I Surf The Waves

I surf the waves of time
not for fun or to frolic in slush,
I float around the world to brighten
the visible dark universe
and bring smiles on faces:
I celebrate life to fulfill the purpose
of my being’s commission to make good.

The unseen hand that moulded me
untouched essence that guided me
I pay gratitude with loving energy
try to create  universal synergy
for my maker with pride behold.

Adversity turns me to do the undone
I stuff myself with the binaries and all
to quench my thirst and fill the empty
zones of world’s arid corners.
I have jumped my self doubts,
broken empty chambers with confidence
I know the waves are turbulent and high
I am that beginner not to pause or sigh
with faith in those hands I will ride the rough
stop shall I never my resolve is tough
I will now swim to the shores of life
plant my flag of faith to end all strife.

Savita Sahu

Nudity Is Beautiful

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

Humans, infact all creatures come naked to this nude world. All mountains, trees, flowers, rivers and the whole creation is uncovered. Sun, moon and all luminosities in the sky are naked. Animals, birds, insects come coverless and go coverless under the sun. Only after the invention of language we have started using ‘green mantled earth’, ‘snow clad mountains’ and use other metaphors of civilization as poetic cover on the earth. Truth itself is naked but whoever speaks ’truth’ puts on it the garb of his own imagination. Civilization makes nature artificial. Shame enters society to isolate individuals from each other. But in the long and arduous history of man, the idea of covering the body must have come as a sort of protection from the seasonal vagaries of nature. And the cultures must have changed into demarcated territories of civilizations where protective gear must have changed into fashion wear. Nudity in the context of civilization has become a non-value or anti- value, particularly, in social life.

But the human body is beautiful. The female body is the most curvaceous and graceful. Woman is nature in her magnificent symmetry. Naturally she attracts, arouses the sexual instinct to possess and admire. Creative artists adore a naked form of a woman and often they deify her. There is divinity in nudity. The soft rise and swell of golden breasts, the valley, mountain, arbours and silken hair, soft-playing on the cheek and the nose of a woman in winnowing breeze make a woman nature-personified. Painters and sculptors use nude models to create masterpieces. Aphrodite, Madona or the dancers of the konark temple are tributes to the beauty of nudity by creative minds. The world loves them. People buy the paintings even imitations and copies spending fortunes to hang them in special rooms and show them off to visitors with pride. The art galleries attract great many visitors if there is a nude painting of Michael Angelo or Botticelli adorning the gallery. A male nude too is attractive for the male is the Active Principle motivating Prakruti to function creatively. 

But when civilizations are cluttered with different cultures past fixation problems arise, conflicts ensue and lead to bloody clashes.  ‘The Unity in Diversity’ slogan of modern civilization does not create a new culture or a new civilizational order. India is a case in point. A group of educated elite appreciate objectively all forms of nudity as they do not see things through the prism of religion. But the fringe revolts which often leads to vandalism. When M.F.Hussein painted Saraswati as an underwater nude he was hounded out of the country. Many muslim religious teachers disapprove of even fashionable women who flaunt their skin. Sania Mirza’s Badminton gear was criticised as if showing legs and arms is an exhibition of nudity. Such things happen in a culture which does not grow and never tries to enter the demarcated territory of civilization. Those who think nudity is evil or culturally unaesthetic they are hypocritical brutes. They think that the skin of a woman or the naked form of a woman is only sexiting, they have no eye for beauty, symmetry, balance and proportion. Prurience is in their minds and eyes which cannot register the beautiful balance of symmetry and attitude. And this disapproval of nudity enforced by religion leads to hate.

But nudity has also its place and time. Nudity should not be a cult. Nudism as an expression of freedom or as protest destroys the natural charm of the human figure. If the body is projected as a defiant energy to express disagreement with certain accepted values of civilization it becomes anti nature and ugly. Conversely if nudity is enforced on a helpless woman to celebrate ephemeral victory, it causes moral imbalance which decimates all values which civilization holds sacred. In the history of human civilization the attempt to denude Draupadi, in the mahabharat, after she was lost to Duryodhan in a dice game stands out as the worst illustration of depravity. Nudity is not a display item for public mockery. This episode in the mahabharat unhinges the civilization and all citadels fall like corpses in Krukshetra. Nudity of a woman is a stance of beauty, not for lewd ridicule or frenzied sex. Nudity makes man humble at the altar of divine elegance. It is artistic in its appeal and humbling in attitude. In Hermann Hessay’s Siddharth the hero bows down at the pure naked beauty of Kamala. A beautiful nude makes a sensitive soul sober to contemplate the mystery of creation. It symbolizes the harmony of colour, rhythm and proportion of the universe.

The beauty of a woman without the trappings of civilization is a marker of ecological health. It has no place for lasciviousness or libidinous levity. If the viewer, because of his own imbalance, is aroused sexually he puts into stress his psychic ecology and demeans the aesthetic energy of formal grace.

I ,Me, Whatever

Away from all bonds but never free
my  freedom is chained in caves.

I walk along the long beaches
yet untouched by greedy waves,
I twinkle like distant star
but my world is dark.

I cry my heart out and wail
no shoulder to lean on , I prevail.

I fear none yet I slave
I shiver alone yet I ‘m brave,
fire dosen’t scare me nor flame
I burn in the fire of love and wane.

I am not a weakling I know
Yet I can’t fathom my strength I vow

Yet binaries come to me like gossip
I don’t care now let them speak,
I am what I’m a fair loving soul
find me if you can or vanish all.

Sabita Sahu

Election

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

Election is a superior process of choosing a candidate to serve people than selection or nomination by an authority, for, people’s choice is the most acceptable choice in democracy. Candidates campaign their ideology, mostly party line and promise to improve the condition of life in a constituency. Candidates are supposedly men and women of integrity, honesty and proven ability to accomplish life- friendly things for people. They are open minded visionaries and persons of commitment. When India became politically independent in 1947 the then leaders of the freedom movement accepted democracy as the most suitable form of government for the Indians. The model followed was the Westminister one with slight modification. The constitution of India’s Democratic Polity was adapted in 1950 and the elections for the states and the central government were held in 1952.

Election is a democratic festival. For a month or a few weeks before the date of the election candidates move from village to village , city to city, meet people, address rallies and do door to door campaigning upto the last moment. Canvassing, motivating, convincing, explaining the ideals of their party and their individual commitment to solving certain area- specific problems to the voters they seek their votes. Volunteers or paid party workers distribute voter slips to voters tutoring them on the symbol and how to cast their vote inside the booth. In course of time the ballot paper has changed into the Electronic Voting Machine as the level of education and awareness of the voters manifested positive changes. The voters have increased in number, technology has changed the tone and tenor of campaigning. The media has made the elections loud , controversial and at times larger than life.

But election is no more a democratic festival. It is a veritable war. The moment the election dates are announced the people of the state are divided by their party loyalties. Of course, the middle class which is  almost indifferent to the election process prefers to do fence sitting till the last moment. And quite a sizable percentage of this class never bothers to take the trouble of going to the polling booths to cast their votes. They enjoy the election day as a holiday. But the unemployed youth finds some excitement and for money and free liquor give their vociferous energies to campaigning for their parties. But the grassroot members of political parties mostly do the legwork. Money flows freely despite the rules enforced by the Election Commission. Bureaucrats give their days and nights for safe and smooth conduct of the election and often their partisan attitudes come under severe criticism. Law and order authorities curse their fate as crowd management gets on their nerves. Everyone is on his toes. At times, however, one feels tired of the whole process because of the predictable consequences.

One is tempted nay constrained to ask what is this all for? Once a candidate is elected, he is no more a public representative; he turns a king. He feels he is a ruler, he is the destiny maker of the people whose votes elevated him to the chair of authority. He can flout all rules; he can bash the poor toll collector, slap an officer and defy public restrictions. His son, wife and relatives can do all illegal business with impunity. In two generations his family will earn the sobriquet of royalty. His family members will be awarded the highest honours of the country for their ‘sacrifice’. Is democracy then multiple royalty? Each state has ruling families from top to bottom, from the centre to the periphery. Did we bargain for this kind of democracy? This question may haunt us but we can take comfort from Churchill’s tongue in cheek statement: I admit- democracy  is the damnedest form of government but what is the alternative?

Choicelessly, therefore, we have to tolerate the loud clashes of microphone wielding netas who speak more on personal weaknesses of rival candidates than policies of their parties. Often abuses are hurled at each other like daggers wounding reputations. They forget that mutual mudslinging leaves both faces dirty. The netas divide the society in the name of caste and religion, provoke controversies which linger after the election like festering wounds. But the funny side of election speeches is, the netas promise the moon to the people who are now beginning to understand that election promises are like vows made on wine by professional lovers. Yet the poor voters are happy when TVs, cookers, saris and some gold coins are thrown at them and trucks come at the dead of night to their door steps to distribute liquor and cash. Democracy zindabad they shout and with tottering steps go to the booths to ink their  forefingers.

Elections are now managed by expert event managers. Voters are psyched by organizations like Cambridge Analytica and their ilk. The Facebook, Twitter and Whatsapp buzz all the hours round attacking and counterattacking parties and personalities. The dustbin of history is dug out for juicy scandals and the people display all emotions of the election drama. Well, we have to accept elections as free shows of human frailties and laugh as loud as you can.

My Last Request

Remember my last request,

not to send any gifts

if material tokens are gifts

I don’t know what you call gifting

love, friendship, sacrificing 

a life for the loved one.

Don’t even gift me sun, moon

planets and galaxies as I can’t play

them in my lonely moments,

if you can, make a small hut

somewhere in the galactic shores

play surf with me on the

unending sand collecting  shells.

I want a world with you

to call it my very own

give the warmth of arms

the gifts of joy and gifts of life

not tokens which cannot stand up

to my whining heart's lonely melodies

my throbbing pulses' love calls.

The promise of other life

in my today’s and tomorrows.

Sabita Sahu

Waiting For A call

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

Two minutes, she said, I’ll call you. I held the phone slightly loose away from my ears, appreciatively looking at the slick instrument but heart, mind and soul fully focused to listen to vibrations and feel them in my palm. None came, she perhaps cut the line dead. My heart sank. Is  two minutes such battery consuming or so expensive that she had to off it! How long is two minutes, one twenty ticks, two rounds of the second hand, two 360 degree motions: but I can hold my breath for two minutes, there are people, especially, swimmers who can hold for more than five minutes. Why did she snap the connection. Did she do it deliberately or the insensitive mobile phone cooled off in indifference? Does she not know after how long, after how many eons of anxiety I wanted to talk to her? Two hours is a long time in a man’s life. Long two hours! Bhubaneswar to Delhi, Madras, Mumbai! When concorde operates one can go to Beijing even. Two hours sealed the fate of Napoleon. Two minutes after a  two hour hiatus is a blank in time. The world ceases to move, life is in coma. Nothing happens. No birth, no death, no motion. There is an inexplicable pause in sound and silence. Spheres are at a stand still. Eyes do not see as the nerves do not get signals from a blank mind. Breath is inaudible. The invisible air is dumb, the elements have suspended their functions as the prime mover is dazed.

I never imagine time, space and the creative process of supernal life could ever be self-apathetic. Nothingness reduces time to a non -being. Consciousness is being. If consciousness is stuck at a point of non-reality the sub- conscious too lapses into a stasis. Time and history get detached. Detachment causes a death in life. Poets call this a separation from the paradigms of being. The lover calls this separation- biraha which is like a pause in the heart beats- not death but worse. You feel death is more welcome than this nothingness. You stay put in a state of freeze.The sky, earth and all the shenanigans of cosmicity are on hold. You are divorced from the origins, your roots and your vital encounters with life.

Waiting for a call from your alter ego is painful to say the least, it reduces your being to a bundle of shame. Shame slowly leads to fear, the fear of being a non- entity. An identityless moron who is taken for granted. Whose soul force is undermined. Whose manhood is ignored. This fear of loss of personality leads even to self –loathing. Your existence falls apart. You are like a banned drug seller hiding your ware even from yourself.

Waiting for a confirmatory call from a potential employer is a temporary heartache where your being does not lose its power of defiance. You have done well, you deserve the job, if it is not offered, you feel cheated but you don’t feel everything is lost. You will try and retry and will succeed one day  like this year’s IAS topper Anudeep who after four failures found his name on the top of the list.This waiting gives you determination. You accept the challenge with defiance. As Churchill wrote- In victory magnanimity, in defeat defiance- you rise up to the binaries heroically. But when you lose your innocence you often lose the strength to fight back.

A political party can wait. A leader can wait. A jobseeker can wait. A favour seeker can wait. They may say in disgust – life is an endless argument before an empty Bench, there is no judge in sight-but they will wait, plead, argue, appeal, and even fight. That’s what man is. He will wait to fight to win or lose. He never gives up. Never says nothing- to be done.

But love is perhaps the only divine thing which man is not fated to win. There is no victory in love.  If you love someone she/ he becomes your total reality of this life and even of lives to come. Waiting for two minutes to listen to the golden voice of your love is more important than a Waterloo. If the call does not come the two minutes prolong to pervade all your time and space.You cannot say well, why wait for a proud woman, there are others. No, It would mean you never loved. Time comes to a standstill for a person who loves without boundaries of space- time, all limitations are meaningless. You lose patience which is your only possession and sigh away your deep agony.

But why does this happen? Should love overpower your soul force? Well, no answer or explanation will ever satisfy a lover for whom love is the only name for life. Yet … well  the phone is vibrating, a ring resonates the heart.

All is not lost. Nothing ever is lost except the silliness of overarching impatience.

Night’s Tale

 I wandered alone in silence

the starless night swaddled in darkness

attacked me in anger, frustration
ignorant of night's follies

which men indulge in arrogance:

I wanted to swallow the dark night

for my scant food does not lessen

the burden of earth or crude hunger.

Don’t open the window for the  dark

to descend on my heavy soul.

How strange no stars could guide

to the temple where Asifa was tied

in malignant ropes of silly pride

ears too failed to hear the cries

the angel made, even temple bells

could not chime her pain.

How long she could bear

the torture the brutes gave her

O’ you men what pleasure did you get

tearing the delicate frame

of a girl of just eight, darling

of her parents eyes: if flesh

you need, be a customer

in the Red zones where shops

are open for your itches,

for God’s sake spare these tiny souls

who have not seen life yet.

Asifa is now free from the body cage

defiled  by predators of lust

the grave now is her home

allow her to rest in peace.

I’ll now place sweet jasmines

to mock at the night on her grave

and bind the night in the hollow

of my eyes never to witness light.

Sabita sahu