Bijay Kant Dubey Poems

When the big Krait fell down in the room,
Coal tar black and glazy enough
The snake was,
Black and beautiful
...

The mahua buds used to drip by
In spring,
The cuckoos cooing and pecking at
And the jackals howling underneath
...

As an Aryan settler saw I from a distance
The aboriginal natives
Taking Hedia and Pocche,
Sour and stale palm juice and rotten rice beer
...

A drunk Santhal girl
I loved and liked her,
But feared to bring her home
As could have been opposed,
...

Recall Him the Yakharaja
And they will come,
Hearing your submission
Said through
...

The small, small palash tree bushes
Scattered around
The hilly domains,
Rocks, stones and highlands,
...

The putul-naach, the puppet-dance,
Where those folklore artistes,
Rustic artistes and their tradition
Of pulling from behind
...

Atop the Gidni hills, Dumka,
I used to see
The unwanted guests sitting on,
Looking beneath,
...

A Santhal girl,
Tribal and aboriginal,
Just like a wild flower,
Blooming and scattering over
...

The train is whistling
And calling,
Calling me
And going
...