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    Brahma Raksha S

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    AkshayNcp
    This poem describes Brahmarakshas, a man who lives alone in an abandoned well near the ruins of a city. He spends his time in the darkness of the well, constantly trying to cleanse himself of impurities while reciting mantras and engaging in philosophical discussions with himself. He believes the sun and moon worship him when their lights enter the well. The poem reflects on Brahmarakshas' isolation and madness as he lives cut off from the world in the confined space of the well.

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    © All Rights Reserved
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    Brahma Raksha S

    Uploaded by

    AkshayNcp
    2K views7 pages
    This poem describes Brahmarakshas, a man who lives alone in an abandoned well near the ruins of a city. He spends his time in the darkness of the well, constantly trying to cleanse himself of impurities while reciting mantras and engaging in philosophical discussions with himself. He believes the sun and moon worship him when their lights enter the well. The poem reflects on Brahmarakshas' isolation and madness as he lives cut off from the world in the confined space of the well.

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    Brahma Raksha s

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    This poem describes Brahmarakshas, a man who lives alone in an abandoned well near the ruins of a city. He spends his time in the darkness of the well, constantly trying to cleanse himself of impurities while reciting mantras and engaging in philosophical discussions with himself. He believes the sun and moon worship him when their lights enter the well. The poem reflects on Brahmarakshas' isolation and madness as he lives cut off from the world in the confined space of the well.

    Copyright:

    © All Rights Reserved
    Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
    Download as pdf or txt
    2K views7 pages

    Brahma Raksha S

    Uploaded by

    AkshayNcp
    This poem describes Brahmarakshas, a man who lives alone in an abandoned well near the ruins of a city. He spends his time in the darkness of the well, constantly trying to cleanse himself of impurities while reciting mantras and engaging in philosophical discussions with himself. He believes the sun and moon worship him when their lights enter the well. The poem reflects on Brahmarakshas' isolation and madness as he lives cut off from the world in the confined space of the well.

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    You are on page 1of 7

    almost island- winter 2011/ page 1

    GAJANAN MADHAV MUKTIBODH



    Brahmarakshas
    Translated by Nikhil Govind






























    almost island- winter 2011/ page 2



    Brahmarakshas


    On that side of the city near the ruins
    an abandoned, empty well
    and within, in cold darkness
    in waters deep within
    amid deep-sunken stairs
    in the old stale puddle
    I cannot follow these seeming foundations
    these depths

    encircling that well, entangled
    silently stood the fig trees
    in them hang the abandoned owl-nests,
    brown, round

    the smells of a hundred past pieties
    green, jungly, raw
    swim in the air and become the weighted doubt
    of some unknown quality
    that unsettles the heart

    on the railings of the well, beguiling, green
    elbows resting
    leans the white flowered tagar tree

    and nearby,
    a flashing red flowered cluster
    my kanher
    calling me to that edge of danger
    where the black mouth of the well
    glances upward toward the skys emptiness
    almost island- winter 2011/ page 3


    in the emptiness of the wells thick darkness
    sits the gatekeeper Brahmarakshas
    and from within rises echo after echo
    like the mutterings of the insane
    speculations,
    defilement.
    to wash away, at every moment
    the shadow of impurity
    day and night, to make clean
    Brahmarakshas, scouring his body
    with the claws of his hand, again
    and again hands chest mouth
    still it stays
    still it stays

    andfrom his lips
    strange strotras, mantras
    fevered curses in chaste sanskrit,
    lines on the forehead weave
    glistening strands of thought
    in a continuous streams maddening flow
    lifes sympathy blots

    but when, in the wells deep inner wall
    oblique sun-rays fall and
    motes rise,
    light surfaces
    he thinks the sun has bowed and saluted him.
    when a moonbeam forgets its way
    and its rays stagger off the walls
    he thinks it worships him as the
    venerable knower.

    body and mind pierced, yet
    he rejoices, feeling the sky
    almost island- winter 2011/ page 4

    too has humbly accepted him.
    and with a twofold, frightening potency
    his understanding mind ranges
    through the folk-tales of Sumer-Babylonia, mellifluent Vedic hymns
    todays chands, mantras, theorems, theories
    of Marx Engels Russel Toynbee Heidegger Spengler Sartre even Gandhi
    everyones proof commented on afresh
    all this as he bathes in the wells dense greenness.

    this thundering, echoing, moving
    darknessbringing up phonemes
    obscure words revolving anew
    each word dividing its resonance
    each form battling its reflection
    maimed
    becoming
    the echo that wars with its echo

    upon the wells rails
    beguiling green elbows rest, and the
    white tagar flowers listen
    to these echoes
    the delicate fruits of the gooseberry tree
    listen, the ancient fig
    listens, I too listen to the tragedy that drifts
    in this mad allegory
    barred within this old well.


    X X X


    very high a dark savorous stairway
    its ill-lit step
    they of a strange interior universe.
    a stepping-up and a falling;
    almost island- winter 2011/ page 5

    again, a stepping-up and a-slipping,
    with twisted feet
    and on its chest many sores.
    more fierce than when good and evil
    meet
    calamity between good and a greater good

    small fortune,
    more likely misfortune!!

    an exorbitant fullness
    anguish is dear
    geometrys eye constructs
    a moral investiture

    self-consciousnesss subtle moral recollection

    when has it been easy
    to placate an exorbitant completeness

    all explanation is precious!!


    the sun comes out
    anxietys red haemorrhaging-river
    flows into the day;
    the rising moon
    on the wound
    dazzling white bandages on
    its disarrayed forehead.
    stars scatter the skys edge
    from uncountable decimals
    come decimal-drops on all sides:
    in the transposed spreading field
    beaten, he comes to use,
    and lies spread
    almost island- winter 2011/ page 6

    chest and arms open extended,
    a purifier.

    his person a tender quartz, temple-like,
    in that temple a stairway

    it is hard to climb
    the lonely stair.
    with emotion with thought
    the coordinated formed matter
    the stair of assimilated arithmetic
    i left for him.
    that thought-emotion, that work coordinated and formed
    in research
    amidst all pandits, all thinkers he
    in search of a guru
    drifts!!

    but the age turned and he came trading fame
    his only wealth from work now,
    from that wealth a heart & mind,
    and, subject to wealth, from within
    truths glint
    ever smolders.

    self-consciousness and yet in this
    loves discord
    a world consciousness unmade!!
    at greatness feet
    an agitated dejected mind!
    if only i had met him those days
    then living his anguish myself
    i would have told him his worth
    his greatness!
    of his, and his greatness,
    use to people like us
    almost island- winter 2011/ page 7

    i would have spoken of that inward greatness!!

    powdered within
    and outside between two stone slabs
    this is a farcical tragedy!!

    in the well himself
    endlessly inside the mad symbols
    how he within the dark room
    kept at his arithmetic
    and died
    in dense barbed undergrowth
    in a dark cavity
    dead bird like
    departed
    that flame unknown slept forever
    this happened: why!
    why did this happen!!
    Brahmarakshas breast-fed student
    i so wished to be
    whose incomplete works
    whose pains source
    collected, extracted, risen
    I could bring.

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