Better Not To Be Born

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

In glibtongued nonchalance almost every human, except a few (very), say life is such a difficult challenge, so hard, so nasty, brutish and short. Poets  in all languages and cultures sing of life  as futile time serving in a hell hole where even to breathe is a Herculean effort. The eighteen year old Chatterton, wrote a few insipid poems and killed himself saying: The world is too much for us. Despite the warranty of death, the inevitable end of life, people commit suicide. The Romans and the Japanese are famously suicidal. But Macbeth refused self-slaughter (why should I play the Roman fool ? As  long as I see heads before  me gashes would do better on them.) Some worthies who respect the cannons of the everlasting against self slaughter  desist the impulse. All these and many other vocables  which I don't wish to record for want of space  lead me to the question, is  life such a debatable proposition ! Man is born one day dies another day. Sunrise and sunset is a multi splendored procession of light , glory  rain, clouds, crimson to golden orange colour spectrum between dawn and dusk: The sun never stops, never falls on the ocean in disgust of repetitive boredom! Why then some men (women too)  cut untimely the journey with  morbid scissors? Is suicide so very attractive to engage human passion to fatal termination?

All sages, thinkers and wise men during the course of the relentless journey of the Homo (erectus) Sapiens have said life is God's greatest gift to man. A scientist, denying Darwin like, divine origin to life will at least credit it to nature. Man is a natural phenomenon with an unrechargeable life force. Life on earth is psychosocial energy which  achieves things by physical and mental work. At least man tries to survive the process by trying to wriggle out of his hunger, sickness, frustration, failures and other antipathies of nature - society by his native intelligence and physical energy. Why should he be afraid of the built in fears and  impediments  natural or self-caused and think of an escape route half way? When he succeeds he never pauses; he becomes a king, a godly  person, a warrior,  an inventor,  a scientist, innovator, writer, administrator, a saviour of life and also a fighter, a killer, a master political strategist and what not!! When he fails to climb the throne in the legitimate manner he invents devious ways, murderous short cuts and other  strategies which he himself would hate - only to succeed. Why  should then failures, defeat, disappointment, setbacks, penury or loss of honour and frustration lead him to the bare  bodkin? He sees the most beautiful roses rotting in a state of half bloom in a snow storm. Wanton children ruin many a  butterfly their  humming courtship; lightning strikes many towers to ignominious fall; many Ramas are exiled on coronation moments, Nelson Mandellas waste their manhood in dark cells: Do they all kill themselves? Does Sita jump into the nearest river after Laxman  left her in the trackless forest? She fought against  all odds with remarkable dignity. She was defamed as a  queen but she retained her feminine grace by silent non submission to calamity. She respected life and finally returned to her mother earth. All hungry men do not beg, they struggle for their bread.

Shall we then tentatively conclude that those who make peace with knife or poison are afraid of life? A moral coward strikes his head against temple walls; a shrunken soul writes homilies, "He who patiently wants  burden bears... is a king". Yes silent and unprotesting suffering is advocated  by many so called poets who depended on borrowed sustenance . But those who rushed out to meet headlong the bullets and bombs to save others are greater kings. Man has to choose between  worthless suffering and heroic death. But this death is not  self slaughter. If one makes a  sacrifice to save people, to make others feel reassured, is a higher soul. But one who withdraws from the performance stage of life into the dark wings is a sub man, less than human.

The suicide of Sushant Singh Rajput for me was a cowardly act. I have watched his career right from his Pavitra Rishta days. An actor, dancer and a good man, naturally ambitious.  He got a break in Bollywood, gained some reputation and also success. But he accepted his victimhood and put the rope around his neck in his lonely bedroom. What a shame! What a waste of human vitality! What an insult to his share of the life force! If people around you try to throttle your talents it means you are talented and a threat to the starkids who monopolize the industry.  And you yourself surrendered your talent to your victimhood. Amitabh Bachchan after his ABCL was gone but even with repeated failures at  the Box office did not feel defeated, did not surrender to the victimizers, did not beg for mercy from any powers - human or divine. He fought on with calm determination  for he had immense and unshakable faith in his talents. And look where he is today!

The greatness of man lies in steering the course of his life. He discriminates  between the raw and the cooked between dignity and ignominy. He fights not for survival alone, he fights to place himself on the pedestal of glory. What people say 'mental health', in my view is irrelevant unless it is a disease.  But those who take anti depressants and run to the head shrinkers are depersonalised by their own incomprehension of life and the human reality.  Man must know his own strength and weakness and choose his course. If he cannot climb to the top let him build a road around and walk. But if he cannot walk that is his funeral. Man chooses his destiny. He fights fate with his free will. If his life cannot accept his new failures, he is not human. All mental problems are egocentric. if the ego fails to perceive the challenges it is weak. And this weakness is to be overcome by more persuasive determination to win to conquer  and to strive to the epitonic limit of the nerves. If you can't nurse and nourish your nerves better not to be born.

If You Are Not Deaf...

I don't know whether the deity of deities 

will come out of  his  sanctum sanctorum or not

but I have come my Lord

all the way just for a glance,

I have nothing to ask for

you have filled with many a treasure

of daily void and routine pleasure.

I don't ask for your gem studded throne

your pleasure palaces or tall chariots

I have no need for earthly toys,

if you wish redeem my mortality with love.

I sulked, waited for your call

love is the motion of my mind and soul

love is that I need all

without which I am a body machine.

If you can -

take me with your stumps

and wear me in your heart:

I'll return to my  hole,

If you reject me I'll wait

and wait till you merge me in you

for the celebration of love's glory.

End my wait lord, grant me Love

Love is my breath and being

for that is what your creation is.

Sabita Sahu

Death Matters For Life Matters

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

Death by whatever cause is death, the terminal point of a life. The living blood relations or strangers have  to give a funeral, the last respect to a 'soul' which discards a decrepit  frame. An abandoned body is the worst insult to life. In the present times, however the dead -in hospital beds or lonely street corners - are ignored by many  out of fear. If you ask them why didn't he/ she/ they give at least a burial to the man who had played the shooting match of his life to the last breath? The answer may vary from person  to person and downcast faces may whisper lisping regrets. Brothers in far off places may send messages of regrets. Neighbours may pretend illness. But behind the neglect of the dead is the fear of the living. Fear of what ? Death. The living do not want to be dead. Well we need not recall Yudhistra's answer to the Yaksha's question to wonder at our own foolishness. But we must seriously question our attitudes.

Man is mortal. He will certainly die one day (mercifully) otherwise life would cease to be meaningful. Life matters because it ends in death. A lingering immortality is not what the life material desires. Life means activity. Man has come to the world to do things. The quality of what he does will be assessed by posterity. Life means a system of energy utilized for making life better. All human knowledge in different cultures and languages moves around the idea of work, activity, creativity for which the human being gets trained for some time and demonstrates his capabilities in the rest of his life. Since man is subject to change in body, mind, sensibility  it is expected of him to understand the human seasons so that he will transcend the  cycles and move towards the true manifestation of his soulforce, whatever be the field of his activities. This transcendence is of the soul and not of the body. But only within the body the higher energy- intellectual or spiritual - is realised and manifested. When the body ceases to function the other human beings must honour the  body. The dead should not be abandoned to the vultures. The maggot pies should not eat away the festering flesh of a man who played his allotted or self chosen role in the society to add a few sparks to their lives. If he was a negative character, did harm to people, tortured other human beings that is his failure. But after his death the body should be honoured. That is the last respect paid by the living to the dead to honour life. Death is life neutral hence it has nothing to do with his deeds. His deeds are for social memory. If he is a Gandhi his memory will inspire future generations of men and women. If he was a terrorist  his evil deeds will agitate the society with his negativity. But when death comes both Gandhi and Hitler are out into history and society leaving behind human frames. And the frames must be honoured with the last rites.

Man's fear of death is irrational. Man has accepted the condition that he would die one day. And this death is the greatest challenge to life. Death inspires the living to work hard without wasting a single moment. Death makes life purposeful. The Indians devised the Four Paths: Dharma, Artha , Kama, Moksha. These simply mean do work with responsibility to make life around bustling with enthusiasm  for life's multi splendored vastness. And work to earn money as much as you can by your individual ingenuity. Work and Moneymaking must not be without pleasure. And if all these  three are properly coordinated the final  release of the soul will come.  This release will happen when the body  is left behind  to return  to the elements.  Hence funeral services must be performed to return the essential components to Air, Fire, Water, Earth and Ether(Akash).

For this the living matters. A man has lived a life. If he is attacked by a 'hateful' disease it is not his fault. Our Kantakabi is a typical case in point ( A genius poet who died of Leprosy). When his body ceases to function his children - including those out of his family circle, the recipients of his creative essence - must pay obeisance to the mortal remains. If an 'ordinary ' person dies of Covid, his body is not untouchable . If a tired, fatigued labourer dies in a rail bogey  the body should not be thrown as unclaimed. Man's body too is human. A lifeless body is sacred for through that body  much life energy was released to the society. A bird, animal, man all will serve their time not in jails but in nature  and society. And when they depart they deserve a grand farewell; the grandeur however depends on the quality of the life  material of the living.

Life is the only thing that we have . We make this temporary time period great. We make bridges to human hearts. We often destroy good while fighting evil.  But everything matters for life matters. The men who live matter. Living matters and therefore death too matters. Let's not dishonour the dead.

Added One More

What though the cake was uncut

the candle unlit, the claps unheard

My birthday came and went as I would.

The roses were dust free, touch free

the unshowered petals were fragrant

the unseen friends were full of wishes

the forests carried the message of waves

my maidenhood, womanhood, motherhood

all turned a leaf to discover wonder

O' how pure things are in the eyes of love.

My lingering sunrise  is past the noon

the heat radiation is unbearable.

But the shadows  now will lengthen

my eye lashes, the pauses will increase

the lumber pain will remind my youth.

So what my ears still crave for the flute

my eyes still waver over the plumes

and my heart beats for his rhythms

as I begin the descent to the runways

I built over the years with lonely pride.

Tomorrow again the cake will come

the candles will be bright and the hand

will guide me to my burst of light.

Everyday I am born into  new life

a new reality of love's juvenescence

goes past my juvenilia to visionary gleam

and my death shall be my last Birthday.

Sabita Sahu

Half Truth

I don't know how many moons

became full and sank at the horizon

the last three months are a blur

disappeared like the forgotten eclipse.

Sky  I did not watch although

I am a moon gazer watching wakeful

the changing colours - silver to yellow

when dreams evade my imagination

despite pill induced sleep late very late

but I wake up with a dream half remembered

half startling me to a sweaty morning,

I try to recollect my dream sipping

my half cup tea tasteless odorless.

I need not rush anywhere

no bus to catch, no office to push files

I start the computer for the pending work

when my cell phone rings

Good morning Princess Sophie - Good morning

Yes, Good morning my Prince charming

but who is this Sophie

You, you my love, today you are Sophie

yesterday you were Juliet,

Tomorrow you'll be Satanica - ha-ha !

Breakfast comes, messages flow

I  walk to the bathroom to get ready

for another day of social Sabbath

God sleeps and I wake to life.

Sabita Sahu

The New Normal

Prafulla Kumar Mohanty

The new normal is to live with fear. Wear the mask when you leave home. When you come back throw away the dress in the wash drum. Sanitize your hands. Wash your face, legs - even shoes. The vegetables you brought from  the market must also be washed in warm water. Maintain a distance of two yards from everyone in the family - wife, children, parents, servants. Never allow anyone into your home. Practice Yoga at home. Watch Yoga videos or programmes on TV. 'Watch Astha Channel' friends advise( over phone). If you follow the instructions of Baba Ramdev your immunity will increase. The damned virus cannot attack you, even if it does you will not be seriously affected. Never go out for morning jogging  or your dog walk: Walk on your terrace. Never spit on public places etc, etc. The Ministry of Health spokespersons  warn everyday, channels repeat the message  a dozen times a day. Newspapers warn everyday. The World Health Organization too gives this handwashing, masking, social distance maintaining mantra as the panacea for  this Corona pandemic.

All this is for life; to avoid the hospital bed, the ICU, the Ventilator and the unclaimed state of your body if you die. And life means mere living, prolonging your moments on this planet by distancing yourself from your dear ones. If your mother develops temperature you panic how to take her to the hospital. You have no driver, Ola - Uber services are not available, the hospital ambulance or some govt vehicle may arrive after twenty calls to the given numbers. Finally if she gets admitted in a  hospital you cannot attend your dearest patient. Your wife would refuse standing six feet away from you. You cannot approach any neighbours - your bridge friends, your peg up friends, your colleagues and cousins- for fear insulates all human hearts against the divine values of sympathy, compassion and love. Fear binds your feet from moving towards your dead dear ones with whom you had spent a life time.

The towns are dark, gloomy  and empty. Roads are blank deserted and eerie. At times you see migrant workers families walk in the hot sun with kids on shoulders and bags in hand. The women too sweat out as true and devoted followers of their hungry, penniless and betrayed men who walk thousand miles to their homes and secure environs with hope and faith. All this for dear life - to keep base life afoot. The masters they served in the distant lands, the skills they exhibited did not deserve sympathy or help. But are they welcome at home, sweet home , for which they braved the angry sun and hazardous asymmetrics? No, the pandemic has emptied all juices of humanity from the human heart. But you can't complain. The Corona days will be like this. You will work from home. Sitting before a computer  in casuals you will do the biddings of your boss. Uncertain of salary you will certainly please or pretend to please your pay masters.

If you are a superannuated person you have few options.  The temples are closed. Parks are closed. tea addas too are closed.  Your septuagenarian friends are no more available within the limited elbow room you have. You can read newspaper or books if you are a bookish type. If not sit before the TV and watch retros of old epics  and mythologies. If your mind does not that way tend you can throw tantrums at your wife. Shout half articulated expletives at the inefficiency of Governments at handling Corona Crisis. Find fault with everything- the lockdown and the  Unlock I. You may ring up your old colleagues and admirers, if any, and pester them with questions like,(a) Is it God's way of punishing human arrogance? Why shouldn't Govt. do something for the middle class? Why should we pay taxes when Govt. is incapable of handling a crisis? How could China be so inhuman? The land of Confucius and Daisaku Ikeda has gone bunkers, does China want to have a world empire?

And if you are in love, if you are a true life -time lover you will find sunrise, sunset the crescent moon- all mocking birds in flight, they come unobserved as you wait for the call of your soulmate. The mobile phone is the only sun -moon to brighten her face. Her voice warbles in your ears like Cuckoo's. You know she is on the other side of daylight, in the deeper recesses of the seven seas. She does not tiptoe on the horizon teasing you to swim to her. She is only a face on a phone screen, wallpaper doll moving hands and eyes from lord knows where. She is nearer to the eye, farthest from sight. But choicelessly you video conference with her. You can't kiss her masked  face. She would remind you of your birthday promises which you have not fulfilled. All your promise of filling her blank years and ushering in her blissful midcentury starlit canopy over her thinning hair will strike you hollow. She would smile without lipstick and ask: Where is your celebration, the candles and the roses all the way from here to eternity?...

 You will turn morose and watching her radiant eyes speak with a hesitant voice: This New Normal will change in a few months my Love. Next year I'll compensate with redoubled vigour.

Waste

The waves of my mind are still

my roaring passions are indrawn

I am now sinking into my depths

in hopeless surrender to silence.

I recede from earth sun moon

the sea nymphs are gone far inland

my limbs have denied to hold my fancies

my mind has lost all romantic agony.

May be I have wasted my time

waiting, praying in futile loneliness

now I am calm patient ,

no pain no joy stirs my mind

I  need only a silent end

no wish for rebirth or redemption

let the ashes be buried or

vanished in air I don't care.

Sabita Sahu