Abhay K. is indebted to the British poet, actor, and soldier James Milton Hayes whose poem ‘The Green Eyes of a Yellow Little God’ with its opening line ‘There is a one-eyed yellow idol to the north of Kathmandu’ fired his imagination to name this collection of poems The Eight-eyed Lord of Kathmandu. Hayes wrote his immortal dramatic monologue over a century ago in 1911 just in five hours. Incidentally, he did not consider it as poetry. Following the footsteps of Hayes, a century later, Abhay has made a humble attempt to draw a poetic portrait of Nepal through my poems on World Heritage sites, festivals, places, landscapes, historical personalities as well as its present inhabitants. His time spent in Nepal from July 2012 to January 2016 was full of bliss, learning, and adventure.

Pashupatinath

As two golden deer
I and Parvati, once
galloped carefree
on the banks of Bagmati

then Kathmandu got crowded
with pilgrims and poachers
we retreated to Mount Kailash
leaving behind my lingam

they kept it behind silver doors
inside a tiered pagoda
made of wood and copper
topped with gold gajur

revered it, worshipped it
as the lord of beasts and gods
as the great gratifier of wishes
as saviour of the sacred land

we left our snowy abode
after the atheists took over
they did not want to keep my lingam
so I turned the whole mountain into one.

Gajur: Pinnacle of a temple.

Gai Jatra

Painted cows and children parade down the streets assisting
their ancestors in a journey to the nether world.

A queen carries her dead son in her arms.

Teej

The house is filled with the aroma
of basmati cooking slowly in milk

women wearing blood red saris
green-golden blouses

matching necklaces and slippers
sing songs of joy and despair

an aging father climbs the mountains
to fetch his married daughter

her mother waits for her princess
her brother is overjoyed

she will be the queen for the next few days
she will wear elegant red

she will sing and dance with her sakhi-sahelis
and share with them her bliss and sorrow

she will hear gossips about their mothers-in-law
and whisper the adventures of her husband

she will eat sweet dar before the dawn
and ready herself for the day-long fast.

Sakhi-sahelis: Female friends
Dar: Fragrant rice cooked in milk with cardamom and sugar

Tribhuwan Airport

I am crimson as the rising sun.

I smile to strangers, greet them with affection, usher them into
the city. I am uneasy with their smells.

I grieve to see coffins day after day, to hear mothers
uncontrollably cry seeing cold faces of their dead sons.

I sob silently sheltering the unclaimed bodies of the young for
whom no one comes.

I pray for them secretly when they are taken away to Aryaghat.

Pokhara

At dawn and dusk
the sacred call of birds

A city floats in silence
beneath the crimson
sparkling peak.

More info about the book is here:
https://www.amazon.in/Eight-eyed-Lord-Kathmandu-Abhay-K/dp/9388038495/

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