Saturday, February 7, 2026

Dasharath Naik

         DASHARATH NAIK  (23.06.1964 ), the eldest son of Late Madan Mohan Naik & Sabitri Naik , hails from Bijadihi in the Sundargarh district, Odisha . A student of English Literature, Sri Naik likes all the genres especially poetry. As a bi-lingual poet, he writes both in English and Odia for his  own pleasure and Humanity is his main concern .


I AM ME

I am me

In flow of time

A silent river.


I am me 

with my mud walls 

and rooster .


I am me ,,

in water , air 

and ether .


My realm 

Absolutely mine

I do explore.


I am me

With my lapses

My world I plunder.


RISING SUN

Free from fangs of fear now ,

Like a mighty eagle

I venture out into the open ;


Oozes in heart a soothing rill 

After honest confession 

And tears of lamentation ;


And my wounded soul 

Runs seeking shelter

Here , there ,,everywhere ;


As the musk with its spell

Weirdly disclosed within,

Life smiles and sings forever 

COMING TO TERMS

Wound,

my bestie,

visits me daily ,

even in my absence 


Tear

rolls & rocks

kissing cheeks

my feelings caressing !


Blood 

bewitches me

with its warm hugs;

so much hypnotising !


Sweat

suffuses me

in my nothingness ;

never to betray mine !


Life

grasps fairly, 

often going green

generously greets me !


MONSOON MAGIC

Like a sparrow

Happily she chirps

And glistens my ray.


Her fleeting glances 

Glued with smile 

Make my day.


Her glimpses 

Loitering on terrace 

Keeps my sorrow at bay.


Her graceful gait

Like monsoon magic

Boosts my way.


TO BE OR NOT TO BE

My time slips 

my lines fade and 

I start fainting in a moment 

sandwiched between 

to be or not to be. 


Butterflies fly in the blue

crossing borders 

surpassing hurdles

and ruling over

my realm of dreams. 


In the nick of time

hopes make me live ;

next moment like a bulldozer 

my liabilities make them 

suffocate and ruin . 


As sparrows in my courtyard

chirrup in bedlam

my spirit swings with them

absorbed in the music 

and magic undoubtedly mine. 


SANS ME

I am without me

in search of the nameless me

bereft of myself in this world 

fed up with my life never lived

long cherished but 

coveted not 

for I love me not .


I am without me

world mine all deserted 

severely injured and wounded deep

me living a nameless life 

with me and 

without my self :

me moving everywhere sans me. 


ALWAYS 

Be the model

For the painting 

Of my life ;


Be the moon

In the sky

Of my heart  ;


Rise or set

Smiling or shining 

Be there always ;


Your presence 

Will keep me alive,

Play , sing and dance.


WITHOUT 

The root of my love grows underground 

Deeper and deeper ;


But utterly dull and boring 

The basic instincts in me 

And the sickness in the soul ;


My heart a room so dark and damp now ;

Feeling myself choked 

In some unknown passage,

Grim and abysmal  !


MIRAGE

What I feel , I can't see 

What I see , I can't feel ;

Things look as mirage. 


The dream and the fact

In between a big gap ;

And I do simply amaze. 


They shine and outshine

With glitz and glamour ;

Stark realities outrage. 


In an utter confusion 

Life is lived and loved ;

Lost in its aura , I gaze. 


WILTED

The farther away future 

the better it does look ... 


My passion hijacked into 

the dark dungeon of time,,


Like a useless character 

me set aside into a corner,,, 


My feelings burning bright 

in tune with my emotions 


Straight from the heart 

touching my indomitable spirit,,, 


My mind tired of my thoughts

finds no asylum for a break,,, 


My body ,a wilted petal, waits 

for its final fall ahead of time,,, 


As the darkness grabs me more

I’m unable to recognise mine. 



Naik's Poetry reveal a deeply introspective voice wrestling with identity, temporality, and the human condition.
Naik's work consistently explores existential questions—the gap between self and world, presence and absence, longing and loss. The recurrent motifs of wounds, tears, and fading suggest a poet comfortable dwelling in vulnerability.
His poetry value lies in its honest confrontation with diminishment, isolation, and the persistent, bewildered question of selfhood. For a poet writing "for his own pleasure," Naik achieves moments of genuine connection.





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