Poetry
Dream (Swapna from 'Kalpana')
Far, far away
In a realm of dream, in Ujjaini city
By the river Shipra's bank did I go along once
Looking for my first-love
From a previous life: Lodhra-pollen dabbed on her face,
Playful-lotus in her hands,
Ear-ends bedecked with Kunda's buds,
Her hair did Kurubok adorn.
Wrapping her slender form was a sari deep-red,
Knotted on the waist.
Faintly rang her anklet-bells,
As she paced. On this spring-time day,
I wandered far across, finding my way.
In the temple of Mahakala then,
In a sombre strain,
Bells were tolling for the Evening-rite.
Arcades empty: above the darkened heights,
Evening-sun had cast a dusky-light. There it was my beloved's home:
Down the winding alley-ways narrow,
Lay remote and lone.
Etched on the door:
Signs of conch shell, wheel, it bore.
On either side, a pair
Of Kadamba saplings grew like sons
In love and care. Above the gateway's columns here,
Looking so solemn a lion's statue,
Sat with a commanding-sneer.
Those her pets, my beloved's doves,
To their dovecote, all were back.
The peacock was already asleep,
Perched on a golden rack. Lamp of a flickering-flame, in hand,
Walking with grace,
Now came descending my Malavika,
At a gentle pace.
Appearing as she did, above the stairs,
Out of the door thus far,
Like the evening's goddess, a Laxmi she looked,
Holding the evening star. Saffron-scent that perfumed her body,
And resinous incense blowing from her hair,
In a whiff of a restless breath,
Caught me entire.
A careless fall of her wee-bit loosened attire,
Did, in a twinkling, render bare
Her bosom on the left,
While sight was caught of patterns on the breast,
Marked with the sandal-paste.
Like a deity's form, there she stood,
In that hum-of-the-city-gone-hushed-an-evening's
Quietened mood. At the sight of me,
Slowly did she,
Lower and place her lamp by the door.
Putting her hand in mine,
"My friend, are you fine?"
This her sad eyes seemed to enquire. Looking at her face, I tried to speak,
But not a word did I find.
Lost to us was the language we spoke:
And for each other's name we groped and groped,
And nothing would come to our mind. We two kept on thinking for long,
Gazing at each other there,
Our eyes went streaming with tears
Keeping an unblinking stare. We two mused and mused so hard,
Beneath the tree that stood by the door:
Taken so unawares, I knew not
When, on whatever pretext,
Her soft hand came sliding into my right hand,
As if to nestle and rest,
Like a bird at the hour of dusk seeking its nest. Gently her face,
Like some lotus drooping its stalk,
Came down to rest
Upon my breast.
Passionate and vacant,
Her breath over mine so fell
And mingled in a silent spell. Darkness of night,
Fusing in its fold all things together,
Wiped out Ujjaini, out of sight.
Suddenly a gust of wind
Blew out the lamp that lay by the door.
And on the bank of the Shipra-river,
In the temple of Shiva then,
The evening-rites of Arati,
Came to an abrupt end.
In a realm of dream, in Ujjaini city
By the river Shipra's bank did I go along once
Looking for my first-love
From a previous life: Lodhra-pollen dabbed on her face,
Playful-lotus in her hands,
Ear-ends bedecked with Kunda's buds,
Her hair did Kurubok adorn.
Wrapping her slender form was a sari deep-red,
Knotted on the waist.
Faintly rang her anklet-bells,
As she paced. On this spring-time day,
I wandered far across, finding my way.
In the temple of Mahakala then,
In a sombre strain,
Bells were tolling for the Evening-rite.
Arcades empty: above the darkened heights,
Evening-sun had cast a dusky-light. There it was my beloved's home:
Down the winding alley-ways narrow,
Lay remote and lone.
Etched on the door:
Signs of conch shell, wheel, it bore.
On either side, a pair
Of Kadamba saplings grew like sons
In love and care. Above the gateway's columns here,
Looking so solemn a lion's statue,
Sat with a commanding-sneer.
Those her pets, my beloved's doves,
To their dovecote, all were back.
The peacock was already asleep,
Perched on a golden rack. Lamp of a flickering-flame, in hand,
Walking with grace,
Now came descending my Malavika,
At a gentle pace.
Appearing as she did, above the stairs,
Out of the door thus far,
Like the evening's goddess, a Laxmi she looked,
Holding the evening star. Saffron-scent that perfumed her body,
And resinous incense blowing from her hair,
In a whiff of a restless breath,
Caught me entire.
A careless fall of her wee-bit loosened attire,
Did, in a twinkling, render bare
Her bosom on the left,
While sight was caught of patterns on the breast,
Marked with the sandal-paste.
Like a deity's form, there she stood,
In that hum-of-the-city-gone-hushed-an-evening's
Quietened mood. At the sight of me,
Slowly did she,
Lower and place her lamp by the door.
Putting her hand in mine,
"My friend, are you fine?"
This her sad eyes seemed to enquire. Looking at her face, I tried to speak,
But not a word did I find.
Lost to us was the language we spoke:
And for each other's name we groped and groped,
And nothing would come to our mind. We two kept on thinking for long,
Gazing at each other there,
Our eyes went streaming with tears
Keeping an unblinking stare. We two mused and mused so hard,
Beneath the tree that stood by the door:
Taken so unawares, I knew not
When, on whatever pretext,
Her soft hand came sliding into my right hand,
As if to nestle and rest,
Like a bird at the hour of dusk seeking its nest. Gently her face,
Like some lotus drooping its stalk,
Came down to rest
Upon my breast.
Passionate and vacant,
Her breath over mine so fell
And mingled in a silent spell. Darkness of night,
Fusing in its fold all things together,
Wiped out Ujjaini, out of sight.
Suddenly a gust of wind
Blew out the lamp that lay by the door.
And on the bank of the Shipra-river,
In the temple of Shiva then,
The evening-rites of Arati,
Came to an abrupt end.
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