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A Poetical File (In The Memory Of My Youngest Brother)

A Poetical File
(In The Memory of My Youngest Brother)

Sanjay Kant Dubey,
The departed soul,
The soul the traveler
Gone far
And far away from here
Wherefrom nobody can come.

I do not know what I have written, what I have tagged, old and new to present it afresh to make it longer and lengthier nor had had any wish to put it before as a collection of poems, but it happened as thus and took it the look of a small book naturally without any effort exerted in this direction or the gesture made about to extend a format to it. I just tried to talk about the poetic base of mine and they came up accordingly as a trail of thoughts and ideas, images and reflections. But whatever be that, I do not want to discuss it as because I cannot judge it what I have, what it is in them. It is up to the critics to see and find. There is of course something drawn from myth and mythology, thought and tradition, religion and spirituality as the kernels of ideas be they in a rudimentary or fragmentary form are bound to have their archetypal or racial impact over which but the intending authors cannot dispel it. What one has inherited as culture and ethics, manneristics and stylistics are bound to have their impact or bearing upon the tests they produce. There is a line of thought and tradition and so the flow of thoughts and ideas and nothing can hinder it. (Harischandra, Bhartrihari, Shanakaracharya, Trailangaswami, Bihula Geet, Dark Daughter, Vrindavan, Krishnalila, Bhagirath's penance, Shiva-Ganga, Tandava, Kamrupa Kamakhya Kali, Tusu Geet, Cchau Dance, Asthi-Kalasha, Pinda-Dana, The Path of Life, etc. are themselves expressive of what they mean to communicate with and carry it forward as the kernel of Indian thought and philosophy.

I saw the world
Through your tears.

By Bijay Kant Dubey

Anandamurti, My Anandamurti!

O give you, my Anandamurti,
Anandamurti found
From the rubble
Of the dilapidated columns
And structures of terracotta temples,
A blackly coated
Golden statue of Radha and Krishna,
Krishna and Radha
Seated on a lotus
With the flute
Flanking each other,

Hari Om, Sing You!

Hari Om,
Hari Om, Hari Om,
Om Shantih Shantih Shantih.

I, In Search of Shiva

Shiva, Shiva,
Moving to Kailash,
In search of,
Search of Shiva,
To Mount Kailash
Snowy white
And bluish
Light radiating from.

Buddha, Where Is He?

Buddha, where meditating,
Meditating under
A peepul tree,
Getting Enlightenment?

Following the Middle Path,
Hearing the music of it,
Lost in mediation
And blessing
The strife-torn world?

Nataraja Shiva, I Just Try To See

Nataraja Shiva,
I just to see the statue in astonishment,
In utter astonishment,
Holding the statue,
The statue,
The statue of Nataraja Shiva,
The Cosmic Dancer
Trying to comprehend
Its nature.


Shiva Tandava,
The Dance of Doom,
I cannot say it,
Just have heard about
As the creational aspect,
The fire and frenzy,
The beat of rhythm.

Mount Kailash, How Panoramic, Scenic Is It To See The Sight!

Mount Kaialsh,
How wonderful does it appear to,
Mount Kailash
How dazzling white,
Mythical and mystical,
Mount Kailash,
The Abode of Shiva,
Shiva-Shankara, Mahadeva,
Nialkantha Har-Har Mahadeva!

Below the Mansarovar lake,
The lake with the blue crystal waters,
The lake with the swans floating
On the bluish waters
Taking us far with daydreaming!

O, Rudraksha Tree! Say You?

O, rudraksha tree,
Have you,
Have you seen Shiva,
Shiva going through,
Going through the way
And you, you giving,
Giving rudraksha beads,
Beads to
And the Yogi, Sadhaka, Fakira
With the kamandala, trishula
And in the matted hair
And with the rudraksha rosary
Around the necklace
And the rudraksha bracelets over
Going the way,
The Yogi, Sadhaka, Fakira!

The Banyan Tree, I Do Not

I do not know
Why I after seeing it
The flying aerial roots
Get I reminded of,
Reminded of
The sadhu,
The Indian sadhu
With a red tikka over
The forehead
And the matted hair
Living like a nomad,
A vagabond
Oblivious of all
A renouncer unworldly?

Om, Close The Eyes And Meditate You!

A U M,
Hari Om,
Close the eyes,
Close and meditate,
Mediate you,
Hari Om,
Om Om,
Hari Hari,
Hari Om,
Om Om,
Hari Hari!

Loosening it,
Loosening it all,
Losing you,
You and yourself
In silence, calm composure,
Forgetting the self talks
Traveling far
To recompose yourself
To be free from it all
And you get peace,
Peace, joy and bliss,
You will feel, feel it personally!

Nilkantha Shiva, How To Draw The Imagery?

Nilkantha Shiva,
Blue-necked Shiva,
How to draw,
Draw the picture,
Shiva matted
With the crescent on the side
And the three ash lines
Over the forehead,
A sacred thread over
The bare body
And with the kamandala,
The trishula
And the damru
And smeared with the bhasma
Going to the samshana
For the sadhna!

With the snakes around the neck
And with the rudraksha garland
Around the neck
And in the bracelets
Reminding of the poison He drank
When the ocean was churned
And the gods and goddesses asked
For the gems and jewels
But what it remained
He took it,
What the myth behind,
How the mystery of the Creation!

Who, Who Is It Lying, Rama-Rama! Babbled He, Guru Ramananda!

While going to the ghats
To take a bath,
Guru Ramanada struck it Kabira,
Kabira lying,
Lying on the ghats,
The ghats of Benares
To get,
Get a touch,
A touch of Ramananda,
The sacred lotus feet of Ramananda
And he struck,
Struck him
With the words,
Words mumbling and fumbling
And the words went deep,
Deeper and deeper
As the guru-mantra
Given by the guru and taken by Kabira
The shisya,
The great nirguni shisya
Saint Kabira
As the world knows.

Parmahamsa Said It To Naren, Go And See, See And Tell Me, How The Mother Is?

Go and see,
See and tell me,
How the face,
The face of the Mother,
The Mother Divine,
You just go,
Go and see,
See and tell me about
Your tryst,
Tryst with the Divine?

You need not,
Need not ask me,
You just move, move into
The temple
And tell, tell me
How the Mother,
The Mother is,
How the face of Hers,
The face of the Divine?

The Naga Sadhus From Distant Hilly And Exotic Nagaland

The great Naga sadhus,
Their history and tradition,
Their sadhna and austere life-style
Know we it not,
Their hathayoga and rigorous sadhna
Beating the heat and summer,
Beating the chill and cold winter nights,
Spend they their nights and days
Away from human haunt
Into the mountains and forest tracts
The Naga sadhus,
The great Naga sadhus of India
Taking to forgotten hagiography
Unwritten so far,
A saga lying unknown so far
Dotting the Himalayas
Away from limelight
Hidden into the mountainous domains
Living a life of their own,
Ascending the heights of spiritual progression
And scaling the peaks all alone
Anonymously from public glare and gaze
Keeping us awe-struck with their practices and variations
Trespassing the Aryan legacy.

Harischandra, King Harischandra As The Local Funeral Tax Collector

Where the chandal,
The tax collector
Collecting taxes
With a bamboo stick and in rags
By the side of the crematorium
King Harischandra
Bearing the brunt of,
The wrath and ire of gods
For truth,
Virtue and goodness
And as for righteousness
So much vied, envied
That he asking Queen Sabya
His own wife
Failing to recognize
To give taxes
For burning,
Burning the dead body,
The body of
His son,
Rohit, Rohit,
Snake-bitten Rohit
On the ghat
And she weeping,
Asking for mercy
And the king,
The king as chandal
In his duty so adamant,
Adamant to collect,
Collect taxes for his master,
That too even the sari torn
And a part of it offered to
And the heavens seeing it all,
Taking the test of,
The ordeal divine.

Who the Man With The Sarangi Playing The Nirguna Songs? (For King Bhartrihari)

Who is the man,
The man
Playing the sarangi,
The sarangi
Rubbing the chord
On the wires
And playing,
Playing the song,
The song of renunciation,
Meaninglessness of life,
Who the man,
The man?

King Bhartihari,
Leaving the palace and the court
Now a wandering saint,
A wanderer as for infidelity,
Infidelity in love,
Maya broke it
And wept it his heart,
Fluttered it the bird
In pain
And discarding attachment
Turned he,
Turned he into a saint,
A wandering minstrel!

Shankaracharya, Born To Be A Saint

Adi Shankaracharya,
From a devout worshipper to a house-renouncer
To a sadhaka and a wanderer,
The writ of destiny too was as such
That until and unless the mother signaled,
Agreed to allow him to be a saint
The crocodile let him not go
And she let it to be, let it to be
As per the Divine Will ordained,
Prayed to before the child
And he had to go, had to go one day
And he too went away, went away
As the soul could not be, could not be
The founder of the great mathas,
The great debator from Kalady, South India
Adi Shankaracharya
But ask you it not about the whereabouts of saints.

The picture conjures upon the mind's eye,
The image dances before the eyes,
Takes us by strike
Three ash-lines on the forehead
And with the shaven head
And with a thread over the body
And with a trishula
And the cloth wrapped over,
The great discourse-maker, the debater,
The flag bearer
Discerning it all with Raja yoga
A monk philosophical,
The torchbearer of light.

Trailangaswami, Where The Age-old Saint Sitting, O Ghats of Benares?

The name casts a spell over,
The saint
Flowing for hours and hours
On the waters of the Ganga,
Lost in a dhyana,
A samadhi
By the Ganga ghats,
Where, where the walking,
The walking Siva of Benares
Whom we knew it not,
Felt it not
Just heard as a heresy,
The folks whispered it,
Whispered it about,
Oh, our ignorance
We could not keep track of
Our history and hagiography!

Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma Tara, Who The Man Calling Late Into The Midnight?

Ma, Ma, show me, show me,
Ma, Ma, show me,
Show me your face, Ma, Ma,
Who the man,
Who the man calling
Late, late into the night,
Ma, Ma, show me, show me,
Your face, your face,
Ma Tara, Ma Tara
From his bank cottage
By the burning ghats
Of the river
The great sadhaka,
The sadhaka and devotee
Of Kali,
Mother Tara, Mother Tara,
Bama Khepa,
Bama Khepa of Tarapith,
The great bhakta,
The bhakta of Mother Tara!

Cchau Dance, I Was Appalled To See

See the semi-classical folk Cchau dance,
I was appalled,
Appalled to see,
See the folk dance
The artistes with the masks of gods and goddesses
Dancing, dancing
And doing the leela,
The Divine Leela before
I could not,
Could not imagine it to be
So beautiful,
Beautiful and lovely
To look,
Look at,
The gods and goddesses landing,
Landing from heaven,
The musicians playing the harmonium,
The drum and the cymbals
And singing as well
And gods and goddesses doing,
Doing the leela,
Mahishamardini Bhagabati
With the lion and the lance,
The ten-armed goddess
And Mahishasura too arising out
To gear up for the fight,
Kartika, Ganesha, Lakshmi, Saraswati too
In the fray adorning the scenery
And the environment appearing,
Appearing so godly and divine
With tell-tale gospels
Which but Brahma, Vishnu, Maheshwara
Watching from far.

Vrindavana, Where Vrindavana?

Where Krishna's Vrindavana,
Where the Yamuna,
The banks of the Yamuna
And the kadamba trees,
The kadamba trees
By which swung he,
Swung the Lord,
Lord Krishna,
Where the golden image,
The golden pictures?

But I shall not,
Shall not let you,
Let you go there, my old mother,
My mother
Vrindavana not for,
Not for you in this,
This old age
And Krishna not, not there,
But in your heart,

While Showing The Spectacle, They Sang of Bihula And Lakhinder

Very often I hear,
Hear the songs,
Songs sung by
The snake charmers,
Snake charmers,
Playing the been
Or singing the songs,
Songs relating to,
Relating to Bihula,
Bihula and Lakhinder.

Ramlila, Krishnalila, Where The Theatres?

Where the theatres,
The local theatres,
Where the Ramlila, Krishnalila artistes,
Acting the plays
With music, song and dance
And romance and spirituality?

Where the childhood depiction of Krishna,
Where Maiyya Yasoda,
Where Devaki and Vasudeva,
Where the jail,
Where Kamsa,
Where the wailing gopis,
Where Putana,
Govardhana Hill?

Where Sanjaya telling the scenes of the war
Going at Kurushetra
To blind Dhritrashtra,
Where the blind-folded Gandhari,
Where Duryodhana,
Where Yudhisthira
And Karna,
What about the chakravayuha
And Abhimanyu,
Eklavya and Guru Drona?

Where Ram, Lakshman, Shatrughan, Bharat,
Where Dashrath and Kaikeyi,
Where Surpanakha,
Where Ahilya,
Where Jatayu vulture,
Where the monkey army?

My Coat

A mythologic coat
Embroidered with mythologies
Old and new
Which but don I
To give it a look
Bespangled and bespectacled
Showy with glass pieces.

Bhairava's Attendant

Where Shiva as Kalbhairava
Going with
His mystic dog,
Panting outside the hut
Of the sadhaka,
Following him during the night-time
To the secluded sadhna spot?

Why Do The Tantrics Love It The Black Cow, Cat And Dog?

Is it for dark is beautiful,
What it is dark is but beautiful,
Dark is dark,
Let it be,
What it was will remain
And what it is,
Dark is dark,
Dark is beautiful.

The black cow, the black dog and the black cat,
How auspicious is it to see them!

Dark Daughters, The Myths of Dark Daughters

Dark daughters,
The myths of dark daughters,
How to bust them
If shrouded in mystery
And unravelling.

I see them often
While crossing the ways
And finding them on the outer walls
Of the terracotta temples
As art and artifacts embossed upon.

So mythical and mystical,
Religious and human
Full of verve and liveliness
They seem to be speaking
Of being under the stars and the mist.

Telling the tales of the priests,
Guards, florists, watchmen,
Middle men, oracle makers,
What it happened, what it not
In the name of religion and spirituality.


Who, who are you,
Are you
Standing in the dark?
Devadasi, Devadasi!

The world calls, calls
Her a devadasi,
But I do not,
Do not who brought her here?

Devadasi, deavadasi,
A servant of god,
Can a human being
Of the god and goddess of stones?

How were the middle men,
The pundit and the astrologer,
The palmist and the florist
And the oracle-maker?

That she had,
She had to be a devadasi,
A devadasi,
Love the gods, but make her not sacrifice life!


One day you will remain it
As the Keeper of the Dead,
The Keeper of Time
But I shall have to go away.

Bhagirath's Penance

Where the Kapil Muni Ashrama,
What about Bhaghirath
And the Sagar sons,
Who to repent for whom,
Which is whose sins
And who committed when,
How to say it
And to be absolved from?

King Bhagirath did the penance
For so long,
Sins got absolved
As the Ganga emanated from
The locks of Shiva
To wash the sins and to redeem from.

Kamarupa Kamakhya Kali

The Kali of Kamkhya,
Kamrupa, Assam,
Doesn't it sound bewitching and weird
As for the Tantricism attached to this
Seat of the Shaktipitha,
The Yoni worship
And the understanding of it,
Where did the part fall in,
The place near the Brahmaputra
And the Neelachala hills,
Really awesome and dreaded mythically,
Mystically and supernaturally
Bordering the aboriginal India?


Where Rishi Dadhichi,
Do the gods still need his bones,
What dana has he to make it still,
What sacrifice to make?

Tusu Geet

You give me, my Tusu,
My Tusu,
The small idol,
The small idol of Lakshmi
Which has come,
Come after a long time,
A long time I am
Seeing her, Tusu,
My Tusu!

The Asthi-Kalasha

Containing the ashes
Of mine,
How long will it keep
Dangling by the river bank
Peepul tree?


Give you some dana
For my panda,
Food to the soul,
Water to the wanderer!

A handful of food and water
For the bereaved soul,
The departed spirit
On the return journey!

The Path

The path,
Where does it go to,
Where does it take to?

The path,
The path of life,
How does it keep winding?

So zigzagged
And with quick turns and curves ahead,
The path?

In Search of Adi Shankaracharya

O Kalady, say you!
Have you seen Shankaracharya going
Through the way?

The Dalit Girl

The poor Dalit girl,
Half-fed, half-clothed
Rolling in dust,
Playing with
Living below the poverty line
Under impoverished circumstances
The heart beats, beats for her!

The Purpose

Why am I here,
What am I for,
What the purpose of my living,
I don't know, don't know it?


The Self, the Greater Self,
The Soul, the Greater Soul,
The Mind, the Greater Mind,
The periphery of my mindscape.


Where does man go after death,
Can you say?

A Singer of Rama, A Strange Singer of Rama!

A Singer of Rama
A singer of Rama,
A strange singer of Rama was he
Singing the songs,
Songs of Rama so soulfully, so heartily
A singer so divine
But so devastated, fallen, desperate,
Distraught and disheveled in life,
I wonder, wonder to think
What, what did this life give to him
And what, what did take it away from?


The mind wants,
Wants to go to Kailash,
Snow-peaked Mount Kailash
Appearing snowy, icy white,
Mythical and mystical,
Panoramic and scenic
For sight-seeing,
So natural and stupendous,
Mount Kailash,
The mind gets lifted to,
Lifted to,
But I don't know it
Why, why to?

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4/11/2021 5:04:50 PM #