Author Archives: sarita_Jenamani

About sarita_Jenamani

Sarita Jenamani was born in Cuttack, India. She studied economics and business administration in Orissa and Vienna, published several books of poetry in Hindi and Oriya her mother tongue, she has also translated several poems (including Lorca, Paz, Rose Ausländer and other Austrian Poets). She is currently living and working in Vienna.

Black

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She Comes
and casts a spell
on the banal moments
of your insignificant existence
Rage of her black silence
burns down
the constellation of your absurd ego
without your slightest knowledge

 

You who always
remained oblivious
of her illuminated self
fall into her fathomless darkness
in oblivion

Darkness that exists
in the womb of your mother
in the bewildered-black eyes of your baby
the darkness that lies beneath the earth
your last asylum
that engulfs your entire universe
and dazzles you

1947

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They depart
And more houses sink
into darkness
The street shrinks a little bit more
Night clenches
the morbid left-over light
From the Tower of Silence
flocks of fear-symbols descend
in quest of a morsel
Those remaining behind
continue to slumber
under a thick layer of indifference
They wake up
only to move
from dream to dream
and murmur
unanswerable questions
They depart
And life shrinks
a little bit more

Sarita Jenamani

partition

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Epitaph

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(Thought on All Sants’ Day)

They gather in the cemetery
and decorate their beloved graves
enlivening the deadened memories,
dust the epitaphs off
to get a proper reflection of
Subtle pain in their eyes
They light up candles
to locate the sorrow
hidden somewhere in their hearts

I have nowhere to go today
I look up to the grey sky
and try to feel the warmth
of my father’s eye
His grave exists nowhere
but in me
and I am his epitaph

Sarita Jenamani
1 Nov 2013

Time has come

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The stretched valley lies hungry
Soaking every drop of wish and hope
Like a crumbled,
blotting paper
The scorching whirlwind
has blown away with it
stanzas from the book of lullabies
The left-over pages of history
have lost their way
In the dark lane
of the century

Passing through the nomadic shadows
You have to move to the edge of the time
It is not enough to set free
the restless soul of night
from the swarthy hiss of terror
You have to climb to the peak
Holding those hands
that slumber beneath the
dismal blanket
You have to move-forward
Not just to secure
a space for you
But to light the stars of your share
to break the mirror of fear
It is time
You said NO……..
Sarita Jenamani 2013