Seshendra Sharma
Nagaraajupaadu/Nellore district/AP/India
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Me And My Peacock Or Peacock Andmy Me (A Dialogue Across Space And Time)

Me and My peacock or Peacock andMy Me
Words & Centuries
(A dialogue Across Space and Time / A Poetic Narrative)
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A house, around the house a garden; in the garden, a peacock. No, let us put it this way-my heart, in the heart a house, around the house a garden, in the garden a peacock. This peacock a moving feast of colours comes to me wherever I am. The peahen pulls at my pyjamas. If I fail to take notice of her and remain preoccupied with reading, or writing she keeps teasing me, makes unintelligible accosting sounds, asking for something to eat, like a child asks his mother. If I throw the grain on the floor, she will not touch it, continues to grumble with sounds rejecting it protesting: only when I offered with my hands she eats, eyes full of lustre. And after she is appeased does not vanish but keeps moving about in my surroundings, now and then pulling at my sleeves to remind me of her presence because she seems to like that I should always take notice of her.

When I return home tired after my day's work, she arrives promptly in front of me, like a rainbow into the garden of clouds. Alas! She cannot speak, she cannot express. Inside her feelings ebb like an ocean tide, waves knock at her soul for expression. Deprived of it the sea within her rebels gets enraged and furious. How torturous is this delicate bird's; light! What inexplicable agony! How irredeemable, given even the enormous sympathy! She curses her creator for the deformity of speechlessness the foremost of all deformities.
Seshendra Sharma at the mortal remains of Former Prime Minister P.V. Narasimha Rao on the Gun Carriage 25th December 2005, Hyderabad India

One day I died, people were crying in the room. Lo, and behold hesitating the Peahen slowly moved towards the door, throwing bewildered looks all suspiciously in all directions. She was afraid yet compelled to come forward by something which she does not know or you people do not know, fear of death did not deter her: it means she did not care for death. Though I died, I was watching the peacock come. I was greatly amused. Crowds of people were falling over my dead body and they were weeping. Guy de Maupassant"s story LOVE flashed across my mind like a lightening as I lay dead. In that story a hunter kills a female bird. She falls to the ground from the sky. The hunter tells his friend: " Look this will bring the male bird also. Soon he will bag two instead of one, without any effort" soon, exactly as the hunter predicted the male bird flew in, hazarding danger, irresistibly drawn to his mate wailing even louder, with heartrending sounds, began circling the sky over the spot where his companion lay mutilated and soaked in blood. However the hunter is a hunter, unmoved and cold-blooded, his fingers pressed the trigger and the male bird was shot as he came within the range of the gun. He too fell dead by the side of his mate. Suddenly I heard a voice of hoary past and I knew it was Valmiki. It came resounding from the vaults of time. It was now cursing the hunter of Maupassant; heard dazed in my death. This Valmiki had cursed a hunter before and was cursing another one now. Does he keep cursing all the hunters all the time? How? Is it a voice raised against brutality for all ages to come? Doesn't Valmiki die? Isn"t Valmiki dead? Is he cursing even today those tribes of hunters who have made it their life's mission to violate humanity and propagate hate in letters of blood? Is this voice policing the highways of time day and night to shield humanity from attacks of the brute! Great minds turn into sound and thus revolve around the universe, around the world from age to age, from country to country eternally and endlessly.
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Me And My Peacock Or Peacock Andmy Me (A Dialogue Across Space And Time)
Friday, February 14, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: prophecy,visionary
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