The golden lines of Devisutra or Geeta
begin the day's first move.
And then the hot steam of excited cups of tea,
ignoring all rules of hygiene.
While sipping tea, gather the kith and kin.
There comes the seven-year-old daughter, Pupun,
holding a Picture-Book : Ramayana.
The wife begins her day's chores,
blasting from her Radio.
Brightening the cause of the hour of trial,
with immense eagerness I narrate to Pupun
the stories of Seeta and Ravana.
like a red, red ripe apple
the sun comes
and stands in front of me.
While shaving, I get wish-waves,tempting.
Breaking down all walls
come in to cling onto my body.
Like an intoxicated boat
float towards the indefinite time.
The bell resounds inside the body.
On heaps of falsehood
the scattered sunshine of impatience.
And, while searching the stairs of freedom,
with all interests
the birthtime of another morning...
The world seems old
and, under the vast sky,
one feels himself dispensable,
Sanat Das Patnaik