[ultimate_heading main_heading=”Poems by Swagat Kar – Issue.XIX : August 2016 ” main_heading_color=”#1e73be” sub_heading_color=”#8224e3″ spacer=”line_with_icon” spacer_position=”bottom” line_style=”dotted” line_height=”1″ line_color=”#1e73be” icon_type=”custom” icon_img=”id^48|url^http://ashvamegh.net/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/Ashvamegh-ICO.jpg|caption^null|alt^Ashvamegh Journal Icon|title^Ashvamegh ICO|description^null” img_width=”48″ main_heading_style=”font-weight:bold;” main_heading_font_size=”desktop:34px;” line_width=”3″ margin_design_tab_text=””]a youth from field of science dives into the world of poetry…[/ultimate_heading]

Introduction to the Poet:

Swagat Kar PoemsSwagat Kar is pursuing Ph.D. in IIT – Roorkee in the Department of Earth Sciences. After completing his master degree from IIT-Kharagpur he chooses to do research instead of going with job. He is continuing his research in hydrogeophysics and photography and travelling is his favorite pastime. Swagat originally hails from Odisha. A thorough nature lover, he has an affinity towards literature. An amateur writer but wants to nourish his poetic skills and earn a name for himself as a writer. Through his poems, he vents his angst, insecurities and feelings.



Sitting on a rock nearby  the stream,
In silence listening to its rhythm,
Watching the pebbles blue, red and white,
I discover peace in cool waters of it.

A strange sort of silence prevails,
As those in the primeval times,
Those blue sky and nature’s bounties,
Adding to the sylvan beauties,
Hypnotized me.

Those boulders gigantic,
perched above the cliffs
like ancient strange motifs,
haunted me.

Those deep and dense jungles,
like unsolved riddles
fascinated me.

I lie there motionless…
My obsession with reality washed off with the cold water of the stream.

A lot more to explore…
A lot lies beyond the vision of my naked eye,
And from there on, I ventured out into that world of unseen and unknown……





Atop the hill,

amid tranquility,

clad in serenity,

lies the “Peace Pagoda”.


And beneath that great White Pagoda,

flows a tender river-“Daya”,

The river long turned dumb witnessing that holocaust,

But each sand on the river bed speaks of a story,

The story of a bloodshed,

The story of a ghastly war.


An emperor haughty and proud,

with audacity and stealth,

To conquer the unconquered,

he set fire and spilt blood,

Each standing man,

wise and old,

woman and child,

hacked down to the ground.

The river and the sand

all turned fiery red.


Amid those war cries,

and heaps of corpses,

the scavenging vultures

and grieving wives

The great Maurya sees the vanity of his desire,

The fragility of his pursuit,

Dejected with victory of his,

he throws his armories.


In his ear echoed those lines “Buddham Saranam Gachhami….”

And on that very river bed

the cruelest of the man changed to the noblest.

“Chandashoka turned Dharmashoka”….