Saturday, August 17, 2024

Life, 'A linear-Time Dimension' in Human Time

Life, 'A linear-Time Dimension' in Human Time
by Dr. K. Rajamouly

Synopsis:

According to Larkin, life is a texture in “a linear-time dimension”. It is a hard journey through time in which “happiness is too going” (TLD, 44). It is the illusion of illusions as time rules life to turn it into a supreme illusion.  All time - present, past, and future – serves as a three-fold illusion and becomes a source for disappointments in life. Mortality and futility are the inevitable facts of life. The future, which is unpromising, acts as a harbinger of misfortunes including death, the harshest fact of life. The present is seen with a series of failures and frustrations in life on the collapse of castles built in the air. The past is past to serve as a reminder of what we ought to have been. Life after all is in thrall to time’s constant flux.

Key words:

Time, powers, thrall, illusion, life, birth, growth, childhood, youth, middle age, old age, death, mortality, future, expectations, aims, dreams, present, the past, futility, failures, disappointments, sadness, and miseries.

Saturday, August 10, 2024

The Scientist

The Scientist
by Dr. K. Rajamouly

This is the age of science and technology when the scientist poses superior to others and does not care for others as he feels far above all others. He feels haughty and boorish for his scientific advancement and technological progress. He never cares for all others who are equally authoritative in their respective fields. He thinks that he has bombs in his hands. He can kill all his enemies and all if he wants as his bomb is able to spoil ten worlds including the earth. He thinks that he can do wonders but does not know that he does blunders too. He knows "how to fly in the sky and swim in the sea but he doesn't know how to walk on earth." It means that he forgets how to behave on earth like man to be human and humanistic to reflect humanity.

There was a clash between Dr. Sputnik and others in various fields like philosophy, art, and literature. He challenged all of them to display their powers. Others were not ready to display their powers to compete with him. He posed superior to others. One day he happened to meet Mr. Vedanth, the most reputed philosopher, and had a deep discussion with him.

When Mr. Vedanth told many things about philosophy and its supremacy over all other subjects including science and technology that help the man invent a bomb that is able to destroy the whole world today. We are not willing to lose any civilization, any culture and any heritage in the name of world war to result in human loss. The war knows only violence and the loss of all that are to reflect the merit of man. For that, we have to preserve man to preserve all these to his credit. What we want are peace and harmony, values and virtues and so on but not bombs and clashes, violence and unrest and so on. Dr. Sputnik did not agree with him in any aspect on the one hand and challenged him to the exhibition of his powers for a success on the other.

Dr. Sputnik invited the philosopher, Mr. Vedanth to his house to learn his powers the following morning. He was ready to come to his house.

Mr. Vedanth was at the magnificent mansion of Dr. Sputnik. It was in a building with infinite floors. It all appeared to touch the sky as it was in the most gigantic stature. He was at the gate that was also very big. He did not know how to enter. He stood there humbly. Immediately the doll of a parrot came out of a box fixed on the gate to invite him in a polite manner.

'Hello, Good Morning...my dear guest...'

'Very Good morning...,' said Vedanth

'Welcome...welcome...welcome...welcome...welcome...,' said the doll.

'Thank you... Say once more... Say "welcome"... Your voice is very melodious...,' said Mr. Vedanth.

'Thank you...welcome...welcome...welcome...welcome...,' said the doll.

'Very sweet welcome...,' said Vedanth.

The gate was slowly opening while the sweet music was going on. It was very sonorous and melodious to listen to. His heart was rejoicing a lot. His happiness knew no bounds for he was delighted with the music.

Vedanth was at the door. The door was opening automatically. A hit song was playing to welcome him... Meanwhile, Dr. Sputnik came forward to receive him cordially. He said with all pride,

'Welcome to you...'

'Thank you...,' said Vedanth.

'Mr. Vedanth, this is my lab of wonders... I can show you all my contributions to science and technology,' said Sputnik.

'Very good...Congratulations...,' said Vedanth.

'Thank you... Let's first visit the three dolls to speak three different languages-international language, national language, and regional language... Listen...We find them wishing us "Good Morning", "namaskar", "namaskaramulu" twice with folded hands,' said Sputnik.

'We too wish you with folded hands...It is our custom...,' said Vedanth.

'Let's watch the wonders of this lab...Here is a peacock. See how it dances very gracefully when music goes on...,' said Sputnik.

'Very wonderful...wonderful indeed...it dances more gracefully than the real peacock...,' said Vedanth.

'Please stand here...without any motion...The small robot will tell your temperature, your weight, your heartbeat, your blood pressure level and your horoscope...,' said Sputnik.

'This is your temperature...This is your weight...This is your heartbeat...This is your blood pressure...This is your horoscope...,' said the robot sending out a report through a window.

'Very wonderful...,’ said Vedanth.

'You can see many more wonders...one after the other...I've various kinds of scientific equipment. I've prepared for all this by spending a lot and using my science brain. I've invested millions in this..., ' said Sputnik.

'All are very wonderful...I heartily congratulate you on your contributions and their performances...You're indeed great...I appreciate you in all respects. I've appreciated the bombs scientists invented in the age of science and technology. The bombs used in the Second World War were a thousand times more powerful than the ones used in the First World War. The bombs which we have today are a billion times more powerful than the ones used in the Second World War. The countries that have bombs are proud of themselves. If we use a bomb in the war-field today, there will be colossal loss. It can never save any life and man's race or any race on earth. This credit goes to the scientist like you...,' said Vedanth.

'I gave an idea...a tiny inkling to them. I was the key person in the manufacturing of bombs. For that I was highly felicitated...Now my country is on par with the advanced countries.' said Sputnik with pride and honour.

'Bombs for wars are there in the pockets but ideas about peace are at the heart...It is like sleeping with the bombs under the pillows and with our heads on pillows,' said Vedanth.

'All these are the products of science and technology...These are few among the many with me to my credit as a sign of my merit in the modern age...I've shown some to you... some samples. Next time you can see many more...,' said Sputnik, welcoming Mr. Vedanth for tea.

'What would you like to have...coffee or else tea... or cocktail i.e. coffee and tea together... Here are their buttons...coffee, tea, cocktail, sugar, etc. Here is the number button...What do you want...?' said Sputnik.

'Let's have coffee...,' said Vedanth.

 

'I touch the coffee button and the number button...I touch 'two'. Here we find two cups of relishing hot coffee...Okay these are not coffee cups but cups of coffee. Please have...,’ said Sputnik.

'Yes, it's very fine... very fine... very tasty... very delicious...Its flavour is super... unsurpassed...Congratulations...on your unfailing adventures...,' said Vedanth when he had coffee with all praises to the scientist.

'Thank you...,' said Sputnik with all pride.

While Vedanth was going to the door, He heard the words in the melodious tone, 'Thank you...u...u...u... Thank you...u...u...' Then Sputnik sent him off, waving. He was haughty in pose and unrivalled in contribution to science while bidding goodbye to his philosopher-guest, Vedanth who was approaching the gate. Again, the doll of a parrot came out of the box and said in the echoing voice,

'Thank you very much for your visit... Visit again... Visit again... Visit again... Visit again...Visit again...Visit again and again.'

'Very sweet voice...Say "visit again" again...' said Vedanth.

'Visit again...Visit again...Visit again...Visit again...Visit again...Visit again ' said the doll of a parrot as per the wish of Vedanth.

... ... ... ...

The next morning, an uninvited guest with his four companions was at the gate of Sputnik. The doll of a parrot came out of the box welcomed them, saying,

'Hello, Good Morning...my dear guest...'

'Very Good morning...,' said the uninvited guest with the companions.

'Welcome...welcome...welcome...welcome...welcome...'

'Thank you... Say once more...say, "Welcome"... Your voice is very melodious...,' said the uninvited guests

'Thank you...welcome...welcome...welcome...welcome...'

'Very sweet welcome...,' said the uninvited guests.

The gate was slowly opening while the sonorous music was going on. It was very melodious to listen to. Their hearts were rejoicing in it a lot. Their happiness knew no bounds for they were delighted with the music.

The five uninvited guests were at the door. The door was opening automatically. A super hit song was welcoming them...Meanwhile Dr. Sputnik came forward to receive them cordially. He said with all pride,

'Welcome to you...'

'Thank you...'

Sputnik received the guests cordially though they were not invited. Sputnik was suspecting them, as they looked different. They followed him to the exhibits one after the other. They followed him to the small robot to greet them in three languages. The situation appeared favourable for them to steal all the valuables. Two were ready with guns in their hands to shoot Sputnik if he prevented them from stealing. They were filling all the scientific valuable exhibits and all kinds of scientific equipment in their bags. Then Sputnik was shocked when he found them stealing...He said,

'O! Don't take them...'

'Shut up...' said the uninvited guests with the guns aiming at him.

'You, thieves...Who invited you...? I didn't invite you...You're uninvited guests... What are you taking? All the things are my life... I spent my life inventing or preparing all these things... Don't take them away...They are my near and dear...,' said Sputnik humbly.

'Shut up... Do you want to live or not...? If you want life...Shut up...Keep quiet... lest your life fly away to the sky,' said the uninvited guests.

'Don't take anything...I can't buy them again in my life... They cost millions and millions...,' said Sputnik with folded hands, crying like anything.

Sputnik's wife heard this and came to him crying. They threatened Sputnik and his wife, filled all the valuable things in his bags and were ready to go away.

'Please...Don't take them...' said his wife, touching their feet while her husband Sputnik was trying to call the police.

'Whom are you calling?' said they and snatched the smart phone from him.

All thought that the uninvited guests were thieves from nowhere. They stole all the money when they found it in a box and were going. Sputnik and his wife followed them to the door, saying

'For God's sake...don't take any thing....'

They tried their best, but it was in vain. While the thieves were approaching the door, they heard the words in the melodious music, 'Thank you'. Then Sputnik was unhappy and sad. He felt insulted and humiliated for the loss of his contributions to science while his wife was weeping all the time. Again, the doll of a parrot came out of the box and said to the thieves in the voice to resonate,

'Thank you very much for your visit...Visit again...Visit again...Visit again...Visit again...Visit again...Visit again and again.'

'Very sweet voice...Say "visit again" again...,’ said the thieves.

'Visit again...Visit again...Visit again...Visit again...Visit again...' said the doll of a parrot considering their request.

Sputnik and his wife fell in the ocean of tears. All his poses vanished, and his glory diminished against his expectations. They tried to get them back with the help of the police, but all their trials went futile. The things and the fame he enjoyed were not long lasting. He wanted to own them ever but failed to do so. Pride goes before destruction or a great loss, an irreparable loss.

10-Aug-2024

More by :  Dr. K. Rajamouly

Published: boloji.com
https://www.boloji.com/articles/54422/the-scientist

Bricks of Beauty

Bricks of Beauty

Beauty is an artful mansion,
Built with the bricks of aesthetics,
Stands on the foundation of truth,
To lead to enlightenment.

Beauty like the flower,
With fragrance at its heart
To sweeten the atmosphere
Natural in art, mold, and build.

Beauty like a sweet tune
With verity in its essence
The cuckoo knows its melody, 
To fill the hearts with bliss.

Beauty like a dance in grace,
Affluence in the swan’s pace
The steps taken in right rhythms,
For life to lead in righteous ways.  

Beauty like the poem in gush
With musings for an expression,
Woven with the threads of emotions,
For the creative joy of the supreme,

Beauty like light with its lusters,
That lead from pitch darkness,
To knowledge in flawlessness
For life to abide in gaiety.

For beauty and truth interwoven
Complementary to each other
One is not there, sans the other,
Bricks of beauty are tricks of truth.

Published: boloji.com
https://www.boloji.com/poem/29498/bricks-of-beauty
Date: 10-Aug-2024

Friday, August 9, 2024

"Hemanta Pramanik - Songs of Immortality"

              "Hemanta Pramanik as a Keen Observer of Man and Nature":  An Overview
                                With a Special Reference to Songs of Immortality


Hemanta Pramanik is one of the plants of poetic art, growing exuberant with fragrant flowers of poems in the garden of creative writing. As a poet, he carves a niche by virtue of his distinctive characteristics and special features for his thematic brilliance. He occupies a place in the galaxy of contemporary poets to shine in the literary firmament. He contributes the present collection of poems entitled Songs of Immortality to Indian English literature. It consists of the sections: Nature, Mankind, Love and Almighty. It features several poems that enriched the journals and the magazines of high repute like Poecrit, Metverse Muse, The Storm, Poets International, Deshkaal (The Mirror of Time, ISSN2320-012X) and so on. His poems have featured in many anthologies. He participated in Bengali poetry recitals and drama performances.

First, Hemanta Pramanik with the poetic bent of mind was under the inspiration of Shakespearean sonnets. He contributed poems to school and college magazines. He is a bilingual poet and writer in Bengali and English.   

Apart from being a poet, Hemanta Pramanik is a critic and translator. He is the Executive Editor of Deshkaal.  He is a teacher of English (Higher Secondary School) by profession and a creative writer by passion.  He has indomitable attraction for art, music, literature and culture.  He has unique stature as a poet. 

What according to Hemanta Pramanik is a poet? The poet is above all to state the facts with minute details and show the ways to the human race for enlightenment,

The poet forever
Insights beforehand,
                        Always a forerunner,
                        Columbus on a new world                                                       'POET'

The poet always lives and leads the race to the truth in the human ways for humanity, 'illuminating the world thoughts'. He detests the barbaric ways in present society that lead the race to brutality. This collection reflects the truth that he has a sensitive heart to evince his concern for society and its welfare and inquisitive mind to portray his concern for society through the medium of creative writing especially the genre of poetry.  

Pramanik loves poetry for its unrivalled characteristics aiming at messages. It presents him comforts, smiles, and joys in all respects. For him, smile is poetry,

...as the poetry
that soothes my mind 
with joy an peace
rejuvenating me anew

Poetry, in fact, has all powers to redeem the world from sins, delight the souls in woes and appease the hearts in aches.  

The poet can witness what the sun cannot. Pramanik, as a poet, truly presents his observations in his poetry,
 
                       To sing the song of peace
           On lyrics of hope and freedom                                         'FANCY FLIGHT'       

Whoever holds a mirror to his observations is a poet to record the events, feelings, thoughts, findings, and all taking place in the society around him. It is the poet's bounden responsibility to pen by portraying them with snapshot details.  As a poet, he observes nature, life, the life around him (society), love, God and so on.

Pramanik adores Nature. He finds her beauties in his beloved to bestow on him full of gaieties,
 
That my love for Nature.
Her beauties I find in you,
you are my Nature, I view.
... ... ... ...
                        Your fascinating face resembles
a freshly blossomed flower
                        whose beauty mesmerises 
                        me like a butterfly
                        charmed to its loveliness                                        'You Are my Nature'

Pramanik personifies nature as Nature by giving the status of divinity.  Nature is God's best creation with fascinating sights, sounds and scents for the rapture of every creature as the most wonderful nature on earth,

With great wonder before His creative arts
                        The mystic beauty as pleasant pleasure
                        To make me humbled my enlightened spurts             'EVENING BLISS'

As a poet and man, Pramanik feels crazed with the spells and wonders of nature. He feels inspired to write poetry for the gush of his ideas in the natural overflow of emotions,   

Seeing Nature grows my rhyme.                                            'AUTUMN'

As a lover of nature, Pramanik describes the beauty of the celestial objects like the moon in the night in the photographic way, 

Autumnal full moon night
awakes whole right,
drenched in moonlight
fairest of all nights                                       'THE AWAKENING NIGHT'

Pramanik as a lover of nature describes rains, the moon, clouds, storms, green fields, trees, herbs, shrubs, grass, birds, animals, flowers, bees, caterpillars, butterflies, the sky with stars, mountains, hills, plains, rivers, lambs and lions so on. He describes all flora and fauna for he loves them to the core, 

The lambs and lions I see in Nature
The hills and the plains exist ever,
Where blue skies mirror upon and vistas
Plants and animals of infinite secies.
    ... ... ... ... ...
Wonderfully my quest makes the sense
Butterflies all creations His omnipresence.                     'MY QUEST'  

Even the beauty of every blade of grass with its flowers impressed Wordsworth. So is the case with Pramanik. He expresses his feelings for all 'greeneries of lush green'. He feels impressed by the shines and sheens of the shrub,

Confident and conspicuous the shrub
Whispers in his sweet musings
                        'I could make the Earth heavenly
                        and hospitable to all earthlings.'                                  'FIRST BLOOM'

As a poet and man, Pramanik adores the sun, 'Our beauteous world heaven'.  The sun gives us warmth and light-life to all creatures,

Yet the sun glows the horizon
fading the darkest height,
of hope the rays bright
forever enlivens the human   'THE SUN GLOWS OVER THE HORIZON'

Pramanik's descriptions of natural objects are kaleidoscopic. The vivid depiction of the starlit nights is the highlight of the collection of poems, 

Eternal twinklers of sky in great unison,
Of black canvas they come out more shining,
... ... ... ... ... ...
                       This bliss my soul preserves as pure treasure
So aesthetic far off mundane measure           'EVENING BLISS'

Pramanik admits time's greatness in 'LAST DAY'. For him, Time is the true teacher to teach realities and actualities, truths and facts in the journey of life,
'Time, the great counsellor
turns up then
with consoling speeches,
  
Pramanik admits that time brings about innumerable changes in life and its stages, the cycle of seasons in nature, the lifestyles in society and so on.

As a poet, Pramanik personifies time as Time, giving the status of divinity to it. He concurs with the invincible powers of time as it conquers us all in the universe, 

In the deep, unfathomable sea of Time,
                        Like ships, float all the earthly, mortal things,
The violent waves tune down our lives' chime
                        To fate surrender we, the human beings.           'Love-The Panacea of Life'

Time creates history. History functions as the record of time. It has powers to witness good and bad. When man resorts to crimes like rapes, murders, and all incidents of violence, 

... justice waits Time's turn,
all in the society
the humanitarians forever
tortured community.                                          'MEND YOUR WAYS'

As a poet, Pramanik feels sorry for life is lacking in essence and devoid of sense, Life is supposed to have sense and essence, values and virtues as the sign of humanity,
         
My mind aches for essence
of life that purifies the soul.  

Life is after all a mixture of tears and smiles, up and downs, ebbs and tides, defeats, and victories. Pramanik is of the opinion,

Human life itself, you know, a struggle
Either royal victory or defeat fatal         'ODE TO SIRAJ-UD-DAULAH'

Life is not a bed of roses. Defeats or failures in life are common and compulsory. We have to concur with the failures when something or someone conquers us. We should accept them as per the idea expressed in the poem, 'DEFEAT' that 'without it life not the pure gold'      

Like the Romantics, Pramanik escapes on the wings of imagination from the world of stress and strain, tears, and fears of reality to the realms of fancy for bliss like the caged bird to crave for freedom for its flight in the sky, and sing in delight in peace,

Swooping down to the earth
  Flying up to the sky
When dissatisfaction grown                                 'FANCY FLIGHT'

Pramanik delineates life and its journey through the stages of birth, childhood, youth, middle age, old age, and death. Life is a series of vicissitudes and changes in its sojourn against man's wishes. 

Human life
a pictorial journey.
An individual self
Stuffed with events
ornamented with experiences, 
a phenomenal manifestation.                                  'JOURNEY' 

Man's birth initiates life to traverse through childhood, youth, manhood or womanhood, old age, ultimately to culminate in death. Birth is holy for the parental loving care. The baby lisps and toddles in childhood and grows to have education for enlightenment. Then childhood proceeds to youth to marry for a family and its progress and harmony. Youth passes on to manhood or womanhood to win goals as per will. Middle age proceeds to old age. As per the poet, old age 'resembles yellow leaf' and it is like 'a dying plant' in the poem, 'OLD AGE'. Old age advances to inevitable death, the end of life in the poem, 'APPREHENSION', "We fear the cruel truth in life'. The poet realistically presents life that exists between birth 'a good start' and death, endless nothingness.     
As a social critic, Pramanik focuses on social evils and the incidents of violence as he has concern for the society, he lives in. He opines that the man today has forgotten the principles that are righteous by virtue of his insight. He has learnt gimmicks and tactics instead of principles and scruples. In the age of science and technology, man is indifferent to those principles despite his having insight. He turns the heaven-like-earth a hell-like-earth for his vested wants and selfish goals. As a result, humanity has become topsy-turvy against the ideals of man in principle, 

Self his frequent haunts
Believes in false stunts.
                        Ideals in litterbin
                        Humanity with lost sheen                       'KEY PRINCIPLES'

Society today is full of evils like corruption, deception, and exploitation. It witnesses the incidents of violence like rapes, killings, frauds, thefts and so on and cuts a sorry figure. The acts of man are very painful and sinful. In the human garden today, there are villain-like-weeds especially rapists in overgrowth in the present society,

Women violators,
the social weeds,
                        may grow rampant.                               'BLACK DAY'

           Teenaged girl smeared with blood
Torn dresses soaked in blood

                        Lying dead with unspoken pain
Lost virginity wailing in vain,          'Hush Nothing Happened'
                    
                       Violation of virginity a game            'WHO DEFLOWER WOMEN'

In society, the rich are to exploit the poor and rob them of their sweat as a clear sign of exploitation. Pramanik expresses his feelings on this in his Preface, "From the times of ancient civilization to that of space expedition, the exploited, the discriminated, the back-warded and h marginal still endeavour to relish the taste and flavour of happiness in life out of their day-night slavery and diligence..."

Pramanik wishes the welfare of the poor, the working class, and the labourers. They should be free from that slavery,

Slavery the imposed fortune,
curse be their poverty,                                              'THE POOR'

As a poet of humanity, Pramanik shares their suffering and tears when he finds them cry and suffer forever,

the sufferers for ever
The pale of humanity.                                                   'THE POOR'

Pramanik voices the sense of optimism that the poor and the working class will be free from their suffering,

Their grievance a depression 
                         Can't dim your glory long.
                        You stay unhurt though ages                                       'HERITAGE'
        
      As a poet and man, Pramanik is against gender discrimination. Both man and woman are equal in all respects. He feels sorry for feticide, the killing of fetuses, female babies in the womb, having preference for the male...  

Pramanik sympathises with the victim-martyrs in Pulwama terrorist attack. He calls it a coward's act. 
                       
    Pramanik excellently presents the innocence of man to turn the earth a paradise or a heaven. He should possess the qualities of head and heart for that,

Child's innocence, flower's purity
Ant's insight, birth birds' unity
                        Ours are these simples
                        Should be life's principles.                    'KEY PRINCIPLES'
 
As a poet and man, Pramanik shares the tears of the suffering of humanity due to various incidents of violence,

In this riot-ridden world it often seems
Most of us to the toll of mass-killings,
Fossilized at the bloodshed of victims.      'PAINFUL TOMORROW'

  Man is indifferent to others' suffering.  The world today is full of violence as its people are over selfish and greedy, 'Myself the focus, for others no feelings.' The poet detests the perilous situation of humanity today.     
Man-to-man relation must be fair. Man must be man and appear man. There must not be fancy-dress show to deceive others. Man must not be a goat-skilled-wolf or cow faced man to make others believe that they are innocent. Pramanik hates hypocrisy and double standards.  In the poem "Camouflage", he hates dual or pretentious nature,

A fierce wolf
resembling a timid sheep,
                       A crow incognito
dancing as a peacock
                        A cunning fox
reigning as forest-king
                         ... ... ...
A die-hard diplomat
Behaving a noble fellow,
an innocent face
                        Hovering cruel smile

Pramanik likes the society ideal with cordial human relations and amiable humane concerns for harmony of the human race. When humanity has worthy relations and due concerns for tie-strong relations, we enjoy life-long love. He presents man-to-woman relationship, giving respect to woman for her role as mother,

Woman no doubt the household treasure,
Her world of love none could measure,
She's the image runner of motherhood              'WOMAN'

  Pramanik has love and honour for woman for she brings forth a baby to be motherly and brings up fondly as mother with care and concern for the baby in the haven of her lap with her wishes for the offspring to come up in life,

A mother is mother
Her name no other,
And the mother's lap
Sun can't warm up,
The pleasant place on earth
First right after one's birth.                            'UNIVERSAL'

As a poet and man, Pramanik lovingly recalls his mother's love with deep feelings in his heart. It clearly reflects his autobiographical element,

                Both our lives attached by cord
We enjoyed cries, smiles and games,
Encompasses her sweet suveillance
From all my failures to fames.                     'MEMORY HER NAME'

Good relations in the past continue to persist and cling in the form of sweet memories in the present.  Memory is the blessing of man to recall the past.

To maintain double standards is against man's nature and its welfare. It is a cunning art, the most unwelcome gesture. 

A masked appearance
                        a worm in flower,
                        always a red alert,
                        Camouflage whatsoever
                        evil art.
                        ... ... ...
                       This dual identity 
in teeth and claws
a threat to humanity.                                     'CAMOUFLAGE'
Pramanik referring to religion, he says that it does not teach any discriminations and disparities between man and man. Religion is humanity and humanity is religion. It is the truth and sense of humanity. He appeals the sidetracked society to learn the fact,

Religion so-called before you
Wrapped with sparkling fringes,
Explore the inner view                                      'Delving Deeper'

Pramanik believes in love as the chief element to establish human relationships and enjoy humanity at large. He believes in the powers of love as Robert Frost believes, 'Earth is the right place for love'  

Pramanik is the lover of humanity. He feels that love, the deepest emotion in life, paves a way for humanity and the bridge for family relations, conjugal relations and finally human relations that are essential for the harmony of humanity. The love for the human race is the only antidote for life,

Love, the panacea for life, in the turmoil
Helps us survive in the devoid of faith,             'Love-The Panacea of Life'

Pramanik finds the conjugal love, 'Conjugal love at stake' in the modern age against the principles of love in the poem, 'TRENDS', 

Love solves all problems when we think that we are one, all in one. We belong to humanity. The belligerent nature of enemy countries vanishes when their hearts are full of love. Negotiations or interferences are required for 'global tolerance', amicable solution for the restoration of peace,

When countries in enemity
No role of Narada,
Rather one's interference
Might teach global tolerance.                      'Love-The Panacea of Life'

 . For the poet, love is like the breeze that pleases all with its cool touch. The cool touch is like human touch in love, 

... ... peoples live unloved
O Love, help me make them loved                            'LOVE ETERNAL'

Pramanik has love for his nation, motherland. He feels pride for his nation. He craves integrity and unity in diversity. He is an Indian. His all are Indian. His patriotic fervour is evident in his poetry,

I am none,
    No other than
A proud Indian                                                 AN INDIAN SPEAKING'

As a poet and man, craves for the amelioration of the human race. He says that it flourishes by means of all virtues and values,

One can exhist
only in sacrifices
noble deeds                                                           'LAST DAY'

As a poet of humanity, he appeals to the human beings to be humane and enrich the most revered essential quality of humanity,

Humans! Be humane
                       With moral acumen,
                        Damn so the insane                                          'AN INDIAN SPEAKING'

Pramanik's poetry presents a message to humans as a well-wisher of human race. For him, religion is humanity and humanity is religion to aim at the harmony of humanity, 

Believe in religion with is humanity,
                        Bind all earthlings by love and integrity,
                        Make so endeared our world family
                        Building here heaven with peace and glee.              'WORLD FAMILY'
                   
From the literary circles, Hemanta Pramanik deserves encomiums for his thematic brilliance depicted in excellent modes of expression. He employs natural imagery for pictorial richness. He may be a silent spectator, but he is a keen observer of social evils and incidents of violence in the domain of the present society and mirrors all those with poetic dexterity. He rises to be a satirist with his poetic aim to reform society. The collection reflects the fact that he is a poet of humanity and nature. He deserves all acclaim as a poet of par excellence.
                 Songs of Immortality (As Foreword), Authors press: New Delhi, 2020 

Works Cited

Pramanik, Hemantha. Songs of Immortality, Authors Press: New Delhi, 2020

Published: Englit Vol: 3 2024

Saturday, August 3, 2024

The Writer

'Hello merchant..., I'm in a hurry...Pack the sugar you've weighed...,' said the customer in a hasty manner.

Satish, the merchant didn't respond to the customer, as he was lost in reading a novel. Later he learnt that the customer was in a hurry, and so he directed her by the hand to wait for a while.

'Hello merchant, I’ve to make tea ready for my husband now. He's to attend the office very soon. He's very punctual... He'll be angry with me if I'm late... Hello!' said the customer.

Satish was still going through the novel. After completing the first leaf of two pages in its manuscript, he picked up to read the old notebook from which he had detached it.

'Hello, mind your business... Don't forget that you are a businessman. If you don't pack soon, I'm leaving for the other shop...,' said the customer.

'Hello Susheela, pack the sugar with some other paper, a piece of newspaper,' said Satish to his wife and continued to read the novel in manuscript. It was very interesting for him.

Susheela came from inside and packed the sugar. The customer left the shop with the sugar packet happily.

~*~

What happened to Satish that morning? It was worth knowing for everyone. When the customer came to buy sugar, Satish was in the shop.  He picked sugar, weighed it and was ready to pack it. He picked up a long notebook to detach the first sheet from it and pack the sugar. Suddenly his sight fell to the beginning of the novel in the first sheet detached from the notebook. That paper with beautiful handwriting was like the face of a beautiful woman decked with ornaments. The title of the matter was like the vermilion on her forehead. He started to read with interest. He continued to read it at a stretch. It was a novel interesting to him. That is what happened to Satish that morning.

Satish was a merchant but had an extensive interest in reading books. He used to read any piece of newspaper or any other before packing anything on its sale in the shop. He used to enjoy reading newspaper clippings or notebooks sitting in his shop. He got all these old papers and all written notes from a street hawker who bought them from different people. He believed that all the writings flow from the reservoirs of knowledge. It is not an ordinary thing to write to reflect the fountain of knowledge.

The merchant Satish bought old books and newspapers from many street hawkers for the use of packing the things. He folded the piece of paper into the cone shape and filled it with the things or provisions. He had stocks of all old newspapers and old notebooks for that purpose.

It was a novel to depict human values and life truths with the title Life Tides. Satish was aware of the travails in the literary journey of writers as he read about them in some newspaper. He did not know who the writer was. He enquired with the street hawker on his next visit.

'Where have you bought this long notebook with the novel in manuscript...?' said Satish earnestly.

'I bought old newspapers and notebooks from various people in various places... How can I remember all those people...? I got this from a person... I can't remember his name...?' said the street hawker.

'It doesn't possess any name on the cover,' said Satish.

'Okay, if it's possible, I'll enquire about the man to have written the novel,' said Street hawker impatiently.

'Enquire... Let's wish the best...,' said Satish while the street hawker was leaving the shop for his work.

Satish was lost in deep thoughts about the writer while his wife Susheela was busy selling the provisions to the customers:

The writer is good at writing novels. He's good at narration, lucid in expression and broad in vision. He's the architect of literature to reflect human values and professional ethics for the people of future generations. He carves a niche for himself and creates a history in the literary firmament. The writer is no doubt brilliant...

I hope that the writer hails from a poor family. If he had been rich, he would have published the novel... He would have got fame and name by this time...

 The writer can produce excellent novels to reflect his thematic brilliance and narrative excellence...

The novel shouldn't go unheeded in the form of waste newspapers...I don't let it hide itself as a hidden jewel...

The novel should come to the readers... It should enlighten the readers with its thematic content...

I publish it...I should publish it at any cost...

It's my minimum responsibility to publish it as a man of literary taste in particular...and human concern in general...

I am ready to publish it as the patron... The novel deserves awards and awards...'

 ~*~

Satish sent the manuscript to the publishers. The publishers were happy to publish it. His happiness knew no bounds on its publication. He waited for its publication and copy in his hand.

The novel Life Tides was in markets and libraries. Satish also received a copy of the novel. It drew the attention of great critics and regular readers with their due response and great admiration for it.

The novel achieved awards at the state and the national levels. Satish was very happy in publishing it. He felt pride for that. He felt that he had done due justice to the novel for its success.

The writer, Raman was not aware of the availability of his novel in the print form in libraries. He was economically poor but academically sound. He wrote many like this, but he did not send them for publication. He read very extensively and wrote excellently to attract the attention of the readers but remained unknown to the reading public.

Raman in his usual visits visited the Government library in his town, Vikas Nagar. He found a new novel in the rack of the library. It recently arrived for the readers at the library.  He as usual picked it up happily. He sat to read the novel.

Raman's face glowed with innumerable charms while he was reading the novel. There were infinite smiles on his face. The library goers sitting beside him noticed him smiling openly. He was the person to come to the library everyday. They never saw him smiling any time. He was all the time serious in reading. For the first time, they saw him smiling heartily. The man sitting nearby started to speak to him,

'Raman, you're very happy today...Has your wife delivered a baby or twins...?'

'No...,' said Raman.

'Raman, have you won the lottery?'

'No...,' said Raman.

'May I share your happiness...your smiles?' said the man.

'Yes, it's my novel... It's my dear novel... the novel written by me...It's my novel published last month... the last month itself... I'm very glad to tell you about my novel...' said Raman very happily.

'Wow, you're a writer...This is your novel published last moth...' said the man happily, as he found some scintillating smile in Raman's face for the first time.

'Yes...yes… it's my novel...my title...my title, Life Tides, my chapters, my beginning... my conclusion... and my all... written by me... by my hand...Goddess Saraswati bestowed on me the art of writing...,' said Raman to the man

'Congratulations, my dear,' said the man.

'Thanks...Thanks a lot...,' said Raman happily.

Meanwhile another regular library visitor interfered to share the happy feelings of the author, Raman.  

'Congratulations...Show me your novel... Let me see...'

 'This is my novel...the novel written by me...,' said Raman.

'This is a famous novel... I hope you haven’t seen the reviews of this novel... There were reviews last week...This got awards at the state and the national levels,' said he with all smiles.

'I see...I'm not aware of the reviews. I'm unfortunate to remain unknown to the readers... to the reality that I've written this novel...,' said Raman.

All the library visitors gathered there to greet Raman. His happiness knew no bounds. The tears shed in happiness welled his eyes, were in shine in full glory.    

'Your name isn't there...,' said someone.

'No, my name isn't there... but it's my novel... Some patron, Satish published it,' said Raman with a deep feeling in his face.

'You can enquire about Satish...,' said another one.

Raman was happy. He went home happily. He searched at length for the manuscripts of the novel in his house. He was not able to trace out it.

'Anusha, what happened to my manuscripts...?' said Raman to his wife.

'What manuscripts...?' said Anusha.

'The manuscripts of my novel, my poetry, my short stories...,' said Raman with all anxieties and curiosities.

'I sold all the old newspapers and all your old notebooks to a street hawker...when came to me one day. I sold them off to him as all of them had gathered dust...full of dust,' said Anusha unhesitatingly.

'Why didn't you inform me?' said Raman.

'That's all waste...None is going to read that stuff and bulk nowadays...in the age of internet generation...,' said Anusha.

'You don't know many things...What you know is a little not much in this regard... A patron published my novel, using my manuscripts... Many readers are reading my novel... My novel is in our town library also... It's everywhere...,' said Raman in a cheerful mood.

 'See dear. What I did innocently turned favorable to you indirectly... See, I've done great...  I'm great...I'm great indeed,' said Anusha.

'You're not great...I'm also not great. One thing is that I've Goddess Vani's profuse blessings... I've written this novel by virtue of the blessings of the goddess...Her blessings are great... My novel is great... My novel is great...,' said Raman.

 'I congratulate you on the publication of your novel...,' said Anusha.

'Thank you...,' said Raman.

'I hope that the publisher will publish your poetry and short fiction,' said Anusha.

'I don't know who received the manuscripts of my poetry and short fiction. You sold all my manuscripts to the street hawker,' said Raman.

'Some how somebody published your novel...That is what I want...Anyhow you aren't publishing any,' said Anusha.

'But my name isn't there in the novel...,' said Raman.

'How is it possible...?' said Anusha.

'That's also my feeling... My novel... the product of my hard work...is without my name,' said Raman, weeping bitterly for the unexpected turn of events.

Anusha tried to console her husband, but he wept inconsolably:

'Hello! I want to tell you good news.' said Raman to his senior in studies.

'What is that good news...?' said his senior.

'A patron published my novel... My name isn't there in the novel, but my novel is there in every library. He got the manuscript of my novel from the bulk of old newspapers and notebooks sold by my wife to the street hawker who in turn sold them to the merchant, Satish in Bhagya Nagar. He got my manuscript from the bulk of my writings,' said Raman confidently.

'Whose name is there?' said the senior.

'The patron's name, Satish...,' said Raman.

'Why didn't he mention your name...?' said the senior.

'He didn't mention my name as it was not in the manuscript of my novel... I thought of a pen name for my authorship for all my writings like the authors, 'O. Henry', 'Sri Sri' and 'Karunasri'. I didn't finalize any pen name, nor did I mention my name in the manuscript,' said Raman.

'O, you've done a great thing on your part... Great people do great things...Tell me how you claim your authorship... How do you say that it’s your novel...?' said the senior doubtfully.

'Yes, my novel...It's my novel...,' said Raman.

'Where is the proof...You say all things... It's a futile exercise... a cry in wilderness...,' said the senior mockingly.

'It achieved awards...There will be a function in appreciation of the novel...,' said Raman, while his senior was leaving for his world of routines.

Raman expected good advice from his senior library visitor for reading books, but he felt disappointed in his effort. He did not know whom to tell, where to go, what to do, how to achieve his goal. His wife, Anusha consoled him not to feel by saying,

'God is great...God is great...Let's go to Bhagyanagar...Let's catch a train now and attend the function.'

'Okay...Let's test our luck by attending the function...Fortunes turn like a wheel,' said Raman.

~*~

It was Ravindra Bharathi named after the poet of the universe, Rabindranath Tagore. All the literature lovers were present. It was full as many literary gems were present. There were only two seats left vacant in the corner. Raman and his wife Anusha occupied the seats.

There was anchoring going on. The most famous anchor, Suma was there to call the luminaries to the dais and called them. The world-famous novelist presided over the function on invitation to share the dais. Then she called Satish, the patron in the publication of the novel. Raman heard Suma calling the patron's name. He learnt that the patron was present. The function was going on in a befitting manner. A selected few were talking on the novel among the thunderous applause. Raman was listening to them silently with an undiminished charm on his face. Anusha was enjoying her husband Raman's smile all the while.

It was the turn of the patron, Satish to speak, and Suma called him respectfully. He came to the podium. He was to tell all about the novel in detail. He started to speak:

‘I'm Satish... I'm a merchant by profession and lover of literature by predilection... I published the novel as I have respect for literature...

Literature must be there to widen the mental horizon and sharpen the intellect of the people, the reading public...

I don't let literature die...I let it flourish to cherish...

I hope the author is poor...He’s not able to publish it in the age of indifferent attitude towards creative writing. The writer needs to spend like anything, as he's to face financial hurdles in the publication of his creative writings on his own...

I like the novel very much for its content and concept, presentation, and expression, and so on. I can't tell you about the novel in full detail, as I'm not the writer... The only writer can do it better.  Neither a critic nor a reader can tell you about a novel in clear detail. The writer is the authority... I wish that the writer should be here...

I don't know where that great writer is...

If the writer were here, it would be better for all of us to listen to him happily, but he isn't here... I don't know where he is...

I'm here, sir...I'm here, sir...,' said Raman loudly in response to Satish to the surprise of all the members present in the hall.

The writer's sudden appearance silenced all and calmed the hall. There was a pin drop silence. After the silence for a while, all found the writer approaching the dais with all dignity and identity. They started to clap and did so until he reached the podium. There were tears of joy in his eyes while he was approaching the stage. He was on the dais. He started to speak while all were giving a big round of applause.

It's unbelievable...the most unbelievable event in my life...the new sunrise in my life...the most memorable tiding...Life is the wonder of wonders... I never expected to be here...

At the outset, I wholeheartedly thank Mr Satish for the publication of my novel... In this world, I never expected a person to do favor to a financially poor writer like me. I am happy that there are good people in the present society...

My wife who is sitting in the corner sold away my notebook with the manuscript of my novel along with old newspapers...My wife indirectly helped me get my novel published by Satish...It's a blessing in disguise...I ask her to rise from her seat...’

~*~

Raman's wife Anusha stood up with folded hands and humbly greeted all, bowing her head. The president of the function called her to the dais. She came to the dais bowing her head with folded hands. All clapped long once again. She occupied a seat on the dais.  She was in excessive happiness. She had all smiles throughout the function. Then Raman continued to speak:

‘In my town, there are some literature lovers but here there are many... I'm happy to find many people to attend this function...

Life Tides is my novel to hold a mirror to the society today. It deals with the uncertainties, irregularities, inequalities, and injustices that spoil the spectrum of the present society. It's man who plays the role of spoiling the society. Man is the biggest enemy of man today...

In this society, the innocent or the humble are becoming victims. They're facing innumerable problems unexpectedly. In the present society, we don't predict what will happen after one minute. The virtues and values of the innocent and the humble go unrewarded. The innocent and the humble also go unnoticed. We're accepting unhealthy practices and unwelcome trends without expressing our resistances and reluctances...

The hero of the novel Life Tides is principled. He's for the welfare of the people. He sacrifices his life for the sake of the people. They regard him very highly. In spite of his high regard for the people and human relations, a few people evolved a secret plan to murder him. They failed in their brutal attempts to murder him. What was the role of the people when a virtuous man suffered a lot though he wasn't faulty and guilty...?

Life advances in the incessant flow of time, facing hurdles and hazards in the path of life...The hero of the novel faces numerous problems for a long time...The hero with virtues and values will ultimately achieve his goal after all efforts... Life appears a success after a series of failures...

Life is a series of missed opportunities... In time, tides rise and fall in the ocean of life against one's expectations...This is what my novel aims at in telling its readers in quest of a new sunrise...’

~*~

There was a big round of applause for the achievement of the writer. Raman was extremely happy for the opportunity given.

The authorities came forward along with Satish and felicitated Raman as the writer of the novel in a befitting manner for the pleasure of all the members present in the function.
 

03-Aug-2024

More by :  Dr. K. Rajamouly

Published: boloji.com
https://www.boloji.com/articles/54413/the-writer

Poetic Heights

Poetry is not just music,
To be rhythmic,
Poetry is not just didactic,
To be thematic,
So, it is not just sound and sense,
To be its essence,
Poetry is not just a narration,
To be a tale
Poetry is not just dramatic,
To be a play,
Poetry is not just suspense,
To be a detective.
Poetry not just parts of speech,
To be wordy.
Poetry is not just figures of speech,
To be imagery.
Poetry is not just specific,
To fit in a definition,
Poetry is all in one,
But not completely won.
Poetry rises from the heart,
Composed in mind for art.
To speak of the soul
With the purpose sole.
No poem can ever be square,
Like ‘a’ plus ‘b’ whole square
Poetry has majestic heights,
Imagination knows its depths,
A poem fails to fulfill.

03-Aug-2024
More By  : Dr. K. Rajamouly

Published: boloji.com
https://www.boloji.com/poem/29488/poetic-heights

Sunday, July 28, 2024

Drop of Water

Tiny but myriad in stature
life in vigor to offer,
but mere the drop of water

the eyes see it fall from the blue

shiny as a pearl in shine
a steep flight as the right
a fall for verdant wealth

seeds sown deep rise to the lower skies

a sojourn from ethereal to real
a fall to fill a heaven thru the heart
open to the rays for solar secrets

the shower knows where the ray kisses

a fest at its best is manifest
a pretty damsel in full dazzle
a bridge in her somersault

a gaze at huge charms for sweet chasms

a picture beyond skilled brushes
in heavenly seven, shines in its reigns
to say it is not tiny but shiny

a majestic show in the sky in magic ways

the drop of water and the rays
a matrimonial communion
for a paradise of off-springs

hearts celebrate when it feasts the eyes

it excels the pictures of painters
in imitation of its colours
the aesthetic heart charters.


28-Jul-2024
More By  : Dr. K. Rajamouly

Published: boloji.com
https://www.boloji.com/poem/29482/drop-of-water

Bridge

I'm a rivulet to flow between the two villages, Rampur and Sompur. Geography calls me Jeevan Dhara. I offer water to both the villages for the lives and livelihood of the people in the area. I go on flowing further supplying water to the areas ahead in my journey. All, including the sky, think that I am fortunate to flow on earth between the two villages on my banks in the region. They, however, don't know how I'm suffering from agony. The agony is unseen and unheard by them.

The people in the two villages are not happy despite their wealth and progress in agriculture. I flow to their fields for good crops, making their lands fertile. But the villages are in perennial clashes due to their prejudices based on caste and creed, high and low, rich and poor. I can't tolerate the clashes ever rising between the people of the two villages. I don't know what I should tell them to forget the clashes and establish good relations between the people of the two villages.

O, Sky! Listen to the story of the people in the two villages. They aren't grateful for my free offers to them. They are quarrelling against my wishes. You can listen to the story with all attention:      

There were tournaments, going on to encourage all the players in all the villages to establish good relations among themselves.  There were players to play all kinds of games in every village. They participated in all the events: games and sports like running, jumping, badminton Kabaddi, tennis, shuttle and so on. The sports and games authority took nominations for all games and sports from all villages of the region. They were conducting all games and sports with the teams from all the villages in the rural tournaments in Gandhinagar just away from the villages in October that year.

The sports and games of the tournaments commenced one fine day. That day the teams from the two villages, Rampur and Sompur were to play Kabaddi first. The umpire administered an oath to the players:

"We're the players to play games and sports with sporting spirit. Our play will be fair without resorting to the violation of rules and any sort of violence… “

"We follow the instructions of the umpire and help the game to go on in a smooth manner until all games and sports are over for a grand success..."

"We play like brothers akin as per the rules of the sports authority."

The umpire introduced all the players of both the teams of the two villages in the presence of the chief guest who came to inaugurate the tournaments. He whistled for the start of the game. All the players were good at playing kabaddi. The players of the teams entered the court for their play. They were very eager to play well and win the game, and the umpire was very happy for the promises of players, and he expected them to play in a fair way.

The teams of Rampur and Sompur in the court of Kabaddi were looking at each other with different expressions. Cordial relations and sporting spirit seemed to be missing in the hearts of players. The captains explained the knacks and tricks to the players of respective teams in the court.

Rampur team was playing well and was scoring more points than those of Sompur team. They were feeling jubilant as they were going to win the game. While playing, they were happily dancing as they had all hopes of winning the game. They were cheering loudly.

The players of Sompur felt humiliation. The predicament of defeat was insulting them. The people from both the villages were, however, supporting their respective teams by shouting and clapping.

When the best player of the Rampur team came to the side of Sompur team to get some more points, all together surrounded him, and one player deliberately and secretly hit him on the back of his neck. He fell onto the court. He was not able to rise. None except the player who hit him knew the reason for his fall. In his place, another player came as a substitute to him in the Rampur team.

The Sompur team won the game. You can understand how the team won the game. In fact, the Rampur Team had to win surely. There was an unknown miracle, happened in their victory.

The supporters and the players of Rampur team started quarreling with the members and supporters of Sompur team. It came to severe blows. It became very serious. The playing court became battlefield creating a problem for the umpire.

The umpire interfered to disrupt the mobs involved in the quarrel. With a lot of difficulty, the quarrel subsided. In such circumstances the tournament was postponed.

All that game proved that there were clashes between the people of two villages. Clashes between the players of two villages continued thereafter.

~*~

I, as a rivulet, give life and livelihood to the villagers, flowing between the two villages. I wished that they should forget their clashes and quarrels. The people of the two villages were living on my banks but they were never friendly. They were like the North Pole and the South Pole.

The people of the two villages were like the primitives of two different races who always fought with each other.

The reasons for their clashes were that the people in the villages belonged to different creeds and beliefs. The people of one village felt superior to those of the other village. That was the main reason for the clashes between the people of the two villages.

They had ego and false prestige for themselves. One did not bow to the other, as it was their prestige question.

The villages were otherwise self-sufficient in all respects. They were good at crop production. They were striving hard to stand first in all the competitions. The irony was that they were not able to digest victory of the other, as there was no love-relation and cordial concern between them.

The people of the villages felt that their villages were kingdoms, and they were unrivalled kings. They did not care for each other, as they felt superior to others. Therefore, there was no friendship possible between them.

The best player in the Rampur team died while undergoing treatment in the hospital. The news of his demise worsened the situation by adding fuel to the fire. They were very angry with the people and the players of Sompur all the time.  

The people of Rampur wanted to have vengeance on those of Sompur who were responsible for the death of their best player on one hand and felt insulted for the defeat in the game of Kabaddi. They crossed me as a rivulet, Jeevan Dhara, swimming and attacked the people of Sompur on the other side. They went on quarreling with them sometime. When they listened to the whistling of the police, they escaped from the spot.

Whenever there was no flow in my rivulet, they felt at ease to cross the rivulet and quarreled with each other. There was no flow for two years. They faced acute drought in the area. They ascribed the acute drought due to their clashes resulted due to their prejudices and false prestige.

I was not flowing between the villages watching all their clashes silently for two years. I felt like finding a solution to their clashes. I thought of a solution silently,

‘There must be a bond of love and affection between them to have unity in diversity.’

When they were the pathetic plight, incidentally, two women--one from Rampur and one from Sompur-- fell in a dream and the next morning they told other women what I had given a good counsel to them. They told other women in turn to tie the rakhee, rakshak bandhan, the bridge to build the bond of fraternity, to the wrists of men of the other village to establish good relations.

The women of Rampur tied Raksha Bandhan to the men in Sompur. The men welcomed the women as sisters. They were extremely happy.

The women of Sompur tied Raksha Bandhan to the wrists of men of Rampur. The men welcomed the women cordially. They were very happy like brothers and sisters. There was an enormous change in their attitude.

Some men of principles in both the villages felt in their hearts the same and expressed their views appreciating my counsel to the women in their dream,

"O Jeevan Dhara, you are our life, meant for our life and livelihood. You keep the people of the two villages away from their quarrel by your full flow... When you flow, we feel our well-being ..."

The next year, there was flow in me in their Jeevan Dhara to make the people of the two villages, Rampur and Sompur happy. The crops were green in sheen on either side of my flow and greenness was seen in their lives. All were happy for my kind feelings for them all in two villages.

I, as rivulet, was immensely happy to thank the people of both the villages for their well-being during my flow.

The people wished to be sure of living further happily. They proposed the bond-like bridge over me to have a strong bond and good relation between the people of the two villages. There was positive response on the part of men, involved in clashes earlier in both the villages and on the part women for the initiation to establish fraternity among themselves by tying Raksha Bandhan to the right wrists as the token of fraternity. I was also equally glad to have the same, building good relations between the people of villages. They firmly made up their minds to build a bridge over me. They built it to have rapport and develop their cordial relations. It was the sense of fraternity that made them forget their enmity and the clashes and prejudices once. They are not to build a barrier but to build a bridge to fill the gulfs and the gaps.  Then there is a wide scope on them to enjoy human relations as humans.

The two villages became friendly as fraternity filled their hearts with love and affection, relation and concern for human relationships every time.

The bond like bridge helped the people of two villages to have unity despite diversity. As a result, they forgot their clashes resulted in times of prejudices. The games and sports were conducted by the people of two villages in a fair manner. They participated in the tournament with sporting spirit.

28-Jul-2024

More by :  Dr. K. Rajamouly

Published: boloji.com
https://www.boloji.com/articles/54406/bridge

Friday, July 26, 2024

POETRY RISES FROM

                                                                 From the varieties of crises:
                                                              The pangs of burning poverty,
                                                           From tears and fears, poetry rises,
                                                         As an expression of painful adversity.
 
                                                           From the beauties par excellence:
                                                        Sculptures with beautiful expressions,
                                                      Lively gestures of portraits in eminence   
                                                       Lovely are the arts for artist’s missions.
 
                                                        In the form of notes from the throats
                                                             Of songbirds, small but majestic,
                                                        In the songs of boatmen, rowing boats
                                                           In voyage to echo, indeed aesthetic.
                                                         
                                                             From objects of nature infinitude:
                                                         The seed in flower’s womb as mother,
                                                            All manifest the hidden magnitude,
                                                         The child that grows up to be a father.
 
                                                          From the depth of a burning volcano,    
                                                         Like lava to exhibit uncontrolled anger
                                                             From the shrieks for life to echo
                                                       The virulent cyclone in invincible power.
                                                   
                                                     Beauty lies in every object and creature,
                                                        Under the sun, suffering and smiling,
                                                         Draw the attention of every feature,
                                                        For evil-reform and virtue appealing.   
                                                                                                                
                                                         Poetry shatters all glooms into lights,
                                                       Glitter in kaleidoscopic views as virtues,
                                                         As it is to keep all in majestic heights
                                                        Abide peaceful life, maintaining values.

Published: Literary Vibes
Edition CXLIII
26th July 2024
https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/552#RAJA