A Love Song Between Two Generations

I am measuring
The distance between me and him
Perhaps I am measuring time too.
Is there really space
                            space to measure 
Is there space to measure, is there immeasurable space
                            is there immeasurability –
He stands 
                            within circles, within squares
circles and squares in endless revolution –
From where should I, where should I stand and measure?
Should I stand on the river shore, should I stand on the extreme edge of waves?
From a stage prior to the amoeba?
Standing on the rim of the eye that has lost its keenness somewhere
or from the cheek of the raindrop
                           splashed off the heart of a rugged paddy stalk?
From where?
Are there really spaces to measure
or have measurements begun long ago without spaces –
Is he in the eye of a swirling whirlpool of whirlwinds?
Is it my effort to reach out to him
standing on the navel
                             of an entire circular fission?
It is as if on beckoning him
saying he is coming, he is approaching – I too
as if I am walking, I am moving – as if
I am viewing, reviewing everything.
If I say, “Come,”
He says, “Where should I come? I am next to you.”
How can I search for one next to me?
Perhaps we have indeed to search for one very close.
Perhaps we have to notice one very close – truly.
Perhaps we don’t know anything of someone very close.
Does closeness lead to negligence?
Aren’t those close by really close, won’t they become close?
It looks as if everything is in your palm
but if you look it is just an empty palm.
                          A mirror where you can’t see a face
as if five torsos hang mocking
as if a maimed picture has suddenly appeared –

Where is he?
                           Plunging into which ocean
                           is he breathing life into which songs?
Entwined in the looks of a bundle of thread
                           whose knots can’t be untangled
having become an idealist like me
running behind unattainable, unavailable love
has he all of a sudden found the nonexistent love?
In the belly of this beetle of a world
a dainty, delicate, extremely soft
exceedingly beautiful dewdrop of intracellular love –
are unpolluted uncensored undivided loves —

Foolish child! Just as you said
                          love is an effort
a bright darkness
                          of the lakes of eye corners filled with eternal waters of sorrow –
Perhaps love too is a myth.
The surface and the bottom are alike for it.
                          Plunging completely
like children jumping from the bridge into the canal
jumping is the only way.
All the professional norms shine
in this jumping, in this floating, in this roaming naked.
A blood-sensitised, ecstasy-nourished state.

There, from that centre, from that navel
With thousands of forms, with heightened emotions, with winds, with fragrances
Breaking and rising – just surging ahead –

Standing on the edge of the lake
looking at the palm trees all around
at the sun rising beyond the trees
                            at the girl I’ve just patted to sleep –

This is a sixty-year-old cremation rite
A sixty-year-old rebirthing rite.
When I place both my hands under my head
and think deeply, gazing at the sky
starting from the other side
coming towards me
                             dissolving into me with a smiling sword –
where has he hidden that stick of sanjeevani
before I can find it
removing the layers
playing the stick-in-the-sand game with heaps and heaps of wounds on all pages –
is it really there, or am I searching for something that is not there?

But
you cannot put an end
to a journey I had begun long ago.
You too set out with a stick on your shoulder
                          slinging the bundle of saddi moota –

Perhaps love is an endless journey.
Love is only to journey
between people through people into people
infinitely.

Don’t ask for meanings.
Rest if you’re tired.
If any girl wishes to put henna in your eyes, have it done.
You are there, your stick is there, your path is there.

A LOVE SONG BETWEEN TWO GENERATIONS