Word By Word For Jayanta Mahapatra (1928-2023) Poem by Jaydeep SARANGI

My hands are folded in front of a door at Tinkonia Bagicha,
surrounded by endless crow noises
before the wearying memories of words.
I leave the twilight of metaphors behind
passing through a rain of rites
with slow soundless night at Cuttack.
Life's random musing is never silent, Kalidasa to Jayanta
the substance stirs my grandfather
hanging over an ancient city of temples and forts.
As a the long shadow falls I ask for words
out of hunger or summer thoughts
looking out for some drops of holy water
My brown flesh is a missing person
with bare faces in relationships elsewhere

lying down with wounds leaking blood and poems.
This evening, I 'm beside the chariot and a lion sitting,
counting shadow spaces at Chandrabhaga beach
without talking to it, my random descent begins.
Life signs are bare white bones, leaf by leaf.

Village girls weep somewhere in the woods of silence
A loving soul remembers how things passed.

I hold you, if I ever lose your doors of paper
how can I ask Chandrabhaga to rewrite chapters of history from an old book?