Flicker That Died | Pradipta Kishore Sundaray

Let me tell you that story, in image it mirror throws
Does not bear you or them in mould for any clue?
Sit around, be relieved… it all tells his nature the way he flew
Around, not a cameo nor the philanderer pointing that cue.

In that setting small, he lived big
Carrying a burden as loaded as a wagon coal
Find him killing his days kneeling in others league
A league he could have but did not nail.

His loads did not bloat him to more, see guava tree on bend on bearing
But fat gather, like that bulging man sat inclining,
Not that he was obese but mongering
A man leans for forging, ideas frisking.

Smarting big and talking tall
Gave the airs of knowledge
Could cull that made all a doll
But feared receiving a trivial dole

That dole made such a hole
Dented his images to near sinister
Got a latrine powered under pressure for that back mole,
He nourished to a lavish flourish, but louse running all in gear.

See the evening…..courtyard jammed, women all sitting in flowing hair,
Immersed in prayers but melee resembling that “Third eye”
Not in reel but for real, all attention what in store,
From that distant pile, came the clinking of anklet and bangles

None could hold them, like bladder breaking off
Aloud and invite in cheer, ever heard that roar,
Home team getting near score to run off
Light, lamp and chants make obedient offer.

Light glowed for a lamp inside
Dancing ferocious, could his ceiling fall broke
All saw everything off in own eye
But you are hearing a narrator in lieu.
It narrates ordeal for him: me a dear
Who brokered a scheme to live healthy and clean?
Not in decade or two but happened back in three
Furnishing doors in metal finish and shine.

All played their part, so also Nature
Season in Monsoon, students taking tutorial, near to his side
We know, girls go in groups, so lanterns in hand forayed for pee
Village ponds, like stadium full to gallery, flowed over

Water debilitating in breeze slow, oldie shaking when carrying own
A reflection in pond gave that flicker on door poor
Gave birth to intention evil and that glow
In human cheer, rained in boulders from dark corner

My dear, bonding his fear, took hold of the smarter
Teachers going that extra mile, girls in restriction
Thereafter, found no congregation, dying that flicker
Lo! My friend saved, all sat style Indian.

Now we in cleaning
That day had all to spirit’ (ing)
For a smile small
It takes years to maul.

Pradipta Kishore Sundaray, a native of Odisha and 53 years old. A post Graduate by qualification, has worked in NGO sector for last 15 years in various capacities across states like Odisha, Chhattisgarh and MadhyaPradesh.  He has moved around deep in tribal pockets and experienced life there. His poems narrate life as it happens and that he encounters while fulfilling my societal and family obligation.  He has taken up to my literary activities after undergoing heart surgery and in a way it facilitates that he keeps himself engaged to roles other than that he is unable to meet and see him happy and engaged.