Age too, after washing like a garment

Has to be dried

On the ropes of life

Sudhakar Gaidhani, a renowned poet from Maharashtra, India shares his poems

Sudhakar Gaidhani did M.A.M.F.A. from Nagpur University-Maharashtra-India. His mother tongue is Marathi. He knows three languages, Marathi, Hind and English. His poems have been translated into 35 languages of the world. Two epic poems, 6 poetry collections, three staged plays and 125 short Radio plays are at his credit. He has received many State, National and International awards including William Blake International Award from Contact International Journal from Romania and “Silver Cross for Culture” World Medal from World Union of Poets- Italy. Contact International journal dedicated its Oct.Dec.2021 issue to Gaidhani’s poetry. Municipality Khapa City opened a beautiful garden in two acres at Gaidhani’s birthplace in his name and the honored “Mahakavi (Epic Poet) Sudhakar Gaidhani in 2006. World Academy of Arts and Culture- USA/World Congress of Poets has conferred upon him “Doctor of Literature (Litt.D.) held in 2017 in Mongolia. He is globally known poet, translator, philosopher and critic. Prof. Dr. Liviu Pendefunda translated his epic poem “DEVDOOT:THE ANGEL containing 10000 lines with 5 cantos from English to Romanian and on 10th November 2023 in a World Premier event in Miroslava city,  it was published through Contact International Publishing House, Romania.

AGE CAN BE WASHED LIKE A GARMENT

Age too, after washing like a garment

Has to be dried

On the ropes of life

But if the age itself is older

Than the garments

Then the soap’s foam

Must turn into a peacock’s feather,

And the body must be cleansed

With the handkerchief of mind

But if the garment itself

Has reached its age

Then, separating the threads

Of the worn-out garment,

Like bathing a child lightly with hands,

It needs to be cleansed

And weaving with a needle, with love,

The patches need to be stitched again

And, at the final moment of soap,

It needs to be handed over to

The waves of the mind

And, to the evening

Waiting on the shore,

The tired day of life

Needs to be surrendered

Forever, with pleasure

This is nirvana

This is salvation.

***

UTERUS OF THE MUSSELS

A man steals the pearls

By tearing open the uterus

Of the mussels

With a spear

The murderer dances

With joy as the mothers of pearls

Die in crackling

And the God adorned

With garlands of pearls

Who is in the temple

Silently watching this massacre

With His open kind eyes!

***

DON’T DIVIDE ANYONE’S SHADOW

(An excerpt from my epic poem Devdoot: The Angel, canto-4.Translated from Marathi by Dr. Om Biyani)

“Look, playing with your frame

Is your own shadow

It moves with you,

Stops with you.

The shadows of the clouds

Run with you,

But your own shadow

Hides behind a mirror.

It has dreams of the moon

In daylight they are cleared.

Only objects have shadows

And not their reflection.

Planets make shadows

Not a dot-form sun.

Even shadows have their world

They have their character.

Shadows move, talk, blossom out,

Shadows contract and grow fat.

Even little dolls guard their shadows –

They hide themselves when a hooligan goes.

By whom are you accompanied

In your doom?

Except for your shadow

None is in the tomb.

In the shadow of the infinite

I have rested just a while.

To the sun-moon shadows

Offered my life.

Don’t measure the distance

Between life and death

With the length of your shadow

Short or tall.

Don’t divide anyone’s

Shadow at all.

Look, in the sky

Shadow-dolls are sporting

With the stars and their rays.

Look, how even the moon

Hide-and-seek plays”.

__________________

Received through Angela Kosta Executive Director of MIRIADE Magazine, Academic, journalist, writer, poet, essayist, literary critic, editor, translator