Call Of Wilderness Poem by Amitava Chakraborty

Slowly & silently hid she behind the veil of dark cloud,
Weird moon fading silvery hue, once proud.
Soft symphony of drizzling on each leaves of wild plants
Trembling in rainy breeze through old Ayodhya hills piteously pants.
Forgotten beginning, as I hear the mingling melody of cricket with dhamsa & madol
Transporting rhythm by untamed wind from a village beyond
An unseen wavelength-bridging the dark destitute village with this luxury resort
Feel I this union at the roof top, feel I my love to nature, an eternal bond.


Barred usual vision in darkness, only splashing of perplexing balmness
Infusion of magic mahua or rhythm of dhamsa-madol? Pondering I the intoxicating base?
At once, blowing poisonous wind to cripple the pace of my imagination,
Surrounding vague shadowy innumerable faces by Maoists’ agitation.
Reviving an innocent face dried up in hunger
Infused with enticement by greedy ambitious to her new dream
Yet every new monsoon with new hope beckons me to visit thee again
Alas! Graceful purulia, pervading unfaithfulness today with a distorted theme.


Adolescent then drenching myself in Turga fall on a perilous rock
Enjoying both the emerald green watery splash & companions’ mock.
An indomitable instinct to surrender myself to the heart of ever fostering nature
And drink wilderness unto brink promising back in future
A ridiculous attempt to resemble my amateur steps
With those skilled performers in Chou dance
A decaying art today, malnourished culture with lack of kingly patronage,
Nevertheless thou call eternal, searching that pretty Purulia in darken trance.


Ah! A soothing flow of magic mahua through each nerve, paralyzing each joint
Yet insufficient intoxication, my poetic imagination dominates my originating point
Like an virgin’s first impatient & vivid meeting with speechless waiting,
Sitting alone in a meadow with crazy blink on her shepherd lover’s coming,
For the wild fragrance of those unknown flowers among the step hills,
Sprouting up healthily by nature’s winding lawn.
For the amicable souls of those innocent tribals
Waiting I, here in darkness to bring back my beloved purulia in the next promising dawn.



15.08.08


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