Rickshawalla!!

Be it sunny or rainy day

chilly or dusty noon

he forces his feet against

mud stone or rubbish

pushes the peddle to drive

all our weights to our places.

When sits blank waiting

for a customer, lights a bidi

with five rupees in hand

rushes  to the aahar point.

Life revolves like the wheels

he pushes  panting for breath,

takes men and women

the sick and the vain

to homes, hospitals and graves

till his bone gives up

in time's cruel mischief.

He too lives, survives

raises a family loves kids

runs for them from dawn

to midnight without rest

he too is a man like us

only a bit more human

more or less...

Sabita Sahu

There Is No Finality

                             
Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

Those who think, always  try to counter the available thoughts. Contemplation is not a mental activity for its own sake. When a person thinks of politics, he tries to find out ways and means of challenging the available political situation. When the seeker of Truth gets his enlightenment, his truth is always an alternative to the given or  accepted truths. When someone says surrender to God, all your pain, misery and worldly problems will be over, we don't stop there. We ask is there a God, a divine dispenser of Justice for the living beings? And we analyse, weigh the pros and cons, meditate only to find  a different answer. Why surrender, killing or suppressing your instinctual desires, aspiration and feelings  before an entity about whom or which we are not certain. Man does not believe  in any ultimate principle or certainty for the moment he accepts something as the finality of everything he denies his personally perceived reality; he denies his own essential being. Man cannot accept his reality as a caged  parrot repeating the words, hymns, mantras or other life -elevating truths. If he does he loses his manliness.

A poet is always dissatisfied with what he has, that is his worldly engagement  which are most often other-directed. He tries to follow his own inner direction and comes into conflict with the world. As Matthew Arnold has said, he criticizes life, that is he criticizes the norms, precepts and practices as does the philosopher, politician and even the marketing manager, the husband, wife and even the non attached singleton. All brain storming sessions in every field of life  are meant to promote a product, be it an idea or perception or so called truth. For this reason only words are coined, slogans are raised to promote an idea or truth to its maximum marketability. Languages grow, vocabulary expands limitlessly and symbols and signs proliferate.

Man grows in numbers biologically hence more words and new logic come to clash of confusions. If a man says,he is happy with his family life, we ask what happiness is that? Food, Sex and sleep? Is that the meaning of happiness? And the happy man becomes miserable. Starts questioning his own happiness and may define his own happiness as a routine repetition of certain pleasurable moments. Any repetition of a thing comes under the law of diminishing returns and the happy man one day runs into the forest to find new happiness. Now that the forest cover of  the world is depleting he may change his residence or at least change the furniture for novelty. Man is a restless creature and like Ulysses he will never rest at any point.

But shouldn't there be a finality? Shouldn't there be a final acceptance of some value which eases  living? if a man lives for a few thousand or more days should he not accept life as it has come and settle down to a routine practice like the "happy" family man. But man cannot settle for half, that is to indulge in routines without chasing his dreams. This is what man is. And that is why he thinks, contemplates, argues, invents, fights, kills and dies. If he chooses the tool of language to fight his dream battles he discovers certain new metaphors, he propogates them, argues with the challenges, thereby falling into the trap of misery.

There is no finality. After Fani or Armageddon the leaves appear on the stumps, people again fall in love, the quest for zeroing  in on the final truth starts all over again. We must at least accept this truth that there is no finality. Life is not meant to be a 'happy' station. The journey is limitless to find out new misery of excitement.

Life

Dawn breaks the seal of night

sky's spotlight brightens,

incremental light showers joy,

the morning cup cheers the air

breakfast sounds resound

the kitchen like an echo chamber.

At noon the sun hits the meridian

youthful lunch spreads gusto

phone calls, balance sheets, sign

signatures, flying kisses, embraces

school bags, bye-bye, see you

gushing  streams roar in triumph.

Afternoon brings autumnal fruits

ripe and sweet, meaty success greets

cream crackers and steaming tea,

one spoonful milk, half spoon tears

son's failure, daughter's elopement

the dentist's chair revolves pain.

Evening lingers in hospital beds

tension fills the air with warm soup

which stains the lips with rancid taste

medicine bills raise the pressure

waiting eyes look sideways

for distant blood to flow in veins.

The eerie night slaps stupor

dinner gets stale, hardly eaten

the dog howls tread on nerves

eyes don't focus, the dear ones

wait for the  final whistle

to blow the trumpet, beating retreat.

Sabita Sahu

As I See Things

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

I grew up with certain ideals from books and also those imparted by teachers . I grew up with the belief that man is divine, mankind is one, humanity manifests itself in  different cultures of the world and artistic expression and aesthetic  appreciation of life's multifoliated  contours are the best attributes of life . I preached and practised most of these values and was delighted when the idea of globalization started with hope for assimilation of human diversity and celebration  of human efforts in literature, science, inventions and a borderless world picture. The world would be one market and all virtuous products of the human mind , be it in technological production or  imaginative expressions, would be appreciated as the hard work of Man and his creative mind. But disappointment  soon followed. Now that I have already crossed the twilight zones and slowly moving towards the receding horizon the disappointment is life- denying. Ideas of  cooperation , love, truthfulness, integrity are on the decline . Liberals and wallowing in the frenzied variety of human expressions in culture, art, science, economics and politics is now at crossroads.

What I see today is that Globalization is on its last throes, equality, human rights, the soul values are being replaced  by Feminism, Anti- Racism, Gay rights, Dalit rights etc. A rising nationalism is now the greatest challenge to globalisation. The electoral victory of  Donald Trump in America, the failure of the European Union to accommodate the aspirations of United Kingdom and the rise of Narendra Modi and the Bharatiya Janata Party  bear testimony to the fact that the World today is on the cusp of change. Cultural nationalism, glorification of the past and  continuity of a sense of national pride are the new order of the world post- globalization. The 2019 election in India is loud enough to make  the voice of change heard and pondered. Although Brexit has not yet succeeded the message is clear. The people in America thought promoting global culture in a borderless economy is none of the business of America. The English voter as the Indian or American voter  still believes in democracy, free  speech and competition  but none thinks of the world as one unit of mankind. The rise of China as an economic and military power also has impacted the balance of the world if there was any. Nationalistic expansionism has eroded to a large extent the elitist liberals of the world. Nationalism too is now under attack by regional culture and language pride. The Tamils led by a self glorifying band of politicians refuse to learn Hindi. West -Bengal under the leadership of a ruthless and hyper ambitious leader has now coined new slogans like Joy Bangla. Nationalism too has its internal dissensions all over the world.

But the most painful for me is the death of Romantic Love. Man's primal value, the sustaining sensibility  enriched by imagination is now only a pastime in the bed, that too is now snappy. the humans have no time to watch in languid contemplation the moods of a man or woman making him/ her a universe to live in for time's wisdom. Man is busy with living, naturally he has no time for love, for that is not a marketable proposition. Poetry and classical music too are now confined to a few lovers. The road show in politics is symptomatic of non participatory entertainment. The street corner play or the local area band or the gossip in the local papers are fine to relieve the tension of the working day in big cities. Commuting to the place of work is now hazardous and expensive. The working hours have no regularity. Sunrise to midnight one has to work for success. This success is determined by your market value. The population rise naturally invites competitive populism in all fields- Art, Politics economics. The entertainment Industry has its own logic.

Everything now is corporatised.  Simulation of an idea for public consumption must be supported by a corporation. Otherwise individual efforts will go unnoticed. Sand artists are now more acceptable to the public  only because of Television and corporate support. Even the Kumbha Mela was a grand corporate affair managed by Government support and event managers.

All these have changed my idea of happiness . Eat your fill for variety is displayed there to impact your choice. Go for the exotic and ephemeral for there is nothing permanent in nature or the world we live in. Follow the so called mainstream: Otherwise you will be left behind. Live for the moment  and forget it immediately for new excitement is ready for grabs. Earn but don't cry out for ethical purity. Speak out and ask for more of everything . Exhaust yourself so that you will have used up ypur body and mind without caring for guarantees.

She, Me, and Shakespeare

I stood awestruck
my mirror regressed
like a cinematic trick
I saw myself in my
postgraduate classroom
all alone, humming an
old tune, perhaps waiting for
my friends and teacher.

I in disbelief said what's this?
My image smiled, said-
come sit by my side
the lecture is on Shakespeare!
I said- Shakespeare can wait,
but my son can't! Who comes
for only two days.
I know I am your stretched self
Can Shakespeare make me again
What I was?

Come enter me-
I'll run from kitchen to Rome
to feel Antony's love:
the mirror returned me
to my present, my spirit
sprinting everywhere with her
She was Me and I She
time whispered -patience.

I sang out-
'all our yesterdays have  lighted fools...'
we have conquered death
with the wisdom of love.

Sabita Sahu.

I Voted!

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

I am a voter, that is, I have a choice to exercise my right to select a candidate who will represent me and participate in the law making process in the Parliament of India. Vote is my alter ego, a subtle superconscious persona which I give a person to empower him to think and act  on my behalf and to do things for my betterment. The choice of my conscience will pass through a button  in the Electronic Voting machine. The candidate will have one more number added to his total tally. He may not know who voted for him and ostensibly wax eloquent on things he knows are far removed from the issues people voted for. This disconnect between the voter and the legislator is inevitable in all elected forms of governments. The Americans who voted for Donald Trump never could imagine that a  man who would shut down a Government for weeks together to build a Great Wall of  America to stop the Mexicans from migrating to America for a living.The Indian Parliament,obviously a hallowed place for debate, discussion, has often been paralysed by stubborn political rancour during the past several years making 'law making' an occasional episode in the general drama of furore. Well, Well, Well I am diagressing : let me come back to my Voter self. This year I decided to vote, that is, exercise my franchise in a polling booth which mercifully was at a strolling distance from my  place.

The D day came, I got ready in a summer defence dress and waited for the driver whose punctuality is unfailing like the EVM. He came and took the keys from the shelf. But I  suddenly asked him to wait: Who shall I vote for? In the 20th century we had a very popular man, Hitler, in Germany who changed the course of world history . At the same time we had another man, revered , worshipped like God, Gandhi in India. When Hitler roared mountains cracked, when Gandhi raised his frail hand  millions cheered and faced bullets with head held high. But Hitler ended his life in a bunker putting a gun in  his mouth: Gandhi was killed by three bullets in a prayer meeting. Both deaths were violent. And both have left  their imprints on the world. Hitler is now famous among people who never saw him. Gandhi , in  India , has now been a reference in speeches or a metaphor. Had he contested in  India in 1953( mercifully he was killed in 1948) he would have struggled to save his deposit.  but Hitler could have won in Germany, India and almost everywhere. But why should I talk or think about Hitler or Gandhi? We have our own macho nationalists, liberators of the poor, dole givers, saints, murderers, terror accuseds, ED saints on bail, stars from tinsel towns, Crorepatis hankening for more, entitled inheritors of royalty, Chaiwalas Chowkidars and god's plenty! O'  I perhaps  have a nasty mind to dismiss cynically all those parties and candidates without whom democracy would falter on the perilous course of history. I asked the driver to take out the car. Then I thought, why the car? I can walk the few steps, the booth is at a visible spot meters away. Well the distance may be short but the May sun is cruel. My summer- defence may be penetrated , in place of blood sweat will sodden my style ! I was driven to the booth  in about four minutes.

But what did I see there? A long queue! Have a heart! I have no patience to stand in a queue and move like a legless cockroach in a laboratory. I had no choice. I mustered courage to feel important. My vote matters. If I don't vote democracy will be in peril! No no , that is too much. I am duty bound to cast my vote as a conscious citizen . By the time I settled to my  dutiful citizen consciousness luckily the line moved from sunlight to a shaded corridor and the polling officers were a few hands away. My turn came . My voter ID was checked. Two slips  were given to me. The presiding officer indicated a booth and I entered with confidence.

Inside a very dim light, some battery fuelled contraption looking like a lantern burned with a still flame. But the light was too poor for my weak eyes to comfort me to press the button of my choice. I raised the lantern; no improvement. I raised the EVM to read the names. Outside the muffled voice of the Presiding officer was heard- Why such a long time! I felt embarrassed and pressed the first button, The VVPAT appeared for a second or two and dropped into oblivion. I can't vouch for it. But I came out, all smiles. Yes, I have done it. I have voted. Whoever has got my vote will certainly find the shortest cut to his/ her salvation.

My Sugar Free Darling!!

How will he take if I call him

sugar free darling!

I don't know ;

he is a diabetic ,all know.

Nothing pleases him,

he's always sore

his tastes are fantasies

of forlorn lore.

He saunters in the market

from mall to mall

doesn't know what to buy

for he owns  the universe

he can only choose as he has

done only once he asserts.

When I forbid him to buy

he presumes, I carved the stars

and mocks at me  from high on Moon

at midnight when I say , come sleep

he smiles and says- collecting -

yes not buying- moon stones  dear

to make bracelet for you-

O' no- come down to bed

enough stones are there in the yard

for I have the  world in having 'You'.

Sabita Sahu