A picture of Bhagabati coming during Shasthi or Saptami, going out on Vijayadashami

Moving, which been taken from A Rain of Rites is one of the best poems of Jayanta Mahapatra who is renowned for discerning poetic language, visionary glide and mythical framework and structure. Jayanta as a poet is one of the doors of dreams and visionary glides and his poetry is steeped in silence.

The autumnal skies and the season, the making of the magical clay-idol, the arrival of Bhagabati with the wide-wide cursory eyes and her departure, the folks in utter submission, how to take to the auspicious and aromatic moments of the Matri Paksha, mystical and mythical coming during Navaratri seconded by the silent steps of hers?

Drummers on an autumn day, how the lull of the sound coming to, how hammering of rains against the backdrop of the deep stillness of the valley! This is but one side of the picture while on the other there is a picture of a ten-armed clay Durga going by framed in a mythic past held by twenty-four men carrying them.

How the pleasure when she arrives in, when she seems to be visiting on Saptami? How do the folks say it about? What do the folks feel about Bhagabati?

It is really a time of moving, moving to tears, feeling sad. People are in tears, Bhagabati too is looking lifeless when it is the departure time. It is a matter of when she had been and when she is not.  Bhagabati is going as the daughter leaves for her husband’s home.

A group of temple Brahmans are singing a song. Welcoming with a song, they greet the goddess when they feel it the right auspicious time of her coming.

But they sing it too when she seems to be leaving, departing. Perhaps tears are in the eyes as Bhagabati is going. The poet can see them teary-eyed. Such is the impact that the tar seems to be moving away from the lane. The other meaning is that tar generally melts during when it is hot.

Let us see how he plays with words and meanings, coating and uncoating them. Drummers keep drumming, rain keep falling upon, beating the stillness.  This is what makes for the scene, for the coming or the departure of Bhagabati. How does autumn appear to be?  

Drummers on an autumn day,
rain hammering
on the deep stillness of the valley.
The ten-armed clay Durga
framed in a mythic past,
carried slowly by twenty-four tired men.
Moving surrounds us.
A group of temple Brahmans,
singing, the tar
quietly melting along the lane.
Dumb silence of a god’s curved eye,
directed like a pilgrimage.

A picture of clay ten-armed Durga framed in a mythic past takes the language from us and we feel it speechless as for his mythical grappling and drive of the topic. How beautiful and succinct are the poetic lines:

The ten-armed clay Durga
framed in a mythic past,
carried slowly by twenty-four tired men.

The ten-armed clay Durga, how do they make the images, the artisans, idol-makers? It is beautiful to see the artisans at work. How the myth past of the tale of Bhagabati and the Durga-saptasati? How do they carry on the load while taking it for an immersion into the waters?

How do they paint and chisel and carve out the Mother’s Eyes, Devi’s Curved Eyes? How the Light in them? How the glitter and glow? The glimpse of it is like a pilgrimage. To see is to undertake a journey, mythical and mystical, spiritual and religious.

Dumb silence of a god’s curved eye,
directed like a pilgrimage.

A single line, ‘Moving surrounds us’ talks about the moving and going of Bhagabati so important for us, the living beings. It also means the departure which but appalls us. The other meaning maybe it that the people talk of that Bhagabati’s silent steps, tinkling of anklets can be felt during Saptami especially. Navaratri tells of the nine different arrivals of Bhagabati.

Jayanta Mahapatra is a poet of mythic door, mythic framework and mythic past viewing it all mythically and symbolically. A mythmaker, he is so linguistic and manneristic, imagistic and reflective. Generally, visionary glides and delving are his chief properties.