Soon we shall hear about today
drawing to our night, offering us
a description of how, yesterday,
we had found ourselves within
the night before, at this time.
We shall recall how, the day before
yesterday, leaning over the shadows
of things we loved some thirty years ago,
one afternoon of a certain April summer,
when no one saw us and we didn’t care for
the harsh light and heat of the Indian day.
How soon things turned and turned
until they became smaller and smaller–
our friendships lost in time’s desert
territories, cold mountains of forgetting.
Today, loss greets us, like new friends,
to build up new friendships through
the remaining future, store them like
those memories which so carefully
keep themselves far within us.
And, quite frankly, we never thought
it would happen some day like today,
in the middle of our children’s
daily growth through our ancestors,
long-gone parents, friends, their names.
Now, at this hour, we can only hear
a mixed sound of memories, history,
of nights and days which have forgotten us,
the crumpling of old, brittle papers.
Indian Review | Author Profile | Bibhu Padhi has published eight books of poems. His poems have appeared in distinguished magazines throughout the English-speaking countries, such as Indian Literature, The Illustrated Weekly of India, Quest, Contemporary, Encounter, The Poetry Review, Poetry Wales, The Rialto, Stand, New Letters, New Criterion, Poetry (Chicago), Prairie Schooner, Southwest Review, The Literary Review and TriQuarterly, the Antigonish Review and Queen’s Quarterly. His poems have been included in numerous anthologies, two of the most recent being 60 Indian Poets (Penguin) and The HarperCollins Book of English Poetry.
He has also written a book on D.H.Lawrence and co-written (with his wife, Minakshi Padhi) a reference book on Indian Philosophy and Religion.