Sunday, 7 October 2018

Sound of silence




I saw him gather shells on the shore
lingered for a moment of contemplation
threw all the shells into the sea
sat, eyes closed and senses shut
to breathe in the sea, suddenly
stood up and shouted competing
with the roar of the waves.

I wondered  was he sane,
doubted my own perceptions
when I saw him, walk towards
the sea, arms open to embrace
the ocean like his beloved.

I felt like warming up to him
to have a glimpse of his heart and mind
I asked: what are you doing here?
Without turning said he,
Sh..h..ss... don’t you see
I am speaking to my love.

Where is she? dared I
you blind woman , can’t you see
my love is everywhere,
in the sky, on the sand
and also in you,
I stood  transfixed
he moved away staring
at the horizon.

Sabita sahu

Wife Is Not A Chattel


Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

That woman is a victim of patriarchy, I know is an understatement. Women in India and in almost all countries of the world are treated as chattel, a disposable possession. The female child was unwelcome. Indians, history shamefully records, never considered female foeticide a sin. In the 21st century too, despite legal restrictions, some doctors oblige rich parents in destroying the unborn female foetus. The girl child is a liability not an economic proposition.  On the one hand mythology has created female deities at times more powerful than the male ones, like Durga, the three Divine consorts of Hindu Trinity- Brahma,Vishnu, Maheswar. Saraswati, Lakhmi and Parvati are for creative arts, prosperity and happiness respectively. But in the family situation the woman is the Gruhalakshmi, the deity of the home and she has to keep it shipshape for her husband and children. Women like nature is a display disc of beauty, order and pleasure. But she has no freedom to dream, to love, to entertain ambitions of power, adventure or self-fulfillment. Her husband is her god, master, owner.

The question of freedom of self, individual identity was raised by Draupadi in the Mahabharata when she was staked at the dice game by Yudhistira after he had lost his own freedom. Can a husband retain his ‘rights’ over a wife after he himself has lost his freedom? This question was not answered by the scholars and the wise men present in the royal court. Bhisma when asked however timidly opined that the laws of dharma are silent on it yet a husband’s rights over the wife cannot be questioned at any stage. Fate and metaphysical justice helped Draupadi in her moment of shame imposed by patriarchy and evil men, otherwise history of epic India would have recorded the most shameful chapter of man’s lewdness and moral fall as well as the sexist bias of patriarchy. In modern civilisation too women anywhere is a ‘Second Sex’  to borrow the title of Simon De Beauvoir’s epoch changing book on women, perhaps the most important book in Feminist literature. Since then much water has flown in the Ganga but women do not enjoy a changed status. In the film industry the item songs are still danced out to please the lustful eyes of men only. She is built for man; for his pleasure, for the prolongation of his clan. The housewife is now changed into homemaker but she is still used by powerful men for honeytraps.

But the most heartening thing has now been rolled out of the Supreme Court of India. Although Prime Minister Narendra Modi gave a call for ‘Beti Bachao, Beti Padhao’, it remained mostly a slogan for a large percentage of India’s population. The educated and affluent women wanted more freedom, less moral policing and moral flexibility to prove their worth and fulfil their innate virtues in different fields of activities: the poor and tradition bound Khap –Panchayat victims fell to honour killing even for expressions of love, a value considered to be a wilful transgression by patriarchy. Violence and rape and other instinctual barbaric violations of their dignity continued despite political sloganeering and legal reddressals enforced by the establishment.

But the Supreme Court under the leadership of Justice Deepak Mishra opened up a few vistas for the oppressed women flapping their newly generated wings to fly away from the stakes of patriarchy. Tripple Talaq, a repressive non-Quaranic practice was quashed in 2017 to give the Muslim women some sense of security. The LGBT community was given the honorific Third Sex, and Article 377 was struck down to give the otherwise less fortunate people freedom to express their love and seek their pleasure. But the most forward looking judgement came in the form of decriminalization of adultery. Gender justice took another path breaking step when Justice Mishra made the human soul free of religious and sexist bias. Faith is the aroma of the soul and women now can express their faith in the Sabarimala temple where for the last 800 years women between 10 and 50 years of age were forbidden by the same patriarchy; Reason! Menstruation makes a woman impure! How can a biological function of the body, specific to women to procreate and expand the human race be impure?

Now the husband is a “manager of household” not a master. Woman is free to choose life style and love without patriarchal restraint. Hopefully freedom will not become a licence for bohemian shenanigans.

Sunday, 30 September 2018

Remembering



How would you like to remember me
as Joan of Arc after deluge,
as Lakshmi after the churning of seas,
as ambrosia dripping from
the mouth of Vasuki,
as Cleopatra waving  the Nile
an invisible song in a dark alley..

Ha..ha.. ha... these are images
blindmen visualize
Don't you have eyes, look at me
and say how will you...

O' you! I always  thought
you in me, built into
my dream, my memory:
you as my jailor,who
fed me with smiles
by remote control.

I'll remember you as lovely
alien wings of a butterfly
murmuring strange sounds
whose heavy meaning eludes.

I'll remember your eyes
like framed beads winking
away my memory,floating
around a still point of my
Princess’kingdom of love.

Well thanks- but I'll remember you
As the sun flying around me
burning me to a flaming lyric.


Sabita Sahu 

Laughter



 

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

There are two types of people in the world, the agelasts and the hypergelasts- the non – laugher and the overlaugher. One wears a mask of a face and the other makes his face overwide to the accompaniment of high pitched sounds. Both are non- human, will of the wisp, not easy to understand. Laughter is a rebound of hilarity, a release of joyous feelings in gay abandon. It denotes a state of feeling, thrilling and amiable. Ancient scholars and sages in East and West have said, - he who laughs lives long. When a person laughs 315 facial muscles function but when a person cries only 13. Based on this the Grotowsky School of acting trains actors in muscle control and postures.

There are, however, many people who do not laugh even if their fancy is tickled by an incongruous event or an event of genuine bawdy banter. There are some who maintain gravity and suppress their true emotions. But normally a person laughs when he sees the mechanical in the natural, that is when something rigid and springy like the jack in the box happens. For instance when a healthy person especially a fat women slips on a banana peel while walking on a road and falls, your first impulse is to laugh. Unless she happens to be your mother. Laughter assumes the anaesthesia of the heart, that is non-involvement of personal emotions. Laughter is mainly a group activity. The social conscience disapproves of a peculiar or singular trait in a person to reform him. Any person who grows out of proportions with the social norms or behaves or functions above his station in life, he transgresses the accepted social praxis: the comic spirit eyes malignly at him. Laughter is the expression of a collective social psyche. You must have noticed that in a cinema hall when the auditorium is full, you burst out in full throated laughter at a comic scene. When the auditorium is half full or the viewers are scattered, your laughter is less boisterous. This happens because your social conscience is subdued. When you are secluded in a corner or when you are alone.

Laughter is a spontaneous psychic process and its quality depends on the level of sophistication of a society. In a primitive society laughter is rare as the consolidation of values, stabilization of societal norms takes time. When the middle class gets stabilized the norms of social behaviour become fixative in character. Laughter is not a moral judgement, it is a light hearted corrective measure which removes oddities and singularities from social behaviour. At the same time wit and intellectual humour too play a part in creating comic situation. Wit is the laughter of the mind. Alliteration when overused also provokes laughter.

Repetition of words or expressions at regular intervals after a time gets boring and this social boredom provokes the laughter of disapproval. If a teacher in the classroom says ‘for example’ after every two sentences, the students laugh. Similarly repetitive behaviour or appearance at a particular place without ostensible reason also makes us laugh.  The reason is mechanisation of a rigid pattern. Man by nature is flexible and dynamic, and therefore, whenever it shows symptoms of a machine or a string puppet his action provokes ridicule. In an office or classroom or a meeting situation if a person speaks or behaves in a manner transgressing the norms, people ‘condemn’ his ridiculous behaviour by volleys of laughter.

We have to however distinguish between ‘to laugh with’ and ‘to laugh at’. We laugh with a speaker whose witticism, sarcasm or tongue-in -cheek statement evokes intellectual sympathy. When your son or daughter tops the examination or gets a job you become happy and laugh in joy. A smiling thanksgiving to your deity also goes with it. This laughter is an expression of joy. But when a group of women in a ladies club sit together and laugh aloud continuously for five to ten minutes the dispassionate onlooker smiles not in joy but at the group of ladies who think laughing is a healthy exercise which prolongs life. Others go on clapping like an American audience after a philharmonic orchestra performance for full five minutes by way of appreciation. There are yet others who make mouths, pouting the lips in different ways to keep the face wrinkle free, in their bit to defeat time: if you are not a part of it you laugh. Shakespeare’s Puck would have said , ‘ O’ Lord What Fools these Mortals Be!’

But life is meant for laughter. Treat life as a funny game- wipe your hands across your mouth and laugh...  The world does not take care of itself and will not bother about you.





Sunday, 23 September 2018

Mindclouds



Rains are over
cloud flakes float away
in involuntary laziness
lingering over ripening fields.

A lone half naked boy
standing on the river bank
stretches his arms to catch
the cloud flakes to make
kites for autumnal fairs.

The landlord’s daughter
selecting cards, closing
the bedroom doors
for her November wedding.

Returning school children
propose to donate their picnic
money for Kerala flood victims.

After post-lunch fiesta
the beautiful mother of two kids
biting her nails dreams of
a long holiday next monsoon.

Suddenly the sky darkens
roll of thunder make
the boys run home,
the would be bride
peeps through the railings
in bemused apprehension.

 Sabita Sahu

My Most Embarrassing Moment


Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

My host informed me at the breakfast table, Prafulla! You remember about this evening’s dinner invitation! The Japanese Ambassador’s wife will felicitate you after your presentation. You know I am invited because of you, otherwise these culture buffs never bother about us, and we are bank note counting machines who cannot distinguish between Expressionism and Avantgardism. My host used these two terms to impress me and I acknowledged to please him, saying prudes and snobs are everywhere. If you give them importance their inflated egoes will ride roughshod on your emotions. Ignore them. You are what you are. By the by what should I speak on this evening can, you suggest....What can I suggest; best you speak on Indian culture or about your own language and related things.

As our car approached the gates of the massive structure with wide lawns and a burst of exotic flowers all around, I asked my host: what place is this? O’ did I not tell you, this is the mansion of Archibald Leech, a world renowned heart surgeon and a very prominent promoter of social work and international Cultural Synchronizer. Your name was recommended by Prof John E. Altazen, Dean University of New Orleans. Yes, I said, Altazen has invited me I thought that it would be held in the University. Yes, but some public men wanted it here as many foreign dignitaries would come and you know the hospitality costs- my host smiled. Come, you will meet many people...

After long forty five years I do not remember the details of my speech but I spoke on the principal tenets of Indian renunciation and how it has given the value base to art and literature in India. The time allotted to me was thirty minutes but I exceeded freely as the receptive audience did not betray any symptom of boredom. The applause and the ovation they gave still rings in my ears. But more than that I remember the most embarrassing moments of my life that followed. After the meeting, the party began. It was 8.15 pm but the light outside was like our 4 pm sunshine in May. I was gheraoed by a few admirers and also a few journalists. After 15 minutes somebody I knew called me, rather rescued me from probing questions eating away into the party time. He gave me a glass of whisky and we moved out into the lawn. The party was around a swimming pool- not exactly around, on two sides of the pool. The pool was comparatively large. The water was clear like crystal and still as if a transparent pearly sheet was on the surface. It was glistening in the early evening light. I don’t know why I doubted whether it was water so still and clear or a glass cover over it reflecting the mellowing sunlight. Unconsciously, the whisky definitely was not heady- may be the pleasant events of the evening were an elixir- I wanted to tap the surface with my shoe and I did. I fell down with a splash stabbing the ears of many despite the mood created by the jazz over the wire recorder swaying the guests and they came running to lift me up- my suit dripping the pearly liquid of the pool and my eyes blinded by my mind’s agonising shame beating my heart to a cacophonous asymmetry I came up and stood on my legs shaking in listless embarrassment. Strange voices showered their concerns thinking I had a fit or something. What happened, are you ill, head reeling or what? I had only a sheepish smile on my face. Then they laughed, o’ the drink, may be you had one too many. I had no explanation to offer. Kind hands held me and took me into a room. My shoes and coat were removed. Someone dried me with a dryer, another brought a full sleeve sweater.  I felt warm and somewhat comfortable. I put on my shoes again. But how to salvage my pride? The man who was the darling of the hundred odd guests, felicitated and honoured, applauded half an hour ago shall not leave this place as the butt end of laughter. I must regain the attention of  the party. I was determined for I was not really drunk or had any ailment. It was curiosity and may be an illusion I chased to my fall in the pool.

I went to the centre of the party. Picked up the mike and said, Ladies Gentlemen and Friends: I will now give you a few songs in Indian languages and show their parallels in English and American literatures. I had full faith in my singing abilities although I am not a great singer. I started with an odia song from Upendra Bhanja. My second one was from Tagore and the third was form Hindi. I translated each song into English after rendering it and pointed out the parallels in English. The party became warm, cheers encouraged me; request for recitations from English came from Madam Ambassador. I recited from Shakespeare’s Macbeth, Othello and Hamlet.  My dramatic rendering and my English floored them. I rose up tall to their unending applause. And then I joined the party with my confidence restored, my pride salvaged.

Sunday, 16 September 2018

Living



Have you forgotten the hands
that knitted your fortune,
What fortune , 'O' that beggar to...
Oh no! no beggar no millionaire
how ungrateful you are !
He gave his years, sweaty days,
night pills and you measure
things with money...

Yes: what other measure
you have? Monkeys jump from
tree to tree- rich men play
in farm houses, everything is for sale
sell if you have, buy if you can
whatever your measure - no way.

But death, the end certain
Why not live? 
You call this life?
No, no living LIVING.

Ok. Thank you, good tea,
let me go plant some life
for a living you know !!

Sabita Sahu

Forever New