The Cemetery At Bandorjori, Dumka Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

The cemetery at Bandorjori, Dumka telling of a saga
Untold and undivulged,
Many of the graves lie in as the mouldering heaps,
Many as the newly cemented ones
And many as the relics of the British period
And the Britons who lived and died here.

Under old tamarind and the simul trees there lie a few
To be marked just as a mouldering heap,
A few can be marked lime stone powder used tombstones
With the names card upon or deleted,
But a few of glaring milky white marble stones
With the name as some Alexander.

I do not know it whether they died at a ripe age
Or met with an untimely death,
Maybe it that cholera claimed
Or maybe it malaria
Or typhoid as an epidemic
Wreaked havoc to them in a land of a different clime.

There sitting on tomb stones, I used to write my poems hastily,
At twilight used to see the retreating cattle
Into the steps of theirs,
Grazing around, the lambs frolicking over
And some naughty boys trying to break the stone.


During the spring, I used to see the tombstone and other graves
With the bulging simul blossoms fallen over,
The blackly cuckoos cooing from
While the other day I saw a scorpion with the diabolic tail
Crawling over tombstone.

Again, one day I had been striding alone to return back to
As my youngest brother had not been with,
The owl perched on the abandoned tower
Ogling to take the flight,
The evening descending upon heavily.