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Poems By Poet Ratnakar Rout  11/21/2014 8:48:31 PM
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  Best Poems From
  RATNAKAR ROUT (28th August 1961)

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Life Must Go On

A little day and huge night
unpredictable rain with errant wind
biting cold and snowy sight
either way the winter is cruel
when people live a painful life.
The erratic climate reminds me
of the volatile behaviour of a new born child.
When the night spreads for fourteen hours
the day never breaks at dawn, it shrinks further,
the timid Sun hides it's face
behind the curtain of rain,
thy sky sneezes off and on
with the bewildered west wind fiercely blown.
When the Sun smiles reluctantly
the inclement weather looks good somehow
the smile returns to the lips
as if the petals of roses bloom.
But that condition never lasts long
the drizzle starts pouring down
from the nomadic clouds marching now and then.
A shy of relief that enlivens the life
for a while, gets covered with a shadow
of grief in the next moment.
There is no escape but to bear
till the time is matured.
When you have no cure
you are to endure. But
a midst the insurmountable ordeals
the life must go on, go on, go on......
Qr. No. C-7, Unit-ix,
Bhubaneswar, Odisha
India, Pin.751007
(This poem has been written in the hostel room(west) no.16 of Somerville College, Oxford University on 08.01.2014 night while undergoing training from 4th to10th January,2014)
Ratnakar Rout




When waiting for a hair cut
I saw a rag clad lady baking cakes
Beneath a tree in front of a hut
Was sweating profusely
The summer morning sun was very cruel
And the humidity unbearable
The climate was unkind and harsh
An eight by eight feet hutment
Of polythene clad roof was looking like
A dungeon and housing a family of five members
A typical slum area of the market place
Where there was heaps of garbage here and there
Residents were accustomed to pungent smell and bad odour
A narrow passage was in-between the huts and
A tiny temple, the place of worship
That was the resting place of the market dwellers
The lady shouted at the younger son who had
Just finished his bath in a road side water tap
And he was completely drenched and bare
She too ordered him in local slang to convey the elder son
Roaming in the market carefree with birthday hangover
To take bath before the water supply gets discontinued at 8.30AM
And have a ‘darshan’ to the God on this auspicious occasion
Conveying the message he came back quickly
And entered in to the hut
The lady expressed artificial anger on him
And directed the youngest daughter to
Transmit her instructions to
The eldest son for taking bath and to come soon
Her husband while changing
His wet clothes on the temple varandah
Could not digest the rudeness of his wife
Repeatedly expressed by her on
The conduct of the eldest child on his birthday
He cautioned the lady mildly
The youngest daughter intimated
In the mean while that her brother is
In waiting to take bath as the public water
Tap is over crowded. Restlessly the lady
Was baking the cake and doing
Other works in between with renewed enthusiasm
I was watching this fabulous birthday
Preparation of the entire family and became
Amazed at this matchless eagerness and curiosity
That is rarely found in the families living in plenty
It is always not true that people in lots
Will be happy always and people with
A little means of livelihood cannot enjoy life and live happily
It is the attitude how one accepts life
With what means one has in his kit.
I marked the insurmountable family bond
And mutual love and affection amidst acute poverty
Which are usually not seen in plenty?
The relation was pure, unadulterated
And minds were as transparent as morning sky
No hypocrisy, no artificiality, no back biting, nothing like
Unhealthy and unpalatable bickering were noticed
Looking at them I introspected myself
While waiting there calmly and felt
As if I have lost something very dear to me somewhere
But the very next moment I realised
I am endowed with immense pleasure
And have regained instantly some precious lost treasure
Ratnakar Rout




I suspect whether I am alive or dead
At times, I feel, I am dead, at times alive
I live alike the three monkeys of Mahatma
Since long, I have closed my eyes
I have willfully made myself deaf and dumb too
At present, I don’t see, I don’t listen and I don’t speak
But I live and move as usual but don’t react
To the incidents happening around me
I watch, even immovable plants react to the external stimuli
But I don’t since; I have lost my will to react,
To show interest in things
And differentiate between good or bad
As I am almost compelled to look after my own affairs only
By no one in particular but the prevailing social condition
Wherein I live presently has made me confined
Like a tortoise, I am very calculative in my own movement
I crawl when I find a pasture land
And withdraw me at once when I encounter danger
On the face of an obstacle which puts hindrance ahead
I hide me in my own shell and snore calmly
As long as the impediments appear insurmountable
I am not bothered if my fellow citizens are in deep trouble
Over the years, I have withdrawn myself to my own domain
Every one should know that I am a lonesome, isolated
Detached and highly self-centered modern man Living
With you all in this first decade of the twenty first century
When everything mundane is available
At my door step to cater to my avid needs
Still, I am shivering in fear,
Shedding my tear now and then in seclusion
I have many unfulfilled desire to run after
In spite of that I have absolutely have no reaction
In any matter what so ever the situation becomes
Hue and cry, outside of me in the world,
Has almost restrained me in a self designed shield
Wherein, though I am visible alive clinically
But I am almost dead mentally, you can find me
Only my mortal body moves
From one end of the armor to the other
But it behaves mechanically as a robot
Being completely empty and vacuum
In absence of any consciousness
And in lacking the power of consideration
Now I live in it and move
Like a dead man walking in an abandoned castle.
Ratnakar Rout




In one fine morning
When the Sun was rising at the
Eastern horizon
The sky appeared stained with
Crimson red rays
As if the blood sprinkled from a slain body
Spread here and there.

A lone passer by I
Was engrossed with the memories of some one
Alike a saint indulged in yawning penance.
The busy roads were still on the lap
Have wee hours.

A curtain of fog hindered my distant vision.
Due drops were falling from
The entirely drenched leaves
Breaking the silence with a constant musical tone
On my return journey from a morning round
I was amazed with the sight of a tiny flower
Adjacent to my drawing room
Just bloomed from the bud.
Knocked at her sight I stopped
She baffled me in her beauty
My vision was lost for a while
I gazed and gazed at her
But could not move a step further.

A sense of belongingness made me motionless
My heart was filled with joy
And jumped up for that pretty creature
A rare feeling amused me within
Something got imprinted inside
A picturesque was carved in the soft rock
Easily malleable but everlasting and inerasable
How long did I behold, I know not
I glanced through and continued
But not impelled to touch
Such soft tender edge of the petals
Could I touch with my crude hand?
Could I pluck such an exquisite creation?
I looked at her and realized, as if
All the beauties of earth were mingled thereon
My mind failed visibly
Expressing them in words.
A naughty wasp appeared there
And murmured in her ears
From where I know not
The flower brushed her petals and woke up
With the soothing morning breeze
Like Radha was propelled by the mellifluous chord
Of the Krishna’s flute
It appeared as if the love songs are sung
Hypnotizing the beloved for a moment.

The wasp flew up and down
Around the mother plant
Encircling his loved one
When it became silent everywhere
The situation came to his command
The cruel wasp concerted and kissed the corolla
The virgin heart of that flower sparsely
So passionately that she trembled
And became quiet after a while.

The wasp fled away
And got engaged to another one
She felt dejected or filled there after
Only she can tell.
I was bemused witnessing the magic of the nature
And felt indebted
To the magnanimity of the Great Creator
An inimitable feeling then filled my heart.
I questioned myself time and again
Who taught them the lovemaking?
Look! Such pretty creatures are so beautiful
And if acts of them could mesmerize everyone
How beautiful their Creator would be?
Ratnakar Rout

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Poems By Poet Ratnakar Rout