BEWITCHED

 

BEWITCHED

 

Besieged the village by remoteness,

Nature, thick forest rock landscape,

Surrounds from all sides isolate totally,

As a teacher, I decided to stay here,

Loved the village kids, an image of God,

Un-spoilt urban life less penetrated,

Simple, loving people, most illiterate,

Peasants, by profession, accept life,

Unaware of urban aspirations, dreams,

Singly clothe on the waist a cotton towel,

Turban or at shoulder covers well,

Perennial harvesting kids get busy,

Play the rest of the year in a forest at a river,

Opened a primary school I joined,

A room concrete built for twenty students,

A few are girls rest boys studying,

Happy villagers with me, live here,

Chosen my life to teach children,

Lives alone in that room comfortably,

Cook my food writing when free,

Life would have been far better,

The lush green forest nature attracts,

Mountainous hills surround exotic life,

Seclusion separated from pollution,

Fresh air, clean waters, fountain cool,

A marshy pool birds paradise wonderful,

I watch sitting among students enjoy,

Tell them stories birds transmigrate,

Warm waters attract continental birds,

Cows buffalos bathe in calm waters,

Variety of flowers lotus spreads shores,

Lotus pond is known far and wide,

No communication with the village exists,

I find my world within the world,

Separate heavenly peace, happiness,

That struck me sickness visits often,

Lacks complete medical facility,

No communication to the city a path,

Trodden by villagers for miles sick,

Watch a wooden bed being carried,

Pregnant women are sick, need service,

Fortunately, I saw a doctor came,

Open a dispensary medical center,

Build a two-room house, start treating,

The state financed the young doctor,

Patients find him, perhaps saves God,

Dying patients get treatment to survive,

We got friendly, closely appreciated,

The venture was unique, unfolded,

One night I heard bitter cries loudly,

Ran outside, a female being carried,

Pregnant, sick, subconscious, moaning,

A few women were taking her,

I went to the medical center and saw,

The doctor connected saline to her,

She was injected with medicine,

The doctor agreed to stay with him,

He was sitting at her bedside,

Alert measuring her by stethoscope,

Breaks the dawn, he called females,

I came out of the room wait patiently,

A sudden cry disturbed the silence,

A baby is born doctor helped delivery,

It was a safe delivery mother is safe,

In the apron doctor came out smiling,

Held the baby in bosom declared,

A girl is born in good shape, crying,

I saw poor villagers smiling,

Lovingly looked at her, the baby is bright,

I felt a trickle of tears in my eyes,

Bewitched at her eyes, I held her.

 

Pen: Bijayananda Mishra

Title of Poem: Bewitched

Themes: born a baby girl in a remote village

Date: 23rd November 2022, Cuttack

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AESTHETIC

 

AESTHETIC

 

 

Stigmatized life scarcely I watch,

Never felt my open heart is brutal,

Fact loving emotionless, I argue,

Beliefs mind collaborates with reality,

That I see observed and noticed deeds,

Watch the consequences opine openly,

Rebellious my heart, to desist from,

Keep silent, foremost behavior I hear,

Know hypocrisy lies sugar-coated,

Trying a few to represent the truth,

Understand well willfully blind views,

Self-interest plays innocent benevolence,

My attitude today cumulative pays,

Unsocial tags separate from friends,

Observe festive events, ceremonies met,

Less I found friends hug, greet even,

Walks away from me I approach,

Never could see a smile while meeting,

Uninvited among relatives, friends,

Lonely life picture I shrink by a mirror,

Think at times to change totally,

Opt out of telling factual the truth,

Accept truth is bitter that bites hurt,

Attempt to humiliate, friends gossip,

Lies duly enjoyed by mates encourage,

Stories figments of imagination portray,

Listen to friends eagerly, never tell me,

Pleasant time passes soon, life forgets,

Left only companionship memorable,

The truth of the matter is less important,

The smiles, jokes, and laughter linger long,

Intrusion in the middle fact is a disaster,

Change, change your lifestyle, be polite,

I realized the fun of friendship is prime,

Friendship is built friend misses soon,

The lifelong heart seeks memory lane,

It was a gradual self-effort to mend attitude,

learned to smile at boasting rumors,

Apparently, enjoying the talk laugh now,

Gossip fiction as real-life experiences,

They listen to stories with rapt attention,

It brings thrilling events into pleasure,

The story is not the point closeness is warm,

Shares youth, his bruised heart healed,

Little important fact or fiction to matter,

More is sharing happiness, laughter,

Gathering bonhomie intimacy thick,

Warm greetings and hugging get automatic,

Talk of endless gossip inquiry proxy,

I did enjoyed get back to my friends,

They tagged me now aesthetic humor,

Noted a paradigm change occurred,

Now I feel friendship is prime help,

Stabilizes life outlet to share owes,

The loneliness and curse life faced, I knew,

An accident changed me totally,

Survived from fatal incident confined,

Feared once the end nearer depressed,

Ever dawn that was breaking knocking,

Knocking on the doorbell, friends visit,

Now I knew the aesthetic sense the warmth,

Their presence erased the horror,

They tell rumors of early recovery,

I found in their heart only care and love,

The aesthetic beauty of their friendship,

Brought tears immensely happy,

Quietly healing effect after they quit!

 

Pen: Bijayananda Mishra

Title of Poem: Aesthetic

Theme: Aesthetic behavior

Date: 22nd November 2022, Cuttack

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SATIRE

 

SATIRE

 

 

Life of a rickshaw puller yet graceful,

A small cottage thatched roof was built,

Wall with clay and bricks cleaned,

Polished with mud cow dung lovely,

Red soils coated the walls beautifully,

Chalk paintings decorate the front balcony,

Earthen oven wood fire its warmth,

Charcoal bunt potatoes and eggplant,

Mixed with onion and tamarind,

Added a few mustard oils, the menu,

Boiled rice cooked then with water,

Prepared to be sour with curd and salt,

Chilly, onion, salt, dried sour mango,

The paste is a sweetener for taste buds,

Fried tiny fish with mustard paste,

Burned in charcoal burning simmer,

The meal is our lunch and dinner best,

Kerosene lamp lantern very convenient,

A torch, an umbrella, and a radio,

Margosa tree behind our house,

The twigs are the best toothbrush,

With charcoal powder for family,

My wife is a domestic servant to a neighbor,

A cloth merchant three-storied building,

Immeasurable wealth, large family,

Busy people, very rich, we found,

Under their shed living in peace,

I take their children to school on time,

Kids love me, call me uncle, and make fun.

We couple get monthly salary well,

My wife sweeps the floor, cleans utensils,

My two sons read at primary school,

My life family is happy and contented,

My rickshaw is my lifeline, survival,

In the big city, every morsel of food paid for,

Manages my family life, kids studying,

Mending poor lives is honestly joyous,

We feast happily on the straw mat,

Sleep on the floor on these straw mats,

A few cotton blankets, thick sheets,

A few cotton pillows with cover clean,

A tube well at the backyard toilet,

Marked our neighbor as rich, unhappy,

Fighting over property all day,

Their mother is quite old and often cries,

With all ornaments, the property is sad,

Sick because of miserable life visible,

Intolerable for us, sadly watch tears,

Alone in a big room teakwood cot,

She sleeps on the floor mat her habit,

One day gave us a bundle of currency,

Requested to keep it secret totally,

A few weeks after my wife gets angry,

Demanded gold chain a saree urgently,

Speechless  looked at her surprised,

It was not her nature but corrupted,

I discovered satires life eludes this way,

A simple bundle of currency changes,

The satire I found to the reason,

The root of the unhappiness of our mistress,

That plundered our family peace!

 

Title of the Poem: Satire

Pen: Bijayananda Mishra

Theme: Money satire of human life

Date: 19th November 2022, Cuttack.

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RIVERBANKS

 

RIVERBANKS

 

 

Bends the river near the village,

Grew at the side knew so well,

Love my heart at every dawn her sight,

The sun rises at the other shores,

Blue waters in the autumn gain hues,

A surreal but unearthly view of orange,

Wakes up at the ringing bells  in the road,

Cow herds living in cattle sheds are moving,

Announces naughty hen on a rooftop,

Get up quickly, morning wait eagerly,

Margosa sticks charcoal toothpaste brush,

A glass bottle of mustard oil before bath,

Getting fresh with cold water refreshes,

Elders accompany children,

Visible her scenery boats plying,

From school watch, fishermen sailing,

Throw nets catch fish worth watching,

Visits to the riverbank picnic many,

Understands her furry in flood fiery,

Fund of the river peasant flood water,

Vegetation at both riverbanks scenic,

Wonderful is to walk in these fields,

 On a moonlit night, the shore experiences electric,

Pervading song of flute from another side,

Many times returns to the village,

Nighttime full moon night river changed,

The sight resembles a dream silvery,

Use to sit in the boat and forgets everything,

The thick fog settles on rare occasions,

Visible moon, the river vanishes,

Unearthly state  the dark water lucent,

Mist surrounds the boat, invisible shores,

Contemplate me how magical,

The river that captured my mind is the same,

Where it begins, where it ends, not known,

The sight of the riverbank is a picture frame,

The background behind my life that grew,

Homesick, revisit the village sight,

Settles dusk, crimson the setting sun,

The dust cloud behind cowherds aural,

Speechless in my twilight years,

Life passed at the riverbank reminisce,

From childhood, God is the river, exists,

Gives bountiful crops and water plenty,

The fishery that changes poor man's plate,

Most nourishing, tasty delicacies favorite,

At this age, I stand alone at a riverbank,

The dust screen at evening bells ring,

Orange-red river water riverbank in the aura,

A heavenly angel, luminous pristine water,

Comparable to the life of  a woman divine,

Sustains beautifies two families, unique,

Both families resemble riverbanks,

Without riverbanks, the river loses meaning,

A married woman without both families,

Loses the significance of the life it nurtures,

Parents' family and in-laws linking,

The service a female provides to both,

Her presence as an angelic river flows,

With all serenity helps growth divine,

Her selfless sacrifices are innumerable,

Equalized to benefits of the river subtle,

Parallel riverbanks never meet,

Links the river flowing like a bride.

 

Title of Poem: Riverbanks

Pen: Bijayananda Mishra

Theme: Life of a bride

             equally links riverbanks

Date: 18th November 2022, Cuttack

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MOLTEN FLUID

 

MOLTEN FLUID

 

Ignored my faith, my God,

Forgot my Gurudev,

But worshiped my mother

As the essence of my life and her love,

Her blessings are all for me,

Believes I shall take this the day I depart,

But amazed and quite amazed,

 Alas, a few generations lost this  aspect,

An aspect and subtle,

A mother carries in her womb baby,

Her flesh and blood over months nourishes,

She feeds her milk, becomes the first teacher,

Takes care right through her life,

Lo, forgotten by most inhuman, ungrateful,

Selfish generation after generation,

Only except grateful heart deep emotions,

Devotions and care right up to the end,

As payback of gratitude for a child,

 Much beyond this mundane world.

My grandmother was very passionate

 About the divine, seen all the day reciting,

 Lord's sacred names hour after hour,

 Till she used to sleep, bead on chest,

 But often remember in her loving memories,

Her last word was the name of my father,

Today my mother is when near me,

I just survived an accident two years ago,

And still struggling to survive fit and healthy,

Her care and mere presence rare feelings,

And  amazingly healing touch,

And peace in my life with contentment,

And blissful times of serenity the entire day,

Those who lose it in mental perceptions,

Have lost all these soft emotions,

If they are mere poor losers in their existence,

In this mortal world,

They will go empty-handed,

But never could know the meaning of love,

What they know of love is their illusive mind,

That melts to ether and void,

The moment they cease to exist,

With the love of my grandmother,

whose shadow is still in me,

Inspiration to love my own mother,

As her contribution when I was a kid,

With her immense love till the day she passed,

I just dropped a little Gangajal,

 In her open mouth, sleeping still,

Never could I know the significance,

Of departure of her for good,

I used to call her Maa,

she still lives in my heart in infinite love,

And thanks, Ma,

you taught me to take care of my own mother,

when she needs the most,

And with me, ever laughing,

A molten fluid of deep emotions solidified in time

 

Title of Poem: Molten Fluid

Pen: Bijayananda Mishra

Theme: Frozen love for grandmother

Date 16th November 2022, Cuttack

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SMITTEN

 

SMITTEN

 

 

Turns and twisted life is complex,

Surprised today myself speechless,

Could never understand my life,

Sizzled enough is simmering within,

Every thought memory impressions,

Changes instantly unfold anew,

Little could understand the meaning,

Embedded goodwill graces the unknown,

Arranged only protection survival hidden,

Devastates the dawn desires crumpled,

Shatter lingering hopes calms the mind,

Wait, wait, my dear soul, wait patiently,

Your urge within eliminates you,

Changing a path dawn hint elaborately,

Entwined mysterious paradigm changes,

Your heart cherishes different ways,

Discovers the most beautiful things,

A subtle devotional soul gets smitten,

Smite the past indistinct and forgotten,

Project divinity is never personified,

Stays like ordinary known to the life,

Linked so intimately close to the soul,

Fails culprit mind waylaid, thrilled,

Move far crosses continents decently,

Fly over the ocean future waits,

Waiting for a name famous due to prosperity,

Luxury and glamour are unachievable here,

Obscure town, dark lanes offer nil,

Elderly was  women under the veil liked,

Agreed infinite love and care unreal,

Mind told once me to warn sternly,

A morsel of rice bread keeps you alive,

You fail to understand hunger,

More painful than death drags,

Won't kill you quickly sutures pain,

You cry here loudly none can help,

Go to big cities continent apart soon,

You can mint gold enough to live,

Have your beautiful home gadgets,

Well clothed life will be secured,

More than past your dream to reality,

This occurred decades ago,

High-rise tower affluent apartment,

Every that is needed stuffed happy,

Alone watching my past fading,

There was aunty most beautiful woman,

Our neighbor loved me and had compassion,

Her caress and feathery touches were graceful,

Loving me so closely fond of my visits,

During my school days and college periods,

Her cakes and sweet dishes were delicious,

Bright dark eyes, long nose, smiles,

Under the veil kissing me blessed,

Aunty was childless, our neighbor,

I felt like her son and grew up,

Her lap, her loving eyes, stories,

Addicted to her companionships,

During my sickness, she used to sit,

Near to me remain awake all night,

Today I have got everything and more,

Single life far from family, my aunty,

Time distanced me farthest pain,

I  watch her photograph her age,

Wrinkled face etched age advancing,

Lonely childless mother, I probed,

Suffering these days tortured soul,

Bedridden for a few days, have a fever,

Felt so lonely my heart is smitten,

Decided that final to quit, go home,

Smitten for her love, childish closeness,

Can fulfill a divine duty to assist her.

 

Title of Poem: Smitten

Pen: Bijayananda Mishra

Theme: Smitten with a childhood love

Date: 14th November 2022, Cuttack

Courtesy: Google picture

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