Treasure Island

Ratnakar Rout

(28th August 1961 / Village-Boita, District-Balasore, State-Orissa, Country-India)

ACT OF HIM


In one fine morning
When the Sun was rising at the
Eastern horizon
The sky appeared stained with
Crimson red rays
As if the blood sprinkled from a slain body
Spread here and there.

A lone passer by I
Was engrossed with the memories of some one
Alike a saint indulged in yawning penance.
The busy roads were still on the lap
Have wee hours.

A curtain of fog hindered my distant vision.
Due drops were falling from
The entirely drenched leaves
Breaking the silence with a constant musical tone
On my return journey from a morning round
I was amazed with the sight of a tiny flower
Adjacent to my drawing room
Just bloomed from the bud.
Knocked at her sight I stopped
She baffled me in her beauty
My vision was lost for a while
I gazed and gazed at her
But could not move a step further.

A sense of belongingness made me motionless
My heart was filled with joy
And jumped up for that pretty creature
A rare feeling amused me within
Something got imprinted inside
A picturesque was carved in the soft rock
Easily malleable but everlasting and inerasable
How long did I behold, I know not
I glanced through and continued
But not impelled to touch
Such soft tender edge of the petals
Could I touch with my crude hand?
Could I pluck such an exquisite creation?
I looked at her and realized, as if
All the beauties of earth were mingled thereon
My mind failed visibly
Expressing them in words.
A naughty wasp appeared there
And murmured in her ears
From where I know not
The flower brushed her petals and woke up
With the soothing morning breeze
Like Radha was propelled by the mellifluous chord
Of the Krishna’s flute
It appeared as if the love songs are sung
Hypnotizing the beloved for a moment.

The wasp flew up and down
Around the mother plant
Encircling his loved one
When it became silent everywhere
The situation came to his command
The cruel wasp concerted and kissed the corolla
The virgin heart of that flower sparsely
So passionately that she trembled
And became quiet after a while.

The wasp fled away
And got engaged to another one
She felt dejected or filled there after
Only she can tell.
I was bemused witnessing the magic of the nature
And felt indebted
To the magnanimity of the Great Creator
An inimitable feeling then filled my heart.
.
I questioned myself time and again
Who taught them the lovemaking?
Look! Such pretty creatures are so beautiful
And if acts of them could mesmerize everyone
How beautiful their Creator would be?

Submitted: Friday, March 20, 2009
Edited: Monday, March 30, 2009

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  • Lalitha iyer (3/25/2009 4:33:00 AM)

    Wow! Love making is most beautiful when innocent are the acts and not premeditated and prior purposed as in humans. And your poetry is so beautiful that I have got no words to describe. Excellent............... (Report) Reply

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