What Chaos - What Order

If order be the cause of unhappiness

of nothing happening except routine

hunger for the body, inanity:

give me chaos sublime

to breathe poison, sleep on worries

eat leftovers of your creative tools.

 

What life is this? This base

childish chase of beggary

of health wealth sex.

Give me speeches of peace for war

more roads of light to walk,

and run to spread  the fragrance

from earth to heaven to

charm god from his hectic boredom.

 

Order I hate for its dead calm

disorder I hate for its noise

of individual  aspirations to

outbid all needs and deeds.

 

Let me sit on lonely shores,

counting shells recounting

petty foams taking away sand

from my feet and melting into

the dark sea in silent pride.

DRAUPADI - 83

  

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty's 

DRAUPADI - 83

Draupadi’s Admiration and tribute To Bhisma

 

News came Bhisma has fallen

the brave wise invincible celibate

booned with wishful death had a death wish

laid his arms when he saw Shikhandi

in Arjuna's chariot, as per his promise

to give up when he encounters a eunuch,

Shikhandi was Amba reborn to avenge

her contumely in her last birth as a Princess:

Bhisma's armoured body was torn by Arjuna

with tearful arrows in eyeless self abuse,

The tallest Prince of Men fell streaming

blood from million arrows pierced into his

divine frame on a bed of arrows.

The earth sank in respect, Arjuna

awakened Ganga, his celestial Mother

with a saluting arrow and Ganga poured

her melted heart into her great son's

thirsting throat in motherly jets of love.

The armies stood in awe, the sky

folded the sun in hasty retreat to mourn

Bharat's great son's horizontal withdrawal

from a life of sacrificial grandeur.

Kaurava Pandava women in camps

folded their numb hands in mournful prayer.

Draupadi went to Kurukshetra with aarati,

washed Bhisma's feet bowed, placed

incense at the feet of Ganga son

who would leave the world when the sun

entered Makar solstice inaugurating

the brighter phase for the world. Bhisma

blessed her all happiness with a pained sigh.

 

Draupadi walked alone and stood

her heart was blank, mind dazed.

How graceful Bhisma looks!

In arrow stuck body,

lying on Arjuna's arrow bed

purging blood glistens in heroic tribute

to a body uncontaminated by the world!

But is this dark land the place

for his dying rest? The fetid smell

of rotting bodies, burning flesh

the air surcharged with hate and violence

smelling like infernal filth

nauseates the soul in humid rage,

his heroic diadem still befits him

his royal blood although he was never

a king, by sacrificial choice, glistens

in this putrid murk of man's lunacy

warning the living to give up insane

arrogance to enjoy God's green earth.

 

Draupadi saw a tall dark shadow

standing arms akimbo to block her way

Draupadi paused looked, it melted

the entire earth was under the Shade:

Draupadi asked, who are you, real

or I am hallucinating - I am real

I am Death   -  Draupadi laughed O you

insubstantial dark nothing move over

you eclipse our destiny forever,

I know you are here to enjoy the scene

the bone heaps on the soaked earth

go, go, go now the  sun has seen it all,

Moon too will see and shed drops

the earth will go on,

war peace prosperity poverty will alternate,

you cannot overshadow

life's irrational compromises on earth.

Draupadi moved on, her pace slackened

by the grand light of Bhisma

raised over the earth by the arrow bed.

 

Life Tourists

Are we uncaused unwished for

intruders on earth unwelcomed

as visitors left to their own devices

dying and fighting every moment

in search of tokens

of glory fame and pride

which are used when we lie

in the hospital bed to be

carried away lest we infect the living?

 

If it is so, let it be so

if we are visitors on a tour of life

on this beautiful earth

let us enjoy what the world

show cases completing with nature

in momentary pride

we come here to write our own stories

to attract attention

of historians biased

and infected by private imagination.

 

But why think about records

footprints and memories

the album will lie here

dusted and yellow

let us simply live, enjoy

whatever comes fiesta, funeral

creative urges leading to

our tourist immortality.

 

We know we will return,

from where we came

we don’t know the address

but let us create new addresses

for the future tourists

in this monument of earthly eternity.

 

 

DRAUPADI - 82

  

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty's 

DRAUPADI - 82

The Eighteen Day War

 

The first day's sun hanging half mast

in the winter sky turned pale seeing

the two armies poised for annihilation

of Bharat's present and future - but

the sun watched and perhaps heard

Arjuna's melancholy Blues and Krishna's

philosophic wisdom but was woken up

to shocked attention when the Panchajanya*

sounded the knell of all reputations.

 

Restless Draupadi took care of the stores

supervised the food and other needs

of the chariot warriors and womenfolk

all the time keeping her eyes and ears

for views and news from the battle front.

 

At the sunset hour Draupadi

all dressed up in greeting smiles

waits for her husbands' return

bruised, blood sticking in patches

purple spotted warriors in tired pride

and welcomes them with her glowing eyes.

She greets Krishna saying - Sakha!

What have you brought for your Sakhi   -

Sweaty darkness and aching limbs  -

Come I will wash you with lily dew,

she cleans the wounds of her husbands

feeds them together, Krishna at the centre,

listens to their losses in silent respect

makes them sleep a few hours and is ready

when they leave for the battle grounds

in graceful military gear to tempt their

fate for combative glory and safe return.

 

Evenings come with horror goblins

moving around figures lying like

dummy fairies dismembered stiff

some armless voices cry for water

in the void of life in heaps of flesh.

Draupadi listens to stories of bravery

disenchanted by death on either side.

Bhisma's commandership frightens all

the earth fears extinction, counters

weaken, the will suffers pangs of gloom

nights pass in sleepless clash of swords

endless swish of arrows flaming death

to glorious crowns on tall chariots.

Mornings come to mock at,

survivors to strain their luck again

balloons burst like swollen pride

of the rain of arrows and thunder

of maces for uncompromising fall.

The Kurukshetra trembles in quaking fear.

Draupadi waits in restless agitation

for the endgame of all verbosities.

Waits for a green silence beyond

victory defeat, truth lies foe and friend.

 

*panchajanya: The name of Krishna's conch.

 

 

 

A Teary Vow

With the maiden drops of rain

I washed my tears

the dead grass was reborn with joy

the cracked earth drank the rain

in open mouthed thirst in large swings

another season of possibilities

for regeneration of life.

 

But my tears

never create or generate anything

impotent sad streams flow down

spreading the message of my pain

never waits to hear its own blues

I cry in stealth lest

my emptiness will be caught

if anyone hears the flow of

my lonely anthem:

But the rain hides nothing

it flows down from the sulking sky

to fill life in all waste and void.

 

Why should I cry then

if my tears are imbecile?

Tears of mournful heart

serves stories of a failed mind

alone in the wild growth of the heart.

 

I will now laugh full of life

grow the harvest of laughs

on the cracked feelings

beating fast my own cloud drums..

DRAUPADI - 81

  

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty's 

DRAUPADI - 81

The Kurukshetra War

 

Is war a cosmic necessity

to purge the earth of weeds,

is it a spiritual Yajna to balance

the turbulent morals

for restoration of man's

lost creativity in beneficent measures?

But if the divine powers punish

the sinners through war

Man is not guilty of bloodshed,

a supervening power interferes

motivating humans to rank hypocrisy

deceit, hate, revenge, murder

and all that is profane;

Where is human free will then?

Why talk about sin and merit

it's all a game played by immortals

using us as pawns, we kill, die

suffer and inflict untold misery

without the freedom of responsibility.

 

Draupadi's eyes and ears

struck by sights and sounds

of movement of carts, chariots

horses, elephants, weapons, men

provisions, drums and trumpets

lines of men marching for victory  -

dilated to a surreal scene;

Angels, Gods, Sylphs, Seraphs dancing

around Kurukshetra for the feast

of blood and death... Draupadi winked

her eyes four times to drive away

the film of absurdity: Draupadi

smiled, we are hungry of war

gore and the hawking urges; no god

no skiey creatures goad us to evil

we ourselves are enemies of our

own shadows as we want to reign

shadowless on this inherited earth

which we will handover willy nilly

to the next batch who in turn will

leave the race half run to others.

 

Draupadi stood up  in firm resolve

she is in life's race course,

if she stops midway others will ride over.

Why stop then, let me run to win

this race is for victory, if I lose

a shady death of defeat would delete

my soul's verve from the earth's

absurd drama relegating me

to the slimy offshoots of failures:

I have chosen my role, if it is assigned

I don't know, what I know I will do.

If my will is the will of the Unseen

I will savour the coincidence with love.

 

The Flag Mast rose to the sky

the virgin field of Kurukshetra

prepared for her bloody orgasm

the logo on the flag proclaimed ­ -

May The Righteous Win - in scarlet.

All around Kurukshetra were tents

temporary shelters for kings, heroes,

soldiers seeking bubble glory.

The two camps defined by their flags

hosted the best of Bharat, the best

Minds, Bodies, Artists of the sword

Masters of the mace, Champion archers,

Doctors, Strategists, Artisans, Drummers

also the best horses, elephants trained

by the best from Gandhar to Carnat.

From Maninan to  Bidarva, the best

ablest fittest overreachers of Bharat.

The energy resources, skills and brains

of this great Bharatbhumi are here

in this eighteen day Dharmayudha,

a war for land, kingdom between brothers

of the same family in the name of

rights, justice and propriety.

Supporters of Duryodhana and Yudhistira

speaking tongues of diversity from Chola,

Chedi, Dwarka, Bideh, Hastina, Kashi

were united to fight taking sides.

There were mercenaries and also

warriors of untested skill and strength

who came just to show their prowess;

The  Kurukshetra war was a chance

of a lifetime to show their heroism.

They are here to kill whoever is on the

other side of the line

drawn by men failing to be at peace

they perform mere duties.

Victory defeat death heroism are the same

for these saints of the Rule Books.

Life is a game without rules for Nature

has no prescriptions for life on earth

all laws are made by men of intellect

wealth and power unanswerable to nature.

Rules were made in Bhisma's camp

attended by Yudhistira, Bhima, Arjuna

Nakula, Sahadeva and the redoubtable Krishna

the Charioteer of Pandava fortunes, the primal

urge of everything in the live theatre.

The Kuru Prince Duryodhana, Karna and the

Demi Urge of the Kauravas in the presence

of Bhisma, Drona, Krupacharya decided

to follow the standard rules of warfare:

Bhisma set the rules all agreed yet

all knew, to kill is the only rule, to win

by crooked tricks has no judge to punish.

 

Deserted Ocean

Who needs food now

when the boat is sinking

in the ocean of deserts:

and food four times a day

kitchens, hotels, roadside kababs

these never make me live

a dead rat in a grannary

I rot, none gave me the

tonic to revive my desires.

I am born to die

not to eat eat and eat

I am hungry to see mating clouds

birthing, lightings

I am hungry for the warm kiss

which will hydrate

my passion for life

revive my lethargy like poetry

in the race course of nothings.

 

He left promising acres of diamond

gods always promise good life

like the unpaid astrologer

in a friendly banter.

 

He is now, I hear

the child of immortality

feeding on honeydew

in some uncharted land

let me fly away to him

to chart his mortality.

.

DRAUPADI - 80

  

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty's 

DRAUPADI - 80

Unresolved Binaries: Self Soul Dialogue

 

Am I the cause of war

Am  I the anti energy

which will destroy this dewy portal

of God's beautiful mind? No...

How can I be the cause when I am

caused by the divine energy as

the other humans, animals, vegetation

are the embellishments of the earth!

The cause is in the mind that

interacts with other minds

all autonomous, seeking their own

wishful world, exclusive and unique

when interests collide sparks flash

when the self tries to master all

when the self plays god to own up

usurp what nature gives with love

for man and animals to enjoy

their temporary sojourn on her

vast regenerative fields,

conflicts arise, forests burn

in self indulgent fire, man kills

brother neighbour in the self's

endless greed to steal more

pleasure from his limited life

to have more from less and less.

He loses his balance, equipoise

which nature has endowed

in graceful equanimity - Am I

one such greedy creature desiring

more power, wealth, and authority?

How can I transcend the conditions  -

Hunger sickness war - by

my own desires to be supreme?

Is war nature's way of engaging

her creatures in perpetual pain?

 

Sudeshna entered, saw Draupadi

in her state of restive agony

What are you doing here all alone?

Nothing, I am feeling the future now.

Sudeshna laughed, Is wise Draupadi

so artless to supersede the present  -

come, the future is for the menfolk

we suffer or enjoy their actions

why should we bother, let the future

be future, why make it our present

to shed premonitory tears in vain?

 

Draupadi looked at Sudeshna

pity in her eyes, Are we so weak

Sudeshna just to live like creepers

for the men to toe us away for their

future path, can they decide our destiny

ignoring us to our helpless silence?

Sudeshna in calm demeanour said,

wars are for men, not for us, our

duty is to send them to the field

with words of love bravery and put on the

tika on their proud forehead to save

our own sindoor, hoping for his victory,

if he doesn't  come back, you lose

all legitimacy and lose your present

future and all your sweet memories.

 

I cannot think like you Matsya Queen

I knew I was deeply hurt, my womanhood

my being's soulful essence was abused.

None saved me from the worst violation

of a woman's dignity, my husbands

hung their heads and stayed tonguetied

but this war is not to avenge my

soiled womanhood, not for their love

for Draupadi whom they shared equally;

they will fight for land, kingdom, power

this fratricidal war is for right, justice

not for love or to avenge my indignity,

I am equally guilty of my complicity

greed for royal pleasures and power play.

 

Sudeshna wondered at Draupadi's eyes

how bright and beautiful the pearly spheres

sparkling her graceful womanhood

without wasting mundane vocabulary!

 

 

 

 

The Truth of Lies

When my eyes are open

I see inverted landscape

upturned I walk on the stars

which break like dry leaves:

when my eyes are closed

I see gods walk on the streets

playing lyres for self amusement

dams bridges waterbodies

lose their symmetry in sheltering dark

men float weightless as in space.

 

What shall I do now ?

Open or close my eyes

to stay away from inversions

distortions in choric cacophony?

Doctors are useless for me

while dozing opium fed.

 

Why should I believe them

and not trust my eyes?

If my sight and blindness

give me another world

where men and non humans are

absurd drawings of a cripple

let me kick this world

with all my might to reshape

by force the unshaped things:

I now know shape non shape

light and shade are the same

like a lovelorn man desiring

Me seen unseen and unreal!

What a laugh, my eyes are true

what is untrue is the world.

 Sabita Sahu

 

 

DRAUPADI - 79

  

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty's 

DRAUPADI - 79

Draupadi’s Dilemma

 

Heaven Hell  Light Dark Father Mother

Dry Wet Big Small  -  everything in pairs

like Health Sickness Joy Sorrow Birth Death!

Who created these contrastive pairs

are these all uncaused miracles as God is,

did God create Himself out of Nothing?

How can nothing create anything, How can

void be creative space without driving Energy:

And what is this Energy? Draupadi

leaned against the wall in her chamber.

Rise and Fall, Birth and Death are both

created by the same Energy? But why?

If life has antilife for balance, harmony

why create life at all? If Energy is

the beginning of everything, there must be

Anti Energy? Is the body energized by mind

ultimately to cease half way from home?

The body is nothing, a lump of flesh, all say

but the fight of life is only for the body,

why put it to the sword of the deceitful  -

again Draupadi felt a surge of anguish

crawling up her limbs numbing her senses.

Everything falls on the earth save fire

which rises up from the earth, I am fire

the air spreads me all around and over

I consume everything - the most lovely flower

nature's brand of symmetry, colour smell

a balance of all senses in harmony,

Fire reduces the beauty, fragrance, evocative

spheres of agreeable emotions, into ashes;

The earth receives the scattered cinders

raises them again to lush virgin wonders.

But war! It's all  blood bones mangled heaps

of bravery, heroic triumph in forlorn hopes   -

Oh! Will the oceans drown the earthly horror!