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Bijay Kant Dubey
Bijay Kant Dubey Chandrakona Town / India, Male, 51
Profession :
College Principal
Education :
B.A., M.A. in Eng, Pol.Sc. & Hist., Ph.D.

About Me : My Resume Bijay Kant Dubey (11.10.1965- ) Bijay Kant Dubey who was born in erstwhile undivided Bihar at Lohardih village by the banks... more »

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Latest 5 Poems of Bijay Kant Dubey

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  • POEM: Snowy Caps Of The Mountains by Bijay Kant Dubey (12/17/2015 9:13:00 AM)

    a. daryl nielsen replied after seeing this on his poetry posts

    thank you, I actually appreciate your additional poems on these posts - best to our day´╗┐

  • POET: Jayanta Mahapatra (11/7/2015 9:16:00 AM)

    As a poet, Jayanta is first of all an imagist then a linguist, a photographer, a dreamer, a visionary, a thinker; a realist, a feminist, a modernist, a post-modern; a historian, an ecologist, an environmentalist; an Odia first then an Indian and an internationalist; an existentialist, an iconoclast and a symbolist. As a teacher of physics, he has drawn from light and darkness theories. Poetry is physics and physics his poetry. Poetry to Mahapatra is the geography, sociology and archaeology of Orissa and Orissan places. A professor of physics, he sees the pinda-dana continuing sand the asthi-kalasha being immersed into the holy waters to reach to the conclusion of matter and mass.

  • POEM: Dawn At Puri by Jayanta Mahapatra (10/29/2015 9:51:00 AM)

    Dawn At Puri by Jayanta Mahapatra as a poem is not only a poetical piece from an Indian English poet, but from an Oriya Christian who has taught not literature, but physics in the classrooms. Jayanta is primarily an imagist for whom poetry is but imagism; image-making and a weaver of myths too, private and personal. As a poet, he is very complex and tedious as because images can never be explained easily and the second thing is this that he is a modern poet and that too from physics where the theories of light and darkness, the origin of the universe will definitely make a way for. In Jayanta, there lie in many a trait; feature. He is an image-maker, a myth-weaver, a dreamer, a visionary; a realist, a surrealist, a feminist; a modern, a modernist and a post-modern, psychological, sociological, historical. A poet regional, he is first an Oriya then an Indian, national and international. Generally, Puri, Bhubaneshwar and Cuttack are the hub round which the whole spectacle of his poetry revolves.
    Though it is difficult to paraphrase an Indian English poem, shorter in form and expression, generally the modern poets, in addition to it, Dawn at Puri is a poem of Puri and the adjacent Jagannath temple and together with it, the faith and doubt implied in, inculcating, faith as for the queue of the devotees consisting mainly of the widows or the women past their hectic life while on the other hand the lepers as an unrecognized mass, deciphered and figureless twitch the soul for an expression, make us sorry for that, telling of how the Kingdom of God, what man's life and what it remains it here.
    The poem begins with the endless crows crowing, not calling unexpected guests or something of the disaster to come, but in the likewise manner as it happens at Gaya relating to the pinda-dana. There must be crows to take foods offered to as the numbers are dwindling. If we see differently, taking Daruwalla under consideration, the vultures are difficult to be sighted on the doonger-varis and the Parsis are facing problems in connection with doing away with the dead bodies. But whatever be that, we are here on the sands of Puri marking the funerals; the pyres burning, so did see Jayanta Mahapatra. As a poem it is contradictory too as the poet with the cawing of the crows, refers to the theme of hunger and with it the scarcity of food and the plenty of food wasted. The poor country, food problem, hunger, literacy, uneducation and blazing earth all get referred to on the one hand while on the other the plenty and diversity of India lies it contradicting the thesis. Whatever be the point of deliberation, the poet refers to the cawing of crows, the pyres burning on the holy sands and the holy skull lying thereon.
    The white-clad widows are waiting to enter the great temple, the gateway to heaven, Jagannath Puri temple who have nothing left with them to aspire for, dream or desire, past their centre of activity, taking time to, passing their lives. Here the poet makes us remember of Mahadevi Verma, Mira Bai and Suryakanta Tripathy Nirala who wrote the poem Bharat Ki vidhwa, The Widow of India. Together with it, come the pictures of The Fakir of Jungheera by Derozio who marked on the banks of the Ganges at Bhagalpore and the dislodging of the obsolete and heinous Sati system taking to the days of William Bentick, Raja Ram Mohun Roy and Ishwar Chandra Vidyasagar when they took to it as offence or sin against humanity and God.
    Their austere eyes tell of their tearless faces, dried from weeping and the falling of tears, tuned stone and they are standing as rocks and stones never to melt anymore and the stare caught in the net of the dazzling feeble sunlight glistening at dawn.
    The frail early light falling on the lepers and catching them light pains us with its imagery so do the poems of Nissim Ezekiel who hears the leper music on the platform and Daruwalla who refers tot hem and the amputees and here lies in the Christian sensibility at work, service to God is service to man. It is also an irony to see the lepers sitting at the gate of the rock-built temples, stupendous and magnificent in their structure, contradicting faith and doubt, human life and piety and questioning, what is God, what religion, where is He, who actually religious? Service or piety? Purity of feelings or in the false show of religiosity?
    And in the midst of all this, the smoky blaze of a sullen solitary pyre lights up the landscape reminding him of the wish of his ageing mother. It may not be applicable to him, but the people in a general way thinks of the feelings of the motherly old folks, as he is a Christian. But instead of it, her last wish to be cremated here twists certainly like light on the shifting sands.

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