NN17. DARKNESS AROUND

a poem by Rajaram Ramachandran, India - poetry writer, author, poet

KING NALAN

If God had spoiled

Dhamayanthi Said,
“If God had spoiled,
Nothing can be done,
From here let us go on.”

Set as if taking bath

While this was the position,
In that hot desert, the sun,
As if going for a bath, set
In the sea of the west.

Slowly went the couple.

It was dark at the sunset.
Even for a young ghost
The way wasn’t visible.
Slowly went the couple.

Saw a stone hall

Where to go, they thought,
In the forest that was hot?
A dilapidated stone hall,
Was there, like another hell.

Go there to sleep

“It’ll become darker.
So, for us, it’s better,
To sleep in that hall
By the nightfall.

The sound of Yazh

“Once Nalan had heard,
The Magara Yazh-sound,
But now hears mosquito-sound
Lying on this bear ground.”

Dhamayanthi saw this
And cried for this
Unbearable situation
Beyond imagination.

He consoled her

“Dear, have no fears,
And shed no tears,
We’re ruled by fate,
We can’t escape it.”

Oh King, I don’t see

‘Oh King, there is
No soft bed of roses
Nor proper bed rooms,
And royal securities.”

She cried aloud for it,
And was terribly upset.
From a King to a Pauper
Time-wheel set the order.

Our duty to sleep

Nalan saw her crying aloud.
“No use crying,” he said,
“Our duty now is to sleep
And like this, not to weep.”

“This wild wood had slept.
Eight directions had slept.
Even the ghost had slept.
So, let us both sleep.”

He kept his hand
Below her head,
While flat she lied
On the sandy bed.

Felt sorry for her

In the dead of night,
He saw her plight.
He cried, “Why my eyes
Did not go blind, to see this?”

“Why still my heart
Didn’t break on seeing it?
Why my life still exists?”
He went on crying like this.

Sari not there

Poor Nalan was inside,
Her sari-covering-end.
She cried, “He’s here
On this sandy floor.”

“Even my sari end
Can’t be used as bed.
My hand is the only pillow
To rest his head now.”

He felt sorry

She slept there somehow.
Nalan woke up by now,
And cried, “The daughter
Of Vimarasan is here.”

“Her garland, what Devas lost,
Came to my shoulders at last,
And for this noble soul
Why this kind of hell?”

“In the dead part
Of this dark night,
Only this heap of sand
Serves as her royal bed.”

“Is there anyone
So far had won,
The fate’s icy hands
In any part of our lands?”

Kali shook him

He was not for
Deserting her,
But Kali gave him
The idea this time.

Kali had no heart
Even on this spot.
What a devil he was,
Words can’t express.

NN16. LOST THE DRESS
KING NALAN
NN18. THE HARDSHIP OF SEPARATION

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