Bhaskar Roy Barman
The kaleidoscope stood befrilled with splendour;
no messenger from on high did descend to hand
it blessings, though.
The rassling trees coruscated in an interplay of light and dark,
the sun dipping down the western horizon .
Exuding a unisonant desire to search for the amaranth,
a group of youths were chanting their way along the path
that led into the forest.
They had heard elders gossip about the amaranth
they had never themselves seen,
and tell themselves they had heard of the flower
from the cowboys who herded cows into the forest.
The youths wished the cowherds had sculpted the image of the
amaranth
on the bark of the trees.
The amaranth was said to blossom when the light of the departing
day
intermingled with the darkness of the incoming night.
Save for the interplay of light and dark
the kaleidoscope has nothing else to boast.
No messenger did descend from on high
to hand it blessings from High.
Someone might have deciphered the speech of the forest.
Ahead was a great hole caressed by darkness,
where no light was allowed to intrude.
The kaleidoscope uncrowned with blessings from High
always changed colours to beguile you off the great hole.
Did the amaranth bloom in or around the great hole?
wondered the youths.
