SUMITRA MISHRA

 

A Mother’s Agony

 

The ghastly wound on the skull

Gaped

With red-shot eyes

Reprimanding my shocked silence,

The thick black hair

Soaked in blood

Turned stiff in my hands

Like a stalk of hay

When I tried to wash them

With my tears

My bruised heart pulsated

Like a blocked engine.

 

Your fair face seemed

To shine

With the angelic grace of innocence

No sign of anguish or fear.

I was shocked

Was it the knife or the bullet?

Were you inside the trench

Or on the tank?

Were you shouting

When you fell or daydreaming?

Your engagement ring was broken,

So was her heart.

 

The media report

Of last night’s scuffle at the camp

The orders

To march up the frozen dark hills,

 

How did I sleep

When you were lying so cold?

Your words last night

Echo in my ears

Gnaw like cancer on my marrow,

Yet they debate, dispute and discuss,

Hardly they understand

The agony

Of a Mother’s heart,

For them death or massacre is also politics,

Like temples, religion, development

 Or votes and humbug compensation!!!

 

Don’t stare like that!

Blink, blink or wink in your naughty way! 

 

Hammering The Husk

 

O firebrand fanatics!

Why do you hammer the husk?

To exercise your power

Or exorcise the monster of sin?

 

You shamelessly

Slam the faith of man

On the cruel anvil

Of your political mission.

 

You ruthlessly slap

Popular or vulgar legislation

You try to muzzle

The frank voices of free speech,

You dare to ban

The liberty of expression,

Banning books which tell the truth

Poster and pictures which reveal a tooth.

 

Banning beef is

Your pose for a free religion

Bullying the lovers

On the valentine day

A show of shallow moral pretention,

You think dance bars are shameful recreation

And all internet sites immoral infatuation

That’s not a true revelation

Forget not

Even all your limbs and heads are deep in this ocean.

 

Don’t dare to suspect every non-Hindu!!!

 

Don’t dare

To abuse your political power

For your self-interest,

Don’t break

The bridges of human relation

For your self-love

Don’t desiccate

The rivers of true religion

Don’t start witch-hunting

 As your new war fare

Witches are in the haunted minds

Not in the public domains.

 

Everyone knows

Your fetish for moral policing

It’s a pretentious fancy,

Your fidelity to God and His creed

A fiendish fantasy!!!

 

Stop the farce and

Let the world move around its own axis

Your fanaticism breeds terrorists and mass murderers.

 

So, please stop

Hammering the husk

It’s time to gather the grains and discard the chaff.

 

Scoring The Tides

 

Sailing on the winged

 Pegasus of Time

Your ship today moored

On the sixty six berth

In this ephemeral port of life,

This 16th October,

The dazzling morning welcomes you

With the regally flying banner of your triumphant ship.

 

Oh my dear brave heart Captain!

You have steered the marooned ship

Through torrents of tornado and torment

And majestically moved full sail,

Though many other barks crashed on the rock

You never swayed, staggered,

Stumbled, faltered or fell.

 

You survived

The swords of enemies’ daggers

And calmly pursued the dreams

And your destination

With deliberate determination

And cool resolution

You diligently toiled, trudged and slaved,

To make our vessel richer with diamonds of glory.

 

Scoring over the fury of the tides

Every tree, rock and river can swear

You preached like the passionate pastor

And loved like the charming lover

Your love, devotion, sacrifice and care

Melted the marrow of misfortune

And crushed the scourge of evil eyes

You triumphed on the battle ground

And retired before being hurt.

 

Oh my dear brave heart Captain!

Now we have crossed the arctic zone of woe

The glacier of poverty, humiliation and

Together we shall glide along the ocean

Singing, dancing, merry making like a band .

 

This sixty six Birthday of yours

Is a day for special celebration

For you have reached the coast

Amid thunderous applause and ovation

Now ensconced in the Admiral’s chair

You can use your talent, vision and power.

Your silver medals are shining bright

Your grey hair bestows a dignified light.

 

On this day I pray the Almighty Father

To make your journey more valiant

And protect you from the scorch of weather

To bless you with a long life of purpose

And give you guts to rescue many a

Tottering boats before you repose.

 

SUMITRA MISHRA

 

Dr. Mrs. SUMITRA MISHRA, a bilingual writer from Odisha, India, is a retired Professor of English who worked under the Government of Odisha and retired as the Principal, Government Women’s College, Sambalpur. A lover of literature, she started writing early in life and contributed poetry and stories to various anthologies in English and magazines in Odia. After retirement, she has devoted herself more determinedly to creating literary works in English and Odia. Her poems and short stories in both English and Odia are widely published in literary magazines and e-zines. To her credit she has thirty six (36) published books; 26 in Odia and 10 in English. She writes poems, short stories, plays, essays, articles and translates works from English to Odia and from Odia to English. She lives in Bhubaneswar with her family.