ELSA
ONLINE MEET
SUNDAY, JUNE 28, 2020
COVID-19
& I: Transforming Emotions into Creativity
The advent of COVID-19
changed the world we inhabit forever. If it has brought us face to face with
death, destruction, fear and anxiety, the ELSA online meet brought to the fore
how we can transform our ‘locked’ emotions into vibrant creativity. As is usual
with ELSA meets, it was a rare experience to see members share their valuable
creative compositions – poems, stories, paintings, reviews, readings, sketches
etc. – in a spirit of passionate spontaneity. It is significant that besides
wide-ranging thematic diversity of topics the meet once again brought out the
ELSA trait of offering a platform with no age barriers with the presentations
coming from a ten-year-old girl to an octogenarian. The distinguished presences
included: Shri Nihal Singh Jain, Mrigkshi Singh, Gayatri Singh, Dr. Manju, Dr. Ranjana
Mehrotra, Dr. Tanya Mander, Mr. Saurabh Agarwal, Dr. Pratima Singh, Dr. Archana
Prasad, Dr. Roopali Khanna, Ms. Sharbani Roychoudhury, Mr. Shyamal
Roychoudhury, Dr. Geeta Sharma, Dr. Rajan Lal, Ms. Anjali Singh, Dr. Santosh Singh, Ms. Jessica Joel, Dr.
Nutan Kulsrestha, Mr. Surinder Sabharwal, Dr. Sanjay Kumar Mishra among others. The virtual presence of Prof.
Jonah Raskin from Santa Rosa, California, with his presentation linking
California and Agra through Indian cuisines, was a special feature of the meet.
The meeting was moderated by Prof. Nibir K. Ghosh. Technical support in
handling the Googlemeet was provided by Dr. Sunita Rani Ghosh.
Pandemic Reading: Meera Ekkanath Klein’s novel, Seeing
Ceremony
Jonah Raskin
One of the perks
of the pandemic, which is still raging all around me in the U.S.A., has been
the time I have had to write and read for long stretches of time without interruption.
The first book I read was Albert Camus’ The Plague, and the most
recent, Meeta Ekkanath Klein’s Seeing Ceremony, which is her second
novel published by Homebound Klein’s stories are about families and food, India
and America. Both books have recipes. Seeing Ceremony offers 22 of
them, all tested by the author herself, along with two friends who are thanked
in the Acknowledgements. I knew I was going to enjoy the novel when I read the
first sentence in Chapter 1: “My mother was arranging my marriage, again.” It’s
the word “again” that makes the opening delightful, playful. Seeing
Ceremony tells several love stories which are braided together,
including a profound love of place. Klein dedicates her book to the Nilgiris
which she describes as “Blue Mountains” and adds that she means to honor
“childhood homes or places where happy memories are created.” Seeing
Ceremony is, on the whole, a happy book with recipes for foods that
will nourish readers and provide a taste of the author’s world. Born and raised
in Kerala, Klein has spent most of her adult life in California. I met her when
she was a student at Sonoma State University, where I was teaching, though it
would be fair to say that I learned as much from her as she learned from me.
That’s what happens when people from different cultures meet. I am still
learning from Meera, learning about India, Indian farming and agriculture,
Indian villages, arranged marriages and Indian food. I think that Indians
living in India will enjoy this book as much as Indians in the U.S.A. And
Americans, especially those who spend time in the kitchen and who like to cook
and eat, will learn heaps about dal, raita and a mango salsa which I can hardly
wait to make and eat.
Jonah Raskin with ELSA Members at the Agra Meet
Covid-19
and Lives: Rethinking the Absurd
Navleen Multani
The disrupted
moment, virtual meets, lockdown curbs, masked faces, fear of disease, social
distancing, changing times and migrant workers marching home due to Covid-19 remind
me of the absurd. Albert Camus, the French philosopher, in The Myth of
Sisyphus observes, “Living is keeping the absurd alive.” This statement
written by Camus, exiled in Paris during the bleakest days of the Second World
War, constitutes a philosophy and great lesson for survival in the dark, strange
and challenging pandemic times. Sisyphus, the absurd man condemned to roll his
rock up the hill only to roll it down, is Camus’s emblem of the absurd. The
repeated struggle and grit of Sisyphus make him stronger than his rock. This
determination, believes Camus, is an awareness of suffering and a rejection of
death. He asserts that knowledge of despair and will to live life saturated
with this awareness can enable man to reconcile with absurdity and take a
‘leap’ to overcome the meaninglessness of life. Camus’s reflections on
absurdity of life, universe abruptly divested of light, can awaken man and
enable him to overcome the fear of invisible enemy /death. The oeuvre of Camus traverses
not only the lived experience of society but also the liveable, becoming – in
the midst of formation, as writing is inseparable from becoming. The writings
about the experiences of man at various doorways, thresholds and zones of
universe have a transformative power. Camus’s writings deepen understanding
about self and the human condition. The interplay between emotion and cognition
in his works opens up new vistas of knowledge of self and society.
Absurdity,
for Camus, is the conflict between human desire and the irrational silence of
the world. Sorrow, suffering and incurable diseases give rise to absurdity in
everyone. The desperate encounter between human inquiry and silence of universe
results in absolute nihilism or suicide. Camus rejects suicide as a panacea to
end the disappointments and despair arising out of uncontrollable circumstances,
disease and suffering. Rather he believes that mind intoxicated with irrationality
can take a leap into the incoherent and incomprehensible. Camus focuses on the
determination to live the absurd to add majesty and meaning to life. He
endorses the principle of superabundant energy and activity. This energy has
the power to transform, renew hope and liberate mind from darkness or chaos.
Camus claims that a positive constructive metaphysical rebellion to absurdity diminishes
the darkness. Camus’s fictional work The Plague foregrounds the absurd,
puts forth the resistance of the afflicted and exhibits the endurance of victims
of pneumonic plague in Oran. The sick and suffering populace in isolation
endures misery for ‘six black months’. They share fellow feeling not yielding
to nihilism. They unite in disease, persevere, serve the invalids and resist
despair. They resist the pestilence, continue their work, suffer and are
optimistic about the retreat of the plague. Hence, the optimism of suffering
human beings is the superabundant energy and active force that can regenerate
and resurrect a society. The determination to live with acknowledgement of the
disruptions, courage to keep rolling the rock like Sisyphus and leap into the
incoherent can lead man to a meaningful life in absurd times.
Writing
is Art...
Sanjay Kumar Misra
Creativity is a
precious talent. It is rare. It is unique. Not everyone is or can be creative. It
is very difficult to be creative. I find it almost impossible to do some
creative writing. Poetry or writing is an assertion of truth, the truth as it
obtains in the writer’s mind. It may or may not be consonant with truth as it
obtains in others’ mind. This is a battle which a writer or creative person
always fights and one wins it the moment one pens down his/her ideas and
impressions.
Covid or no Covid,
one’s mind is always crammed with a lot of thoughts and feelings and narratives
of various kinds but only those with poetic talent and creative bent are able
to write a poem, a short story and such things. I tend to go by Keats’ dictum
that if poetry does not come as naturally as leaves come to a tree, it is
better that it does not happen at all. One has it in him/her; one cannot
cultivate it. One can definitely make efforts and churn out lines and words on
pages and pass them on as poetry or creative stuff; but it won’t have that force,
flow and flair in it as would be the case with a genuine poet or creative
person.
Poetry is quite
often a natural effusion; it is an artistic effort as well. It is an art too and
has a craft of its own. Poetry is to a certain extent spontaneous whereas art
is deliberate and measured. Art is, in a way, a statement of one’s values, culture
and society. To a large extent, much of civilizational endeavour is essentially
an assault on nature. Culture is something which has, in a way, been imposed on
nature and natural ways of human living and thinking. So, poetry or writing or
any creative stuff very often dangles between being an intimation of one’s natural
impulse and being a cultural artefact. So, what is what? Who is who?
With such doubts
and uncertainties, which are surely more to do with my lack of understanding of
things in this regard and my own incompetence to write and create than other
things, I approached this month’s ELSA meeting on 28 June 2020. Prof. Ghosh’s
choice of topic was great no doubt; it was refreshing also as it nudged the
members in the creative direction and brought forth creative talent of several
members.
Writing is art is craft is culture
is nature
Is
writing an art, or is it a craft?
Or
neither, or both?
Or a
mix of both, or none of the two?
Is
writing natural, or a writer’s art?
Is it
writer’s nature or writer’s culture?
Art is
not nature; art is culture.
It is cultural;
it is not natural.
For, culture
is not nature.
Writing
is all.
It is
art; it is craft.
It is
culture; it is cultural.
It is
nature; it is natural.
In the
process and success of writing,
Writer
becomes the writing.
Writing
becomes the writer.
Just
like the poetry by poets who become their admirers.
What is
becomes who.
Who is
becomes what.
Just
like, style is the man.
Covid 19 and I - Transforming Emotions into
Creativity:
Words and Beyond
Roopali Khanna
Since the topic of the
meet this time was so ‘Creativity Booster’ and it was more about the relationship
between Covid and I and transforming emotions into creativity it immediately
gave me goose bumps as I knew that the session is really going to be
interesting getting to be connected with souls rather than personalities.
Creativity is a very personal energy which makes use of intuition, memory, and
insight and works through the heart. Prof. Ghosh has always valued and promoted
authenticity in each one of us. Keeping that in view, he allowed us to express
ourselves through whatever means we feel more expressive, valuing the innate
creator in all of us and awakening in us our creative potential. The session
was more about developing the imaginative over the logical leaves in this
particular ELSA meet.
Though literature is more about poetry and prose but it
also has close connection with visual arts. Throughout history, literature and
paintings have been a part of the same artistic movement, working
simultaneously to develop themes. So being more drawn to artistic streak I
decided to present myself with Picture illustration rather than poetry or
prose. We all know a picture speaks a thousand words. I have briefly explained
my illustration though it speaks even more than what I have put in words. The
actual message of the picture can be decoded if you closely read the illustration.
The interpretation is always open to the observer.
As it can be seen in the picture
above, it was easy to find people glued to global news websites and T.V.
channels especially at the start of pandemic during the first lockdown. But the
impact of constant exposure to negative news on our mental health is not
unknown to us. Oftentimes we feel anxious when we hear about distressing events
and as we know the trend today’s news is increasingly visual and shocking
presenting a much morbid condition of the world. So whether or not it is the
end of the world, the nature of news will make us think that it is. Therefore,
I feel it is very important to understand where to draw lines while staying
informed.
Well! The solution to
this is finding a balance. The moment you put a check to overloading yourself
with information, you find a change in the way you are functioning. This is
what has been depicted in the other picture. Amid the on-going corona crisis,
people have been forced to think more deeply keeping their minds engaged in
doing creative things in productive ways. People realised the importance of
taking care of themselves by being creative, reading books, gardening, cooking,
meditation etc.
The picture here has one
last message which cannot be ignored and that is to learn and accept that the
one constant thing in our lives is change. So embrace the change. There is no
avoiding it. And even if you avoid it, it is going to find you , challenge you,
and force you to reconsider how to live your life. Our resilience in life can
only grow stronger when we embrace change and manage these challenges in a more
positive way rather than hide away and ignore the opportunities that change can
bring to our lives.
Hymn to Lord Corona
Nibir K. Ghosh
One fine day
You quietly descended on
earth
Without formal invitation
Attired in the cloak of
invisibility
Shaking mighty nations
and mortals
Out of their stupor.
You came accompanied by
Dread and fear of the unknown
Leaving in your wake a
trail of
Statistics and graphs showing
how
Speedily you could
demolish
Expectations of both
princes and paupers.
You came announcing,
“I exist, therefore I
am.”
You wrought havoc
reminding people
how death had undone so many!
Mass burials, overhasty
cremations, ever increasing
Pile of corpses became
common occurrences.
Your onerous march
brought forth
Incalculable misery in
the garb of
Unemployment, hunger,
poverty and
Work from home with
reduced
Wages was the new norm
with
Life coming to a
stand-still.
You bore witness to
migrant labours
Walking barefoot hundreds
of miles to
Reach homes they had left
behind
Enamoured by the glitter
of urban life
Glaring became the harsh
reality of
Living and partly living
with elusive dreams.
Lockdown, isolation,
quarantine and
Social distancing brought
in a
Major paradigm shift
reminding us of
Mathew Arnold’s warning:
‘Dotting the shoreless
watery wild
We mortal millions live
alone.’
You came with the wisdom
of
Ancient rishis and gave
us the mantras of
Compassion and concern
for the good of all
You urged us to conquer material
desires.
O Almighty Corona!
Forgive the reckless hedonism of revellers and
Bless and protect the
ones that hold you in reverence.
He
is at Hunt
Manju
Hide behind the doors
With your cannons and super guns
Close your windows
Clinging to your nuclear weapons.
The hunter is at hunt ,
He can kill from a distance,
Such deadly is his talent .
Libation of deaths without asking the
fault;
As if he is the law.
Standing on the threshold of extinction ,
HURRY UP! Find out his flaw.
Once you ruled the world;
But now he is the king.
You can be one of his Sambas
But he is the Gabbar Singh.
Accustomed of trampling
You smashed beasts and birds.
For the sake of fun
You
swept thousands of herds.
Mend your ways,
Learn your lesson.
He is teaching the art of killing,
Be attentive in the session
Improved are his ways
As if killing is an art.
Displays no signs,
Becoming silent and smart.
शायद अब नहीं.....
Geeta R Sharma
क्या अब
भी रख सकोगे तुम
घरों में एक्वेरियम?
क्या देख सकोगे
शीशे की दीवारों से सर पटकती रंग बिरंगी मछलियों
को?
क्या अब भी पाल सकोगे तुम कुत्ते, बिल्ली, खरगोश,
तोता, मैना?
क्या अब भी जा
सकोगे चिड़िया घर चिप्स, च्युइंग-गम कुतरते-चबाते?
क्या अब भी तराश सकोगे पेड़ों की जड़ें ताकि
बना सको बोन्साई?
जब कि जान चुके हो तुम कि
कैसा लगता है-
शीशे के घरों में कैद रहना,
ज़मीं के छोटे से टुकड़े को दुनिया समझना,
terrace और छत से दिखते मुट्ठी भर आसमान से सब्र
करना
हर दिन दायरों का थोड़ा और थोड़ा और कटते छंटते
जाना ...
नहीं
शायद अब नहीं
अब नहीं, नहीं, नहीं .....
आमीन
So Be It
तथास्तु
Geeta R Sharma is IQAC Coordinator, Pt DDU Govt Girls' Degree College, Sewapuri.
COVID
19 & Rebirth of Humanity
Pratima
Singh
The world after 2020 will be
different to the one we have lived in till now. It is said that big crises tend
to change the perspective of a man so as they also tend to change the world as
well. They are the accelerators of underlying transformational processes. In
today’s scenario a tiny virus taught us how to become one when situation
demands.
Our world has definitely changed significantly. This forced lockdown has
compelled us to ponder over the choices that we have made in the past few
decades. We have made much progress. But mostly this progress is related to the
field of science and technology. Somewhere we have become more and more
scientific in our approach and ignore our humanistic approach. During these
years we learn to take but forget to give whether it is our nature or our near
and dear ones. And it is from here that the journey of human race destruction
started.
We have wronged our inner and outer world in many ways. The present
situation has made us realize that human life is fragile. The things that we
take for granted can easily be snatched away from us. Our freedom; shopping, enjoying
different cuisines at eateries, travelling to different places, hanging out
with friends and relatives, a significant part of our past life were all
removed from our life in no time. “Man is a social animal” seems to be replaced
by the advice to observe “social distancing.”
But this social distancing makes us
realize the importance of being connected. As we are isolated at home, kept
away from the people we love and appreciate, we learn to value them even more
and strive to achieve more meaningful real relationships with our fellow human
beings. This period has helped in bringing people close to one another. On the
one hand we feel connected to our family and on the other hand we feel
connected to the rest of the world. It is for the first time that humanity’s concerns are so aligned. For
once, the world is thinking the same thoughts, sharing the same fears and
battling the same enemy. People from all over the world have joined their hands
in their fight against this enemy. People stand connected by love and affection
for one another. They pray for the well being of one another. The virus played the role of a common enemy
and made us stand united against it not as an individual or as a nation but as
human beings. This transformation of humanity seems to exist for the first time
in last few decades.
Such synchronization would have not been possible
to achieve otherwise. Today nobody is stronger than the other because of the
emergence of the most powerful. We were all so oblivious of everything,
uncaring about our environment, recklessly looting from the Earth that nurtured
us, ungrateful for the love that surrounded us, isolating ourselves from fellow
humans… but in no time a tiny virus neutralized our negativity and made us to
sail in the same boat.
·
We learn to appreciate life
and value small things like talking to family and friends as these small
things are the essence of anybody’s life.
·
We all are one — together we stand and divided we fall. An
individualistic point of view is not going to work for. The rich are the same
as the poor, the Americans are the same as the Indians, the Hindus are the same
as the Muslims. We cannot overcome this pandemic unless we include everyone.
The virus taught us that Death is the common
experience which can make all members of the human race feel their common bonds.
Shared adversity
can foster a
sense of community and affinity with others. Thus this pandemic
has potential to transform
society for the better. This is an opportunity for review and press
the reset button for a new normal one where equity prevails for all things and
where all human beings are one.
Dr. Pratima is Associate Professor, RBS
Engg. Tech.Campus, Bichpuri, Agra
Not harvested this Season
Saurabh Agarwal
Like a corpse, but still breathing,
Was dumped on the stretcher.
She stood at the doorway of her room,
Her face covered, watching from a
distance.
A complete dismissal would have caused
The home to reverberate with heart rending
screams
But he was moved on, wrapped in silence.
No hugs, no holding hands just passing
instructions
For a solo journey.
He was looked upon as if he was a gun
that emitted invisible bullets,
His touch left trail of fire
To be doused by sprays of sodium
hydroxide.
In the street stood the hooded figure
brandishing scythe,
He evaded it by inches to be reaped
later, maybe.
Transforming Emotions
into Creativity
Anjali Singh
January
30: First reported COVID case in India. January 31: I underwent a surgery
Observing nature,
I learnt everything existed in balance. Whenever a deviation occurred, Mother
Nature found its own mechanism to restore it. I believe that COVID has a
message that each of us have to decode individually. When I decoded it for
myself, this is what I understood. COVID and myself had a strange relationship;
we grew parallelly, though in opposite directions. While mine was a ‘constructive’
one, COVID’s was a ‘destructive’ one. The first few weeks of lockdown were
spent in recuperating while the remaining in academic pursuits. My daughters
were delighted to have me home, and ‘maa-ke-haath-ka-khana’ was a double treat
for them that they relished as a rarity.
For me, it meant
opportunity to recover post surgery. To go slow, sit back and reflect; to catch
up on the ‘lost study time’ for the postponed exams. (What a relief!); to catch
on my sleep. (Especially the early morning ones); this was a time when I
thought that if I were granted one wish; I would want to sleep (of course, in a
restful manner!). I also looked at it as an opportunity to work on my impending
thesis. A ‘link’ I had received, introduced me to the culture of ‘webinars and
conferences’. I got the opportunity to write my first paper to be published in
a book. I was nervous and excited at the same time. I began with very little information about
the process, structure and the MLA format. It took me approximately 20 days to
complete the task. Towards the deadline, I even stayed awake late, past
midnight to meet the target. It felt good, the hard work and the perseverance
to achieve my goals. I felt I got addicted to research and writing!
I barely had two
days of break when I had to meet a deadline for another abstract submission;
followed by paper submission and presentation. I dreaded sharing it with my
daughters who threatened to kidnap me if I didn’t give them what was rightfully
theirs – ‘quality mamma time’. The fear of ‘rebellion at home’ by two little
cute beings (in the Age of Feminism!) was greater than the external one – the wave
of COVID! I had no choice but to surrender. With two whole days of ‘mamma
time’, I resumed work on the next ‘Paper’. This time it took me a mere seven
days (full paper). I beamed with confidence at my progress. Thereafter, I wrote
few pages on an author for another writing project that came my way. Next was
the Paper presentation for another international conference. So, in
approximately two and a half months, I had given a good output; each mistake
was a learning opportunity. I grew.
I had moments that
were challenging and self-doubt crept in. With less than six months of surgery,
I would often have shivers (significant as it was summers, that too in the
plains) and vomiting sensation. My immunity was at its lowest and I had trouble
with breathing. I would tire out easily and had to rest my body but my mind
wanted otherwise. It was an internal battle that was the toughest. With less
physical activity, I found limitations. I had been active with Yoga, however, now
I was only able to do slow breathing yoga asanas, that too with extreme care.
There were ample
of ‘not-so-good’ incidents which I intend to erase forever. However, to
maintain the ‘balance’, I will briefly mention them:
a. My
spectacles broke at the onset of the lockdown; I managed to hold it together by
a cello tape!
b. The
desktop crashed (or maybe went into a self-quarantine mode!) and miraculously
recovered after approximately twenty days.
c. When it
recovered, the internet got faulty and disconnected owing to technical errors,
thus no Wi-Fi.
d. With
mobile data and poor connectivity, one had to survey the entire premises
(reminded me of those geographical surveys with those complicated tools, to
locate the natural resources buried deep in earth) to find a most suitable spot
for the connection (usually under the trees of kadipatta and Drumsticks
in my garden, in the sweltering heat of May-June!)
e. Managed
to resolve and activate the connection only to have a (fateful) massive storm
uproot trees and fall onto wires snapping them instantly. Hence, Power
breakdown for two days!
f. With my
online classes at St. Clare, it felt difficult to communicate my difficulties
to the school authorities; especially when the storm happened just a day prior
to the online test of my students. I felt like a ‘Mr. Beans’ this time.
g. Both my
daughters had online classes; a clash of timings compounded by the network challenges.
The ‘good thing’
was WE remained healthy throughout. Despite all the odds, suddenly, it made me
feel very wealthy! In June, my pet Trooper (a two and a half year old male GSD)
had his vaccination due. A sheer coincidence, the vaccination was called
‘CORONA’. The vet explained how it was a routine procedure and nothing to do
with the current crisis. Trooper always fell ill after each vaccination dose,
yet this time was an exception. I felt wealthy again.
Balancing all the
opposite forces to the best of my capabilities, I kept my faith alive; faith in
the fact that ‘What does not kill us, makes us stronger’ (quote by German
philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche). I had firm faith in my species and their
capabilities and told so to all. This optimism may have had its source in not
having the news channels govern my daily routine and being absent from social
media of all platforms (though I was forced to adopt it as the only means for
wider communication). The faith had given me time to reflect, growth
opportunity and a ‘live practical example’ to teach my daughters how to live in
difficult times. Someday they would recount these days to their grandchildren
and say with pride ‘those were difficult days; we survived’. I look at it as a
growth academically, health wise and in the domain of spirituality too. My energies flowed and impacted all around me.
While COVID will have to
dilute and vanish, I see myself blossoming into a bright future. I firmly
believe that no matter how powerful the ‘evil’ may be, the victory is always of
the ‘good’.
I wished myself
just as everybody has been doing to me since the start of this crisis.
HAPPY CORONA!!!!
Three Poems
Jessica Joel
Playing Flute in Beirut
They had dragged him down to
Beirut,
The bustle and buzz of
Lebanon,
His breath was saved to play the
flute,
His village was bombed at
dawn.
He is a king in his early recollections,
Of a vast mansion built on hills,
Freckled with tall trees lined in all directions,
A whiff of cedars, pines and distant mills.
His small body huddled beside
a garbage bag,
On the luxury of a grimy
pavement;
A streak of blood covered in a
rag,
As a crown on his forehead, of
abasement.
He dreams of his mother’s soothing smile,
Basked in sunlight from the window;
His hand in his father’s as they walked a mile,
With sacks of seeds, in their farm to sow.
He’s kicked in his back, again
and again,
For tears spilling down his
cheeks;
He advises himself to stop
feeling the pain,
For that tune of fond memories
speaks.
Where his mother would kiss the bruise,
His father would tell he’s brave;
And he’d be back, chasing the ewes,
Or blowing into his flute, a musical wave.
It was a storage den, rifles
in the pathway,
His little feet scrambling for
their orders;
Greasy fingers on flute, their
songs would play,
Or carry bombs, rifles,
grenades and mortars.
He misses the aroma of hot kafta and kibbeh
Which his mom would feed him on her laps;
The long exuberant trips to the city of Enfeh,
Where he’d watch the waves build and collapse.
He feels the solace of the
gentle breeze,
Long red scars, he was beaten
by his flute;
Broken bones bring hunger
pangs no ease,
He cries miserably, he hates
the city of Beirut.
Convalescence of her Soul
She opened her eyes to a blurry vision,
An agonizing pain at the apex of her
thighs;
Unbidden, the memories came screaming
back,
Of her shrieks to the sting of the
thrusts.
Her neck immovable, bleeding from the
bites,
Her breasts mangled, a mauled and battered
torso;
Blood clots on her wrists, deep red welts.
Her legs had long gone numb, patched with
blood.
She knew the physical wounds would heal
with time,
But her afflicted heart had sunk beneath
the ocean floor,
The doom of the incapability to erase the
wretched escapade haunted her.
She had the valor to fight the world, but
herself?
Her perspectives were wider, than the
fate’s platter.
Shivering, she tried to stand, tall, like
a winner.
She knew, despite the rocks, she’ll manage
to drift with the flow.
She wanted justice, but she wanted to
teach the rapists.
Her blood on their body would forever
remain fresh.
A blemished conscience, image and soul.
They had stained themselves more than the
spot in her heart,
That the shadow of her misery will travel
to their deathbeds.
And to all the parents, teachers, and impactful
people,
She warns not to be the early
perpetrators.
Teach that girls are equally strong,
intelligent and brave.
That they aren’t vulnerable, and their no means
NO!
Evanescence
It was the gushing river which
roared down,
Winding from a snow capped
mountain,
Probing between the tall pines
to the valley,
To give birth to its
tributaries.
It engulfed the boulders,
challenging them,
It fed the lakes, nourishing
them,
It nursed the plants, to
sturdy giant trees,
It quenched the laps of a deer
in gentle ease.
It lit the cities with its
ferocious current,
It cast the lush amazon green
in the valley,
It painted the wildflowers with
pastel specks,
It revelled in the adoration
of moss and ferns.
But then came a time, the
agonizing colour of dark,
They built a dam; its course
was changed,
Its long breath of gallantry
now heaved,
Its tributaries were now mere
sandy streaks.
It was distorted to a
graveyard, pregnant with disposables,
It darkened to the untouchable
squalid,
Which once thrived the flora’s
essence,
Now waited its silent
evanescence.
And in his reminiscence he is adored, cherished
And loved and cherished by his parents,
A thought of them would gush down, all the warmth poured, restored
Their smile when by the lake they rowed,
His mother’s hug, his father’s shrug
Two Poems
Sneha
Srivastava
My Mind
Wanders
My mind
wanders,
Through
the busy roads and traffic,
Walking
among the random crowd,
Shopping
in narrow lanes of market,
Sipping
hot coffee, the cafe at corner,
Chit-chats
with friends till late evenings,
Cherishing
the street food at night,
Driving
the long rides at the highway,
Welcoming
family and friends at home.
Yes, my
mind wanders,
Through
all the once lived memories,
In
lockdown, I sit beneath the open sky,
Enjoying
the reminiscence alone.
Freedom
I feel
free when,
I can see
a beautiful dream,
Grow
towards a better version,
Loved and
cared by dear ones,
Courage
boosts in heart with full swing,
I can
breathe and smile in real,
Knowledge
gets absorbed in my soul,
Absence
of peace suckers around me,
A
surrounding with no fear and anxiety,
No lies,
hatred, fakeness, false blames,
No cliché
or tag of inferiority as I am a female,
My dear
ones to be the building pillars,
Not my
grave diggers throughout the life,
My
self-respect is not murdered by knowns,
Someone
adheres to his words and promises,
Presence
of freedom with no chains of patriarchy,
I am not
'Means to end' for the petty minds.
Ms.
Sneha Shrivastava is an MBA. She is a poet, freelance writer and blogger
based in Gwalior.
One Day
Muskaan Multani
As
I close my eyes,
Our
old life fades away
Gone.
In
an instant.
A
dark cloud
Sweeps
over our world
Our
home
Our
only home.
It’s
taking over,
Invading.
But
ironically,
While
we falter
Our
mother
Our
sweet mother nature
Now
recovers
From
the darkness of our actions.
One
day
As
I open my eyes,
I
see
Light
Love
Life
Once
again flourishing
This
is a chance to start over
While
mourning our old life
We
welcome a new one
With
open arms
Never
again,
Taking
for granted
Our
home
Our
only home.
Muskaan Multani is a Graduate of Class
2020 from Spring Lake High School MI ,USA. She studies Psychology. She is an avid
reader, painter and poet.
Priya’s Resilence
Mrigakshi Bhadauria
9/June/2020, Priya was
getting tested of Covid-19, an hour later the tests results came. Priya was
tested positive of the virus. Her mother fainted on learning the news, “Have faith
in god” her mother would say over the phone. Priya spent most of her time doing
mediation to goddess Parvati .pleased with her devotion , Goddess Parvati appeared
before her, and said , “Dear child , ask and you shall get” Priya replied “Please,
Help me fight my fears keep your hand on my head” “granted” the goddess says
and disappears . With faith, Priya’s body and mind fight the virus and she soon
emerges from her room to join her family, cured.
My feelings in lockdown
Gayatri Bhadauria
I feel very annoyed,
During this crisis.
For my birthday went by,
And I wanted to eat pizza slices!
It is to risky for courier deliveries,
For courier deliveries.
Because I pleaded my mom,
For ‘Harry Potter’ book series.
I feel lonely,
Without my friends.
For I sit at home,
Stacking empty pen.
The Internet connection,
Is so poor.
That I can’t even attend,
My online classes here.
With nothing to do,
And so broken from inside.
We are in lockdown,
Life
has Many Colours
Santosh
Kumar Singh
Life has many colours
Even it unfolds labyrinths
To entangle from centuries
Though it knows all
To be unaware and innocent
Efforts to be done to solve this puzzle
Lastly emptiness be the part of all
Will the success be achieved ever
Probably it is all destiny.
Divine
Dispensation
Surinder
Sabharwal
The Divine dispensation lies shattered,
With pandemic worldwide scattered,
Every phenomena is consequence of a karma,
Inexplicable is then the spread of corona,
All philosophies seem helplessly outdated,
A new order of the thought should now be created.
~
