
my outmoded being.
Yet, will you please grace
the scorpion like me
to sting your formless hands and feet
at every turn
of your gracelessness?
Dr. Bhagaban Jayasingh, an eminent bilingual writer, has published 9 collections of poetry in Odia and 8 in English and English translation. Black Eagle Books has brought out The Dapples of Darkness, a collection of his poetry and Footprints of Fire, a translation of seventy-four contemporary Odia poets. Dr Jayasingh has also published Door to Despair, a critical work on modernism in Odia poetry. He edited an anthology titled 7950 Parabarti Odia Poetry for Sahitya Akademi. Sahitya Akademi has also published Sitakant Mahapatra: A Reader in 2021, selected and edited by him.
Dr Jayasingh has received a flurry of literary awards, including Vishub "Jhankar", Bhanuiji Rao Kavita Puraskar, besides Utkal Sahitya Samaj Samman and Odisha Sahitya Akademi award for his book Ferranti Ghar in 2016.
For the last few years
I've been floating …
I've been floating for the last
few years.
Floating in the milky way …
The earth looks tiny from here sometimes.
Sometimes it’s invisible.
Grandiose chatter is absent.
Roaring looks are past.
Nukes don’t threaten me.
Layers & lust, chairs & decor
have vanished.
Also, light & sound; calculations; id
& flexing bones.
Let me stay afloat for
Sometimes more.
Sometime, ephemeral
moments are precious …
Soon to be lost in daily sojourn.
Aneek Chatterjee is a poet and academic from Kolkata, India. He has published more than five hundred poems in reputed literary magazines and poetry anthologies across the globe. He authored 16 books including four poetry collections titled, “Seaside Myopia” (Cyberwit, 2018), “Unborn Poems and Yellow Prison” (Cyberwit, 2019), “Of Ashes and Persiflage” (Hawakal, 2020) and “Archive Avenue” (Cyberwit, 2022). He also co-edited the “Poetry Conclave Year Book 2022” (Authors Press). Dr. Chatterjee received the prestigious “Alfredo Pasilono Memorial Panorama International Literary Award 2023”, conferred by the Writers Capital Foundation. He was a Fulbright Visiting faculty at the University of Virginia, USA and a recipient of the ICCR Chair (Govt. of India) to teach abroad. His poetry has been archived at Yale University. He can be reached at: akchatjee@gmail.com
Source : Pinterest
The election results are out.
It's not what most people voted for.
But it's okay! Maybe that's what many want.
Fuel prices are rising.
Grocery is getting costlier by the day.
My salary is somehow decreasing.
Taxes are somehow increasing.
But it's okay! That's how it has always been.
Global warming is on the rise.
Some roads are melting, some people are dying.
Ocean life is already dead.
But it's okay!
Darwin said, we evolve, this time also, we all will.
Religion is again the hot debate.
Some movies hurt some people.
Some statements were meant to hurt a few others.
There will be riots soon. There will be curfews.
Some people will "get martyred" soon.
But it's okay!
People die for useless reasons every other day.
It's really okay!
Why raise voice, why really talk, why really do something,
Unless the victim is you.
But then again, if the victim is really you,
The world will turn up the volume
To watch some "new drama" cooked up by the news channel.
No one will really believe you.
So, it's okay!
Live it out, even though it hurts a bit.
Isha Bharadwaj is a poet akin to English literature. For her, poetry is all but a form of emotion that renders the voice of society. True to her thoughts, her poems speak for themselves, impelling the world to be a better place.
Many of her originals have been published in various national and international magazines. For her love for Odia Literature and with an aim to present its richness to the world, she has penned down Sandcastle, a translated collection of poems, from Odia to English. Another collection of her original poems is soon aiming to hit the stands. You can reach out to her at ishabharadwaj08@gmail.com.
Nero...!
Are you still sleeping.... ?
In thy comfy bed of fire...!
Nero...?
Are you still listening or singing?
That music of debris and tears?
Nero...?
Don't you feel?
That heavy bed of flames!
While burning all knowledge in France..
Nero...?
Are you still sleeping.... ?
Under the burning roof
Seeing all deaths and debris heaped up aloof...
Nero...?
Wake up... !
Wake up Nero...!
Wake up....!
From thy timeless sleep...!
Nalanda and Takshashila burning in grief
Copyright reserved ®©
Ratan ghosh
05/07/2023
My Father"
Baba!
I can still read the tears
Engraved still in the dancing flames of thy pyre
I can still read the tears
Baba!
I see...!
The silent tears of your pains
Still walking for years in stress and strains
Like today's Himalayan rains
Baba l!
I often see
How you fell like a rootless tree?
Weeping for years in a full of poverty
Baba...!
I often walk by thy last bed
The bed I saw you silently met
That breathless bed
Where you were laid
Only to burning my innocent fate!
Baba!
I see your broken bones
Still burning and weeping for years alone
In a hungry home
Engraved for decades in pebbles and stones
Baba..!
I feel...!
You are still breathing in this river bed
To tell me a bundle of untold tales
A bundle of untold tales!
Never said...
A bundle of untold tales!
Dr. Ratan Ghosh, PhD, Associate Editor of an International Literary Journal entitled “THE MIRROR OF TIME” ISSN-2320-012X, free lance writer, poet, Short Story writer and a Novelist. His poems have been featured in many national and international E- journals, Journals and paper back anthologies across the globe. He has authored the books like--- MY LOVE, an Anthology of love poems, THE WEEPING SOUL: POEMS BY Ratan Ghosh, a book of Hundred poems on Eco-poetry, FOOTPRINTS: VOICES OF REFUGEES, poems by Ratan Ghosh, a Historical anthology of verse, QUOTABLE QUOTES a book on motivational Quotes and a short story book entitled BRA AND OTHER TALES published from Canada.
His edited books are GENDER DISPARITY, NOSTALGIA, CASCADE, SUNUP and THE CONTEMPORARY WORLD ENGLISH POETRY.
- He has been declared as the WORLD YOUTH ICON OF LITERATURE, from THE NATIONAL ACADEMY OF ARTS AND CULTURE, India affiliated to THE WORLD ACADEMY OF LITERATURE, HISTORY, ARTS AND CULTURE, MEXICO on 15-11- 2019.
- He received prestigious award International Award of Excellence "City of Galateo-Antonio De Ferrariis" from Italy, 2021 The Award Ceremony, in the presence of political, cultural and entertainment authorities, took place in Rome on October 14, 2021, at the Primaticcio Room in Dante Alighieri Society.
- He has also received “MEWADEV LAUREL AWARD” in 2019 from CONTEMPORARY LITERARY SOCIETY OF ALMOR: BANDA (U.P, INDIA) and YOUNG INDOLOGY AWARD, 2020 from INDOLOGY, an international Literary Journal,
- LAUREL DE POET, (Ref. No- C&C/II/127054) he was awarded from EVERYCHILD LIFELINE FOUNDATION on 23rd day of April, 2021
- ORDER OF SHAKESPEARE MEDAL (Ref. No-2021/00S/170 awarded from Motivational Strips, World’s most Active Writers Forum, on 23/04/2021.
- He was awarded RABINDRANATH TAGORE MEMORIAL AWARD jointly endorsed by SIPAY, an International Literary Journal and REVUE LITTERAIRE SEYCHELLOISE: DEPARTMENT OF CULTURE, GOVERNMENT OF SEYCHELLES.
I reached the door again,
The green wooden faded door
after a long time, suspiciously
I could hear no sound
Or see folks around me
Hmm! Will I get to see him today?
I knocked at the door repeatedly
And waited for the sound of his foot steps
I recalled my meeting four years ago
During the moonlit night, at the beach
When we discussed the worldly topics,
And defined love and the purpose of life!
Ah! A haunting sweet memory!
Today, I stood at the lucky door
I banged the rusty chain thrice
Expecting his pleasant presence
In a moment, he stood in front of me
Shaking my hands with a lovely smile!
The clanging bell of the iron chain
Made me hopeful again and again
The unique person
Whom I was longing to meet,
Opened the door of opportunity
Lifting my spirits of enthusiasm!
Mrs. Setaluri Padmavathi, a postgraduate in English Literature with a B.Ed., has been in the field of education for more than three decades. Writing has always been her passion that translates itself into poems of different genres, short stories and articles on a variety of themes and topics. She is a bilingual poet and writes poems in Telugu and English. Her poems were published in many international anthologies and can be read on her blogsetaluripadma.wordpress.com. Padmavathi’s poems and other writings regularly appear on Muse India.com. Boloji.com, Science Shore, Setu, InnerChild Press Anthologies and Poemhunter.com
It was destiny or oblivion that,
I stood in front of him
As if I was awestruck
the beauty those eyes beheld,
as if it was sweeping me off my feet,
Year after year,
I was sinking in that friendly smile,
as an age old wine
our HISTORIES were intertwined
Initially the love in the air
was like a wild child,
so wanted to touch
feel every corner, every line
Possessing, passionate and
enduring at the same time,
The kinds that will linger on the soul
even after you left it behind,
Gradually we understood each other
started to pause as we smother,
No promises were made to keep,
yet so strong like the AUGUSTINES stones keeping together,
I swayed on his TUNES
as if he was the part of my universe
DRENCHED I was walking on the
wet crazy trails of his palms
Sometimes like a small girl and
sometimes cheering like a mother
He stood there still
as I came and go,
majestic, robust unapologetic
for making me so miserable
Yet longing for more as I grow
From a distance
he saw that I was drowning,
he tried to sooth my heart
with all its kindness.
Slowly and gradually
our love was safehouse
where we both stayed STILL,
immersed in each other
leading our own lives
Our worlds may be different
but our breaths collide
whenever we are together,
we breathe each other alive
No matter where, how, when
in each other's arms we close our eyes
As they say eye contact is lethal,
it builds stories on the old CASTLES
of his heart,
as the eye goes deeper he can see the depth of river GANGA in my eyes
If he is the analogy of YEATS,
I am also a story
right out of the TAGORE'S cries
They call me INDIA and he is IRELAND
but we love, breathe and exist
under the one same old blue sky.
Nisha Luthra is a Film and Theatre Director, Poet and Playwright. She is the Founder and Director of The Narrators Performing Arts Society, India. She is also the Head, India of the Leinster School of Music and Drama, Ireland. She is also known for her book, Uns which is a collection of her Hindi poems with varied themes like, love, human relations, art and artists. The book is being translated into multiple languages and will be available soon for the readers.
I was stuck in the message
“Work is worship!”
Like a goat in the peg.
My father and teachers told me
When I was young and impressionable,
I believed the credo and made it my mantra!!!
Now my CEO demands eighteen hours of my day
For he pays me well to eat healthy and stay fit!!!
But what about my family, my relations?
If there’s no time for a good sleep
Or for my exercise regimen,
No time for a stroll with my wife
Or no time to explore the new vistas with my kids
Or play cricket and football with my friends
How can I be happy?
I will be a super-hard worker, no issue
But what about my hobbies
My joys, my holiday plans?
I propose to do moonlighting
Instead of quietly quitting this job….
Enough of damn hard work and worshiping
Now I need to shut down or
Throw my laptop away and flee!!!!
But how can I do this?
What about my responsibilities , as a husband , a father
What would happen to my family without my salary?
So I have planned a quiet work plan
In place of quitting work!
Sitting beside my laptop
I will read the books I love
Watch the videos and movies I adore
I will create new paintings
I will chat with friends about school life
I will do all these while working
Not quietly quitting my job
But quietly moonlighting,
For I am neither a tethered goat
Nor a bridled horse!!!
I am me, myself, a free human being
Though I may appear to be in chains,
I am free to seek my path
To my happiness, my salvation!!!
Don’t you think I have the right
To moonlighting before going to the moon?
I know you are emotional
Anger, despair, fear rule your star
But is there a need to
Turn yourself into a ball of rage?
Emotions pendulum
Between love and hate, hope and despair,
Confidence and embarrassment
But can we not moderate the intensity
And the effects of emotions felt?
You know, love is not just an emotion
It’s the core of all our being
The immensity of our energy
In working, achieving and living
Comes from only love!!
Happiness is obtaining love
Sorrow from a feeling or fear of losing it
But anger and rage?
Anger is a surge of energy
The working of a hermone
We know, it’s a defence tactic
To retaliate for being debunked or threatened
But I choose the golden mean
To remain silent and introspect
Refocus from self love to self awareness
For me love brings sharing and caring
For you narcissism and possessiveness
For me love is compassion, tolerance and forgiveness
Understanding and accepting others as they are
Not as I would like them to be !!!
Can we not motivate ourselves
To channelise our love
To motivate, inspire and improve
Rather than deride, hate and demand?
I have learnt an immunity to
All destructive debunking, toxic browbeating
To create healthy and healing emotions
By staying silent or balancing
Even camouflaging or dissimilating
So have I achieved a cure for your hysteria?
Don’t know about you, but I’m sure
I have achieved the golden mean
By balancing on the tottering emotional bridge!!!
Should we mourn the loss
Or feel soothed and celebrate
Praying to keep the soul in peace at last
After her long struggle with pain?
Condolences and mourning
Are over after the twelve days of obsequies
Or should it continue every day
With her memory haunting us in every action?
Asked me my child,
“Why are you crying Mom
If you say her soul is in heaven?
She is released from all pain?”
How can I explain the pain
In the absence of someone
Who was so attached to us
In every action, in every memory?
For she was always there for us
When alive, she spent every moment of her
Life taking care of our needs, physical or mental
Suffering all humiliation, grouse, grudge or illness!!!
No, she wasn’t a wizard, nor a CEO
Controlling our lives
But she was there invisibly
Supporting and cheering
Every victory of ours
Be it in education or career
In domestic life or profession!!!
A champion of womanhood she was
Celebrating our success as women, wives and mothers,
She genuinely believed in our merit and worth
For sensitive she was to our individual personalities
She helped us evolve in our own unique way!!!
We were at the core of her being
Her love never overwhelmed or pressured
Quiet and strong as a pillar , she stood behind us
And helped us grow like the sapling in sunshine
Blossom like the flower , smiling at the benign sky
And dancing with the breeze,
Kissing the bee and butterfly to scatter our pollens!!!
It’s time to stop mourning for her
To remember her with love and positivity
For she is at rest finally, after her battle with pain
Let us celebrate her memories, her love and sacrifice
That will be the best way to pray for her soul
And soothe the deep pain of losing her blessings!!!
Dr. Sumitra Mishra is a Retired Professor of English and a bilingual writer who writes in English and her mother tongue Odia.To her credit she has published six books of poetry titled PENELOPE'S WEB, FLAMES OF SILENCE, THE SOUL OF FIRE, STILL THE STONES SING, THE RED MOON, ROSES AND BRUISES, and a short story titled REMENISCENCE.
Dr. Mishra has also written poetry, short stories, plays and translation books in her mother tongue. Her poems and stories have been published in many reputed magazines and e-zines in both Odia and English.
She is editing a women's magazine in Odia titled SMRUTI SANTWONA. She is a life member of Odisha Lekhika Sansad. She is an avid blogger and her blog is www.Smiling Sumitra.com, where she posts videos of her English and Odia poetry as well as short stories and chants.
It has been years since we parted ways,
Still, I miss you
Knowingly I drench my dry soul
Thy memory is like a balm that heals
I lie with a wounded heart
Nay, I don't want to be released from the trap
Like an intricate maze, it tangles my mind
The old year has gone by handing an invitation
The fresh year is here to embrace you all
But I am with you as you clearly know
Nothing can alter my situation
To feel a fresh scar, every day I stab thy memory
By digging the withered diaries
I ignite my lifeless body
But in vain!
So profusely, that injury bleeds like a mystery
And my wretched soul craves to bask in that glory
The saga of our failed story will fuel my tomorrow
Deep inside my heart, I only adore thee that you know!!!
Too hard for thee to decipher the phrases my soul
Never, you can know my longings, after all
How much I yearn to be with thee
Like the brook craves to meet the infinite sea!
Every time I burn with the same feelings
Like an unruly insect wishes to immerse in flame
It ignites my warm heart to carry the same essence
Already it has been arrested by your glaring eyes
I know nobody will decode my terms
You'll get the vibes of an unknown rising
Every time it surges like wild storms
One day you can hear the echoes of my unwritten lyrics
Sudipta Mishra is a multi-faceted artist and dancer excelling in various fields of art and culture. She has co-authored more than a hundred books. Her book, 'The Essence of Life', is credited with Amazon's bestseller. Her next creation, 'The Songs of My Heart' is scaling newer heights of glory. Her poems are a beautiful amalgamation of imagery and metaphors. She has garnered numerous accolades from international organizations like the famous Rabindranath Tagore Memorial, Mahadevi Verma Sahitya Siromani Award, an Honorary Doctorate, and so on. She regularly pens articles in newspapers as a strong female voice against gender discrimination, global warming, domestic violence against women, pandemics, and the ongoing war. She is pursuing a Ph.D. degree in English. Her fourth book, Everything I Never Told You is a collection of a hundred soulful poems. Currently, she is residing in Puri.
All hopes dashed and crushed?
Like crumbs?
Turning in turns while in thoughts?
And all you see is dark,black,blank?
Hey dear, take a chill pill
Despite the darkness
The light returns.
Looking like the rain write stop?
Keep calm and relax
It can't rain forever.
Just hope for the sun.
Life is never a bed of roses
It's all a patchwork of joys and regrets
When the day brings tears
Never forget the happy moments.
Take a chill pill.
Don't think of the past.
Look forward.
Keep living!!!
Welcome to a society,
Where morals are no longer valued,
Where doing the right thing is wrong,
Because the society believes so not because it is actually wrong
Oh, the biting irony that remaining undisturbed!
A society that preaches peace,
Yet exhibits all traits of violence,
And threaten live of negotiators
That try to make peace between waring factions
Oh, the hypocrisy veiled in their virtuous façade!
Welcome to a society,
Where the worst shenanigans call the bad ones evil
But behind closed doors
Are terrifying plays no one sees
Oh, the facade they present to the outside world!
A society where everyone is a teacher,
And none is willing to be a student,
A place where people are quick,
To help you remove the splinter in your eyes but leave the planks sitting pretty in theirs,
Oh, the grandeur of their moral crusade!
They abandon the untapped potentials in the land,
Yet find solace in new landscapes, craving more,
Best in labelling the society with disdain ,
But they conveniently forget so easily, neglecting their own role in shaping the societal frame.
Oh, how swiftly they cast stones!
Amakwe Destiny Chidera is a Nigerian who hails from Abia state. She is a poet,writer and screenwriter. She has written quite a number of books yet unpublished. She published her first poem "who is the greatest" on 5th of July 2019. Destiny is an aspiring sociologist currently studying at the Enugu state University of science and technology.
WOUNDS HAVE HEALED BUT THE SCARS REMAIN
I've wiped my tears
But the pain persists,
Wounds have healed
But the scars remain,
Storm will pass by,
Clouds may threaten to pour,
Deep emotions,
All entangled, messy,
Tough to separate.
I've wiped my tears
But the pain persists,
Wounds have healed
But the scars remain.
Your footsteps moved far away,
Faded with the breeze,
Not apologetic at all,
So ruthless,
My dreams and I've grown apart,
Not broken,
Truth is bitter,
The pain has taken over,
It hurts until it doesn't,
Slowly got a grip over my fears.
I've wiped my tears
But the pain persists,
Wounds have healed
But the scars remain.
Nandini Mitra is a poet based in Kolkata. A post- graduate in English Literature from Jadavpur University. She is in the profession of teaching for last twenty -five years. She has published her first book of poetry,The Road To Tranquility, recently. Has worked as a freelance journalist for a prestigious Bengali magazine published from Kolkata. She is passionate about Music and is a trained classical singer. However, writing poetry has become an integral part of Nandini’s journey of life since 2011. She believes in the religion of humanity, compassion and love. She has a rich sense of metaphors and imageries and enthusiastic about weaving poetry relating to the realities of lives and the diversities of nature. Her poems have featured in various national and international anthologies.
Life is a dream
It flows like a stream
Full of hopes
Plenty of scope
A little bitter
But always full of glitter
Life a bit of mirth
Happiness it brings forth
Life is a paradox
Don't be too orthodox
Life is a bouquet of flowers
Smiles it showers
Life a bit sour
Today,tomorrow at every hour
Life a bit salty
Where everything seems faulty
Life a bit sweet
Do come down for a treat
Life a bit of sacrifice
In this world of paradise
To be very precise
Life plenty of hardships
As the year slips
Life a bit of curiosity
Need for generosity
Life full of expectations
With every passing generation
Life full of prayers
For me,you with tears
Life full of Blessings
Openings for new Beginnings
Sheena Rath is a post graduate in Spanish Language from Jawaharlal Nehru University Delhi, later on a Scholarship went for higher studies to the University of Valladolid Spain. A mother of an Autistic boy, ran a Special School by the name La Casa for 11 years for Autistic and underprivileged children. La Casa now is an outreach centre for social causes(special children, underprivileged children and families, women's health and hygiene, cancer patients, save environment) and charity work.
Sheena has received 2 Awards for her work with Autistic children on Teachers Day. An Artist, a writer, a social worker, a linguist and a singer (not by profession)
Sharp, sleek, smooth
Almost invisible , with
Which I was assassinated
Dethroned, deported!
A man needed to follow
Me, in an inviting sort of
A way, better still a superior from work!
Looking half dazed
Almost as perplexed as me
At our many chance
Meetings, covering his face in amazement
In the movie theatre
Four Seasons, outside
Amherst , was it Clarence?
To top it all!
Had he been asked to get there by
Someone else?
What then, was the other
Superior, the lady professor, my compatriot
Been talking about?
Like puzzle solving , in
Such a funny way, no one
Could fathom or find humourous!
Why then, why on earth
Would he make these appearances?
Get me to question him, his motives ?
And then brand my questions harrassing?
How could he not understand that if
Each of his students acting in his footsteps
Became my guardian
My privacy would become their absolute
Monastic pupil?
How could he not understand my last email?
Pankhuri Sinha is a bilingual poet, story writer and translator from India. Two poetry collections published in English, two story collections published in Hindi, six poetry collections published in Hindi, and many more are lined up. Has been published in many journals, anthologies, home and abroad. Has won many prestigious, national-international awards, like the Girija Kumar Mathur Award, Chitra Kumar Shailesh Matiyani Award, Seemapuri Times Rajeev Gandhi Excellence Award, First prize for poetry by Rajasthan Patrika, awards in Chekhov festival in Yalta and in Premio Besio Poetry competition in Italy, Sahitto award in Bangladesh, and Premio Galateo in Italy for poetry in mother tongue. Has been translated in over twenty seven languages.
She has studied in Delhi University, Symbiosis Pune, SUNY Buffalo, and the University of Calgary, Canada. She has worked in various positions as a journalist, lecturer and a content editor. Has done writing residencies in Hungary and Bulgaria, and attended the Tranas Literature Festival in Sweden.
I have become doltish
like the flailing limbs of a tree
whose leaves are
in a state of stupor
wait for hush of gentle breeze
to get stirred up and feel alive
this strange feeling of watching
ordinary everyday life
where people carry on mechanically
sans an iota of spirited stride
is a hopeless activity
yet I cannot vamoose
do not know, if it is inertia
or fiddling of some kind
with zeal perched elsewhere
grumpy grouchy demeanor of masses
and their stooping shoulder
twitches many a tale without telling
like a candle light
full of suggestions and meaning
In my bid to caution them
of the eventuality
I anoint them through gestures
forgetting, i am a creeping shadow
crouching under life tree
like the sinking sun in a blaze of red
dyes the walls of mountains
in the hope of a resplendent morrow
my eyes too dart across hills and bowers
await a pragmatic answer
to this subtle maze
as I seize fresh hold on my nerves.
Sujata Dash is a poet from Bhubaneswar, Odisha. She is a retired banker. She has three published poetry anthologies(More than Mere-a bunch of poems, Riot of hues and Eternal Rhythm-all by Authorspress, New Delhi) to her credit. She is a singer, avid lover of nature. She regularly contributes to anthologies worldwide.
Verve of intense darkness,
Engulfing the smooth comb:
Layers of thread yet to unearth,
Slithery and moist in its lustre,
Strongest battle it endures.
Intense wave of scorch heat,
Waiting to unfurl an oasis.
Desire to be free in the wild,
Dream to rejoice like a child.
Agony and anguish awaiting ,
Array of shine and spring.
Seldom it fails to fight,
Pushing through in all its might.
Does it fear losing its life?
Nay, never shuts its eyes in strife.
Bright a dawn, sweet a dusk,
It envisages fervently new,
The pleasure of vast skies.
Indeed ,it births its wings,
Shedding the ugly skin;
Innate beauty it holds,
In its colour and curls.
There emerges the free fly,
Traversing through silent cries.
Is this not success dear, right there?
Should Heaven be , it is forever here.
Vidhya Anand is an enterprising woman with a successful career in Training and development for almost two decades, she has been providing quality training in communication skills and other soft skill programs in leading IT and non-IT companies. She has conducted career guidance programs to young college students in chiselling their future towards their goals in profession
Her forte in style and accentuation, has catered to be a talented voice and accent neutralization expert during cross cultural training sessions. She has been an influential speaker and anchor in social and welfare workshops on special needs children and their wellbeing. She has been a passionate writer penning down poems and articles for magazines too. Her role as a persevering mother of an autistic boy has all along been driving him towards progress and positivity in his life. Words and expressions are rooted in her personal anecdotes and narratives, fresh from her own perspective.
VISION AND VALUE
Bipin Patsani
Even a dwarf, projected
with grudge and gloom,
looks gigantic like a giant
when seen in zoom;
while a visionary genius
however distanced,
makes his presence felt
in his vibrant vision
and the beauty of its bloom.
GATHER GRACE, NOT MOSS
Bipin Patsani
Nothing wrong in building
a place of worship and prayer
if it really makes us better beings,
genuine in judgement, free and fair.
Those who manage without
and find peace in their works are rare.
Great are they who love humanity
and human values are all they care.
Such people don't bother
to be a part of the herd
that loves grouping, loves to gather
the moss in the name of God.
Bipin Patsani (b. 1951) has published poems in many prestigious journals and poetry anthologies including Indian Literature, Chandrabhaga, Journal of Indian Writing in English, Indian Scholar, Kavya Bharati, Poetcrit, International Poetry and Prophetic Voices etc. He has been translated to Spanish and Portuguese. He has three poetry collections to his credit (VOICE OF THE VALLEY, ANOTHER VOYAGE and HOMECOMING). He is a recipient of Michael Madhusudan Academy Award/ 1996 and Rock Pebbles National Award in 2018. He did his Post Graduation in English at Ravenshaw College, Cuttack in 1975 and served as a teacher in Arunachal Pradesh for 34 years till his superannuation in 2012. He also received Arunachal Pradesh State Government’s Award in 2002 for his dedicated service as a teacher. He lives with his family at Barunei Colony, Badatota in Khordha District of Odisha, India.
WORLD COMES CRASHING BUT BUTTERFLY FLIES!
Comes a time when the world comes crashing
How many worlds?
Many, many a world!
The joy of moving with a world as a family
Seeing the world from the running window
Gets suddenly blurred, smashed, and turned aground,
Cramped and compressed into compartments squeezed,
Pleasure slides into a nadir with a sudden jolt
A Big Bang!
A sound, they call collision, travels far and wide,
To bring tears to the eyes of all around the world,
Sympathies pour in, Choppers land with VVIPs,
All humans are alike, let fate not fall on us!
They shun pain and monotony and pursue pleasure,
Wander for better pasture or future
Poor fellows!
Disaster befalls suddenly,
The world comes grinding,
The sound blows your mind out
Even if you are stationed thousands of miles away
Far from a station called Bahanaga Bazar,
Coromondel of your life goes helter and skelter
Gets derailed, the rails of your lifeline can hardly be repaired
The Sky falls into the darkest night,
The woes, wails, screams, and cries rend the air,
Energizes the TV screens twenty-four into seven
To portray your sorrows, temper, and anger
To make noise of the collision a collective noise of the world,
But how long?
Capacity to shed tears and bear, a limited affair
Soon makes men forget the errors of men or machines or both
Falling worlds and falling stars?
Nothing but God’s inscrutable desire!
There they find comfort and shelter
He draws the lines long and shorter,
You cannot erase, nor escape the rope ever
Have to accept his ruling as a helpless creature
Better to understand that He draws lines on your forehead,
He also makes grass grow again and turn red into green and greener,
Butterfly flies again there and breeze sings heart’s note sweeter:
“Scattered clouds are bringing light rains,
While love blossoms from the little tales we hear !”
(Alpo alpo megh theke halka bristi hoy,
chotto chotto golpo theke bhalobasa sristi hoy !)
Yes, now there are patchy clouds hovering in the sky,
The rains lightly touching the earth,
There the grass is growing green at Bahanaga Bazar
The whistle of the train is sounding pleasure to the ears
Children are back jumping in cheers
The World is back with renewed vigor!
Dr. Niranjan Barik is a retired Professor of Political Science from Ravenshaw University, Odisha and is currently attached there on teaching and research on an ICSSR project. He is passionate about literature and writes poems, short stories.
I bask in self-assurance's glow,
With support from those who stand close.
No force can shatter this inner flame,
For it's within ourselves we must claim.
Confidence, a fire in the heart's core,
Ignites the path to success, and more.
We weave our dreams with threads of belief,
Embracing the power to achieve.
A blueprint for triumph, confidence shows,
With plans in place, our purpose grows.
Each moment cherished, made to last,
An orchestra of memories from the past.
Inseparable, success and confidence dwell,
Like wings to flight, they make dreams propel.
For without belief, triumph is a distant shore,
But with confidence as captain, we reach it, and more.
Sukanya V Kunju is a postgraduate in English language and literature from St.Michaels College, Alappuzha. Most of her poems have been published in Literary Vibes. She is an aspiring poet. She is the co-author of the book Dusk and Dawn.
Parched earth transformed into a pastures
A single drop of rain quenched thirsty earth
A single foliage enough for the plant keeps a branch greens and alive
Fish out of water flutter n die
Bit of droplets enough to make survive
Lightless eyes barren hopeless n doomed
A ray of light enlighten the dark world
O God! be blessed by a little bit
A drop of elixir a drop of life
Adequate for my tranquil serene existence
A drop of love
A panacea A survival
A support system, floating in high seas
A dying passionately aspires for life
My love for you is like that
Sheba Jamal is a prolific writer in English and Hindi. She works as an English teacher in a high school in Patna. Her mother is a literary genius in Urdu literature.
Sheba has a penchant for creative work. Despite her hectic schedule she finds the time for creativity. Her writings include poems and short stories - both in English and Hindi - which are published in various national and international anthologies.
COUNTERCURRENTS
Bharati Kode
(Translated by Elanaaga)
Compose a poem at least today
when the drizzle is surrounding us from every side.
It could be about the sky that adorned itself
with the hues of a rainbow,
or the dream silently unfolding
in the eyes of a sleeping baby.
In fact, each raindrop has its own story.
Have you listened to at least one properly?
Collected the essence of life
from the raindrops falling incessantly?
Leave those books there.
Our paper boats cannot be of use
in crossing the currents.
Sit on this bank of the river
and sing about the one on the other side.
Okay, don’t pen a poem today
when there’s drizzle everywhere.
But utter at least one word
about the people who swam the turbulent stream.
Bharati Kode hails from Repalle town in Andhra Pradesh State. She works in social development sector and has chalked numerous initiatives and programs for women, children and youth. Recognising her work, the US government had invited her to visit various non-profit organisations in different areas of the USA as a part of the American International Visitor Leadership Program. She has started translating in the last few years. She is especially fond of rendering children’s books. She has written over 50 articles on social issues in various newspapers. She began doubling in poetry in the last 3 years. She has published the compilation of her poems in the form of a book titled Enno Rangula Cheekati. The title of her another book is Field Worker’s Diary.
Elanaaga is a well-known poet, writer, translator and critic in the field of Telugu literature. He is a paediatrician, but now only pursuing his literary interest. His actual name is Dr Surendra Nagaraju. He penned 35 books so far, 17 of which are original writings (two in English), while 18 are translations. Of the latter, 9 are from English to Telugu and 9 from Telugu to English. His works comprise books of free verse, prosodic poems, experimental poetry, language-related essays, essays of criticism, standard crosswords and translations and so on.
He lives in Hyderabad. His email address is elanaaga@gmail.com.
I thought it was a straight line
And started walking on it
Unaware of the twists and turns.
The path got tougher,
After a long walk I looked back,
The line had vanished.
I stood in silent tears, clueless
The shadows beckoned me
With soft, mysterious whispers
I followed them, a spring in my steps.
Hope reigned in my heart
A rare joy kept me afloat,
And then they vanished into the air
Leaving me totally helpless.
The gentle breeze on the swaying trees
Became my guiding force,
It moved from one tree to another.
Carried away by its lilting melody,
I followed it, and one day it vanished.
The air stood still
So did I, lost in wilderness.
I moved from streets to streets
Under the light of hanging lamps.
I trudged with a happy spirit
In search of a promised peak.
And then I stopped, waiting for direction
I looked back, the lights had vanished.
In a maze of darkness I felt abandoned.
Today I sit under the open sky
Gazing at the clouds, counting the stars,
And wonder why life has so many chimeras
Why it deals such cruel blows,
Why the wounds never heal,
The heart never gets repaired,
Why we are but simple toys in God's hands,
Clueless, helpless, lost, abandoned.
Dr. Mrutyunjay Sarangi is a retired civil servant and a former Judge in a Tribunal. Currently his time is divided between writing poems, short stories and editing the eMagazine LiteraryVibes . Two collections of his short stories in English have been published recently under the title The Jasmine Girl at Haji Ali and A Train to Kolkata. He has also to his credit nine books of short stories in Odiya. He has won a couple of awards, notably the Fakir Mohan Senapati Award for Short Stories from the Utkal Sahitya Samaj. He lives in Bhubaneswar.
Book Review
Publisher: Kavya Adisakrit
Publishing year: 2023
MAMINA, with its cover illuminating the senses, stood invitingly on my table top for over a week. I had not begun reading it owing to year-end tasks and unavoidable travel. Returning from an event one night, and before changing to comfort-wear, I decided first to pose with it, asking hubby to take a picture, and hoping to read in the morning with a fresh mind.
As I flipped through the pages of the book, its interior design and paper quality brought a smile of contentment, and reading the very first poem made me nostalgic; the bonding, the memories and the effortless adherence to eco-friendly lifestyles in our younger days when we gracefully enjoyed the luxury of growing up with a loving grandma! Sangita has a splendid way of putting forth her thoughts!
The second poem leaves a delicious taste of love in my mouth. The love from unmarried aunts in the family, who enjoy dressing up their nieces and pampering them to the core, delivering stunning tales.
But here, Sangita also subtly brings out the absence of a biological mom which is more than compensated by the fine aunt who feeds her with a sweeter than naturally sweet motherly love!
“rice and sardine ball
an airplane
landing in the mouth”
Many might have experienced her bliss (and sorrows), but forget to relive in a way that heals, much less vividly document them as she does! Her poems are tiny treasures, holding precious memories pregnant with emotion, running back and forth from long savoured flashbacks!
Read on and you’ll nod at every piece, making it your own story! I love the way she has titled her poems. What a gradation of emotions moving from one generation or a phase of life to another. The “earth renews” as she says, and her magical journey continues as the nestlings surely learn to fly!
Now, if I tell you all, you’ll lose the magical experience!
Starting as a blogger and poet, Sumitra Kumar became a writer for a lifestyle magazine called Women Exclusive. Her book, Romance with Breath - the story of aspiring Indians through simple poems - is listed on Amazon. She is a recipient of ‘The Pride of Inner Wheel District 323 Award’ for contributing to English Writing and Blogging.
Sumitra’s career spells saw her as a software programmer, flight attendant in Air India, and later, as a fashion boutique owner and futures & options trader. She presently makes her home in Chennai, working with her husband as directors in their packaging and automation business. You can reach her at sumitrakumar.com and follow her on http://www.instagram.com/writer.poet.sumitra
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