On the bank of an amazing river
and rivers, many adorning her
as necklaces with filigree wonder
altering their grandeur and color
with seasons, rain summer and winter
and at day and night, at dusk and dawn,
is the village Kalikapur where I was born.
Annals does not exist to announce its origin
but “The civilizations thrived at rivers’ basin.’
The scenes mute and vibrant blaze within me
from my infancy onward altering its color as times flee.
My infancy story on many arms and on many laps
and my gratitude due struggle to come out of straps.
Isolated from the outer world my villagers lived on their own.
except salt and a matchstick unaffected were they in isolation.
Their love and cooperation, fight and reconciliation
hard toil, superb skill in me are on my propitiation.
Unaware of numbers beyond twenty they could trade
counted they any number marking a twenty by a grass blade
All names with their faces and frames in me, wink
their contribution to then the society I must ink
No mode or medium existed then to capture them
except for my naïve words now to unfold the same
If the human acumen can invent some aids new
that can translate my old memories to a scenic view.
befittingly then I can flaunt the glories of my village
that has eroded because of greedy unwise human savage.
When rivers were in spate and irate to roar
when pitch darkness prevails and falls heavy downpour
a baby was born and its mother got proper attention
the sick survived with experienced herbal medication.
the howling of jackals from the nearby cremation ground
my grandma’s tales and insects’ frightening screams around
banana leaves as dining bowels and dry leaves as fuel
life was peaceful none ever accused the lord to him as cruel
All jobs were artful and hard demanded the highest skill
as no modern aids were available and tasks were uphill.
All these thoughts prompt me to search for words to illustrate
present I will picture as simile available roughly approximate
It is just the start pf my journey to appreciate the infinity
Criticize me, ignore me but it is my promise to present with humility.
start I, in this preamble one lady and her yeoman’s deeds
she doctored, nursed, served the village in all gynecological needs.
a number of generations including me were delivered by her skill
she is called universally as Punama an old lady with the will power of steel.
Her story, in short, she came as a young widow with an infant son
settled and served with love and ensured all gynecological attention.
(P K Routray
in service of Lord)
(My village Kalikapur is located on the bank of river Mahanadi and is surrounded by its branches.In flood gets totally isolated till a decade from now when bridges have been built. I and my siblings were born in the village nursed by Poonama like all others in the( villages.This part is the preamble. I shall continue my journey depicting the village life-changing over the years. .