Those Three years in Sambalpur
How a tender bird ventures to take off
The transverse and ponderous sky mocks.
Does it lend a helping hand? That’s neither rosy nor easy
In a spiraling gloomy terrain what needed was a fine balance
A distant and unknown land is not that of a fairy tale
Alien type people; tongue twisting dialects
Unlimited golden rice fields; smell of rice liquor
The hallucinogenic khadia dance
The golden dew of winter mornings collapsed a tender heart.
The breasts on her brown body just a fairy heaven
Fresh and pristine currents of the Hirakud Dam
Played the flute in the rangabati tone, what a love tale!
Kumar Hassan blossomed, honey and butterflies, poetry
I watched hundreds of nights painting the enigma of Anita Bagh, my classmate
The honeyed connection with an adolescent past
Flung a lot many forgotten intimacy; how can I discard them?
Sparkling dewdrops upon the hilarity of GM College campus
How good all was to excavate the history of Chengiz Khan, and then
The love abode of Mamtaj, her crevices in between and the loveable breasts
With the smoke of cigarettes and hot tea concoction a few pegs of Champaign
Joy de vivre draped and went tidal over the cerulean corridors
Malini Mishra’s extra marital relations
Deepa Mehta’s Fire slashed the Indian macho of hypocrisy!
Every Nuakhai and Chaitra dawned with loads of rollicking fanfare
The heart guzzling folk songs of Ram Harpal rangabati go rangabati
A clumsy cobweb of dispossession and depravity spiraled Ainthapali to Bhutapara
Kumari Mistry waited daily on the brim of every evening for some one
Her drunkard father dashed the icicle of the tattered hut on a daily basis
Factory workers from a nearby factory returned with chucking stomachs
Those sweet, scary scars and acrimonious empathies yet lead me to remind
Stashed myriads of standoffishness and hid a hellish quagmire.
The autumn river goes ecstatic, a shaft of emotions ejaculates
The ranchers sit on the brimming excitement, wait for their turn
We merge together and become one confluence, sing and flow calmly
We play hide and seek with death like a phoenix, our habit
In a frequent interval, we close our eyes and watch heaven in between us
In a quilt heavy workout, prolonged gasping for breath
A thick forest of the Arabic perfumes
We can’t at all recuperate from insanity, it takes centuries.
I feel your intense whirring in my heart
My fingers rush to the tip of your breasts and the plateau down
To the centre the deeper abyss where life hugs eponymous salvation
The most ultimate, I seek after
My avaricious lips collide with yours
Your spongy and smooth sandal wood-like arms
And the amorous bulwark of red sandal in your thigh
I try to fathom the depth of our ancient wickedness
Fleshy want, caverned gaudiness.
Abundant contentment, piles of daffodils, upbeat hope
Sufficient to keep up the voyage to hit the shore
No fear of storms, only the fear of losing you makes me droopy
The tulip garden of Kashmir looks like a newlywed woman
Your elegant groins exude the spring serum.
We hide in the silhouette of the new moon
A heavy rain drenches our scattered kisses, uncollected passion
The rapture of the secretly stored tickling
The warmly flickering embrace of the night slips away
Leaving the footprints of a love god
You depart with the receding aroma of night jasmines
Birds open up the petals of the morning in their filmy chirping
No silhouette of our love moon,
Only the dead body of it lies shrouded far off
In a patch of the sky your eyes sing an album of love elegies.