Introduction of the Poem:
“A Country” (1983) is one of Jayanta Mahapatra's overtly political poems in which he suggests that suffering is universal, no matter what the social or the political order may be. It is not a poem about some particular country. In fact, it is a comment on all poverty - stricken Asian countries from Turkey to Kampuchea (Cambodia). The poem is replete with socio - economic and socio - political undertones. There is an implicit critique of the prevailing social scenario where vast disparities exist between the rich and the poor, the haves and the have - nots, where rampant poverty engenders violence and where all “voices” against the prevailing social systems are brutally crushed. The poet's plea is for a system in which there is an equitable distribution of wealth and equal opportunities for employment and livelihood. This poem, too, is about hunger that engenders bloody revolutions leading to bloodshed and violence, as has happened in the past. The poem, however, appears to be deceptively simple.
Critical Summary
The dirt, squalor and dust everywhere makes the poet's eyes heavy. It is a terrifying picture in almost all Asian countries from Turkey to Kampuchea (Cambodia). They have many different religions, cultures and political systems, but they have one thing in common, i.e., the grinding poverty of their people. The air is burnt with heaps of dead bodies that keep piling up along with incense, soot and ash. The black skies have become white. People grow old before their time and die of hunger and starvation, which keeps stalking nations from Turkey to Cambodia. The people, however, still smile and seem to be contented with whatever they have.
When night falls, the old men speak of their past in their sleepy voices (perhaps they cannot speak out openly) and narrate the tales of poverty and cruelty. Their horrible tales shake the poet's very being. Their faces are expressionless; their eyes stare blankly into space. Theirs is a hopeless, blasted lot. The poet is forced to live in such a grim world. He dreams like a child, but his dreams have no chance of turning into reality. He wears himself out thinking of the young girls who die of starvation before they can become mothers. The image “breasts swollen with milk” has tragic undertones; it highlights the abject poverty rampant in all Asian countries. His heart goes out to them in pity and sympathy.
The poet is emotionally and psychologically scarred (although he doesn't understand why) when he sees a young and beautiful Naxal girl emerging from hiding and flashing the rusted blade of a knife. It is not the violent face and conduct of the girl that hurts the poet; he is hurt by the cause that engenders violence. It is abject poverty that forces the youth to take to violence in order to survive. It is as old as history.
Sometimes when all is quiet in the darkness, the poet thinks of his own country, his native land. In the wake of Naxal violence in the 1970s, he had lost many friends. Many young men had disappeared suddenly in 1972. He refers to the Naxalite movement which was violently and brutally crushed in Assam and Bengal. Time and again, the poet curses himself as he is unable to find an explanation for such social and political churnings and upheavals. But life goes on. People continue to go on pilgrimages while others join the splinter groups of revolutionaries. There is no apparent reason or “why” for such happenings. His mind is clouded; he is prejudiced against the prevailing system. Is socialism the answer to the prevailing ills and inequalities?
The poet confesses that he can neither understand the prevailing chaos nor himself. He hears the wails of hyenas, and the wails come from distant hills. Perhaps these predatory animals are also aware of the dying countryside; they are also tortured by hunger. The foul smell of decay pervades the air. There are the naked truths of human existence from time immemorial, and they are told and re - told through age - old myths everywhere.
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