A Silent & Eternal Homeland of Swadesh
Read full review at Dispatches Poetry War
Here’s my journey into the homeland of Swadesh Sen. The journey through the water-stair of this homeland created the space for me to reconstruct my own poems in an internalized language. In the process of reviewing Swadesh’s book, I wrote these poems, with a structure of combination of prose and verse.
There are words, silent and perpetual included words. Words of moving life; calling constantly behind the said words. It’s a surprising unrest in a continuous time-stream. Solitude comes to sit within. A game is running within. It’s a nutshellful game for existence, for non-existence. A continuous revelation could be seen inside. Many unknown seed-beds take birth in the source of each revelation. The silence of buds touches the distance. An inevitable speed rushes towards the germination of possible multispeed. In easy utterance wonder could be seen with intense unknown. Even without seeing, so many observations remain engrossed in universal eyes. It’s such an intense wonder that, as if the piercing sound wave received its language just now. In a fine midday, the possible wavelength becomes word with your writing fingers. Henceforth bridge crossing words get reflected in the multidimensional mirror. A perfect utterance of sunshine flashes on the word’s body. It is such a sudden such a personal colour that all the walls fall off from the body of the expression, from the neck of the gesture.
I have come near water
through surprised water-stair
Some words kept folded with excited wave
Some non-words too
Flying birds through the waveless exotic sunshine
still retain the counts of zero
Shackled dawn tears out silently
Yet the sun rises with bare colours
The birth memories of the clouds swirled into the water
Give me water give me water
It seems to be someone called
from threshold of the interior
There were so many solicitude of autumn; cloudy eyes, trembling lips. Was there something to receive? There are some longing since birth somewhere within heart. An endeavour gets more and more newness of beauty. New lights have been created by the broken shore of un-embodied beauty. There is excellence inside the blue. How all these days take their form? All the non-receipts of the days fill the inherent night-womb by breaking the water-stair. If you break the placenta, you could see that a deep excellence is dancing with the sound of rains.
I had to go
at a distance of the flying peacock
Had to go
far away from a measure of distance
There are hands full of love
as if somewhere inside
flying birds
lightning flash
The unparalleled made by joining pollen of light
is writing the moments of bird-calling words
Runa Bandyopadhyay 