by Nabanita Sengupta
Ah! It was truly grand
Splendours of seven lands
In shared boundary
Glittering the Rama’s aristocratic gleam.
In another part
descended fairies of the earth
Trading games of love in this glass world
Neons promising of Edens beyond
With every Baht a bit more romance
The morning sun bargained for sleep
The King of Nagzira
Nagzira spoke to us through its Royal Bengal
In a stately walk piloting the safari
The yellow and black blazed in sun.
In a majestic turn of head, two gleaming emaralds
Naked brute force and grace of motion juxtaposed
Within the dense Forest,
Ancient beauty enwrapping the brute within.
Kokum dipped spirit and King’s beer
Untamed waves upon tanned skins
Bonhomie in surfs and paraglided love.
Tucked far away from crowd,
In the lonely fort
Forlorn under the summer’s sun
A few lovers scattered through ruins
Sneaking bits of each other, cheating the thirsty sun
A solitary crow upon the fort wall
Silently gazed at Mandavi’s middle aged gait.
Raghurajpur – The Artists’ Village
Arrays of painted doorways and roofs of slanted tiles
Flanked the narrow lane
Displays of Jagannath faces on dried coconut and nutshells
And scenes from Rama’s life adorn the walls.
Scattered brushes, palettes of colours or an artist’s desk
Or a mat with patches of dried colours,
Confidante of an artist’s loving toil.
These – the hatcheries of a dying skill.
Amid passionate strokes of brush,
The divine comes alive
Pounded colours throb upon the dyed and dried cloths
Dasavatar, makhan chor, raas leela…
Jagannath’s time to visit his aunt’s abode,
Patachitrs fill spaces till the Lord returns.