ସେଦିନ ସ୍ୱାଗତ ସମ୍ବର୍ଦ୍ଧନା ଚାଲିଥାଏ। ବଡ଼ ଶ୍ରେଣୀର ପିଲାମାନେ ସାନ ମାନଙ୍କୁ ଫୁଲ ଓ ଚନ୍ଦନ ଦେଇ ସ୍ବାଗତ କରୁଥାନ୍ତି। ହଠାତ୍ ଜଣେ ଦେଖଣାହାରୀ କହି ଉଠିଲେ, "ଆରେ ଶୁଣ, ସେ ଅମୁକ ଧର୍ମର ପିଲା ମାନଙ୍କୁ ଚନ୍ଦନ ତିଳକ ଲଗାଇବ ନାହିଁ କି ତାଙ୍କ ଉପରେ ପୁଷ୍ପ ବୃଷ୍ଟି ବି କରିବନି, ତାହା ତାଙ୍କ ଧର୍ମ ବିରୁଦ୍ଧ"। ଏସବୁ ଶୁଣୁଥିଲା କୁନି ଶିଶୁଟିଏ। ସେ ତତକ୍ଷଣାତ୍ ସେ ବ୍ୟକ୍ତି ଜଣଙ୍କୁ ପଚାରି ଉଠିଲା, "ଆଜ୍ଞା, କେମିତି ଚିହ୍ନିବୁ ସେ ଆମୁକ ଧର୍ମର ବୋଲି?" ଏମିତି ଏକ କଠିନ ପ୍ରଶ୍ନର ଉତ୍ତର କାହା ପାଖରେ ନଥିଲା। ସେ ଭଦ୍ରବ୍ୟକ୍ତି ବି ନୀରବ ରହିଲେ।

ଆଚ୍ଛା, ଟିକେ ଭାବନ୍ତୁ ତ, ରକ୍ତ ତ ଏକ, ରୂପ ତଥା ବେଶଭୂଷା ବି ଏକାପରି, ଏତେ ଏକତା ଭିତରେ ଏହି ଟିକକ ଭିନ୍ନତା କଣ ବାରି ହୋଇ ପାରିବ? ସତରେ, ଚିହ୍ନିବା କେମିତି? ନ ଚିହ୍ନିଲେ କଣ ସତରେ କିଛି ଫରକ ପଡେ?

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My aches really hurt me
Amidst the loneliness
I found a new self
My skin was loose,
Heart was pounding
Still, I didn't stop
I cried, I tried, and at last;
I found the gliding light,
I found the lost glory;
Everywhere; even in thou.

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ରବି କରରେ କ୍ଲାନ୍ତ ହରି
କର ଧରିଣ କରେ ହାରି।

ମୋ ଜୀବ ରଖ ଗୋପାଙ୍ଗନା
ଜୀବ କି ଯିବ ଜୀବ ବିନା।

ଏମନ୍ତ ଶୁଣି ସେ ଅବଳା
କହେ ଶୁଣହେ ନନ୍ଦବଳା।

ପାଣି ଧରିଲେ ପାଣି ଦେବି
ଏମନ୍ତ କହନ୍ତେ ସେ ଦେବୀ।

ହରି ବୋଇଲେ କି ଇଚ୍ଛା ତୋର
ହରିବାକୁ ପ୍ରାଣ ଚାହୁଁ ମାେର।

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My poem is a tree
Thou the sunshine
Yup, it's nourished
In thine warm words,
It has rooted deep,
In thine deep thoughts
It will be bushy under
The shadow of thine love
It will be mighty as the
Leafy branches that
Grow in the Autumn,
Yup, it will be, for sure
Under the shadow of
Thine love and care.

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The pathos of Madonna's child
When terror makes horror
He cries over the crucifixion
Humanity is still burning like
The Sun's glowing rays, but
He only he hath that glowing
They don't crawl to the
Blood monger's mind

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The petals of rose
It becomes thorny
Bled by the ego
Laments the shadow

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At a restaurant some gentlemen were discussing about the menace of child labour in the country. At the very time one of them shouted, "Yuck!, Hey Chhoto, clean-up the table here."

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Adieu the setting Sun,
To embrace the dusk,
Stare at the starry sky
To behold the Moon
That reminds me;
The murk is needed
As the light, as
Light hath glory
When the murk is felt

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The hidden treasure,
Filled with immense pleasure
When granny used to tell
Bout the Angel's land
The wizard's magic stick
Driven away of ghosts
Her fragile face, raised lips
White lies, black magic
Made me believe, laugh
The way she tells the tales
Still, are untold pleasure

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Will miss thou ever
In the empty dreams
When eyes are closed,
Breath is far away
Will remember thou
When the journey ends
Even, I'm alone in the
Land of loneliness,
Cosmos is ever so far
Torso is taken away,
Mind is burnt, and
Memories gone away
Will miss thou ever

-A Arun Kumar Barik

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