Tomorrows Morning Sun

Originally in Oriya by

Sarat Chandra Rath

Translated by

Nilamadhab Kar

Tomorrows Morning Sun

Originally in Oriya by Sarat Chandra Rath

Translated by Nilamadhab Kar

Tomorrows Morning Sun Originally in Oriya by Professor Sarat Chandra Rath, MA, MPhil, PhD Post-Graduate Department Oriya Language and Literature Utkal University, Vanivihar, Bhubaneswar, India

Translated to English by Nilamadhab Kar, MD, DPM, DNB, MRCPsych Consultant Psychiatrist Wolverhampton, UK First Publication as Kali sakalara surya: 1999 Publisher: Bharatiya Sahitya Kendra L/382, Baramunda Housing Board Colony Bhubaneswar, 751003, India Translated impression: Tomorrows Morning Sun, 2013 Publisher: Quality of Life Research and Development Foundation Offices: #1, Leacote Drive, Tettenhall, Wolverhampton, WV6 8NB, UK #130, Ratnakar Bag, Tankapani Road, Bhubaneswar, 751018, India Email: [email protected] SC Rath, N Kar, 2013 All rights reserved. Price: 10.00

Dedicated to Manorama Devi

Preface
Translating creative endeavours from their original language to others is always a learning curve. Translation is not of just words or meanings; it is of moods, local expressions, emotions, and very unique communications in the original language and the culture where it belongs. It is indeed exciting. There were so many typical Odia words and compositions; finding meaningful equivalent words and phrases which will make sense to English readers and also carry the original meaning of the Odia poem was an interesting challenge throughout this exercise. It was an enjoyable experience. It is always a journey in completing a literary project, not just over a period of time but with the experiences in waiting. Waiting for the word, a creative longing for the right one, the insatiable longing to make it as close as perfect keeps it going. And the search for the right word continues as if through eternity. Poems of Professor Sarat Chandra Rath provide such a diverse plethora of situations, unique observations, images and similes which make his poems distinctly different. The compositions of this anthology have a nice amalgamation of many eras of poetry in Odisha. There is a touch of modern approaches and the use of beautiful words, phrases and styles of not-so-distant past, which are blended on the present day themes. With these poems he has tried successfully to carve a niche for his poetic artistry. It is an honour to be associated with his literary creations. My sources of inspiration for the literary work have been my parents: Sri Harish Chandra Kar and Smt. Shantilata Kar. They themselves have great interest in literature. My father is especially focused in encouraging youngsters to use and enrich the mother-tongue. He reads stories and songs to children, arranges poetry recital groups and possesses a large collection of both old and new Odia writings. And he is the one who honed my translational skill in my childhood. My mother not only likes literature, she practices it in daily life by many means. I wish more and more translations of the Odia literature should occur; and the fragrance of the literary genius in Odia literature and authors should reach in different corners of the world. That way the richness Odia literature can be conveyed to the readers of different languages. N. Kar Wolverhampton, UK Christmas, 2013

Contents
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 Beyond reckoning Silent salutations And they New spring I will go searching Welcome gateway Known unknown Path, just to keep walking If everything would follow the rules A new mind Searching still Mesmerising verse An unspoilt mind Longed moment Future Invitation Restiveness Essence An affliction After the storm settled Extempore, not a rote dialogue Bends and straights Paper flower Still

Beyond reckoning
You have come leaving behind That bluish heaven of yours Soft zephyrs on the banks of the river of nectar Love drenched, inimitable scent of the flowering trees in paradise You have stepped into the mortal world Tolerated lot of pain Listened reproach Seen these dance of devils Along the stripes of smoke from the graveyard In the horrid smell of drains Heaps of putrefying waste You have not returned back In spite of all these You have not rebuked yourself For why did you come You have not sought pardon from self You have come yourself In slow pace Shed tears in silence For the mortal man With lots of unending love In your mind You know your potential Your reasons for descending to the faded world You will change the dust to sandal Infuse scent in the earth Magical colours in the diamond Salty sea to sweet, you will make In the cheery of flames of the raging fire You will turn all those filthy undesirables to ashes Rinsing the molten gold You will wipe it with your saintly dress In that gold, you will carve filigree flowers and Weave them in silk in your own hand The Setu bridge will not link, will not equate This side with that You will make this side More beautiful, than the other Not just unusual breeze, out of season With the colourful touch of ever-spring You will craft millions of beautiful lotus to bloom

(With salutation to Mahayogi Sri Aurobindo ); Setu bridge: Hindu pilgrim spot in Rameswaram which is described to link India with Sri Lanka in the Ramayana.

Silent salutations
Oh you, the alert guard of Kargil You are the Biswabasu of solid unmoveable self-confidence For the respect and defence of this land Your mind is conscious like the fresh blue water lily For thirsty eyes you are creek in the forest Fruit for the hungry from the most desirable plant A light house in the stormy sea Oh, brave soldier! Accept millions of salutes Trifling are the medals and medallions for you Positions, honours, decoration, and awards Marching ahead is your natural instinct Stepping back isnt written, ever, on the forehead Days pass, nights come restless like little children You are but stable, unwavering Strength of a lion in mind, immeasurable valour Wont let go a pin-head land From my country, till Im alive Your arteries and veins proclaim this All day and night, morning and evening There is no time to think about The scent of Baul flowers On the banks of village pond at the outskirts Tides of happiness with festivities on Chandan full-moon Recitals, dances - folk and other kinds various There is no time to think about The shrunken face of papa Sisters completion of studies Recurring fever of aunty Dry coughs of mum at night There is no time to think about The Tulsi plant pedestal by the well Near which every evening Sacred evening flames are lit Blended with devoted salutation, carefully arranged The whole country thinks about you Its a fulfilling life of yours, meaningful birth Accomplished achiever, hey warrior, At your feet my silent salutations

(For the Indian soldiers in Kargil who fought the invasion of Pakistan in 1999 June/July); Biswabasu: a saintly character of the Hindu mythology; Baul: a flower; Tulsi: Holy Basil

And they
Like this Putting on many masks of lots of colours Acting, enacting a role, Forget about others, they are far away anyway One is unknown even to ones own self In the old, frail look How helpless Touching the circle of ego Shadows of senseless inconsideration Stretch long, below the feet Camels graze away Bunches of cacti In desert sands It feels good to sit Spreading the spider net Keeping it ready carefully, the scorpion tail With the hisses of cobra, extreme valour Repeating always the consecrated mantra of vulture Rebuking the sky Spitting the river-water Filling ones own dictionary With pugnacious words, inviting fights They are the merchants of glass Shaking hand in one, Attacking in the other In the frontiers of Kargil Friends and neighbours are meaningless words Their affection is only a beautiful show Like the Gunjaraa fruits Tempting but toxic.

Gunjaraa: (Abrus precatorius) a black-tipped red seed, which is inedible.

New spring
All empty, it feels Buds have fallen off Along with the dew From the leaf All the blue-hue has trickled down Likes drops of tears There are no chirpings No buzzing of bees Honey bees have returned back As spring has not come Thinking its all meaningless Abandoned village centre, now empty and silent It was crowded and loud, yesterday However I know This emptiness isnt the epitaph Isnt a synonym for nirvana, salvation For the creation of a new life Its just a little limited rest. Tearing apart the chest of darkness The sun will paint its golden signature The bird in the cage of hope Will sing in a new tune Fragrance of flowers will pervade the horizons Sweet spring will arrive once again Once again the new spring will come

I will go searching
I will go searching for you In the spring-climbers In the flower petals of seven colours In the mild flow of breeze While the bees would be flying When you would be hiding In the flowers filament clefts I would be looking for through the soft eyes I will go searching for you In the star-studded sky By the fog-filled horizons In the fresh dawns In the tuneless jingle of the dews footsteps The sleep would be breaking With the betel in mouth tasting bitter I will go searching for you In the sandy beaches of the sea Looking for your beautiful, well-carved footsteps Searching heather thither On the grand-road, at the lion-gate, by the Muktimandap On the diamond-dais, in shades and lights All those insatiable ambitions Those half-understood my simmering sensations I will hand them over to you You are my dearest, intimate The bluish stream of the river in my lifes desert My faith, the lighthouse of my hope

Muktimandap: a place inside the Jagannath temple in Puri where senior priests congregate for important discussions

Welcome gateway
After all the music are lost The tune that will come at last That would know, all those notes and numbers Played before it It would play The new music of life Light of dawn would pervade the Eastern banks Its own distinct identity, that is All the faintness would get washed away Cleaned, sparkled, riverbanks, touching the sky New music will come Surpassing itself, crossing confines Time will decorate for it With the flowers of seven colours A gate of invitation With aroma filled air, fragrance of flowers Floral pollen-studded dress Scented sandalwood Swinging fan in the breeze In the humming of bees Holy conch-shell would be played With sweet blessings Grass beneath the stairs Would get freed from its box Would look at itself wide eyed To the rain-drenched deep-blue sky In a broken kingdom To the eternal abode

Known unknown
I remember the courtyard Green gardens on both sides Glittering in jewels Flowering pond not so far Soothing breeze Soft sun of the afternoon Not the sound, The echo creates in the ears A naughty absentmindedness Fills in the corners and crevices of the heart And at that time Bundles of joys and sorrows are seen Sighs are heard filled with hopelessness Paths and lanes, near and dear ones Appear somewhat different All silent and lonesome, it feels Like the grass of rain drenched night Shivers under the feet the yearning earth In the thick foliage of Deodar Owls keep sitting Blinking eyes Waiting for someone Trees doze off Do not muster enough courage To refuse, to say no. A gush of wind Comes from some far away country It does not say anything Just passes by touching the branches in silence

Deodar: an evergreen tree with thick foliage in tropics (Polyalthea longifolia)

Path, just to keep walking

Crossing a long distance I am tired, This path, however, continues still Extends far, beyond the vision Its not thorn-ridden all the way Sometimes its pitched and smooth With grass flowers on both sides And bits of laughter At other times, its lonely. Terrains and fields Pseudo plaits of water dance in amazing poses Sometimes in the foothills Dew drenched buds in the morning Convey their best wishes From the soft-edges of their palms, and Keep encouraging to march ahead and ahead. Then again, sometimes darkness crushes in Clouds gather in the sky Stars are not seen, nor the Moon It feels scary even to set a step out Picking up handful of darkness, again and again Turning perilous solitude into music One has to keep walking Decorating one self As a tender leaf in front of mighty tide Tossing and turning in the fear that hasnt surfaced yet Like this, from dawn to dusk, dusk to dawn Path is stretched. It dawdles, takes time, a long time. One can not stop in the midway Path is just to keep-walking

If everything would follow the rules

If everything would follow the rules A river in rainy season Following the traffic rules Would flow wholly within the banks Presenting the valued bouquet of modesty Shedding the dust of past While living within the present The tender me would ripen Like night creeping in after the day Like the Moon smiling in the full-moon night Like the autumn grass getting drenched in shyness After each night Bringing message of new light The dawn would come Dry leaves would fall off in silence, without murmur Babies would get love, and The elders, devotion and care A friend, at times of woe, would stand Near a friend Numbered days of the remaining life Of an elderly father Wouldnt be a worry for an able son In the stormy sea of life A patch of island would be available With the drops of intimate closeness In the flames of a lamp All those darkness Would burn to ashes From the greyish body of sky All the faintness would trickle down Recede far away, get over and finished There in the sky, many flowers of stars would bloom

10

A new mind
Lets go searching him In the stars of the sky There is nothing in the mundane world There is no hope, no reassurance Meaningless delusions, mystery, mere mirage Empty and bare, it is a grand nothingness, This is just the problem Who is telling this, my friend? Value, that exists here Has no comparison, didnt have, nor it will have any To understand, one needs energy, nerves, and Power in the veins To have godly perspective in the vision If this grey earth would not be needed, Would spikes tug the pallu Would dew from the leaves trickle as tear drops Would there be a quarrel for the Baul flower After the branches are broken in storms, hurricanes Would new twigs, leaves, flowers come again With silts after the floods Would there be yield twice the amount At the call of lightning-struck devastated earth Would the first rains of monsoon come? Would it decorate the earths forehead In grass flowers, white and red, and sandal patterns Rain drenched cold wind In the love-amused blue pallu Offering Kadamba pollen from its folded palms Would it worship this earth so much?

Kadamba: a type of globe like flower; Pallu: decorated saree endings

11

Searching still
I am nobody, nothing Not any holy dust Just a handful of unwanted ash If it is said, easily The wind will blow it away Water will cleanse it, People at arms reach will be happy hearing this I am the forest-fire, a piece of iron, a plate of steel Hearing this, people will become restless Roast in mind with the flames of jealousy With lots of anger, much intolerance and violence I have other identities To search all those Whether anything else is needed or not, Needed are well-lit innumerable flames In a bright afternoon I will get back myself Is there a victory greater than that, I will see inside me The Sun, Moon and the stars The synonym of security, the blue skies, and All those moments eagerly waited for

12

Mesmerising verse
That you will come, anytime Many people are waiting Only when you will come The smile of the morning star Will become more beautiful In the bluish saree endings More greenery will pervade the forests In the new twigs, mesmerising songs and tunes In the orchestra of tiny tiny birds The buds will bloom in lazy gestures The wind will not bring in scents by stealing Rather it will get scented itself Will lead the path, marching ahead Will explain with much realisation - that This world of ours, the heaven on earth, is so much needed In the musical swing of time On the edges of a patterned mirror Your face would be visible, bright and beautiful On the sides of the path of yours Red-blood lotus would be blooming There will be new restlessness in the sea Desert will convert For your coronation To a dense forest drenched with deep greenery Tossed and tired are many, in the tides of a river Fallen-leaves, poor looks Would be writing the last letter The painful story of a helpless life The mountains, rivers and streams of ravines Would be the witnesses And the tired butterflies The wild ferocious animals of jungle, heavy loneliness Poisonous snakes of many kinds

13

An unspoilt mind
He went out searching an unspoilt mind Searched around riverbanks, Through many bends and turns in village paths Sea side, towns and cities The searching got lost within searching Daylight still has not gone yet A bit of time is there Till dusk Taking on board whatever was available He marched ahead in an unaffected, unattached mind Without waiting for time Neglecting the heart Garland or black paint of society Flatter of the followers Pointless clapping Surrounding people became surprised Helpless, clueless, what else could they do Murmured many things Within their own boundaries Wind became restless Leaves and trees turned inattentive Dazed feelings only, on the earth, in the water Sighs everywhere, weedy grass

14

Longed moment
You are the tunes of Gayatri, in the pages of the Vedas Victorious in the belief of love, blessed Savitri In the leaping flames of fire Lighted you are, a line of inflamed happiness You are the mega-conference of nothingness Absolute surprise of completeness In the horizons, senses and feelings You are the sweet amiability transmitted Nameless, desire-less, self-confidence you are Humble silence of open horizons You are the fragmented blueness in the undivided sky Full of hope and reassurance of silent words You are the soft silkiness, a night filled with flowers of stars Many broken restlessness in the tides of the sea In the pond of silts seven-palm-tree deep, You are the petals of a water-lily about to bloom Grand tree of belief, deep greenery You are the feelings of a scented footpath, Touch of sandal, while thunderstruck by time In the gaps of waiting, you are the longed moment

Gayatri: A Rig Veda Hymn, composed in a metre of 24 syllables; and used as a prayer; Savitri: A Hindu mythological character

15

Future
The future isnt that unknown a guest, That it would arrive suddenly Its like a train from one to the other station It will arrive almost around the right time It will touch the earth, the rock, streams and sea Colours of Rangani flower Grains and grains of thin sand Many rib sticks Glistening ashes of the cremation ground Bringing in shade and light Raising the sail in the sea of time Keeping the casuarina jungle as witness, and The beachside country It will come surpassing itself It isnt tired, never is An amoeboid unattached soul Like the pleasure-driven, wishful butterfly From one direction to the other It would be flying in its own wishes Even it is said, that It belongs to none Even it isnt said, that No one belongs to it In silence, without words, losing ones own self All the interest it has, to come here Thats not to be measured in a scale of the mind

Rangani: a type of flower

16

Invitation
Provision of nice cool shade Is the mantra of living for you The wish of mind is reflected All the while in the green leaves. Years after years pass The seasons of falling dry leaves come and go But you remain unchanged, as if for ever Like a sage with godly vision Showers of monsoon come, and the winds of autumn Thunder-struck this earth appears as if Tiring, boring, and extremely lonely Mornings come after evenings Following the rules of nature Morning prayers are heard trickling down Through many voices Ever beautiful, that has no comparison For the message of progress, Struggle is like the leisure in spring The bright line of hope, the green surety of life Great mantra of silent meditation, Oh, you who have seen the horizons You are calm, unattached, foe-less, bright endeavours Tireless, sleepless you are a wakeful guard In the horizons, boundaries and defence circle Stepping footsteps in great courage and conviction You amusingly invite light from spheres and horizons

17

Restiveness
The reverse side of calm firmness Isnt restiveness Thats a feeling-state Whose browsing field is A different area Making self messy, hither thither Bringing in floods, earthquake In the fear of being exiled, It banishes others In an unhesitating mind It does not know what it wants It does not understand, the saga of its heart Voice and signature of the anxiety Flows within its own body, relentlessly in time Discoloured autumn by awful thunderbolts Its friends, partner, companion of life, Cracked earth is its throne Lonely feelings are all its rituals Deep and frequent sighs are its breath Clouded sky is its pensive look Inside the extended, meaningless circle It is an expectant dumb empty space

18

Essence
Entangled in the shades you keep smiling sweetly Definitions want to bind you too In thousands of garlands of light-rays You are glowing like yourself only No one else Regarding inclination, you are the first delight First flash, you are, of complete endeavour First victory mark of self-confidence Scent of a kind heart, a sandal layer You are the clean affection that binds Earth, water, wind Trees and creepers together Love-laden, statue-like you are an awake guard In nooks and corners of the whole world You are the colour of the flower, scent of the earth In the melody of the creek, the tune of raga Ashabari In the tides of the sea, full of verve Of the clean and dry sky You are the bluish reassurance In the wings of a butterfly You are the restive memory painted

Ashabari: a music composition

19

An affliction
The clouds of time Trickle down to the dusty earth By the footsteps they bloom many a Kadamba Endless greenery in the partings, clearings Spread from the circle An edgeless locale The fragrance of Kadamba pervades Jumping and hopping on the toes Of a just-born untamed calf To touch the horizons Many eyes are the witness here Observing self Everything is true here In between smiles and tears Living life, playing hide and seek Observing lies in the truth In the sighs of terror The courtyard of sky turns smoky Deafening loneliness Appears all blank and bare The synonym of life here is An affliction tied in an empty chest

20

After the storm settled

Many branches break Before the storm settles Gale slows down, no more rains Everything becomes quiet For the calculations of gains and losses The rising golden Sun Assures from the sky Says, Dont fear. Dont lose focus. Dont be distracted. Soon the leaves sprout Bluish deep greenery sweeps Across jungles and gardens, trees and climbers Bunches of buds swing lazily Surprised river-bends look on Nest-returned evening stays on in the fields Sky bends over in a reassuring mould A stream of breeze flows and fans In the blue horizons of the consciousness Many new unconditional moments Hum away many tunes Different rhythms, different compositions, Different lyrics and meanings In search of closeness, imminence They are, each one, a new signal

21

Extempore, not a rote dialogue

To this earth he slides down like a good boy With golden pot in hand Hiding from self, smiling a little Behind the description Being a memory like a smoky horizon He hands over gorgeous dress to be a king Laced, velvety, soft frills of silk Sets the throne Decorates the courtroom, in Rajanigandha The courtesans, ministers come Bard and the royal poet, Royal teacher around nearby Enjoying anthology of poems, jingling anklets Lazy tunes touch the flower petals Mind gets tired like dialogues extempore, not rote Mornings sky looks unusual, different Sun-rays age Empty, lonely orchards, jungles Blaze away Trees look parched and dry Sometimes faraway Thin voice of a cuckoo Is heard, a little

Rajanigandha: a white sweet-smelling flower

22

Bends and straights

Time is passing by Like the river water Dancing on the banks Filling laughter in many a lips Sometimes in muddy waters The face isnt seen Tense loneliness With chilly wind Body shivers Winding roads of the journey Through villages, towns and cities To clean away garbage The river flows ahead Sometimes in the bends It stops to search itself Like a lost traveller Hither and thither, shades of the Kadamba trees Tie down mind Flute is heard from a distant forest Also the moos In the words, waves of river Wither away many forest flowers

23

Paper flower
The city of paper flowers is burning away Who set it alight Nothing is understood. Filled everywhere, only smoke and smoulder Overwhelmed, suffocated People are panting Ego frowned Worry, perplexity beyond comparison No one identifies other; who does that; Recognition means problem So everybody moves around Like as if unknown, sort of half-known Sometimes on the path A thin, faint wish becomes available A multi-colour voice is heard, Naba Babu, Ghana Babu And again sometimes Nabaghana Babu! After the purpose is over The face turns away North to south, again south to north Like spitting the betel chew

24

Still
I have come, to go back To return There isnt a wee bit Calculation in this As I have come, to go back It is so lovable to live this life. It feels good to see eyeful The blue sky Flora fauna, soft grass of the land It feels good to listen, songs of cuckoo The trickling tune of the streams It feels good to listen Indistinct buzzing of the bees It feels good to walk, in the pastures and meadows On the sides of river banks In the fresh mornings, and at the dusk A time hazy with dust raised by the returning herd Singing, humming many poems It feels good to sit on the shades of a tree I know it isnt mine, this tree Still, my friend, why I feel so close to it My mind gets tied By its amused invitation

About the authors

Prof Sarat Chandra Rath MA, MPhil, PhD, is a Professor of Odia Language at Utkal University in Bhubaneswar, India. He has authored many books. His poetry books include: Araadhana, Banamaala, Dhupabaasa, Kaali Sakalar Surya, Maati Mahak, and Nabachetanaa. Titles of critiques and essays are Aama Sanskruti: Aama Jibana, Sahitya Chintan, Samiksha Stabaka, Samikshaa Saurava, Raajakabi Dhanjaya Bhanjanka Kruti O Krutitwa, Prabandha O Prabandhika, Samanya Suchanaa, Savitri Sambandhe. His compilations include: Sahitya Sampada, Matru Kathaamruta, Sarabaangina Sikshyaa O Jibana, Semanaka Atmalipi, and Sri Aurobindonka Savitri Upaakhyaana. He has been honoured with gold medals for his creative accomplishments in Odia literature. He has also received Kabi Samrat Upendra Bhanja Sammaan, Rastriya Mahila Sammaan, Odisha Sakha, Nikhila Bharat Swadhinataa Sangrama Samiti, Odisha Sammilani, Bhubaneswar, and Jayadeva Kavi Samman, Bhubaneswar. He lives in the temple city Bhubaneswar, Odisha, India.

Dr Nilamadhab Kar, MD, DPM, DNB, MRCPsych, is a Consultant Psychiatrist in UK. He writes in Odia and English, with occasional twists in Hindi. Poetry forms the main medium of his expression, however he has also written stories and essays. His poems have been published in many journals and anthologies. Besides literature he writes scientific articles in medical and professional journals. He has written and edited many books and periodicals too. Some of his books include: Mental Health Care following Disasters: A handbook for disaster workers, Preparing for Natural Disasters an individual perspective, Handbook of Dementia, Comprehensive Textbook of Sexual Medicine and Handbook of Psychotherapy. He has a translated anthology Reverberation and an Odia poetry collection Tama Paa in to his credit.

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