Katakan Riot
A Poem by Dr. Alok Kumar Ray
When toxins of suspicion, intolerance, jealousy and disbelief
Moved to the core
The thread of relationship
Like the cut off kite having been losing the direction
Moves haphazardly, here and there.
Falls down on the earth or on the electricity poll, sticking to the tree boughs
Reminiscing once the bygone times.
With the cool touch of time
Wounds recuperate gently.
With the advancement of the day
From the canvas of mind
A worrisome dream bids farewell
Not to approach again, not at all.
Whether the foot prints of Prophet Muhammad or the foot prints of Sri Chaitanya
Beholding the feet, loud call emerges in the mind.
Soil, water and wind’s union
With devotional offerings become one and all
To harvest modest delightfulness in the desert of life.
Town of fifty two marts and pathways of fifty three
With a few pennies amassed by Baimundi
Laying the foundation stone of flood restrained embankment
From Gadgadia Ghat to Debigada
Our Kataka is appealing and humorous.
Just now a black cloud of kingship
Flouts in the firmament of Kataka
To pour open big -budget opulence of
Affection, love, care and intimacy.
Just now in this millennium city
Notwithstanding the last tears of fury and frustration
The eternal alliance is branching out.
From Matamatha to Manisahu, very crowded square
Too much rush of people,
Within the harsh sounds of vehicles
The existence of Kataka seems unique.
Therefore staying hydra headed thrillings
Since some days occupied the place
The song of daily chores
Of everyday living of Katakans.
Buxi Bazar, the birth place of Netaji, Odia Bazar,
Kadam Rasul and City Hospital, the square of Durgha Bazar
Everywhere Kataka in her own toilette
Sometimes is in work, sometimes is perturbed,
Sometimes feels sophocation,
Sometimes displays her competence through Dahibara making.
Let Kataka to bloom in her own terms and conditions
To gather millions of silver filigree dreams,
To swim together in the rough waters either at Naraj or at Jobra.
Let Katakans to pick from the banks of river Kathjodi
A handful of drowsy endearment
To embellish the braid of Katakianis.
Let’s come together to immerse
In the swift streams of Mahanadi
Heaps of stale flowers resembling with brawls.
Listening to the Azaan
While arranging the watch hands
Let’s wander in Hatipokhari
Where it is said
Once throwing one Palmyra palm fruit of malice
One crow flew away for good.
Bio of the Poet: Dr. Alok Kumar Ray is from Kendrapara, Bharat.
