POEMS OF RAJU BARUAH
Bathanitola
(For the party members, women and children who died at the hands of Ranbir Sena at Bathanitola, Bhojpur.)
At the courtyard I have laid in the sun
A few lapfuls of paddy
Turn into a bird and pick up in your lips
O darling of my longing.
Mothers’s exuded fragrance spreads
Are you coming back to her bosom
O my precious one
To palpate the flower of lips
A flash of blinding brightness
Obstructing the intruder in the night smacking of gunpowder
I’ll keep my ears alert in the wintry night
I’ll insert the tender shoot of fire-flower in the gate
Gobble down a meal of the saddays emptying the dish
The dark restless night filled with quick steps stay
like a burning sensation inside the bossom
The evil possessed Luit
The evil possessed Ganga
You’ve rinsed Bathanitola in the river of blood
Let the red flag keep flying on
In dreams ‘n while awake as well.
The Sanguine
"We Communists are like seeds and the people are like the soil. Wherever we go, we must unite with the people, take root and blossom amongst them." — Mao Tse Tung.
That imperishable seed seeking to germinate
through the decaying life at the moment I placed my hand in yours
anytime now
will sprout
will blossom
The tree will weigh down with fruits
The reddish sunflower full of possibilities
seeking to blossom through the blood-soaked life
at the moment I placed my hand in yours
whenever it sprouts now
will open its petal luxuriantly
will look for the sake of blood weighing down with fruits
That dream of blood till death
which sought ripeness at the moment when I placed my hand in yours
Wherever that is now
will grow up
will flourish
The tree will weigh down with fruits
In the breast proud with the dream of blood
now reverberation of the Volga or the Hoang-Ho
or is it the flash of the rising sun in the Luit
Seeds of the sun in your hand
Startling possibility of the perilous night.
Lakhipathar once again
(The Turbulent times once again)
Each tree is but them
Leaves their eyes
The head bends down now
In the unshaken promise of the red flag
May be, indeed, the tears have turned into rocks
The heart into stone
Or in the uneven path lie stumbling nails
Smell of blood in the jungles
Smell of blood in the air,
In the breath
In the buds of spring
The mauling of the hounds
Now in the deep of the heart
People keep looking on for the sun
Slit with suppressed anger
They returned this way
They will come back
Being comrades
In the spring afternoon
When people embrace each other.
The time is not propitious
[dedicated to the oppressed women]
Why did you come my friend
In the night when the sea is called a river
Time passes away just in calling the near and dear ones beautiful
The carnivorous flock of falcons
Come sweeping down at the sight at the fire-flower
In the anxiety of the gates the sentinel, the sentry
The ominous owl hoots on the roof of the house
The howl of jackals at the broad day light
Have in your black of a sea thrust the bud of gunpowder
In the lotus eyes you opened the lock of the heart
The evil possessed time dances wildly
Smelling raw blood
Perilous days — days of the prayerless sun
The criminal days accused of the youthful vigour
The bowl of the road on your lips
The throne shakes in the fire of lust
The King’s fervent entreaty in the prison
Why did you come at all in the night when dawn is dark
You open your lotus eyes on the street
Open your rose-petal lips
The fire-flower is blooming on the heart
Why did you come at all, my friend
Time passes away just in the calling the near and dear ones beautiful.
The Rhymic Dawn
As I was laying the bricks of the temple of freedom
I found you
You are scattering the tinge of blood
The shells of bullet hurt the heel
At the screech of the wild pheasant
Are destroyed the villages
My friend, open the gate while there is light
The corpses decompose in the edge of the river, in the gateway
Wiping off all identity
O trees, weep once to tell
O birds, speak out once without any scruple
The thigh trampled by boots breaks
Do not open the hem of your waist cloth
This evening of the dewy season
Would you be shining brightly, O young border
Would you be glistening brightly, O swelling horizon
Grasp firmly once you get a grip
The contours of the temple of freedom
The dawn of awakening
As I was laying the bricks of the temple of freedom
I found
You’re scattering the tinge of blood
Who among you would spread out the sprout of the wasteland —
The granary of the rotten paddy
The chirping of the caged bird
The night at the broad day light
The day at the dead of night
My friend, I raise the moments of the perilous days
The sound of the preparations can be heard
If you place your ears on the breast.
(Translated by Uttam Duarah)