Sunday, 5 April 2020

Song Of Life


What is beautiful here -
the sky is void,
the moon's craters are burial pits
flowers smell foul in hours
the earth is a graveyard of dreams.

And love a fresh wound
oozes out the soul drop by drop
sleepless nights choke the nerves
man unwishes life for relief.

Desires and dreams are whimpers
from the depth of seas and shark teeth.
He who thinks of peace turns into pieces
make my heart a steel box
let it not blip on hospital beds.

If I have years left 
if my calendar still flaps
in the breath of your  love,
If I have words on parchment
seal them in a   dark closet
leave me blind in the deserts
to sing and relive my lost years.

Sabita Sahu


He And She


Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

He and She lived in the same street. Neighbours, well almost, just three narrow straight houses apart. Both were poor, that is above the BPL but not very affluent. Both were in the same school She one class lower. Both walked up to the school at 9 am. She was with her widowed mother and He in  a nuclear family. She drew water from the well at nightfall and He sang songs on his terrace at the selfsame time. She mumbled her happiness to the rising moon and He made mouths at her. One morning He saw Rangoli at Her doorsteps and rubbed his feet on the blooming lotus. She threw a mouthful of water at Him and He asked her to visit the Devi Mela in the evening. she was 12 and He was 13, together they were a quarter century. They visited the Devi Pandals, ate ice sticks yellow and red and promised to each other never to part in life. Returning in handholding joy they went to their respective  homes.

Time flew as they walked on. He matriculated and went to College. She failed in English and was married off to a widower, about twenty years her senior. He wanted to shoot the Sun with his brother's catapult and kick the earth with his first time full shoes but fell sick for a day and rested sobbingly in his room. Father was transferred to  another city. He moved to a hostel . Time attained speed he graduated with distinction and was sent on a scholarship to another city bigger, holier and older. She became pregnant and her husband fell down somewhere and died, the news never appeared anywhere. She wrote a long letter which she did not post. He always thought of her but never could visualize her fading features. He was invited to a Christmas Carols by a classmate. A She of charming smile and quickfire articulation. She was rich, He was on a scholarship. Both jointly topped the exams. She prepared for competitive examinations, He prepared for life. He expected her to write to him, She expected him to write to her. Expectations clashed and communication was exploded into silence.

Life is to be lived. No plan, faith, attempt, effort, blessing is outside life. Some habits like going to the temple in the morning or taking black ( green etc) tea are formed while living. He got a job, a managerial position with good salary, a furnished house, car etc to which he became habituated in a week. Parents wanted him to marry, he did, that is, he sat on the altar listening to the Sanskrit verses recited by a priest. All his childhood friends, schoolmates and some prominent men and women of the society attended the marriage reception party. He saw the well parloured women by her side and introduced her as his wife. The night he spent with his wife gave him his first experience of sex which he repeated in life. The children were born, a he and she, healthy and handsome. His wife was a good cook. The dining table never disappointed him.

He had promotions, became the chief, owned a palatial building in Mumbai, his Harvard educated children settled in America marrying native beauties, his wife had her own world of parties and celebrations: And He retired into silence. One day at about midnight, three days after his retirement, he got a call, surprisingly a video call from an unfamiliar number. The face smiling on the screen raised a whisky glass- cheers! Do you recognise me? He recognised her, Yes, said he, why didn't you write or speak to me? She laughed. She was almost the same after so many years, the same vivacity, the lips luscious and hands shapely. Only her hairstyle was different, short and flowing, coloured naturally. She said , 'speaking now, yes may be after a long pause of unsighted blankness. I kept all accounts of your professional rise. I applauded many a time your celebrity status, watched your TV interviews with pride, read your innovative ideas, often tempted to  contradicting them publicly but mostly I agreed and enjoyed. O' you want to know about me? Sure, got into bureaucracy joined the Rajasthan Cadre, rose to the level of Secretary and took voluntary retirement five years before my sixtieth year.  You too look healthy and young, good for you. O' why didn't I marry and raise a family?  May be I waited for an ethereal word too long and the desire for the worldly things dried up. I served my stand  and now I teach and educate a few orphans. Now tell me, are you happy?' It was His turn to laugh - what's that? Happiness ? Life I have lived as culture and society ordained. I never waited for ethereal words. Life is life, you have to be at it every moment, where's time to bother about happiness and fulfilment? True, She said taking a sip, as you go on  many feeling- cocktails you drink. At times neat, at times with other liquids. But your feelings shine only in your private , personal world. By the by I will be at Hotel Marriot tomorrow, suite 477, would you come for a drink with me to celebrate our having lived separate lives although ..... I will, I shall, 7.30 sharp.

Next morning I received an envelope from my childhood She who had parted ways early. The letter was long poorly written in bad Odia. She had  listed out her pain, sorrow, humiliation and suffering. Strange! It was written twenty five years  ago but posted last week. He sent 10 Lakh to the address given and dressed up for the first and last dinner with his sophisticated   bureaucrat. How will the evening go He  wondered! Well as life has gone in hours and years. Don't think like mortals in time and space.


Sunday, 29 March 2020

Illusions


What the eyes see
are illusions,
the deceitful trickery
of reality
the sounds we hear
are not music
only chaos
all objects  men and women
are moving shadows
without depth or essence
cynicism is inevitable.

No words remain
uncontradictory
no law  is respected
cacophony rebounds
even louder
noise and rumours,
confuse the primal truth
of my being.

My truth cracks
should I lie down
under sedative
who will decide
If I am frozen
in my stirless being.

I doubt whether
I am what I am
my gushing breath and
palpitating heart
my blurred vision
my resounding ears
are they real or
I am reality blind?

Sabita Sahu


Home Sweet Home


Prafulla Kumar Mohanty
Home is what you go away from as from a mother. The mother is home, the mother is the womb, a self sufficient prison where you are fed with love, care, attention and concern. The babe seeks freedom to see the world outside, to eke out  his own living to know to suffer, enjoy and fulfil the obligations of mortality. I know most of my readers will not agree. Mother is love, mother is the source of life and her upbringing prepares a man to face the challenges of life: They would say tirelessly. The home is heaven, the abode of peace and certitude! For a moment let me concede, let me say yes to the sentiment for I was taught in my childhood to worship mother and consider home to be the best place  in the world. Poets have sung panegyrics  for the home and mother. It's mother who brings you  to the world. Very true. Why then people who matter leave their homes?

Buddha left home and mother , the lure of the pleasure palace of beauty, youth and sex. Adi Shankar left his mother who was a helpless widow. Christ lived beyond his mother and Home -  even Gandhi. The Indian sages  thought of the larger world as their home. The ( Rig ) Vedic Civilization taught to consider the world as your home- Vasudhyeba Kutumbakam. The world is your family. Dosteovsky wished man to make the world his home. Bertrand Russell and others wanted the world to come under one unitary administration. In the seventies of the last century the idea  of Globalization began to catch the imagination of the countries, especially the richer ones But all those lofty ideas failed us. Our mythical gods too are homeless in heaven. All sages, poets, thinkers and politicians  never think of a cosy home somewhere elusively away from all lures of the real world. W. B. Yeats wanted to go to Innisfree and live there in the 'bee loud glade'? Our own Rdhanath wished to spend his westward life on the shores of the goose swimming blue waters of Chilika. Did he?

Home is a conceptual paradigm of an insufficient mind, of a person whose self belief is suspect, one who depends on others to fulfil the needs of his body, mind and soul if there is any. Home is not a four walled house with a roof to save one from the vagaries of nature. Home is where you do not feel like a prisoner, guarded, fed and guided, protected as in the mother's womb. Home is or should be a metaphor of a celestial world of bliss where the mind is free like nature, vast as multitudinous skies where clouds never come to wipe it off our sights, and where the petty needs of the body do not compel you to worrisome work for a few banknotes.

I am my home. My Being is home enough for everything that we see , hear  and read. My home is larger than the world of eye and ear. The sea, sky and earth with the rivers, mountains  and glades; the billions of creatures, including the wise and wily bipeds are my nerves and sinews like the  wired universe. But let me pause and ask myself why do you need a home then? Why do Governments all over the world have housing schemes? Why does Modi promise hundreds of millions of homes for the homeless Indians? Well these are houses for people to eat, sleep and die not homes where you contain universes. You do not feel responsible for another man, You have no qualms of conscience when houses burn in your neighbourhood by mindless mobs who gloat over the bellowing smoke; You have demands, needs wants of the body which others must fulfil. You are a lonely creature languishing under your incompetence; you protest, beg for mercy and even kill and shamelessly speak out, "we will snatch away what we need from the "other" before whom we crouch in fear. Such persons lack what the ancients called Purushokara, manliness, the pride of being.  In short, these creatures never feel at home anywhere in time and space.

Home is a hypocritical template for the unworthy for he does not find certitude anywhere. He has no quest for Oneness. He is a dismembered specimen who thinks of segregating his walled world from the larger multicoloured splendour of reality. Me, mine and a Cartesian I comprise his nonbeing. His mind never can conceive of a Pegasus flight to conquer the sunless reality beyond the solar system. He sits surrounded by his, what he calls,  loved ones and thinks of the routine of food, education, house, marriage, success and other associated things hiding his inner discord from his neighbours. He calls his house Home Sweet Home and gets nervous if he misses his own address. He thinks constantly of buying a bigger house, a larger lawn, a gothic gabion, Italian marbles and loses his sleep.  He is confined to a 1000 sq foot flat or a mansion, palace for he is never satisfied with what he has.  He feels cabined and boxed and dreams of the whole of space. Yet he calls it sweet home in a self consolatory surrender of his ego. He is never the Home of life, never the fulfilled soul above desire. Hence his mind always wanders outside his home counting his inadequacies.



Sunday, 22 March 2020

The Corona Way

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

Disaster is a centennial visitor to our earth and this 2020 Visitor  bearing a bright , brilliant sunny ringing  name Corona is a globetrotter. The difference this time is that its reception is in isolation, social distancing, hiding from other creatures wearing masks, gloves and silent fear all over inert bodies. A shrinking sense of uncertainty paralyses man and his institutions. Industrial production is at almost a standstill. The flights, national, International and chartered, get cancelled moment by moment. Daily wagers wait for Roti to fall from heaven. And man is no more manly. Science, civilization and culture cower under a surrendering logic. Paradox- mongering is now the new Avatar of rationality.

Those who said that the world is one family, the earth is our greatest monument which holds us together now retract, if not in words, by action. Deglobalization, isolation and aloneness have now become our insurance against death. Togetherness, mankind dancing ceremonially holding  each other's hand, is now forbidden. Corona , this unseen microbe has challenged all Gods  of all faiths. The temples are shut, isolating gods to their lonely contemplation over creation. if anyone still believed that creation is purposeful, now thinks way differently. Man is born through a  natural biological process  to fend for himself and finally die if not by Covid 19, by some other thing: For man is born for death. Man's quest for immortality through spirituality or science is  a mere life-spending exercise. If this is pessimistic so be it. All our optimism has masked us, defaced us. We stay away masked and sanitized in our individual worlds of death contemplation. If the virus dies, leaves the body and a sense of life returns, it is temporary. Now we know, all our towers of excellence are  show pieces of bubble reputation. Our efforts to ward off  death are consolatory measures for a brief while. If the plague or cholera is mastered some H1n1 is waiting at the wings; after its fatal performance it goes . But the play is not over. Many characters , seen unseen, expected unexpected are still  there.

Man has always won battles but lost the war. Society , togetherness, humane behaviour, embracing others to conquer by love, poetry, fine arts and civilizational values have won battles of hate, enmity, jealousy and  such other negatives. But after winning battles we march with pride, show off  our triumphalism in many masquerades of festive cheer. But the moment the paint is washed and royal mask are  hung for future use some unseen arrow pierces our hearts  and we measure our length on the ground. We thought of family, society, festivals and community fellowship to stave off such invisible arrows.  We smeared colours of love on dear faces  making those unrecognizable; we launched wars on "others" calling them enemies and thought of saving culture, territory, country in the name of patriotism or the less charming, nationalism. But after victory we used patriotism  as abuse and after defeat resolved to shed our blood for the country as true patriots. But the enemy as well as the friend lost their identity and started mutual cooperation for business, partnership and also joined hands to fight a more powerful enemy. This process has gone on. Corona too will go as it is also like us. At the moment it is a proud victor but its days too are numbered. After a year when corona gets weakened  man will start his old games. The Sensex will rise again.

Some people arguing quoting those oft quoted lines from the Bhagabadgita-  Yada, Yada... sambhabami yuge yuge- that man has been punished by the new Avatar, a mini precursor of Kalki. But if god can make humans behave humanly- whatever it means- only by killing them as Krishna did in Kurukshetra war God is the most fickle minded creator. He does not know how to manage his creation. If someone argues, Yes they do, that non-vegetarianism is the cause of Corona they will soon realize that even lifetime vegetarians too have been attacked. The rationalist will argue that there are certain things beyond logic.

But corona has taught us one lesson which all great men, Gandhi and others, had tried to teach -Swacchata. This swacchata is not mere cleanliness of the home and office or your transport  system. This is the idea of what the ancient Hindu thinkers  called Dharma. This Dharma is not religion. This means doing your duties, in the context of the society, following ethical principles; taking responsibilities for others who are less fortunate. Doing things selflessly and keeping the earth, heaven, mind and body clear of all dirt- moral, physical or psycholigical. If Corona  can enforce this strict observance of Dharma on mankind it will have fulfilled its Avatar Dharma.

Corona



Who cares for unseen enemies
those who attack unawares
without warning,
The enemy is one who has a face
and bravely faces to challenge
the authentic bearing of certitude.

Man is a born fighter
as he grows up from
the zygote to the hero
celebrating life every moment
sorrow, pain, danger, death
notwithstanding but the
cowards like Corona
stealthily enter the body
to steal life to please their sadism.

But how long corona can last
when the shadow disappears
the sun and moon
flashback their brilliance
loveliness and sustaining solace
life goes on despite the
occasional shadow.

Corona too is mortal
our mortality will outstrip
the death of Corona
the only pain is separation
from our loved ones
however, temporary.
But love will conquer
life will rise again
treading on the dead Corona.


Sunday, 15 March 2020

Marriages Are Earthly


Marriages are made in heaven
may be divorce too is heaven ordained.
But only here on this earth of palaces
primrose gardens and tinsel glitter
hands are held tight to Vedic chants
by indifferent priests in bad Sanskrit.

Marriage is a license to play games
of body and mind in routine stance
home, children, cooking and accounts
make the couple sad, happy and mad
loud voices, mouth, I-Me, Yours- Mine
she sulks, he returns drunk,
children wail and turn bear and bull.

Home turns hell when mom overspends
or Pop is seen with another,
marriage vows are broken
roof collapses on the empty rooms.
What is marriage without love
and love without freedom?
True minds and pure hearts collide
they coalesce with dignity as one.

Marriages in heaven's register are
account books, love is not  the seal
It is man who loves woman as heaven
woman is splendour for man's soul.
Man and woman create heaven
when love seals them together.

Sabita Sahu

Forever New