Historian’s Poet Jibananda Das

Soil perturbed. The landed history, of Philistine Gentiling. Darksome, as ‘‘once again’’, the greater continuity of disruption. The sky is turned towards the poet history in its totality, “throughout”. The poet bespeaks on time-zone ringing of familial domain, darkness as light’s mysterious sister. Once again the darkness “thickens”, sized quantifiable disposition of humanness. Poet bemoans the not-yet glancing of his beloved, though he is accountable to her. She is like darkness. Unfathomable Negro “deepening” of the sky, praying is what the poet offers. She has loved him always, like the gentiles homing, though the historian ceased to not look. He bemoans for the past. From the annals of history come vanquished cities. The “outlines” delineate the ‘’gray” palaces of the city, ‘greyness’ as obsolete timeized zonal writings fadeful belongiong. Everything luxury, omnipotent city, round globe, from Gulf to Mediterranean. Objects corrugate to poet’s dreamless presencing of present’s archaeological dig. Moon sunk as “oranged” Sun took the sky. Boyhood of mankind. Dense “Mahogany” foliage reminds of crevasse as inbetween. Whose between? Timeized zonal writings in advance to spacehood of foliage.And she was present! How many billions I haven’t seen you? The passing of lovelorn spring brings in mind not soil but “tales of seashore”. It is dark and fantasy figures of sorrow. The historin compares the passing of a certain phase of calendar year with the passing of certain time, history tycoonized archaeology. Sea of Atlantis.  Fragrances return the annals. The pictorial of deer and lion brings in the cut-upness of civilizational carnivoria. Yet, carnivoria is no more, “greying, like the “stained” objectal. Piercing peacock, “Plumages “whistle out, like the dogmatic vein of “rippling over drapes”. Antechamber’s momentary glow of ephemerality. Sun carpets and wine, afloat with your inviting “lonely naked hand”. Hirosima negates cogito’s objectal spatial distancing. Life bemoans the passing, but, only for a few moments of time. But, not elliptical enough for the Historian.


I am indebted towards Gayatri C. Spivak and my Con teacher Sanjoy Mukhopadhay of Jadavpur University

Jeet Bhattacharya
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