In Search Of Sacred Wood Poem by Pradip Saikia

What are these hands of emptiness
That tempts me

In the extended fingers
There is the spot of first sun

There is no figure larger than zero
From where the ship of the end commences its journey
It is the port of emptiness

Zero is the primary word
The first kiss of the universe
The first bird of creation flying
With the grass of light in its beaks

In the twilight time not reached by the
Excavation of archaeology
In the grass-bed not seen by air-water-fire

The emptiness of father
Betrothed my mother's white emptiness
With a garland

My father was The Bhisma
Who multiplied millions of small zeros
With a huge zero

I am a person who beholds a tiger hidden in every sum

I like zeros
Better than the fractions
Compasses and circles

One day
The clove flower of my ear
My little Sakya too
Will don the chalk

He will fill his slate
With many a distorted circles

Perhaps he will find
Wrishashringa
In search for
The sacred wood of
Cause and effect

# Translated from Assamese to English by: Bibekananda Chowdhury