Saligrama Poem by R.Vijayaraghavan Ramakumar

Amen

Why the seas have become hungry
and bay for the salts of the land?
A creature of immense proportions
and a single mouth vast as entire body.
Rivers do not have yesterdays
memory in not engrained.
The same water rises though
the salts never return;
neither the earth yearn for.
Those little plants who crave wither
you see the essence going in to the sea
*
A nice picture in a Sunday magazine
I wanted to preserve it. But a worm ate its way
into the breasts of the young celebrity.
Youth stares cruelly at my wrinkled face.
The news of her suicide chides.
Along the sea shore in the picture
a silver fish strolls, a wanderer on the sea bed

The ocean drank the water
rivers went dry before they reached the sea
*
A lone conch shell idles in the sun;
A hole on its hump, its worm has gone away
long ago, wary of fear of worthless living
in the savage fog, an umbrella of fear over the head
spreading wider and wider
-2-
the conch shell lies there
beckoning the star masked night skies,
waiting for the primordial AUM it once made,
the sound that pulled the swords from the sheaths.
We have learnt to lick the wounds as the dogs do
and to grow the wounds all over.
The sound that pushed us before a group of fiery hounds
that hunt for fun with stars as weapons.

From then the shell lies there
its sound gone, killed or escaped
departed unsung or unheard;
a departure obvious, predictable and very quiet
*
In this graveyard that once was earth
god willed and the quarrel continued
in many names fought
decreed by the god in endless list of suits.
Elder brother holds the saligrama I loved to worship
we quarrelled over it for the sake of god
who is ever unwilling to be peaceful.

Discarding the apparel the worm has gone away.
Its fossil shell rests in the corner
matted with torn spider webs
dead insects hang on to its meditation.


-3-
Last night I heard strange sounds;
my priest brother was digging under the idol
for treasure of wealth and the knowledge of scriptures
and the saligrama was snoring
*
I am in bewilderment.
My god! so many things happen around;
The last night love died between the thighs
thrown apart in exasperation and inescapable detachment.
No one took a purifying bath, including the one who licked
the pleasure of orgasm.
No one changed the sacred thread.
No one offered an ablution.
It died on the street, trampled and crushed
like flowers of a funeral procession.
Colours dissolved in to elements,
fragrance followed,
just the carcass lies, a worn out jute bag
*
Alright Sir,
Even when we say a great loss
we have not lost any, really.
People are in places, on horse backs
Swords in their hands.
who came to rule the land
killed the people.


Armoured with the scriptures dug from under the idols
brother came with his band to uphold the morality;
they molested the women of the immoral
to preserve the religion they brought down the temples
seduced the nuns and beheaded the priests.

The whole thing is consecrated once again.
There is a tablet erected by a wine merchant
in memory of the dead.
No body has noticed,
But I have seen the saligrama crawl
in to the holy temple pond and crawl back
in to its abode of spider webs each time
something happened
*
May the all pervading, omnipresent, omnipotent Almighty
bestow longevity and prosperity to all those
who cautiously tread the side walks,
and to the aimless and wandering soul of love
that still lies in the sky
hovering over the carcass of love
for it has not got the ablution yet;
and to Himself
who wished all this be so
and so put everything in their places

Amen