A stroll from troll

The world is increasingly becoming virtual,

With friends having full freedom to stroll,

Even when one restricts posts on ones wall,

There is always the danger of a troll.

A real-life banter can also end up in brawl,

Breaking a bone or two can be for real,

It is no consolation for the Internet scrawl,

When your friendly foe holds you on trial.

Their slander campaign will make you boil,

Slowly and steadily it could drain your fuel,

Engage with utmost care to avoid turmoil,

Conserve for larger issues that need your gruel.

If a troll is still making life a hell-hole,

A stroll will keep you away from that troll.

Also listen to: A stroll in an exotic place.

[PS: Edited on 27 Sept 2014 where I replaced the last two lines. The earlier version was: 'If a troll is still taking your toll,/A stroll will take you on a roll.'] 

Your coming and going

Your coming and going

Your coming and going,

Left a motionless pause.

Leaving one in solitude.

Of being and not being.

A silent melancholy,

In denial and hope.

But, time ticks on,

Not stopping by.

One mourns and celebrates,

The footprints thy left.

Appreciating the fullness,

Of that emptiness.

Your presence here,

Will forever be felt.

For the moments between,

Your coming and going.

[Note: This poem started with the loss of a friend in late May of 2014. Mihir, you will be remembered.  The void is permanent, but perhaps it is not; it is just a transient separation.What comes will go. But, that going also signifies a second coming. 

Going beyond, this poem is also about those recurring patterns that one observes in our everyday life. Or, even the ferocity of that sudden calamity that devours and destroys everything that comes its way, but ultimately fizzles out and returns everything to a serene calmness that is profound and sublime. This poem also draws inspiration from Octavio Paz’s 'Between going and staying'.]

Srijit Mishra

---

Between going and staying

Between going and staying, the day is stuck,

a block of frozen transparency.

Everything is seen yet all is elusive:

the horizon untouchably near.

Papers on the table, a book, a vase:

all rest in the shadow of their names.

Blood ascends more slowly through my veins

a single syllable beating stubbornly in my temples.

The indifferent light transforms

opaque walls, time without history.

The afternoon has spread out: now it's a bay

rocking the world with its gentle swaying.

We are neither asleep nor awake:

We are, we just are.

The moment lets itself go:

we pull ourselves away; pauses in transit.

Octavio Paz

---

Another translation of Paz's poem:

Between going and staying

the day wavers,

in love with its own transparency.

The circular afternoon is now a bay

where the world in stillness rocks.

All is visible and all elusive,

all is near and can’t be touched.

Paper, book, pencil, glass,

rest in the shade of their names.

Time throbbing in my temples repeats

the same unchanging syllable of blood.

The light turns the indifferent wall

into a ghostly theater of reflections.

I find myself in the middle of an eye,

watching myself in its blank stare.

The moment scatters. Motionless,

I stay and go: I am a pause.

Octavio Paz

---

A link to a discussion of Paz's poem, http://reneegr1.edublogs.org/2009/03/17/analyzing-a-poem-between-going-and-staying/

A tall order there for pluralism to resurface

In this moment of all round euphoria,
Hope lies in a honey-toned world-view,
A time for mass jingoistic hysteria,
All your aspirations are going to be true.

Do not question the carefully camouflaged,
Be pragmatic and erase the unpleasant past,
Or else you will be sorrowfully glued,

Missing the development that will come fast.

The other is dissent creating discordant,
An act that lacks sense or substance,
Trash it as an incoherent cynical rant,
Preach them vows of patience for penance.

Logic is given the go by, reason has no space,
A tall order there for pluralism to resurface.

(This poem or poetry is written in the form of a sonnet. It is a reflection following the counter-reactions to concerns raised following the results of the 2014 elections in India while its implication is general and goes beyond the elections. The poem espouses plural concerns and in that sense is philosophical and perhaps both Bayesian and Rawlsian.) 

Damsel with a Pitcher

'Kalasi Kakhei Rupasi' by Sabita Pradhan
(translated by Srijit Mishra)

[This is a beautiful poem in Odia (Oriya). It is difficult to translate, but ...]

'Damsel with a Pitcher'

A damsel with a pitcher on her waist, 

walks daintily away with soft steps.

Her girdle-like waist chain and anklet,

swing to a song that the twain makes.

Slow and steady comes the lazy wind,

to give her body a gentle caress.

The autumn moon hidden behind the cloud(s),

gives her stalking stealthy glances.



[Note: The 's' in clouds could be silent to rhyme with wind. Note on 14 September 2012: The poet's use of words  and phrases is powerful and gives a vivid visualization of rural Odissa (Orissa), or India. Some words that are normally not used are kati referring to waist, kinkini referring to an ornament worn around the waist. Bhodua means the month of bhadrab, after shravan; the beginning of the season of sarata/sharad, ie, late monsoon/early autumn. Thus, bhoduara chanda is translated to autumn moon. Earlier, I had used 'autumn clouds'.]

Transliteration with English alphabets would be as follows

Kakhare kalasi kakhai rupasi

Pada chapi jebe chale.

Kaatire Kinkini Padare paunji

Runu jhunu gita bole.

Alasi pabana thiri thiri asi

Dehaku ta' chuin jae.

Bouda bhitaru bhoduara chanda

Chorai chorai chahen.

       

See another translation

For Mother (Bou), Original by Dillip Balabantaray

Also see two secular odia poems written using English transliteration.

He Anandamya by Madhusudhan Rao

Ahe Dayamaya by Ramkrushna Nanda 

A Secular Poem by Madhusudhan Rao in Oriya (Odia)

Last time when I was in Bhubaneswar (December 11-12, 2008) my father jotted down two Oriya secular poems for his grand daughter, Nerika. I am putting them in the blog for their timeless value. One of the the poems by Madhusudhan Rao is:

He Anandamaya Koti Bhubana Palaka
Adhama, Akhyama Muhin Abodha Balaka
Gyana Data Bhagaban
Dia Mote Subhabudhi Dia Dibyagyana
Satyapathe Dharmapathe Gheni Jaa Mote
Bhasaa Parana Mama Taba Prema Srote
Prabhu Parama Karana
A Jibana Sricharane Kali Samarpana

My father also wrote down the following lines.

"He (Madhusudhan Rao) was of Maharastrian roots, but turned out to be a staunch Oriya who was one of the pioneers (others being Radhanath Ray, a Bengali, Fakirmohan Senapati, Gangadhar Mehar, Girija Shankar Ray, another Bengali) responsible for establishing Oriya as a separate language with rich literary traditions in the face of stiff opposition from Calcutta Bengalis who tried to claim that Oriya was only a dialect of Bengali. This they could achieve through their great writings. Madhusudhan Rao's Varnabodha was perhaps the first primer in Oriya to spread the Oriya language among the Oriya speaking people far and wide and is still popular.

This prayer constitutes part of the Varnabodha. Being a Brahmo, this prayer is secular in nature addressed to the supreme power who transcends any particular religion understood in the narrow and the limited sense of the term.

The spontaneity of expression which directly appeals to the spiritual mind and heart is a little sanskritized which was the practice in his time."

See the next post on Ramakrushna Nanda's Aahe Dayamaya ..., another secular poem