Krishna Prasai
How could I come to term with you
when you, with Dushashan blows
are nourishing the town by oppressing the country
beheading the tender hearts of flowers
in the remote serenities?
How should I tell you, O urban sahib,
that my exponential, eternal city
and the everlasting chautaro that’s far above the throne
ever begets gods alone
like the bright womb of Aditi.
Where, pure, perennial water-springs
like Jamadagni flow
caressing the wind as truthful as Yudhisthir!
Where, the flower smiles
on that diligent slope atop the decent hill
dissipating the tantalizing intoxication of youth.
Where, the buds await the Ashwini orders of the moon to open
and await the Chakravarti orders of the sun to wither.
One can hardly surmise how in this ageless land
that harbors the echo of man’s first-ever sound
creation sends forth smiles.
The demonic men that sell off
the divine sages of the urban civilizations
may stage their parade—in Saddami steps—for years
we cannot cherish any cosmetic ghastliness.
I feel no daunt to assert—
in the festivity of the colors I play with
there are cute rocks of naked peaks
untouched by the wings of water
there are passionate, virgin rivers
all soaked in the spell of Urvashi’s dance
On the bosoms of my Bhagavat land
there are mountains that make Parikshit Pyramid
and there are passionate symphonies of cascades
that croon Sandilya Samhita
together with the ditty of Dhananjya
emanating eternal song of emancipation
like the twang of a string just put on the bow
At the moment, in this land of Aryavarta,
there comes the chemical stink of Duryaodhan sweats
reminding one of the insidious plans
to make lakshagriha
attempting to foil its Brahmarshi paths
and defile its Bamiyani settlements.
It’s true, I announce my complete defiance
to these Shakuni intrigues
that nurture a digital love
and cherish addictive thirst.
I announce them clear proscriptions
on entering my organic front-yard
where, drenched in its ever-lasting Shrawan
I am, at the moment
celebrating the Kamadhenu fiesta of incomputable joy
I don’t at the least hesitate to say—
in this profound sea at unattainable heights
where strangers are bidding to hunt
there lies the Samadhi of Kalpabriksha
the flower I cherish the most.
[Krishna Prasai (b. 1960) is a poet, storywriter and essayist. Prakshepan (stories 1990), Gham Nabhayeko Bela (poems 2006), Anubhootika Chhalharu (travel essays 2009) Sun Shower (Zen poems 2010) and Never Say Goodbye (2017) are works upon which his fame mainly rests. A winner of Dharanidhar Award, Mr. Prasai is the Chairperson of Jara Foundation.]