The Mystery Man

Dr.Sudhansu Dash

The Non human carbon crossed the Golden Gate

Something of mystery and transient driving me forward

By the time I reached the address,

I couldn’t decide if this was an obsession gone too far

Or a discovery that hadn’t gone far enough.

she looked older than the  expectation

She greeted me warmly.

We were both oddly at ease.

Thing that caught her eyes like  emails  to an undisclosed list.

I love the way they pop up in my inbox:

Wisdom, beauty, loss, and sex delivered on the tarmac in the elevator at a dim light.

 I never know what to expect or when.

 It was through her transmissions that I found the likes

The cover was like a schoolboy’s

It was innocent as softness.

 It was libidinous as bug death….

 But outside,

Of what is right and what is wrong,

 We can only laugh and tease and hear each other’s stories.

We tremored and quaked with entitidinal zest

We were Evolution and God

She was off to be a star again.

 I was off to paint the house like a victim of a disease that has no name.

The dimensionless revelation yielded nothing on the body and only silence

I had it quite deeply in me that the world owes me.

She was thankful for nothing.

 Life had pushed us in a corner in a cruel twist.

The unsettled dust couldn’t get itself out.

Both in keeping with the voice and sprit of transcendence

It’s like when I forgot what I am

 Breathing, by the time I remember

 I have already told myself:

 It’s just breathing that had happened to him

 Was I still alive?

 Perhaps this was meant to be the unsolved end of it

We’re very close in an unexplainable oneness

I was the non-being of the bottom stair.

 She was  the top

Two complimentary poles of the  whole

We have conquered being alone, living alone, and waking up alone

The mystery man with us has the purest rhythmic undulation

 Beneath the brightest darkness,

Like wholes from heaven,

With my blood running free

As the Kingdom of God brooks from us

For an hour slowly I knew 
that though we are sated, though we are hardly touching

This is the coming the other brought us to the edge  

The two bodies made only of flesh and bone
Ignite with this fire yet do not burn.
Vultures were pacing behind the door.

But we didn’t die; no, we were Reborn

We wept and cried

The man entering, deeper and deeper, gaze by gaze, 
This place beyond the other places, 
beyond the body itself.

The ‘I’ disappeared into the ether 
As our bones will turn to dust and disappear into the earth.

Music of A Hidden Brook

Dr. Sudhansu Dash

I move somewhere I do not know

No destination, no frustration ever follows me

I will never return to me before my being is completely exhausted

Giving no word to none

Just brooking for its own sake

I go and wait until my voidness loses its identity.

My being never longs for a becoming

Just a witness to all my bank that happens

Absorbed in my self

I share all without words

My music harmonizing with the cosmos dissolving in the divine melody

I never stand to listen

But when they listen I am not there

My language reaches only the capable ears

Their love intolerable to me

The excited flow of no dimension is the wholeness of my being

I belong to none ,none  to me

I am afraid of any bondage

Even the bondage of love.

I feel how the strange patience of Heaven

Changes things into their ordinariness.  

The Untempled God of the soil

 

Dr. Sudhansu Dash

Standing between the fired sun and the barren earth

The uncalendered date of time

Dates  everybody’s  time in the calendar.

Not a man of letters

But his letters remain unread to everyone.

The signature of his blood on the earth

Enlivens the blood, bone and bliss of the mortal frame

Promised to pacify the fire of the stomach

At the cost of his own.

The clouds hovering over his head

Find tears in his eyes

While wiping the tears

The clouds begin to weep

His mind filled with pretty simple lessons of life

The innocent God delivers the smiles of an infant.

He judges not any

Lest people would judge him humble

As he understands things that few understand

Yet certain wisdom is in his eyes that escapes our wits

The untampled God has no name

Who paid his dues but no one knew.

Just expects nothing

Other than keeping his spirit awakened for others

His body strong

His faith on the soil unburdened

His heart beats tight and laugh relaxed

That stands gazing the horizon

When everything slips from his cup.

The God of No-Thing

Dr.Sudhansu Dash

You silently move in the thinginess of things

So silently

Lest silence would be disturbed to doubt itself

You live in the virgin smile of the child’s lips

In the coldness of water

In the cold warmth of the centre of the fire

In the compassionate blood of the Christs

In the half closed eye lids of the Buddhas

In the innocent face of the Mahamads

In the noiseless opening of the morning blossoms

In the unheard music of the pulsating heart

In the gray smiles of the dying lips

Things pulsate with your in-ly muted voice

The signature stamped on the lifeless things

Vibrates the centre.

You are the diffusion of all Nots and No-nots

Words melt into silence in an inevitable compulsion

Perhaps with the pleasure losing their past in you

The whole universe waits to enter into you

Just to be a nobody only for a moment.

No more In You life’s stormy conflicts

No victory, no defeat

No more the dark events of life

Changing like the ceaseless clouds across the sky

Your gentle touch awakens the grave

The coffin sings the song of immortality

And can think how to awaken the seed.

But, O God

You are there because you are not

Thank you God because You are not

The Empty Mirror

Dr Sudhansu Dash

Full of emptiness I am standing

From an unremembered past

To turn the troubles of my face merely upon myself

With passions of some difference

It gives me soil to my behavior

My breast has buried the thoughts of great values

My eyes see not myself, but the reflection of your somebody

Turning a no-body in every moment.

I have no such negligence

As will turn your hidden worthiness’ into your eyes

So that you might see your shadow

All dangerous images seek into me

That which is not me

You cannot see yourself so well as my reflection

I can modestly discover you for yourself that yet you know not

The false promises of your love

I prefer myself to all roots

To be afraid of your hidden image

The stormy hearts of disagreement with me

Arising from the flames of your body

Walking under your huge legs

Peeping about to find yourself in the dishonorable grave

I will consider what you have said

I will consider what you have to say

I will with patient have and find a time

Both we to hear and answer one another.

Autobiography of a Human                           

 Dr Sudhansu Dash

I crawl fast on my stomach

Over the gray fields of summer

The feet ached tramping up and down

Dug out from the memory of the hard days

Needless to look their safety as my own.

I listen the simple rhythms of the blizzard

 All the night through

cool them under the virgin coat  of humanity

with a deep faith on what the warmth of the coldness can do.

The hungry child searching for a drop of milk

From the mother’s in capable settled breast

Palms return hopeless

An infinite voidness settled on two liquid eyes

But just consoles of the undone breast today

Would be overflowing tomorrow.

The heart stands still, with no passion to inspire

Yet,I think,

To wait for nothing is the final freedom

Water must run between two narrow cruel banks of the river

Never in all my life have I complained.

I fail to endure the terrible joy of my being a human

Of an unpromised tomorrow.

Nightingale of a Hunted Spring

Dr.sudhansu Dash

She opened the eyes

And saw the earth escaping her feet

All her tears melted into the stormy ocean

With a hope to lose its identity

Her past dares not cry for the gone days

In the stormy presence of the present

She listened

But nothing was heard

All her words dissolved in the ocean of silence

The silence of the characters behind the curtain

The silence of the masks after the end of the play

She turned to be a mirror

Reflecting all but reflected herself never

On the cross road of   an inconceivable fear of her innocent future

And carrying the shadow of the dark cloud of her ravished past.

She is but to walk the whole disagreeable earth

With her broken image

Neither looking forward nor looking back.

Living with a Known Stranger

Dr Sudhansu Dash

I frantically search somebody I do not know

Countless times I conveniently forget him

To express him my secret words

When I say

He is within me,

The universe is ashamed of it

When I say

He is without me

It is a falsehood

He makes the ‘In’ and the ‘out’ to be indivisibly one

Remaining revealed and revealed at the same time

There is no space between he and me

He is known as I am his intimate part

And yet not known as we are not separate from one another

Our boundaries merge into one another

Overflowing into each other from all dimensions

When all my knowing turn to be my knowledge

He disappears to a no-body of the distant horizon

It is perhaps

Not to know is to be with my known stranger forever.

But Kill the Poet

Dr. Sudhansu Dash

Come forward, who have a courage

Kill the poet

Throw his body to the beyond of everybody

The first enemy to us

The slightest vibration of his words

Creates a revolution in body and mind

The ego shakes and broken into pieces

Flies away the cosmos in his noiseless breathing

Comes a storm in the kernel in his sinless voice

Choke his throat, his writes

Burn all his words to ashes

Turn all his blood frozen and all his appeals merge into infinity

But, be careful

While killing him

Let not his blood fall on the ground

If so, unearth the soil that carries the blood undigested

Break into pieces all his insides.

He has made us naked before all

Made us helpless before ourselves to see more than

What we are

Making our blood his ink

Making our passions his property

O poet,

You are the culprit

You have forced the warmth of beauty of the moon light

To land on the dangerous earth

With a passion to search

‘What is is is’ and ‘what is-not is is-not’.

The Midnight Lamp

Dr. Sudhansu Dash

She stands alone

 In the midst of a terrible aloneness

Neither bothers anyone nor bothered by any

The vermillion on her fore head looks faded

When she looks at herself in the mirror

Her man has given her the word of return

Leaving her waiting for hours

Every hour turns to days

Every day turns to years

Her unread chastity doubts itself

That might turn to the watery print of a no-man’s feet

Many sleepless nights she spends

The face blushes to shed all her intimate tears

In the presence of the bright staring sun

Her flowing voice melts down in the space

The smile of her lips finds no way to escape

The unasked tears distorts the mirror with empty promises

Time and again

From a timeless beginning

With the strength of a hopeless waiting.

The Autobiography of Death

Dr Sudhansu Dash

I Celebrate myself not as an end

But the very crescendo of Life.

The very climax of life I am

Living in you

With all my innocency and intimacy.

I am the ultimate in all my forms

I do not know the art of betrayal.

I live in you, for you only to make you know

My sincerity for you

I am given to you live me as a gift

Never a punishment

 Rejoice in me

Burning both the ends of the candle of life

To be more closer than your closest life

As intensively as possible

The very taste of your life

I am sure

Will gives you the clue

Not to be afraid of it.

 Celebrate me as there is no death

Rather just your life in a different form.

The Spinster of an Winter Morning

Dr.Sudhansu Dash

The morning blossom endeared with a heart

The awful beauty raising all its arms

Each moment repairing the smile

Calling forth all wonders from every directions

The thin blush arising on the face

Quickens her eye lids for the visitor to receive the flaw

To strain the honor and receive the new bride

To lose his heart with the sacred passions of a youthful battle

The sinless and virgin moment that robs all the bliss

Leaving him in the hand of an un pending death

Why are beauties praised as wise men’s passion?

The spring rushing from heart to heart

Blessing both in the unawared moment

The shameful area of the mortal frame hanging on two lips

Waiting to sink into one another

But

All the unfamiliar measured distances

Finds a plasticity for all times to come.

The Street Woman

Dr. Sudhansu Dash

Breathing the solemn air

The thirsty eye not at her command

Under the dark clouds of slumber

Resting on her deemed eyes.

The mighty mother unveiled

The awful face of the unwanted child,

Stretching forth his little arms

With the foaming flood of its smiling lips

Neither sinful nor virtuous of any kind.

The troubled air of the earth

The deep sorrows in the abyss

The mother traces the characters of the hell

The severe re-echo of the fright

The war of love falling meaningless in the desert

No more can measure its length and breadth With horror

The tyrant throbbing breast

Living with all the expired future.

No more she weeps nor does she sleep

Just passing by the unwanted moments

In the most neglected manner.

The terrible harmony between her Being and Non-Being

She seeks for another grief

But not seeking another relief

In all her falling tears of unshared sorrows.

Can a father see his child

Groaning in an infant fear

To sit near him to wipe the entire tear?

None can unlook the sigh

None can weep a tear

For the maker is not near.