Look, in your long period of silence…… See how much commotion fills the entire city. The decision that I had taken, The steps that I had advanced— Were they wrong or were they right? Where is the time to sit and judge……? In this city, it takes no time for rumors to spread, And it takes no time at all to suffocate a voice. Yet, I stand absolutely unyielding In the decision I have made. I have no regrets over your rejection; My only sorrow is this— That I made a grave mistake In recognizing the true nature of a heart. The earth must be drenched by now, The forests and orchards must be soaked In the very first rain of the month of Asadha. But within the garden of my heart, A desolate monsoon of Shravana rages on, Drenching me now solely In the pouring clouds of memories. The one for whom you are lighting The evening lamp right now— Look…… It is not for the sake of the light, my dear; Losing its direction, a soul destroys itself In the desperate hope of finding a life. Someone once said That silence is a sign of consent. Because of your long period of silence, Today, I am the one who stands defamed Across the entire city. — Ratnamaya Tripathy Adhyayana, Balangir Original Odia : Ratnamaya Tripathy Translated by : Dr. Khyatimaya Tripathy Want to read this poem in Odia ? Click Here Want to read this poem in Hindi ? Click…

Know this—against the hand you have raised at me, I cannot raise a hand of curses in return. Now that you have raised your hand, Perhaps you are forgetting that Your hand, its veins, and even the very blood flowing through them Belong to me. Nurtured under the shelter of my hands, Through the tender touch of my palms, and in exchange for my blistered joints— Your hands and your entire body were shaped. Patatting whose back and receiving whose support Are you showing such audacity, my dear (Dhana)? Perhaps you do not know— Here, to apply healing ointment on a wound of the right hand, Even the left hand refuses out of sheer contempt. The hand that was once only worthy of touching my feet for blessings— Do not attempt to rule or dominate with that very hand. Once my breath leaves this body, Even your hands will not find the strength To carry my corpse on your shoulders. Just like water that has flowed away, or words that have been spoken, A hand once raised in anger can never be taken back. You might manage to erase the scars upon your skin, But how will you ever heal The deep wounds inflicted inside the chest? Because you have never witnessed the shattering of a mountain, You have set out to pierce through rocks with your soft, delicate hands. Try breaking a hard stone floor just once, And you will realize how badly you need a strong, seasoned hand.…

Even amidst your thousand denials, I have sensed a hundred thousand words of consent. Even through a mere blink of the eyes, it can be understood; Even from silent lips, the language of the heart Can be easily discerned. To speak the mind's inner truth, one does not need An isolated, lonely world. Even within a crowded space, one can experience A fresh, new definition of love. To comfort the heart, there is no need For the southern spring breeze, a beautiful orchard, A rainbow in the sky, a chilly wind, The flowing stream, or a bountiful abundance of flowers. Even amidst a chaotic clamor, love can be understood— All it takes to recognize a heart is a heart itself. By the chains of whose authority Are your feet bound within a restricted boundary (Lakshman Rekha)? Under whose strict and watchful discipline Are your eyes filled with a torrential downpour of July rains (Shravana)? Upon whose courtyard altar (Chaura) are you compelled To light the evening lamp? Here, a pair of eyes has been searching for ages For your footprints in the courtyard and The playful restlessness of your gaze. Some say the rain arrives Bringing with it the seasonal cycle of union. Yet here, burning in the agonizing fires of separation, Stands a lush green forest, Desperately searching for the touch of your soft hands— And the soothing coolness of love. — Ratnamaya Tripathy Adhyayana, Balangir Original Odia : Ratnamaya Tripathy Translated by : Dr. Khyatimaya Tripathy Want to…

Someone had told me To keep the window open all through the night. Whether it was a request or a command— Without understanding, I left the window wide open. During the first watch of the night, came the fragrance of jasmine; During the second watch, the bright, spotless moon. During the third watch, the voice of some unknown bird, And during the fourth watch, an unseasonal rain arrived— Drenching the window railings Along with the calendar on the table, The poetry diary, and the flower vase. Yet, the window remained completely open. In the morning, I asked, "Why did you tell me to keep the window open Last night...?" Smiling softly, she replied, "You silly (Buddhu)... You couldn't sleep last night, could you? You spent the entire night thinking only of me. That is exactly why I had told you To keep the window open..." — Ratnamaya Tripathy Adhyayana, Balangir Original Odia : Ratnamaya Tripathy Translated by : Dr. Khyatimaya Tripathy Want to read this poem in Odia ? Click Here Want to read this poem in Hindi ? Click Here