Nuakhai Poem by GOBINDA SAHOO

All around the bald hill plantation
Twenty hectare and more
Only teak saplings
in early monsoon.
Raibari, the old widow
clad in a mere kapta-
the reminiscence of her deceased love-
her husband, the weaver.
An invitation she has got
the first in her life
to receive the honour-posthumous
of the weaver-famous.
Of the four goats
She has planned to sale two
at a higher price
On the eve of 'Nuakhai'
to fetch her a new sari
some vegetables,
A handful of ripe paddy
she will bring from
The village Jani's aant,
the plain farm on the bank of badjor-
the big stream on the outskirt.

Walking by the dead dove
on roadside
she fetched some 'kurei' leaves
to prepare chaste, natural, nocturnal dish
for the deity.
On Nuakhai basi during bhetghat-
the congregation-
the minister of textile
blanketed on her a swal-
the one like her husband's craft
accompanied by a hard bound paper-
in appreciation of her deceased lover.
Reaching home she unfurled the swal
Alas! it measures only four hands
not even her kapta's length.