At a burial ground

At a burial ground
P K Routray
In an off day
for an experimental experience
Arrived at a Hindu burial ground,
in a small town
to spend time as long as I can
to my heart’s content
to search for the truth of life
out of curiosity
possibly for much sought after wisdom
sat below an old dilapidated banyan tree,
With a book in hand,
saw some tomb stones
Inscription on it not visible,
could not make out
it was whose and when.
The place was silent and lonely
except some crows and birds.
Flashed in the memory
the grandma’s childhood tales,
dissatisfied spirits here do wander
under the cover of darkness.
in night many of them
become evil and ghosts
eat a live man
or the unburnt portion of the corpse.
Some spirits are known by names
the reason of their dissatisfaction
in their lives on the earth
are even known to many
in the village near bye.
For Jhumpu a lady could not get an issue
in spite of lifelong austerity and propitiation
Kumpu committed suicide by hanging
his beloved of another caste
was married to someone in another town.
They walk in night
at times visible to naked eye
and are sign of bad omens.
The thought got disrupted,
with sound of drums
in a procession a corpse
was brought by a crowd
Father of a powerful and rich minister
of course the mortal remains.
The cremation ground’ silence
got broken with hymans
for the dead man dead and gone.
On the body garlands
were put as a mark of respect
A small group was found
bringing a dead body
crying with pathos a lady
staying at a distance watching.
The young man was below thirty
only son of her widowed mother.
Bodies were put on pyres
one with sandal wood and ghee,
another with plain wood,
Difference of poor and rich
was for some moments
Many thoughts
criss crossed within me
So far known as rich and poor
but not known
what happens to them after.
On the dust air and ether
of the cremation ground
filled with reminiscent of the mortal bodies of
wise and fool, rich and poor
sinner and saint, theist and atheists.
The invisible spirits see and laugh
at the feelings of all
friends and foes, near and far
with transitory tears
Many ambitions have evaporated,
many dreams and desires get shattered
many loves get frustrated,
Attach ment ends
here on this ground.
The evening darkness was descending
the flames on the pyres have
subsidized on both the corpses
The attendances have thinned down
Howling sound from jackals were terrifying.
That mother’s cry was not audible,
the minister might be being consoled
“ Everybody has to go once day”
or might be attending an important meeting..
With horrid steps I came back
searching grand mother’s lap
out of not only childhood fears
but also with old age tears.