LOST IN THE WHIRLS OF A SAVAGE WIND…. / Dr L. Sr Prasad

LOST IN THE WHIRLS OF A SAVAGE WIND….

At dusk looking at the faded pink graffiti left by the lamp of the day from the window of an empty room of love in the winter chilliness we look for the warmth of the scattered pages in life’s brook of a book, where memories lie hidden in dark corners, like the fallen leaves.
The decay is certain but the pain of separation brings about nostalgia painted on the leaves leaving the tree in the whirlwinds of time. Then the lamps of the night appear tattooed, by dark and light clouds and the stain of love strains to make a face, moth eaten in the annals of life.
Greeks were clever in classifying love as storge, philia, Eros, xenia and agape. further we have self-love, unrequited love, infatuated and courtly love. Love is a tender, passionate, profound, dynamic affection it has its own physiology that dictates physical actions. Once the intensity is lost and angry words in sparks spoil the dreams; rapids become wide in drunken silence, the distance between two banks slowly becomes wider and the bridges of adjustment or lust now and then, here and there continue communication in frozen moments in repentant tones and a request for the impossible restoration of love that is tight roped between insanity and truth.

Asoke Kumar Mitra

Asoke Kumar Mitra a renowned poet and an erudite scholar, in his poignant search of life and love and their dynamics in the whirlwinds of time presented us with a book of graffiti carved with the memories and ancient tunes. His stylus has blended the styles of occident and orient in a laudable style. His poems have the blended fragrance of petrichor and decay that reminds us the fallen leaves in the gust of untimely rain in winter season knocked by the onslaught of the savage wind.
Josep Juarez did the Spanish version in this bilingual book that retained the original scents and the design of the book is attractive with vivid pictures in the background. This can be a book that gives companionship when you are alone in a winter night sighing in front of the fire-place looking at the fire sparks once you both enjoyed in the torrents of love.

 

 Dr L. Sr Prasad

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