I Am Right : You Are Wrong

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

Since language mediated reality dominated human consciousness two words, Right and Wrong, coexist in all human discourses. The conversation may be just a chat between a  couple (after two years of marriage), father and child, teacher and student, neighbours, public debates, parliament, debates in a democracy, arguments in a court room or anywhere else in state-center, country-country or even young or mature lovers who vow to die for each other, these two words will occur several times and the powerful between them or the specimen of patriarchy would be right. If it is not accepted by the other party  the result is quarrel, divorce, war or murder. The church, temple and mosque supporters have been killing publicly declaring the victims a heretic before burning him/ her at the stake. The other religious zealots too kill. The strong in argument  and weak in strength or power concedes defeat at a public place but  nurses his hurt  with million nourishments to his ego and thinks of himself as a revenge hero. In literature the revenge hero has his pride of place. The weak and the meek become strong in villainy and clandestine  machinations like Iago or Shakuni. Might is always Right. In India the sages and scholars have approved of Birabhogya Vasundhara, which is also true of Timurs and Ghajinis!

In the modern world Galileos are no more punished but nations which are powerful in military might may have claims on your rights and ideas. The Gulf countries are always wrong, for they are weak in money and muscle. China is right to claim Sikkim and Arunachal; Pakistan too is right in sending terrorist to India out of spite with the plea of freedom for kashmir. The United Nations becomes a divided nations the moment a Trump or Ji Jinping asserts a right which flouts International law but if a weaker nation raises a universal issue, genuine, authentic and peace disturbing it is cold shouldered by the P5, for they would decide what is morally, legally and politically right for the good of mankind.

But there are exceptions. When Taliban is created by the Americans to counter the  advance of the Russians in Afghanistan, they were right: For what they did was for world peace. What they did in Iraq was also right. They attacked Iraq accusing Saddam Hussain of stockpiling Weapons of Mass Destruction; but no WMD was found anywhere. But whose sense of Right was powerful enough to challenge America? In the world politics of power equations today every leader is right . Even Imran Khan is right to surrender the power of an elected Government to his Army General  Bajwa by yielding to the demand of a three year extension  post - retirement. Right and wrong have no relevance when need, greed and power politics decide the future of a country.

Changing the political metaphor when we look into our daily  martyrdom of morals we are often bewildered. When a mob lynching happens over a silly unreasonable issue two groups representing right and wrong start  debating on national television in India. The anchor helplessly acquiesces  in for loss of TRP. But if an anchor shows some grit and opposes what is morally and legally wrong  the power group calls him/ her a soldout media person. In the name of free speech the right claimers parade statistical lies without fear . The nay sayers often carry  the day by the decibels they raise. If a Rapist is a religious leader his statement is institutionally supported proving yet again, the victim is always in the wrong.

 Right and wrong are now divorced from morality. It has more political overtones, that's why  we try to make politically correct statements despite the voice of conscience whispering what you are saying in the public is a trouble  avoiding logic far removed from truth. A woman now can say to  have sex with another person consensually is not a betrayal of love. I love you beyond the chastity of the body. A man too is now legally free to have  another woman without transgressing the charmed circle of his family. A lover who forsakes the world for his beloved is now considered a fool. Even his lady love often says you are right in your love for me but wrong to expect positive response from me. You go on pouring your soulful love on me, delight me by your poetic words, write volumes of poems for my entertainment: that is your Right and the right way to treat your love . But if you expect the same kind of participative response in word, speech and action, you are wrong.

Right and wrong have now constitutional validity. If my right does not violate the Constitution I am not wrong. But if I think my unegoistic word and action is Right I am wrong.  But if  I feel what you feel is the right thing to write, speak and do, do it without bothering about the others' cry of wrong  wrong  wrong.

I Am The Richest

I am the richest, proudest of all

my garden glazes with Tulips

my sky rains nectar of hope

my sun, moon, stars

gleam in glamour

move around me for his love.

He smiles bounties,

fulfills my dreams

he has no conditions

none can outbid him

in loves plenty,

goodness is in his soul

charity is his mind's frame

riches are uncountable:

He is no god- He is a man

all women dream.

He is humble yet subtle

makes me feel an Empress

by his love and grace,

his love expands like gods mind,

He is my wealth my world

my desires end- wishes on hold

I am the richest, proudest of all.

Sabita Sahu

I am The Butterfly Of Mehul Forest

Bowing down I have  never

displayed my smallness ever

nor bent my knees for mercy

never ask for gold mansions

never expected gifts or presents

I am the butterfly of Mehul forest,

where is the strength in my wings?

To hold your empire's scepter

to fire shafts from your quiver.

I am happy with the fragrance,

colours enchant me

I have lived thus through love

I fly with pride, not begging

or asking cajoling , flattering

I call my soul with songful air.

Don't feed me with rubies

like a caged bird

don't smear my delicate body

with arrogance

leave me alone in the

revolution of birth and death

in this changeful earth;

for the love of love for love's worship

in verses of undying lyrics

that is  my palace melody

the success of my grace and beauty

the glory of life in mortality

in this world of laughs and tears.

Sabita Sahu

It's Identity Stupid !

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

Homo Sapien : Male,Female, Transgender:

Hungry man, Sick man, Old man, Fighter, Renouncer, King, Hero:

Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Budhist, Zorastrian, Jew:

English, French, Hindi, Urdu, Portugese...:

Czarist, Zionist, Lord, Fuehrer, Chakraborty, Socialist, Communist, Fabian Socialist, Democrat, Republican:

Married , Bachelor, Widow, Husband, Wife, Lover:

White, Red, Black, Brown:

Second sex, Third sex, American, Italian, Indian:

Libran, Leo..:

Slave , Master:

Ruling class, Opposition...etc etc  etc...

Man has been  all these over the centuries.  But what is man? What is his identity ? In a world historically updating itself and making civilizational adjustments in decades and centuries nomenclatures have stamped men and events in different languages. Birth and death records are maintained in registers- now digitally all over the world. Naming an object perhaps started by the Christian God in the Bible. After creating things and creatures He started naming them. And this system continues officially in all countries irrespective of faiths and administrative structures. But there is the Rub!

Man takes on different identities despite his/her name which identified him/her at the Christening ceremony. For instance T.S. Eliot gave three identities of his in a lecture to Oxonians post his Nobel Award: I am an Anglo-Catholic in Religion: a Royalist in politics  and a classicist in Literature. Tendulkar once said 'I am an Indian First, a Maharastrian second and then a cricketer'. Any normal person has almost several identities. He may identify  himself by his nationality; his profession, religion, caste, sex, marital status. He has several IDs like Adhar Card, Pan Card, Voter Identification Card, Club membership etc. His name is no more an identity. He has a class identity too! Arnold J Toynby wrote in 1947 " I am a middle aged English man belonging to the middle class". Politically people identify themselves by their Party loyalties. Others say - I am Punjabi , Gujrati , Odia etc. Yet others say they are Scientists, Litterateurs, Economists etc.

In the present day world the religious identity seems to be overpowering. Asaduddin Owaisy is a Muslim and he must oppose anything that is Hindu. In the sports arena too the religious identity  supersedes the nationality.  An India - Pakistan match becomes a Hindu - Muslim war although in the Indian team we often have more than one Muslim player. In Indian politics whatever decision the Prime Minister takes for the good of the country becomes a Hindutwa Agenda. And it must be opposed by the  Congress, the Left and also the Muslim sympathisers. The interest of the country is secondary. What is focused in all debates discussions is religious identity politics. Any issue is made religion specific and leads to conflictual claims on political, moral or national validity. This disturbing trend raises many questions about identity.

Does man have a human identity as an individual or the secondary and inherited identity is supreme? Does the individual have a mind of his own  unclattered  by the mass identity. Man perseveres to achieve distinction in his chosen field- art, literature , science or sports etc- but he is known to the world by his mass, group or  inherited identities. Can a man say like Michael Jackson be identified as a singer dancer without tags of his country, religion and other self chosen beliefs? Can Romeo be identified as  a Christian Lover? Is not love the greatest value in life? But can that value be the flag of your identity? Can a Kashmiri be identified as an Indian without reference to his religion? Unfortunately No. Human identity does not stem from the human essence a man exudes in his work. Beethoven or Wagner, Tansen or  Thyagaraja  are  above the local hues which they gather during the course of their lives. But today identity has shades of meaning and appeal beyond the self and soul of a being.

In the 1970's most literature departments researched on Crisis of Identity. It was thought, after the Wars and the political changes in the world Man has lost his identity. What was that? It was the crisis of the authentic human being. But that crisis was never resolved. In today's world if you say "I am a lover" people will laugh because love is no more an identifying  attribute of a human being. In a materialistic world what matters is 'success'. Any professional or politician who succeeds in amassing money  or wielding power has its identity in the  minds of his admirers or detractors. No identity is now  a monolithic whole. Identity of the basic human being is  no more relevant. Your identity is measured by money, influence or power. The passport is often a pidgin identity. But in the ultimate analysis you are what you feel yourself to be as I am what I am.

Who's Afraid of Death !

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

What is this death you are worried about? From the amoeba to the  bulkiest  elephant death is a constant worry to the  creatures. Nature is not worried about death. If a flower blossoms it must fall else its beauty will be taken for granted. We love beauty, youth, ebullience, sprightliness , puckish mischief and all sorts of heroic display of men and manners simply because there is death. If we lived for all time our seeking bubble reputations, song-dance orgies, love for the tearful joys of life, wasting a life for an insensitive paramour would be mocked at by time as a routine gimmick of deathless creatures. It is death that makes life so lovable. It is age  that makes youth so charming. It is sorrow that makes joy so desirable. It is separation that makes love so very soulful.  Contrast and binaries make the story of life on earth so endearingly meaningful. It is meaninglessness that is death; it is the end of beauty, lovemaking, waiting for dreams to materialize, hardwork,  aspirations and other legitimacies that men and women gain through a lifetime. But after death the legitimacies are gone and the body must be burned or buried to save  the living from the festering flesh, polluting their breathing space. If this be the process why be afraid of it which is inevitable?

But in all ages, all civilizations man tries to conquer death. A heaven where men and women in their fineries move celebrating immortality ; a Jannat of bliss is the hope and desire of the earthly creatures, especially of the intelligent species: And this hope is kept alive by religion, except Buddhism. Is it the glory of civilization or a death fixation of cynical insipidity which religion instills in man through self-denying rituals? Even modern men of scientific temper spend hours in laboratories to discover and invent medicines to prolong life. Google has invested a few billions on the projects of lengthening the span at least to 200 years, now that a century of life has been almost guaranteed in most cases. Why? Is the earth now a heaven substitute or we want to deplete all available resources of nature and leave her as a dead planet? Nature has already given her SOS call. Her climate has changed, the beautiful naturalness has now been deformed by our imaginaries. Human population has increased at the cost of biodiversity and all leaders of the world meet once or twice a year to brainstorm how to restore nature to her pristine symmetry. The earth has now an incurable fever. Her temperature swells the seas and the seasonal cycles are now truant. Why should we do all these to postpone death till the earth's enforced doom?

No one says that we should welcome death. No. Death should come naturally without any provocation. All saints have forbidden self-slaughter. But by delaying death are we not causing the death of many species, ideas, beliefs, practices and also causing the slow death of the earth which holds our shenanigans?

Poets and other creative men have two views of death. One group treats death as an ogre: calls death the leveller. The terminator of life. The other group defies death . Tagore called death his shyam, his saviour and rescuer. But before him the other poets in different languages called death a fearful antilife. Donne however challenges death- Death Thou Art Dead-; Shelley wrote "How wonderful is death/ Death and his brother sleep", and others wrote of death as an 'easeful' benefactor who releases man from life's torments. The lovers put death on a higher pedestal and prefer it to a life of miserable separation from their beloveds. The heroes always brave death and prefer to fall on the sword than to swallow their pride and kneel down before their challengers or the tyrants. Honour in life is a more soul warming value than all other values for the men of heroic temper. For them even death is a trophy.

Those who cower under the threat of death are not worthy of life. Death challenges man to live meaningfully: to utilize every moment for enlightenment of life. I do not mean ' reason, science, humanism and progress' as Emmanuel Kant would have it. Enlightenment is the discovery of the illumination within which brightens the area of reality a man traverses in his life span, thereby brightening life and nature by his divinity. Therefore you men and women never fear death: Fear dying. Fear the thousand martyrdoms which you suffer by your dark desires. To overcome dying death must be conquered by your activities . Live with honour and dignity, with your head up and even , eyes focussed on all elevating elements like love, compassion  and sacrifice to alleviate other's suffering.  And live your life in full defiance of the terminator.

                      

Know Me What I am !

Why tears roll down  my cheeks

heart palpitates when I think of you!

You say I do not care for you.

Why then a stabbing pain throbs

my heart when I touch you?

You say I am lifeless

How then when our lips meet,

bosoms press tight like mating birds;

you say I am inert, a sod

yet my heart misses beats

when your eyes wander far off.

When I listen to your flowing words

for endless hours I go dumb

and you say I listen because

I have nothing to say,and do not
send the ball back to you.

My love for you deepens
where age and looks have no count

Yet you say I look for attractions

which my lost youth never did.

No doubt the trust is scanned

efforts to get closer fail, but

the heart and soul are full

of the same love to match yours

although  unfelt, unseen ,unsaid.

But I am no Mira to prove

my love is true and divine.

 Sabita Sahu

Yes Love Is Tapas

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

What do they really mean  when they say love is a tapasya ? Poets, philosophers and saints eulogize love in their songs, speeches and writings. Often I am tempted to ask how many of them have really loved, have gone through the fire test. Tapsaya stems from tapa  that is heat, the heat of the soul, a flameless fire elevates the lover to a new sphere of illumination; a glowing awareness of life makes the lover more life worthy than the nonlover. History records countless episodes of lovers. The high and the mighty kidnap the women they love. The meek and the weak pine away their lives in the tapa  of separation. The star-struck lovers- Laila- Majnu, Shirin- Farhad, Romeo- Juliet, Kedar-Gouri die waiting for things to happen:;for some supernatural agency to magically unite the lovers, and waste away their lives.  What is this love? An emotion, an overwhelming passion, a psychic obsession , a world substitute dissuading  the lover from his natural propensities to fulfill his potentials in the real world he is born into; or a deep craving for sexual gratification with a man or woman he/ she  chances upon in a moment of surrender to his/ her  carnal desires? Or is it a divine inspiration to build and create a more beautiful world of joy, companionship with a person in whom one sees a Being of suprasensory  perceptions than the world he/she  is suffocated in? What is this love at first sight? At a glance you see only external beauty symmetry of limbs or the Being of soulfulness?  

Questions I know are instruments of dissecting logic which will make this divine passion a spectacle of depravity. The man who loves never asks questions, he simply loves and is prepared to wait out  his life in hope, however dark and misty it maybe.  Does he wait  for time's mercy or societal grace and what does he do while waiting?  Again I am asking questions which do not have any acceptable answers. If a man loves a woman it is like Purusha and Prakriti interacting for  creation. Love has a beginning but no end. It is time neutral and value neutral as it is arguably the greatest value in reality. The lovers may not meet. May not play the worldly game of housekeeping. For a true lover love is a meditative  dedication to his love. His love includes beauty, harmony, proportion, music, sculpture, rhythm, which includes  nature, the elements and even the cultural environs in his love. A lover is a true artist, poetic metaphors hang from his lips, his eyes radiate courage, compassion and inclusivity. His love does not vacillate in separation, his determined love  energizes him to create not poetry or art alone, his love attains a  dignity of higher mind. He sees his love as the universal goddess. He worships, adores, pines for her but develops a larger heart which lavishes good things on the deprived. He loves the sorrow of others in his own tears of separation. He works,  moves, sleeps less, projects his imaginative metaphors to awaken dull reality. He has no expectations but gives and gives what he has and what he creates.

But at times he finds his love unresponsive, indifferent if not  selfish and callous. For a moment he falls into the pits of agony and wordlessly howls out his soul, becomes small in his own esteem. In such cases we see some revenge motive entering some lovers who really do not  understand love beyond breasts and buttocks. Yet others hit the bottle and ruin their lives. And a few commit suicide. In 1992 I wrote a long essay in the Samaj in several  instalments where my contention was love is really a yajna in which you alone read and chant your mantra, pour your energies into the cauldron of fire like the priests pouring ghee and enjoy the sight of the rising flames almost  burning your body. Your mind is unwavering. Once you love a woman  she is everything that God has created and more: For you make a more beautiful, more hospitable, bright and soulful universe of your love  by sincere and honest devotion to your universe enshrined in the woman you love. If she is unresponsive , indifferent or alters when alteration finds' that is her choice. Love does not make you falter or change your devotion. If you held her feet once in your heart that is a sacramental contract with eternity. If she tries to break your  yajna it would mean your  fires are not high enough to engulf you in divine light. No Tapabhagna like Urbasi-Menaka can divert your love. Love  her more, desire  her more, bleed for her more and let the heat refine your love  for angels to covet for.

A Dull Evening

Tired and soaked in sweat

I unbuttoned my Kurti,

threw on the bed to free 
my sweat  washed body,

wished for his soft hands

to wipe off the sweat and

smear sandal and menthol  paste

all over  singing with deep 

monotone, his love for me

to cool me down to accept reality.

Wishes are just fantasies

never can face them with a smile.

I am lonely though in a crowd

and insensitive to pain

no fancy for pleasure,

If you can-

give me my senses back,

fill them with life

take me wherever you

create a sea for me

I will forget the shore.

Sabita Sahu