Jayanta Mahapatra’s Burden Of Waves And Fruit

Mahapatra’s Burden of Waves And Fruit
Rains in Orissa, Another Day in the Rain, Events, Winds of Spring,
Summer 1983, Summer Afternoons, A Rain Poem, The Voice,
An Evening By The River, Trapped, A Time,
At Shivaji’s Fort At Panhalla: Looking Across the Western Ghats,
River, Shapes By the Daya, A Startled Sun, Twilight,
An October Morning, Ann,30th January 1982: A Story,
This Is The Season of The Old Rain, Harvest,
A Letter To Kazuko Shiraishi in Tokyo, Stone, May,
Of A Dawn, Love Fragment, Song of The Bones, The Wind,
Days, Sunday, A Summer Afternoon, Burden of Waves And Fruit,
The Life, Stand By, Memory, Dust, Again The Rain Falls,
The Dawn of A New Year, It’s My Room Once Again,
The Hour Before Dawn, Waiting, Of This Evening,
An afternoon, The Skies of Night, Talking of Death,
The Looking Glass, Why I Am Afraid To Die,
The Year’s Last Evening,
The poems figuring in Burden of Waves And Fruit,
I mean the contents of the poetry-book.

It is a poem telling about a book of poems
And that too an Indian English poetry text,
Not easily available in the markets,
Generally self-published and out of stock,
Frankly speaking, they often sell not,
If acquainted with the writer, you will get a copy
And if not, you will not get the text of
Even Parthsarathy’s Rough Passage and Mahapatra’s Relationship
So easily, as flimsy in their assessment,
Even the libraries may not contain in
Forgotten and lost copies
Of the missing and unknown writers,
Even now Kolatkar’s Jejuri is not available,
What to say of Nissim’s the first book of poems?
And I smile on hearing the urban pseudo-research scholars,
The bluff master scholar and the bluff master guide,
All saying great-great in their slangy expression.

Burden of Waves And Fruit which appears from
Three Continents Press, Washington in 1988
Is no doubt a good work
Written in the same style, the same expression
Which he often clutches with and strides along,
The imagistic style,
The imagistic portals of his
And there is no change in Mahapatra
And his visionary glides,
Dreamy flowing and glides,
Imagistic delving and dwelling upon
And by dipping into the waters of nothingness,
A poet of the space, the void and the vacuum
All around.

The things of the sub-conscious and the unconscious level
Take hilarity and wave around,
A centre full of hibernation,
There is nothing as concrete,
But wavering in thought and idea, image and reflection,
Emotion and feeling,
A neurotic man’s poetry is it,
A half-addict’s smiles lie therein,
A patient of insomnia
Thinking within and smiling within
Is the case with this writer
With the base of physics,
Physics as his subject
And he coming to poetry
Via physics, not literature.

The negatives of the photos are the things of his
And he working in the studio to reflect upon,
A play with light and shade,
Just like silhouettes,
An artist pencilling images,
The images of life
Similar the case with this writer
Of writer of physics,
Experimenting with the Big Bang theory,
Thinking about the origin of the universe,
The space,
The solar and lunar bodies,
The limits of the skyline,
A poet of nothingness,
A poet existential and iconoclastic,
Making and breaking, joining and splitting.


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