And beautify the darkened
odour of my unkempt garden.
Away down the lane, clearing up every bushes
To escape from a mysterious haunt or the
meddling masses;
Woe begone, rushing to the tidy grasses
Hurried along to have a good night rest,
They cling to one every separate
In slumber they rest humming away all the
mortal grudges.”
Wonder I, a foolish little dog,
lying awake all night long gazing at the lines of fireflies adorning my
deserted street. Half awaken by the craving lamenting in my stomach for a
satisfactory crumb of bread and the other half by the mysterious march of the
fireflies, I licked my parched lips and touched the tip of my nose with it to
bring in the flavour of that breath taking dog fantasy. Three months of my
lifetime has never given me a chance to taste the flavour of that chicken bone which
Sulphur and Neon, my two step brothers, constantly slurped upon. My nose could
send me the model of the flavour though, by accelerating my imagination
regarding the taste of the chicken’s bone.
I had nothing to do; at daytime,
I had smelly leftover khichdi* near the temple garbage which quite filled my
stomach but seemed like infected it a bit with several harmful bacteria which
compelled me to chunk in some green grasses. Dinner was skipped out for the
night bore me nothing, bestowing me an unpleasant night slumber. I could stare
at Sulphur and Neon, devouring in some biryani*, often sneering at me to keep
me at bay. The night was cold, bitter and long.
My gleam was lightened by the
swarm of those fireflies. I remember, the other day, a car was parked near the
temple. My three months old eyes caught an interesting sight of two people
embracing each other inside the car. It seemed like the two people, both young,
were of different gender- male and female, for the one who held the other
person showed more masculinity while the other one appeared to be whining away
in submission which proved the feminine character of every living species. I
showed up my presence before them by giving out my so called cute barks. I
tilted my head a bit and looked at them darting up my eyeballs to make myself
appealing. The couple was startled by my bark; I expected a warm acceptance or
a throw of some pile of biscuits or a loving pad, but the young lady shrieked
and cried, “What a filthy little animal!”
The young man shooed me away and
I ran from them as far as my feet could carry on, beyond their reach, beyond
their recognition. Sulphur was always padded by young people; he was always
given pile of biscuits or other eatable stuffs by young lovers. His furs were
like any domestic dog, soft and fluffy. Being a half brother to him should have
made me look like him, but that did not happen. I was skinny and my back was
losing hairs thereby giving space for large pits of wounds. I had to skip a
one-day meal that day for I had seriously nothing to munch upon. The garbage
had nothing to offer and no man looked down upon me in affection. Infact, I
slept like a mad dog the whole night, I cried out for my mother.
I can see the fireflies, marching
above the ground in one long column, lighting up my dark and deserted street.
Suddenly, my body stopped aching and my stomach craved no more. I got up and
hopped about to reach for the fireflies. I followed them as if my treasure had
been discovered and I was made their king. They went on flying crossing through
shrubs, bushes and berries. And like an enchanted being I strolled along with
them keeping their pace and even walking above streams and rivulets, singing
the song of fireflies that my late grandma had taught me. I left behind my
dwelling place far away, with Sulphur and Neon in deep slumber. I was entwined
in the music of love and happiness, wealth and health, family and friends. My
eyes sparkled and there I saw my mother, full in health, with long and soft
furs covering her stout and healthy physique, lying in soft bed of grasses
along with my grandma waiting by the golden gate. I ran towards them in joyous
rupture and the golden gate closed behind me as soon as I entered that unknown
kingdom. My mother took me with her and showed me a mirror. In it I could see
my reflection gloried to the beauty of an enchanter; my golden furs curled
beautifully down my ears, my hazel-brown eyes were round and plump which
sparkled life. I was far more handsome than Sulphur or any other domestic dog.
My grandma licked my face and took me onto bed of soft clouds. I lay there in
warmth and then my grandma tucked me in whispering, “My love, you are home.”
My eyelids closed and my heart
lifted up to that comfortable height of contentment which made me believe that
the end of my sufferings has arrived and God has offered me a place beneath his
pious feet…
A sudden racket woke me up and
found myself in a stingy package of smelly chicken bones. My eyes searched for
Sulphur and Neon. I could perceive Neon at a distance, across the street,
opposite from where I was gazing at his lonely trail. His tail was down and his
ears were somber to look at. Though I
could not make out the gleam in his eyes, but they seemed to me quite overruled
by fear and agony. I turned around and found a few people adorning the street.
They were from the municipality and were wiping a certain spot in the middle of
the street which rather paved way for developing an idea in me that it might
have been a sacred day for all those who believed in the supremacy of the nine
planets which was why they were cleaning the street starting from that spot.
A few yards away from that spot,
my sights were shocked at perceiving an appalling figure of Sulphur lying stiff
and motionless in a most haggard appearance. Blood covered his head and some
parts of his brain were squeezed to red gel.
My soul was mortified, the sight
of Sulphur in such a reckless condition at death terrified my heart and felt
pity for his flattened mortal, yet there was a joy in my heart, an opportunity
floating up to me…
With Sulphur’s dead Neon has lost
his godfather and without sulphur he was just a scion. My heart could not help
but grinned for the long run, as I would be benefited with the chance of having
the chicken bones all for myself…
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
orange nation
The fading light of a haunted past, clicked by unparalleled sorrows loomed over by clouds of smokes, dark and evil like the cynical laughter of the dead minds, seeks souls to be freed from the chained torments and find somewhere relaxing in the warmth of the orange nation....
My brother
awakened me as if my view was dimmed by the mystery lurking on my doubtful mind
which could not properly contrast the real from hallucination. The room was
filled with scented fragrance of sandalwood and wild flowers which imbibed my
mind to relax like a dead man cut out from the living world. My heart did not
have the vast heaviness of the mighty river’s sorrow which used to fix my
imagination to the secrecy of the mighty river’s arm. I looked at my brother
who glowed immensely and a smile glued to his lips, he looked into my eyes as
if ready to give me the answers I have often thought of questioning him. I
stretched my hands to touch him and my mouth spoke thus- “where were you? You have hurt me a lot. I spent the evenings alone by
the banks of the mighty river trying to solve its prophecy. Without you, its
vastness has engulfed me into its mysterious bosom which has strengthened my
heart and soul, but weakened my jest for adopting the many faces of time. My
destination is all wrecked like an abandoned ship in a haunted island where
ghosts and spirits exist without any existence. Why have you left our song
incomplete compelling me to take the help of intoxicants to trace the right
words to weave it with? It is still incomplete and it haunts me like a curse
weakening me to embrace the meaner way of living an old age lost in the realm
of loneliness. Could not you see the sorrow you have bestowed upon me by
leaving me at the hands of fate which used the yolk out of me and deprived me
of happiness? The sorrow is much greater than the pain you have inflicted upon
me a few years back when you vanished from my side during our journey to
grandpa’s house. I thought I had lost you forever when I could not find you
after my long search that lasted an entire day. How was I to know that you had
already reached grandpa’s house taking the shortest route when I was too
engrossed talking to the village girls? My happiness knew no bound when you confided
to me about your yearning for Madhumalati which later bloomed to a relationship
that made way for a blissful marriage. I lifted you up infront of the crowds
which were applauded by everyone present there. I am still unable to unearth
the mystery that had always surrounded your youthful heart which had unkempt
you to leave me and Madhumalati, all alone in this wild and cruel world. Did
not you once think about us and the positiveness of the future that would have
been otherwise a complete song of heaven had you been there to cherish with us?
What demon had infused you to leave with so much sorrow in your heart without
even once sharing them with me? You come now to awaken me and see how happy you
have been all these years?”
My brother
heaved a heavy breathe and holding my cold hands said, “I never left you dear brother. I have always been near you, with you
and in you. My heart did not have any sorrows but I was infatuated by death and
its magical realm. I used to wonder at its prophecy, its might and its
inevitability. There is nothing more powerful than death and the beauty that
solves the mystery of life and the environment surrounding its existence is the
answer to which death is the blissful passage. However, I did not run after
death. It was death who wanted to embrace me and introduced me to its gulf. I
have never understood life for life itself held secret from me which used to
disturb my mind. But now, I know the deepest of the secrets life has kept away
from human kind.”
I interrupted
him at this and spoke to him sentimentally, “what about Madhumalati? Was death sweeter than her love?”
My brother
smiled and said, “Love is enchanting. It
is in the mind, in the heart. Death is around us. Death divides the soul from
mortal but cannot separate soul from its soul. I am her soul. I live for she
lives. I am alive in her the way I am alive in you in your every breath. My
body is all dust but my soul is immortal and so is my love.”
My words were lost at his hearings and I could
ask no more, but prompted myself into asking this, “why come now then and speaking to me in life?”
“I come,” my
brother said, “to enlighten your mind to
prepare for the destiny you will be partaking at the behest of God. The fogged
mind needs to be cleaned and wiped out of doubts and illusions. I have come
here to speak to you of life and its greatness that begins with death.
Remember, when I was a kid I used to eat raw mangoes at broad daylight which
feared you that it might make me sick and bedridden or otherwise feebly, take
the life out of me? It was death that you feared which could have destroyed the
life in me. The secret was that death is an unsolved riddle for man because it
is uncertain and at the same time unavoidable. But the raw mangoes never killed
me, it was something else that killed me. It was ‘time’. Time weaves the thread
of death specifically and death does its job accordingly. In truth, death is
like a faithful friend, it is time who directs the way death should be put
into. I never left you dear brother, my death brought me closer to you. It made
you see the real world by opening your eyes to the circle of life thereby
hardening your heart to face the cruel crusades of time with utmost composition
of strength and vigour. Your song was completed long ago, this is the reason it
haunts you to death for the words were already scripted in your heart. My
brother, throngs of people see in you the vision they never came upon until you
evoked in them your dream. Your heart thrives in thousands and your words echo
like the ripples of the streams and brooks in the moonless night which raise
the hopes of lone wanderers that there is water nearby to quench their thirsts.
My brother, let me take you out of this room.”
I followed my
brother to the other room. The scent grew stronger and stronger, sandalwood and
wild flowers filled my nostrils which intoxicated my blank mind and I flowed
with the fragrance. Madhumalati sat at one corner, always dressed in white. Her
gaze was fixed on a stool which my brother had made for her to sit on while
cooking food for us. Her eyes did not sparkle and her heart seemed heavy with
the burden of loneliness and emptiness of colours in her life. She could not
see me; in fact she did not even see the elderly woman sitting near her who was
murmuring to her as if in dream.
A cool breeze
blows through me which lightened my feet and warmth my heart. I looked at my
brother who walked like an emperor walking in his garden, majestically held
high and gleaming in beauty. I missed him all through the phases of my life
terribly. His voice always chanted poetry to my ailing soul, he revived in me
the life which was already dead.
He brought me
outside and I could see light everywhere as if the rays of the sun were beaming
highly on me without the terror of its heat. The rays warmed me up like a lover
who caresses his love to warmth. I could see thousands of people, but my naked
eyes seemed to be deceiving me of its spark for I could not see them clearly,
they were all fogged.
I asked my
brother if there was any prophecy behind the alteration of my otherwise loyal
sights. My brother smiled and ran lightly towards the strong rays where the
thousands of people I perceived diminished in a blink. He stretched his arms
and said, “Are you ready my brother? The
livings mourn your death. Your life begins now. Will you hold my hands and
enter through the passage that solves the mystery of life and death and the
prophecy that surrounds them?”
I awed in
surprise and ran back through the room, but one by one, they kept vanishing. I
could see Madhumalati no more nor could I see the elderly woman that sat beside
her and the thousands of people who stood outside. The rays became stronger and
I could see no one until my brother held me up and for one last time I saw my
mortal, poised into a deep slumber enjoying his last rite in a decorated
vehicle with throngs of people following it along with all sorts of vehicles.
My brother smiled at me and I understood why he had come to wake me up. He woke
me up from my life and brought me to life after death. I waited to see if I
could feel my body burn.
The fire rages
on all over my mortal remain and as the body slowly turned into ashes, I felt
the warmth of the rays that was slowly embracing me to delve into the realm of
infinity to which I was still ignorant and unaware... I could hear voices
chanting- Long live the man! He lives on forever!
Today I consider myself in the embracement of the first taste of old age that comes with the completion of 40 years of living in strength. I can feel the decaying of my flesh in some parts which reminds me of my dying youth after surviving these 40 long years. Though I have always seen myself as a defeated person who could not live the lives of the crowds, I am proud enough to express my blissful life of 40 years a complete win over the degradation of life that comes with hunger, poverty, loneliness and other disastrous infirmity. And that I believe is my greatest victory.
Although living alone is a great experience of adventure, I have always held on to one aim which has brought me closer to the realm of the greatest adventure. That greatest adventure is nothing more than kissing the feet of death and yet the refusal of death to accept its disciple gave me the splendour of facing death to a very close instant which even words cannot express its magnificence. This rat race continued between the mighty avenger and me which spirited me to experience the awesome adventure of death, yet failed to achieve it. However, this is the end; this is where the adventure stops. I have seen enough of this world, negativity exploding everywhere, tearing me apart and depressing my mind, pushing me towards darkness and loneliness. With the clock ticking on and time sailing off my hands I have abandoned all thoughts of living and have decided to surrender myself to the mystic beauty of death before the midnight strikes. As an adieu to the world behind me I leave my final confessions framed in words so that they could possibly react upon my death positively.
I thank God for giving me the strength to live my life all by myself; I remained unmarried which positively beckons me to challenge death as I have no responsibility over anybody to rejoice myself in the pleasure of being a master to a prisoner as my cell is empty. With this certainty, I guiltlessly bestow on my soul to accept the assurance of death which will come to me by midnight with the consumption of this poison in my hand and heal me off my loneliness. It’s true; I am completely alone in this whole world and even my mind finds it difficult to connect myself with the outside world, I am truly into myself. This reflection of loneliness gratifies me however with the pleasure of being a company to myself. The bottle of poison dangles in my one hand while the other holding a pen with a heart so much in pain and my weak chest in terrible shiver, I kept thinking if I have gambled away each and every moment of my life. I even hesitated to think if I have made this world suffer because of me. By tomorrow morning every newspaper in town will cover the issue related to my death displaying the subject as: ‘Mr. Gautam Baruah, a prominent writer, succumbed to his death after consuming a bottle of poison.’ The letters will be big enough to hide some of the artificial praises crafted with extra efforts in the nick of time which will be added to the genuine achievements I have attained in my lifetime in the literary field. This thought amuses me and smile seems to overtake my still lips as I have no idea if they even know me as a person. Will anybody ever come to know that my work has nothing to do with my strain and why even after falling in love with five different girls, I could not make anyone of them mine, why I could not express my emptiness to anybody and why my face was always hidden under a coveted mask? Will anyone ever be able to reveal the real me?
There is only five minutes left for the clock to strike twelve. The clicking clock on the wall sounded like a hammer banging my heart which pained me cruelly. To resist the advance of the devilish sound, I caught hold of its pendulum and there, time stopped still, motionless. The timelessness of the dark room prompted me to feel my solitude. My heart was feeling very weak.
Death is certain; my doubt had long vanished in the blur of time. To hold on time and ruminating the past will just add a few more minutes to my dying life. So, my mind contented my heart when it accepted to draw the poison bottle closer to my mouth with wave of thoughts about the consequences of death circulating side by side. Shall I be lost in the infinity of the infinite? The one, who had composed poems, sang songs and faced many atrocities of life- will he be vanished forever after his death?
While thus sparing time for little thoughts to pass on, a feel of someone true to me pricked my mind whom I have forgotten to remember in the haste for death which surprised me and quite diverted my mind. Then something enchanting caught my eyes, it was the love filled eyes of my ‘Buri’ whose innocent face glowed before me.
Under the lure of death I was forgetting someone whom I can solemnly claim as my own and that was none other than Buri herself. Lying close to my feet, the sound of her slow and soft breathing filled my ears which distracted me from my errand for a minute and tempted me to live my life once more.
However, Buri cannot lend me her sympathy nor can she coax me. She is only a dog and as such she is free from all kinds of distortion brought about by the barriers in caste, creed and community. But, she can claim her similarity with the dog named ‘Neri’ who was immortalized by Tagore in his fiction.
‘Buri!’
Hearing my voice she quietly came out from under the table and seated herself on a stool next to me. She doesn’t know that in the next few minutes I will be lost to her forever. I looked at her and then, we both stared at each other for a long time without even once closing our eyelids and spoke to her-‘Don’t you remember Buri how I spent three days without food last year at a time like this one, but fed you with sweets which I bought with the four annas I had borrowed from Sajjad? I hope you remember because you are not a man. Don’t you remember how I used to read out my poetry in long December nights whenever my heart felt low? My nerves are bad tonight. Yes, bad. Stay with me…speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak. Once small boys pelted stones at you which fractured your leg and I was in tense for one whole month. And there was also an obvious expense on your medication, don’t you remember? Buri, don’t look at me with such loving eyes since I feel very afraid of losing you. Fear, you know?’
After having spoken so many things, I am feeling tired now. Resting, I look at Buri and I can feel that she has answered my doubts without saying anything for she gazed at me understandingly. How I met Buri for the first time also bears a story. I have always led a lonely life and in one such evening after having cooked my food, I resolved to watch a cinema and then have dinner on returning home. The cinema was over and as I had planned, headed straight homewards just to find out my food being eaten by a dog in my kitchen itself. The scene enraged me so much that I could feel my anger climbing up to the tip of my hair. Taking one stick in hand, I made my advance towards her to beat her. She was helpless as she failed to find her way out and unable to retreat, she surrendered herself by felling down on the floor before me with closed eyes. The innocence in her action deeply touched me and even to this day my heart melts whenever I look back in time and sees her in fear bowing down with closed eyes. I patted her for a long time and offered her the leftovers too.
The night came over deeply and this time I have to complete my task. To have a taste of the last part of my life, I lit my cigarette and once in between my lips, I breathed in its heavenly smoke through my lungs and puffed it out in ecstasy. Ah! What a comfort! Suddenly the cry of Buri rang in through my ears and it disrupted my momentary pleasure. The cry reminded me that she was unfed the whole day. But…after an hour I am going to die and then who will take responsibility over her? I undeniably know that she will not eat unless I feed her. And if she won’t eat, she will die of hunger. There is another chance of her dying in the street if she fights with the dirty street dogs over a piece of bone lying unkempt in city dustbins which I never wish to let it happen. The thought of her dying uncared in the streets trembled my soul. The cigarette in my fingers ashen up and before my sense could return in order, I lit up another cigarette.
Such thoughts unite my whole being with my soul which makes life seem so simple. I had forgotten that Buri was just a dog. But, to me she has always been an exception; yes, she is neither human nor a dog, she is a droplet in the vast ocean of life like me. However, I abandon this thought for now.
Holding her collar, I pulled her towards me and caressed her. I could see that her eyelids were closed as if she knew what I was thinking. I can hear the ‘tong-tong’ sound coming from the area police station reminding me that five minutes have passed long ago and its twelve o’clock now. I cannot hold on for long as it will then fail me again. Wasting no time, I poured half of the poison into Buri’s mouth. In resistance to death, Buri quivered and fell off my arms to the floor.
I’ll wait on for a few minutes till Buri succumb to her death and then I’ll arrest myself to death by consuming the remaining quantity.
My granny, I remember, used to pamper me a lot with her love filled eatables made and prepared by her, all assembled for display before me after every accomplishment of the aroma cooked by her tender hands. However, of all items, sira-doi never failed to earn my concentration of licking up even its leftovers lying clung to my little bowl. After every heavy meal, my granny always ordered the servants to clean up the mess that I had made and then her authoritarian look vanishes in a puff whenever she turned her direction towards me and then holding me high up in her arms tightly, her steady legs carried the both of us to the verandah where my grandpa always sat like an old porcelain ruminating thoughts of his youthful days and his brave encounters with the terrific ‘Nagas’.
After my granny, it was my grandpa’s turn to pamper me with his kisses which made me giggle at the ticklish pinches of his beard. He had encountered many adventures in his youthful days, but his adventures did not lose its splendour even a few years before I was born. However, in my 5 years journey of life, I haven’t had the chance to see the adventurous spirit of my grandpa, although my ears had the advantage of perceiving that beauty from my grandpa who saw his adventurous days come alive while narrating it to me. I heard the word ‘Naga’ for the first time from my grandpa who never failed to answer any query of mine regarding the Nagas. He said that they live in the Naga pahaar, beyond the border of our large fields in the jungles where no people of my village, Merapani, dared to cross. The adventures of my grandpa with the Nagas overwhelmed me a lot and I used to wonder what the Nagas were; often, I depicted them as the asuras from the Mahabharata. Many vivid pictures of the Nagas came into my mind and they terrified me a lot which I perceived my granny could see for she then started taking advantage of my fear of the Nagas. She would force me to eat my food by frightening me telling about the terror of the Nagas who took away small children who didn’t listen to elders. The Nagas fascinated me a lot and even though I was afraid of them, I wished to know more about them. The fear was hidden not only in me but in every heart of young and old living in Merapani. I wondered how the Nagas look like…
“Punakon! Punakon!” my granny shouted from the verandah when she saw me plucking raw mangoes with the aid of Kanta, granny’s servant boy in broad day light.
“Come inside Punakon, it’s too hot outside, have lemonade with grandpa here. Grandpa will take you today to the railway station for a walk.”
The offer was too much, my greediness exploded and leaving Kanta to himself I ran off to granny. The lemonade cooled me and I rested myself on granny’s so called luxury chair. I fell asleep and even before I could know, I had a dream and in it I saw myself being chased by a something that was a giant having red balls for eyes and fierce looking long teeth, not forgetting to mention the majestic green ears. I cried to grandpa for help who in no time made his appearance, slaughtered the wicked and rescued me crying-“I killed the ‘Noga’!”
I woke up in the evening; my grandpa all dressed up was smiling at me. My granny came and took me inside, she dressed me up and combed my hair. She then praised me that I looked very handsome that day. Walking with grandpa was a pleasure, for, unlike granny, he let me walk on my own but never once leaving my hand. In no time we reached the station, we then had a cup of tea with peanut biscuits and sat for a while, but with dusk felling, we resolved to head homewards. While walking I asked my grandpa if the Nagas were monsters who love to devour the flesh of people. My grandpa laughed at this question of mine. He told me that they were not cannibal-monsters but were no different from them as they had driven many villagers away from the village and forcefully encroached upon their lands. He showed me the pahaar, the Naga pahaar, which was on the other side of the railway station, facing opposite to the east of the station. The Nagas lived there and seeing the sight of the dark woods I imagined of them as sorcerers or giant snakes. My grandpa told me that many years before I was born, the Nagas had wanted to take away the land beholding the station on which I walked on. The Nagas had claimed themselves as the rightful owner of every land which had hills and jungles on them, so the station which stands on near the Naga pahaar was no exception. My grandpa proudly took part in that fight as recounted by him and recovered some of the lands taken by them of which the station was also a crown of victory.
As we walked on further, Tapan, the local fisherman with some of the villagers came running towards us. My grandpa asked them in surprise,” What’s hurrying you so much?”
Tapan with bated breath said to my grandpa,”O koka, we have nabbed a ‘Noga’ in the ‘pothaar’. There were others too, but they ran away before we could get hold of them.”
“Why, what happened?” asked my grandpa.
“O! That Digen, the local fisherman had gone to town to sell off his day’s catch, but on his return, he was verbally harassed by some of the ‘Noga’ youths who were drunk and had crossed the border. Puniram and Mohen happened to pass by that way and saw Digen being hassled. In no time, they gathered some villagers and went to help Digen. The youths managed to run away, except the one who is now held captive in the village.”
My grandpa who was bewildered said,”o! It is a serious matter. Tapan, hold Punakon in your arms. Let us rush to the village as soon as possible.”
We were all flying, my grandpa who looked like an old porcelain when resting on his rocking chair looked like a superman flying above the sky. There was an eagerness running through me which excited me with the urge to entertain myself of seeing the Naga from a safe distance. I never saw the villagers hurrying with such a rush, seemingly the Naga might have been in a rage whose wrath the villagers feared to death and in order to subdue their fear of the Naga’s wrath, they were heralding for a kind of mad rush. However, the eagerness to see the mighty Naga was killed forcefully when my granny came in a hurry towards me and took me away home. That night I could not sleep, I kept thinking about the Naga. I sketched his picture in my mind- long hairs on his body, large big teeth, big red eyes and long dragon tail, running after my grandpa as grandpa was still not home. I fell asleep and woke up late in the morning. I asked my granny where grandpa was and she told me that he was in the field behind our house. Before she could catch me, I ran off to the field behind my house and saw lots of people, young and old gathered before a very young man, very fair who was shirtless and held captive. My grandpa saw me and shouted,” Go to granny, don’t come here. ‘Noga’ is here!”
I didn’t listen to him and went straight to kanta, the servant boy and asked him,” Where is the dreaded Noga?”
He pointed at the shirtless man held captive and said,” There he is.”
My heart was animated and a sort of feverish smile covered my lips when I saw a Noga for the first time. I whispered to myself,”o! Can it be him, the Noga? The so called noga who kills everybody barehanded and whom the villagers fear to dead?”
I looked at him once again and saw that he was barely a man, very fair with tiny slanted eyes; I wondered…what makes him a monster? Was it because his eyes were very small? Or was it because he was the fairest of all? Or just because he was shirtless?
I was amused by this dilemma; I came to realize that except the small differences, he was nothing but just like Kanta, the servant boy…
The discovery aroused my curiosity deeper, there was a rebirth of my urge to know more about the Nagas because the Naga I saw that day was a complete contrast from the one depicted to me by my granny and other household servants. There was no difference between the Naga youth held captive and other village boys with whom I used to play marbles and plucked raw mangoes. The sight of that Naga boy opened wave of thoughts in my little mind, I wondered if every Naga living in the ‘Naga pahaar’ looked like him and if there was any possibility of children residing over there who shared the same age I was undergoing. I also dared to think the possibility of playing marbles with them in the near future if the other Naga kids were also human like the one held captive.
There has always been a problem between the two communities which were handed down from the past historical events to be gulped down by the ever updating generation. The problem which now seems to me meek and worthless is nothing compared to the problem I used to imagine in my influenced mind. My mind was passed down with images of demons as the Nagas which was completely ruled out at the sight of that fair face Naga youth. That face built a kind of strange resolution in me which even I could not understand may be because I was too young to identify it. However, that incident has since then lured me to explore the Naga pahaar and if the result of the exploration was such that it benefited my idea of human Nagas residing there, I was determined to take my grandpa and granny for a holiday over there and plucked raw mangoes if the pahaar bears any.
While going on a search for a loving and caring heart,
I happened to discover you.
My entire heart was enslaved by you,
Inner and outer, in all directions
Like an evergreen fantasy.
As if all in a sudden, your sweet voice would whisper in:
‘Come and be caressed on my bosom.’
The mighty river will stand by at the bliss of your bosom
And be touched by your kindheartedness
And imbibe in dreams filled with your mesmeric sway,
This mighty wide river.
Rest your head upon my chest
And let your simplicity flow.
The warmness of my heart
Will keep this fresh poetry alive.
Those ashes, blackened with the loss of flesh,
Poisoned slowly, till ripped off the subdued tolerance
To death. And bows down in fear and tears,
As, the next is him and the generation after him;
The surrender of the tired heart
To the unknown wretch, the demon of the unknown reign.
The death of music reveals the death of Dead,
What is valued is the harbinger of the song’s end.
Almighty witnesses with swollen eyes, crippled by time,
Reddened by blood, spilled at thousand uncountable thrashes-
Whipped by sons borne off the same womb;
Cruel, blinded by the wildness of the age of luxury,
They killed ‘love’ and epitomized ‘lust’
Such that the Gods disappeared, hung down in shame
And the glory of god was buried beneath the willow,
Alive though, yet forgotten and never to chime its old song again.
The deaf hears the cry of the buried souls,
But they die deep down underneath,
Suppressed by the giant gulp of greedy wines,
And so in chillum nasal,
They sing and praise the glory of the kiss of
Loss...
Wandering alone, a monk, searching for a light yet to be discovered;
Stretching arms, demolished by blackened dark smoked nails
Attached like the poison of some old terrible sin,
Unknown, but to him reminding of some wasted hours
In smoke (the soul of the fire), the epic of the union of the devils
And that, he forgot to dig into his guilt
And blamed the world for defying his stand
When he forgot that god was not for him alone.
He’s a monk, as the wanderers doped by fumed illusions
Proclaim him. Satisfaction calls for his contentment
As he goes out in venture for that light,
The light which will be his attainment of nirvana,
And yet in him, he had already lost that light.
Wrapped in saffron dignity
And to some unknown infinity, afar from his reaches
He goes on in search for that prejudiced light.
I am the spirit of the wild wolf, who always cry to the blue cold moon at midnight, crying for my beloved to come and meet me under the palm tree. My eyes haunted by the pain of my death, yet I wait for my beloved to join me and be united with me. I dream of the day when my beloved will come to me, I’ll hold my beloved tightly and kiss my beloved tenderly, and cover my beloved with every deep breath of my love. My beloved, my beloved…
I am the spirit of the wild wolf, who always climb the Blue Mountains and the footsteps I leave are that of a stranger, strange to this world. When I had those painted breath left in me, they say I was wild and unkempt. I can see that they were not wild, but entangled in wildness, so dark and deep, and so easy to be devoured that they become savage themselves. They say I am wild because I wasn’t one of them, I belong to the woods, the forest and hills, my home, and they gave me the freedom to live peacefully, away from the savages. But, for my beloved, I joined this world, yet I was wild, they say. I died, unknown and unseen. Yet my beloved can see me for my beloved love me truly. So, I wait every night under the palm tree for my beloved to come and join me and when the blue moon smiles upon me I cry to her to sing praises for our mortal love. And this will continue when the spirit of my beloved will be free from that burning skeletal and join me in unison.
‘I’, the spirit of the wild wolf, always cry to the blue cold moon at midnight, crying for my beloved to come and meet me under the palm tree.
I never imagined that I’ll be walking all alone in the woods someday, depending on nothing, but wholly on myself. They say that the burrows here are alive; the trenches of the long forgotten war are still fresh and deep; the bushes here weaves flowers of the ogres; the trees here talk and walk when the village clock struck 12 at midnight; the woods, they say, itself was alive, breathe the air of the force emitting from a land unknown and unseen, and drink from the brook that flows from nowhere and ends nowhere. The Woods I used to fear is the woods through which I am traveling alone now. Its not that I have become brave or some kind of tragedy befell on me, it’s the fascination in me that has been increasing day by day since the day I started dreaming of a lady in white with a long golden hair flowing unattended, yet haunting even the wind with its golden giggles. I then realized that even hairs can mesmerize you and haunt you for lifetime, not exactly lifetime. It has been 4 years since I have been dreaming of her, I never saw the face though, yet I have a wish to see her. When I told about my dream to a wanderer who always sits by the dirty path stretching its way to the woods, he laughed aloud which displeased me a lot! Yet I waited patiently till he was calmed down by himself awkwardly. There was only one answer I got from him and that’s ‘you’! I then left him in disgust and decided to explore the woods myself to see if that lady exists in this abandoned woods. So, its no surprise if my conscience does ask me why am I here? I am here following my dream, ignoring the blasphemies of the ash headed villagers. I quit the society, who cares the black, the brown and the white! Who cares! I am going; my dad is thinking of another marriage with a beautiful young lady, just 4 years my senior. I don’t know why my dad chooses to marry even after being married to my mother. It’s true I am being selfish for my maa died when I was still a child, but still I thought my dad was in love only with my mother, so isn’t he her soul mate? Isn’t he destined to meet her in heaven? But yes I forgot to remind myself that my dad is no more my dad, he is a changed man, and he is tempted with the flesh of those blooming enchanters. I am left out for I being his blood; having came out from the very own blood which used to be devoted, true and pure, but now he doesn’t own it and so, I am not his daughter anymore. And yes I am not an enchanter because I own a beauty that gleams at me only when I look back at the mirror to see those errors crafted on me innocently and unwillingly by myself. Hmmm…it was a long sleep last night, I am still feeling dizzy, my body seems floating lightly, and I feel like I am the lady in white with golden long hair, walking slowly and gracefully through the grassy path, all alone, humming by myself the song of the lonely woods. I am determined to find that lady today, I know I am not going back, but even I fail to realize why I am so determined today. It’s surprising though, still I am a little amazed by the way my whole body is reacting. I am feeling quite tired now, I am feeling very light though, still I feel like I am losing myself, I feel like going back home, but this unicorn gazes back at me from those wild bushes and it overwhelms me, I can see the gushes of those mischievous wind as if those were the sounds of the dwarf horses and I can hear a poor dying sound of giggles, which to me seems unearthly yet heavenly peaceful for my ears. I don’t know how much more distance I need to cover, I am becoming dreary. I can see something sparkling, o! O! They are the ripples, the ripples of the brook that starts from nowhere and ends nowhere! And what’s this? I am breathing something fresh and new! It’s a familiar fragrance, the last time I felt this inducing fragrance was the time when I had my abode in a fairy’s cave and when I came out from that cave I had the first taste of my mother’s milk. Yes this is the taste of life! But how can this fragrance be enchanting me now because my life is not new and fresh anymore, I am 20 yrs. Old. This fragrance is suppose to be felt at the time of the beginning of life and the next time it is felt is the time when death knocks at the door! But here I am still flesh and blood. How can I feel it or sense it? Let me look at myself in this clean and crystal clear brook. Who’s that gazing back at me? It can’t be me; it’s the lady with the golden hair! My hair flows gently, tickling me and making me giggle and I happen to see it now that my hair were not black anymore, it’s a heap of gold! And I am wearing a gown, so white that it is glowing in purity and undoubtedly, the woods is glowing too. Who am I?
• “I’ve heard that she has been in coma this last 4 years. It’s sad though that she died last night, yet she is freed from that useless and ailing body. It’s also a relief to her father who is getting older now, otherwise he always lamented at his only daughter’s condition. But, I’ve heard that he is going to marry a young lady of nearly his daughter’s age?”
• The old woman to whom the question was meant answered,” this young lady was never meant for this earth, it’s too cruel for her to face it. I am happy that she died and yes you heard it right my friend, her father is going to marry again.”
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My brother
awakened me as if my view was dimmed by the mystery lurking on my doubtful mind
which could not properly contrast the real from hallucination. The room was
filled with scented fragrance of sandalwood and wild flowers which imbibed my
mind to relax like a dead man cut out from the living world. My heart did not
have the vast heaviness of the mighty river’s sorrow which used to fix my
imagination to the secrecy of the mighty river’s arm. I looked at my brother
who glowed immensely and a smile glued to his lips, he looked into my eyes as
if ready to give me the answers I have often thought of questioning him. I
stretched my hands to touch him and my mouth spoke thus- “where were you? You have hurt me a lot. I spent the evenings alone by
the banks of the mighty river trying to solve its prophecy. Without you, its
vastness has engulfed me into its mysterious bosom which has strengthened my
heart and soul, but weakened my jest for adopting the many faces of time. My
destination is all wrecked like an abandoned ship in a haunted island where
ghosts and spirits exist without any existence. Why have you left our song
incomplete compelling me to take the help of intoxicants to trace the right
words to weave it with? It is still incomplete and it haunts me like a curse
weakening me to embrace the meaner way of living an old age lost in the realm
of loneliness. Could not you see the sorrow you have bestowed upon me by
leaving me at the hands of fate which used the yolk out of me and deprived me
of happiness? The sorrow is much greater than the pain you have inflicted upon
me a few years back when you vanished from my side during our journey to
grandpa’s house. I thought I had lost you forever when I could not find you
after my long search that lasted an entire day. How was I to know that you had
already reached grandpa’s house taking the shortest route when I was too
engrossed talking to the village girls? My happiness knew no bound when you confided
to me about your yearning for Madhumalati which later bloomed to a relationship
that made way for a blissful marriage. I lifted you up infront of the crowds
which were applauded by everyone present there. I am still unable to unearth
the mystery that had always surrounded your youthful heart which had unkempt
you to leave me and Madhumalati, all alone in this wild and cruel world. Did
not you once think about us and the positiveness of the future that would have
been otherwise a complete song of heaven had you been there to cherish with us?
What demon had infused you to leave with so much sorrow in your heart without
even once sharing them with me? You come now to awaken me and see how happy you
have been all these years?”
Last night mists fell blissfully. 
Hypnotising time, surfacing the dust of the past,
