Thursday, 13 August 2020

TREATMENT OF DEATH IN LITERATURE -- ELSA ONLINE GOOGLE MEET

 

ELSA ONLINE GOOGLE MEET

Sunday, July 26, 2020

 TREATMENT OF DEATH IN LITERATURE

Maut tu ek kavita hai....
Mujhse ek kavita ka vadaa hai, milegi mujhko ...

Doobti nabzon mein jab dard ko neend aane lage
Zard sa chehra liye chaand ufaq tak pahunche ...
Din abhi paani mein ho, raat kinare ke kareeb
Na andhera ho, na ujala ho ...
Na aadhi raat, na din
Jism jab khatm ho aur rooh ko saans aae ...

Mujhse ek kavita ka vadaa hai milegi mujhko..—Gulzar

 

[O death! You're a poem.

I've been promised a poem, it shall be mine.

As the pulse (of life) recedes, the pain & suffering go to (an eternal) sleep
And a yellowish (young) moon starts to rise and reach its zenith
The day is yet to sink in water, as the night waits, nigh, to the shore
It's not dark, it's not bright
it's neither midnight nor high noon
And as the body loses material, the free soul gets seeped with (fresh) air

The poem has (fulfilled the) promise of being mine!]

 

Prof. Nibir Ghosh opened the meet with the recital of Gulzar’s poem ‘Maut Tu Ek Kavita Hai.’ The poem figured in the movie Anand in which the protagonist Anand, a cancer patient, reveals how a dying man could have such a wonderful zest for life and happiness. The poem portrays a vivid description of life being delicately balanced on the verge of Death. Yes! ‘DEATH,’ which is considered the most oblique and potentially dark issue, was the theme of discussion in the recent ELSA meet held on 26th July 2020. The topic of the meet was ‘Treatment of Death in Literature.’ Since nothing could offer insights into death, dying and mortality so effectively as literature does, one could argue that death is a familiar subject of literature.

 

While providing fictional encounters with death to its readers, the stories also use death in their narrations to create emotional effects, plot twists, suspense and mysteries in multiple ways. In this light Dr. Ranjana Mehrotra recited few lines from Dylan Thomas’ masterpiece poem “Do not go gentle into that good night”. She appreciated the poem for its most redemptive  power— both in its universal message and in the particular circumstances of how it came to be in the context of Thomas’s life. The theme of death and the dying was taken further by other ELSA members one by one highlighting the pervasiveness of the theme in numerous works of art throughout the ages. Dr. Chanda Singh in her presentation talked about the many appearances of death as a person incorporating different poets. Dr. Anindya Sundar Polley explored the matter of death by observing how murder is portrayed in literature and its cultural conception. Presenting his views on the topic ‘How Connected are we to Murder,’  he analysed murder as a plot that involves a broken taboo; a violation of natural, religious, or human law; sin, punishment, guilt and redemption and also explored in depth how with all these perennial characteristics in abundance, it serves as useful grist for the literary mill.

 

Dr. Lisha Sinha looked at ‘The Depiction of Death in Children’s Literature.’An audience that may not have a full understanding of such an oblique and potentially dark issue. She pointed out that literature aimed at younger audiences often utilizes animals as a way of portraying the first fundamental presentation of death. Prof. Nibir Ghosh took the discussion further escalating the intensity of the theme by referring to Spanish Civil War which was commonly viewed as the dress rehearsal for the Second World War, the war which also had mobilized many artists and intellectuals to take up arms, on the side of the Republicans. The youngest member of the meet, Mrigakshi Singh, aged 8 years spoke on the topic ‘Who is More Powerful: Life or Death?’ Ms. Anjali Singh deliberated on the theme of death in Albert Camus’ The Stranger and highlighted how the protagonist of the novel responds to the death of his mother and at the end reflects on his own impending death. Sheikh Shamshuddin from Kolkata examined the ‘Attitude towards death’ referring to Emily Dickinson’s ‘Because I could not stop for death’ and Tagore’s Bangla poem ‘Jhulan’ (the swing). Saurabh Agarwal presented ‘Keats’s Approach to Death’ sharing his insightful ideas on how John Keats mused in his poetry about death with nostalgia, longing and release from pain. Dr. Shrikant Kulsreshtha explored the theme by diving into the depths of Hemingway’s phenomenal work The Old man and the Sea. Dr. Ashok Bandla reviewed the elegiac poem ‘Death of the Celebrated Divine’ by Phillis Wheatley reminding that poetry is more than mere philosophy. Mr. Nihal Singh Jain, whose stories narrated at the ELSA meets have morals and messages that are always powerful, shared a short story written in the form of a diary ‘Diary of a Dying Man’ giving personal account of the protagonist’s confrontation with death during his quarantine period in the face of Covid-19 and his sense of bereavement. The story ends on a positive note with a message ‘how to stay positive during personal crisis.’  Dr. Manju analysed the theme deeply in her presentation on ‘Death, A Lost Warrior in Dylan Thomas's “And Death Shall Have No Dominion.”’ Dr. Geeta R. Sharma made a presentation on The Tibetan Book of Living & Dying by Sogyal Rinpoche. Dr. Navleen Multani, Samsuddin, Dr. Jyoti Agarwal, Dushyant Sharma, Mr. Rajiv Khandelwal, Mr. Anil Kumar Sharma gave their perceptive comments. Dr. Roopali Khanna contributed her bit as rapporteur.

Towards the end of the meet, Prof. Ghosh shared his personal reflections on death and the members were encouraged and given the opportunity to share their individual perspectives. Prof. Ghosh concluded that one has to take an attitude like Shakespeare’s Hamlet, when he had some misgivings about the duel with Laertes. Prof. Ghosh quoted Hamlet in these words: “Hamlet thinks that God is in control of everything, even something as small as the death of a sparrow. He says that if death is supposed to come now, then it will. If death is supposed to happen later, then it won't happen now. However, the important thing is to be ready for it. None of us knows anything about what we leave behind us when we die, so does it really matter if we die late or early? We must make peace with it: “Readiness is all.”

Conclusively Death is a significant and inevitable part of life. Extensive discussion and reflection on the theme of Death revealed that some authors give personal accounts of their impending death or their sense of bereavement; some use literature to structure and order our thoughts about death; and some treat death as a literary device, using it, for example, as a symbolic representation of the decay of society. The final take away of the meet from prof. Ghosh was the recitation of lines from the phenomenal poem ‘O thou the last fulfilment of life’ by Rabindranath Tagore:

O thou the last fulfilment of life,

O thou the last fulfilment of life,

Death, my death, come and whisper to me!

Day after day I have kept watch for thee;

for thee have I borne the joys and pangs of life.

All that I am, that I have, that I hope

and all my love have ever flowed towards thee

in depth of secrecy.

One final glance from thine eyes

and my life will be ever thine own.

The flowers have been woven and the garland

is ready for the bridegroom.

After the wedding the bride shall leave her home

and meet her lord alone in the solitude of night.



Personification of Death in Literature

Chanda Singh

Death has been personified in Art and Literature for ages. Mankind has always exhibited a morbid obsession with the abstract, invisible phenomenon of Death. Giving it a human form helped transfer it into an abstract pattern. Personifying Death and giving it a human form made the thought and experience of Death less terrifying for the average person.

In ancient Greek literature Life was perceived as Feminine and Death as masculine. Thanatos, an angelic winged youth is Death, and he is the twin brother of Hypnos, or Sleep. Death, thus, is eternal sleep. The personification of Death gained immense popularity during the Dark Ages in Europe under the rule of State and Church, creating awe and respect for Death. The popular ‘dance of Death’ described in literature and enacted on stage with skeletons rising from their graves was a chilling experience

Death, personified, is presented as either gentle and friendly or as remote and cold. It was often given an hourglass, and even an apprentice or helper who could be in the form of an animal, as for instance a horse. The most oft repeated personification of Death is that of a Reaper, scythe in hand, ready to cut short a life.

References to the Kingdom of Death in the Old Testament suggest the personification of Death as King or ruler. In apocalyptic writings Death is a horseman who kills people. John Milton personified the concept of Death in Paradise Lost. Sin springs from her father, Satan, who rapes her to produce a son, Death. Thus Death is the product of an evil deed.

John Donne addresses Death as he would a person in his poem, “Death be not Proud.” The poet argues against the power of Death because it is controlled by forces greater than itself: “Fate, Chance, Kings, and desperate men.” Its undesirable companions are “Poyson, Warres, and Sickness.” Further, both “Poppie and Charmes” are its rivals. The poet makes Death subject to human weaknesses and even declares: “Death, thou shall die.”

John Keats, in his ode  “To a Nightingale,” confesses to the bird on a  fragrant summer eve that he has been “half in love with easeful Death,” and called him “soft names in  many a mused rhyme.” Robert Browning’s “Prospice” presents Death as a mysterious form lurking in the shadows, a powerful  adversary ready to bandage his victim’s eyes as the snowy blasts begin. But the poet, ever a fighter, is not afraid of this last and best fight. In “Because I could not Stop for Death,” Emily Dickinson personifies Death as a gentleman of great civility who comes in a horse drawn carriage to pick her up. He is accompanied by Immortality. And, thus, Death is made acceptable, even pleasant, by presenting it as a lover courting the poet. Speaking of times closer to us, it is interesting to note that several of Hemingway’s old characters are viewed as personifications of Death.

Dr. Chanda Singh, former HOD English, RBS College, Agra.

Dylan Thomas’s “Do Not Go Gently Into That Good Night”

Ranjana Mehrotra

Poetry has the power to stir our deepest emotions and poets have always written about death in many ways.  Few poems furnish such a wakeful breaking open of possibility in a more powerful manner than this very famous rapturous ode to the unassailable tenacity of the human spirit by the renowned Welsh poet Dylan Thomas (October 27, 1914 – November 9, 1953).

This beautiful poem was written in 1947 and went on to become Dylan Thomas’s masterpiece.  It was published for the first time in the Italian literary journal Botteghe Oscure in 1951 and was later included in his 1952 poetry collection.  It remains Thomas’s best known and most beloved poem as well as his most redemptive – there were many reasons for it – the first that it conveyed a universal message – the starkness of death and the emotional surcharge that emanates after death and secondly the circumstances under which it was written that occurred in Thomas’s life.

Between 1945 and 1948 Thomas made hundred broadcasts for BBC ranging from poetry readings to literary discussions and cultural critiques. At the height of his radio celebrity days, Thomas began working on “Do not go Gentle into that Good Night.” His broadcasting experience had instilled in him a keen sense of the rhythmic sonority of the spoken word so he wrote a poem that was tenfold more powerful when channelled through the human voice than when read in the contemplative silence of the mind’s eye. It has often been suggested that this poem was written for Thomas’s dying father although he was alive till Christmas 1952.  Yet it inspired him to write this beautiful poem that has served as a dirge and obituary since the time it was written.

Igor Stravinsky, the composer used it for tenor and chamber ensemble in 1954 for ‘In Memorium Dylan Thomas’.  Since then it has been continuously used – by rock bands, in music albums, in movies like Cristopher Nolan Interstellar in 2014 and was read by Iggy Pop in his 2019 album Free. His untimely death in 1953 at the young age of 39 left a void that could never be filled.

Dr. Ranjana Mehrotra, HOD & Associate Professor (Retd), Department of English Studies and Research, BDK Mahavidyalya, Agra.


"On the American Dead in Spain" (1939) by Ernest Hemingway

Nibir K. Ghosh

As the title of the story indicates, Hemingway’s account revolves around the deeds of soldiers from the Lincoln Battalion who took part in the Spanish Civil War, fought during 1936-39 between the Nationalists led by Fransisco Franco and the Republicans supported by the International Brigades from 50 countries trained by Comintern in Paris. Fransisco Franco ruled as a dictator from March 29 1939 until his death on Nov 20, 1975. The Spanish Civil War, which was considered a dress-rehearsal for the Second World War, brought into the fray enthusiastic young supporters including writers, artists and poets from different parts of the world. Guernica by Pablo Picasso (1937), “Spain 1937” by W.H. Auden, “Letter from Spain” by Langston Hughes (1937) and For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway (1940) are some of the celebrated works that glorified the Republican struggle in Spain.

In the story, "On the American Dead in Spain," Hemingway pays a glowing tribute to the patriotism of the soldiers who died fighting for the noble cause of freedom and were buried in a mass grave near Jarama in Spain. What draws one to the story is the narrative filled with lyrical intensity of emotions: “The dead sleep cold in Spain tonight. It was cold that February when they died there and since then the dead have not noticed the changes of the seasons.” Death is associated with coldness of the winter but Hemingway makes it evident that as part of the regenerative cycle of nature, life returns in the form of memories of the deeds of the dead as spring replaces winter: “For our dead are a part of the earth of Spain now and the earth of Spain can never die. Each winter it will seem to die and each spring it will come alive again. Our dead will live with it forever.”

Hemingway asserts that their sacrifice will not go in vain because “The Spanish people will rise again as they have always risen before against tyranny.” Like poets who imagine that death is a journey that connects us to eternity, Hemingway too is optimistic that the soldiers have entered the arena of immortality: “Our dead live in the hearts and the minds of the Spanish peasants, of the Spanish workers, of all the good simple honest people who believed in and fought for the Spanish republic…The fascists may spread over the land, blasting their way with weight of metal brought from other countries. They may advance aided by traitors and by cowards. They may destroy cities and villages and try to hold the people in slavery. But you cannot hold any people in slavery.” At the end of the story are words that are offered as a tribute to the glory of the martyrs: “Those who have entered it honorably, and no men ever entered earth more honorably than those who died in Spain, already have achieved immortality.”

The story reminds me of the principle of regeneration that P.B. Shelly celebrates in his poems “Ode to the West Wind” (‘If winter comes can spring be far behind?’) and “Adonais” (‘The One remains, the many change and pass’).

The Tibetan Book of Living & Dying by Sogyal Rinpoche

 Geeta R Sharma 

This book takes us to an unknown journey – a full circle from life to death to a new life again based on Tibetan philosophy of living and dying called Bardo. The author proclaims “I want every human being not to be afraid of death or of life. I want every human being to die at peace, and surrounded by the wisest, clearest, and most tender care, and to find the ultimate happiness that can only come from an understanding of the nature of mind and of reality.” He raises his voice “We spend millions of dollars every minute on training people to kill and destroy, and on bombs and planes and missiles. But we spend hardly anything in comparison, on teaching human beings the nature of life and death, and helping them when they come to die, to face and understand what is happening to them.”  

Further he suggests “It is crucial now that an enlightened vision of death and dying should be introduced throughout the world at all levels of education. Children should not be ‘protected from death, but introduced, while young, to the true nature of death and what they can learn from it. Why not introduce this vision, in its simplest form, to all age groups? Knowledge about death, about how to help the dying, and about the spiritual nature of death and dying should be made available to all levels of society; it should be taught, in depth and with real imagination, in schools and colleges and universities of all kinds, and especially and most important, it should be available in teaching hospitals to nurses and doctors who will look after the dying and who have so much responsibility toward them.” 

I, myself had some such experiments with my father and ultimately he embraced a painless and peaceful death few years back.

Dr. Geeta Sharma, IQAC Coordinator, Pt. DDU Govt. Girls Degree College, Sewapuri

Death, A Lost Warrior in Dylan Thomas’s “And Death Shall Have No Dominion”

Manju 

Death is unseen, unheard and inexperienced. No one has come back from the region of death to unlock this riddle and this is the cause why it gives a new height to the imagination of poets. Various poets have portrayed death in various ways. Dylan Thomas finds death a lost warrior. For him death which strives to control mankind cannot do so despite being so powerful. Mankind has the power to stand up against any of the evils of death, and become unified through their moving to the next world. Death does not divide but it brings all those who lived apart together:

 And death shall have no dominion.

Dead man naked they shall be one

With the man in the wind and the west moon;

When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,

They shall have stars at elbow and foot;

It is believed that Adam and Eve who once lived there in Eden were unaware of sorrow as they were free from the chains of death. When they disobeyed God by eating the fruit of knowledge, they were thrown on the earth where something very furious was waiting for them and it was death. Death was introduced in their life as a punishment for their sin and this may be the reason why sentence to death is still the worst punishment. But when Jesus Christ rose from his death as he was resurrected after 40 days of his crucifixion it seems as if the curse is over. The long battle between death and life has come to an end and life got the triumph. Now Death can be seen just as an explosion of energy when our soul becomes free from body and unites with the cosmos.

Dr Manju, Associate Professor, UILAH, Chandigarh University

Death as the Ultimate Reminder of Impermanence

Roopali Khanna

“Dry your tears, my friends, and raise your heads as the flowers

Raise their crowns to greet the dawn.

Look at the bride of Death standing like a column of light

Between my bed and the infinite;

Hold your breath and listen with me to the beckoning rustle of her white wings.” - Kahlil Gibran, The Beauty of Death

What topic can be more unpopular than death? How do people write about death and dying? Especially if you have ever lost a loved one, the topic can trigger a magnitude of emotions. Such a topic is the ultimate buzz kill. Yet poets and authors frequently exhorted their readers to think about their mortality: 

“For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead,
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance, by lonely contemplation led,
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate…” 

    – Thomas Gray, Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard 

Literature can provide us with ways of approaching death and imagining it from different perspectives. Some literary genres (elegies, lamentations) are intentionally written as reactions to the loss of a loved object or a person that act as consolation to those who are suffering: 

"How long did I slap your corpse-face
to drive a summer into its ice?
Forgive me.
But, O, Enkidu,
how am I to know myself without you?" 

— from Gilgamesh, translated by Derrek Hines

At one end of the scale there are the sometimes embarrassing but often deeply personal and profoundly felt lines on gravestones or ‘In Memoriam’ columns ‘She faltered by the wayside and the angels took her home’. At the other end of the scale, there is death in literature, for example King Lear's lament over his dead daughter, Cordelia. In the 20th century, however, Edward Bond wrote a version of the Lear story which was bleaker than Shakespeare’s original one, precisely on the grounds that Shakespeare was too optimistic. One of the central things of which literature can make us more aware is that death means different things at different times. This extraordinary scene concludes great literature makes use of death for its own purposes. One of the central tasks of literature is to impose a structure on life and death, giving meaning to both. Indeed, literature as a discipline aims just as certainly as science does to understand the world in which we live and to interpret our own role as participants in the human condition. Contemplating death is a deeply constructive practice. In addition to helping reconcile us to our own death, such contemplation also teaches us how to live, how to work wisely with impermanence, how to see that loving and letting go are the same thing, how to practice deep acceptance, and how to get our priorities straight.

Death, as the ultimate reminder of impermanence, helps us live our lives more richly. The worst that can possibly happen to us turns out to be the only guarantee, so in a way we have nothing to lose. We can most truly live in harmony with the truth of mortality by noticing all the impermanence already happening to us.

Dr. Roopali Khanna, Guest Faculty, BDK PG College, Agra

                                              How Connected are We to a Murder?

Anindya Shankar Polley

The act of murder is found amply in our history, mythologies and in literature. Murder is culturally contingent and carries the potential to reveal truths about human existence. However cultural conception of murder and this disparity depends upon the philosophical and metaphysical basis of a particular culture. For example, in Christian thought, only humans have souls and therefore murder relates only to the slaughter of a human being. By contrast, in Hinduism, a soul resides in all living creatures and the concept of murder is therefore far broader.

Secondly, even almost every religion considers murder as a sinful act. However religions also advocate the act of murder when it is committed for the destruction of evil. Similarly, when the law gives the power to a hangman to execute the capital punishment on a ‘criminal’ or when a country admires the ‘bravery’ of a soldier in the battlefield and recognizes him publicly for killing ‘enemies’ in the battlefield, it thus legalizes his action; it takes a selective moral stance or it intentionally overlooks the ethical perspective of the act of killing.

Certain cultural formations are also contingent on murders and homicides. We live in a society where the act of homicide has become a mainstay of popular entertainment: we appreciate our favourite superstar in celluloid when he/she kills his/her rivals. This celebritification of the serial killer can be seen to have transformed the killer from a folk devil against whom citizens can unite. As for example London’s serial killer Jack the Ripper, got an immediate sensation in media and achieved the celebrity status despite his brutal ways of killing.

It is also really interesting, how the products we use, the words we speak, the garments we wear, which altogether construct our cultural atmosphere, also been heavily influenced by murder. Knowingly or unknowingly we let it happen. For instance, Nike, the famous shoe and garment brand’s enduring “Just Do It” slogan is based on the last words spoken by infamous serial killer Garry Gilmore, on whom Norman Mailer wrote his Pulitzer Prize winning non-fiction Executioner’s Song (1979). This example speaks the needful about our cultural obsession with death.

Anindya Shankar Polley, Munger University.


Treatment of Death in the Works of John Keats

 

Saurabh Agarwal

 

The phenomenon of death was deeply intertwined with the life of John Keats, the English poet, who himself died at the age of 26. In this short life, he wrote some masterpieces which assured him of immortality. He witnessed the death of his father at the age of eight, and afterwards, death became a frequent visitor to his family. He saw his grandfather, his mother and brother being taken away. When he himself contracted tuberculosis, he could read his own “death warrant”. Thus the shadow of death looms large in his works. In a poem from the beginning of his poetic career titled “On death” (1814) he expresses fear that death will not let him realise his true potential as a writer and he may not live to see fame and glory. Another of his work titled “When I have fears that I may cease to be” (Composed 1818) expresses the regret of the pleasures of life he may have to forgo when he is no more in the world as it can be seen in these lines.

 

“When I behold, upon the night’s starr’d face,

 Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance,

 And think that I may never live to trace

 Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance;

 

His famous poem “Ode to a Nightingale” finds him deliberating that it will be better to choose death as it will liberate him from earthly pain when he writes, “Now more than ever seems it rich to die, / To cease upon the midnight with no pain”. Not only in his poems but in his letters, death emerges as an essential player in his life as he waits for the inevitable. In a letter to Fanny Brawne, to whom he was engaged, he wrote: “I have two luxuries to brood over in my walk, your Loveliness and the hour of my death. O that I could have possession of them both in the same minute” (25 July 1819).

 

He had the realisation that death will cut short his journey to fame of which he is capable of so he wrote to his brother George Keats that it is “a mere matter of the moment – I think I shall be among the English Poets after my death” (14 October 1818). His fear is evident on his gravestone, with the words “Here lies one whose name was writ in water.” The epitaph, which Keats requested on his deathbed, reflects Keats’ anger with fate, as his works do. But in a short span of life, he gave us the poetic works that have assured him a place in the literary world which among Shakespeare, Milton and Wordsworth.


Human Concerns and Ideal life:

“An Elegiac Poem on The Death of Celebrated Divine

Bandla Ashok

The poem is on eminent servant of Jesus Christ, the Reverend and Learned George Whitefield by Phyllis Wheatly, “An Elegiac Poem on The Death Of Celebrated Divine” published in 1772. It brought International name and fame to the poet. The poem is in single stanza divided in three parts. The first stanza opens with the philosophical saying of happy saint to acknowledge the human concerns of George Whitefield. The poetess commemorates George as a noble and unconcerned to the sorrows and complaints of life. Because of the happy saint’s sudden demise the sermons disappeared to the world. It is an irreparable loss to the world. The human beings are unhappy to digest sorrow of the setting of the sun. Once George Whitefield was shining in the world but the death made him disappear in the world. He had left the world to the unmeasured heights of the heaven. The second stanza represents Whitefields’s contribution to the American society. His Philanthropic and Samaritan nature build the brotherhood among the people and whites and blacks with love and charity. He loves America more than his native land to reform the destitute and depressed Americans. He wants through the prayers to excel America and its youth to achieve great heights. He is the son of God to show the right path to all the human beings.  He urges Africans and Americans to take him as saviour. If the people choose him as their saviour they will be sons, and kings, and priests to GOD. In the third stanza, the poetess concludes with the reminiscences of the Whitefields’ attachment with Americans  and British in their service. What can Americans return to the servant of the God. Death is a cruel messenger but God preserves him with divine power.

Bandla Ashok, Assistant Professor, Dept of English, Osmania University, Hyderabad.

 

                                      Death in Albert Camus’ The Stranger: 

                    Comparison of Meursault’s Mother’s Death with his Own

Anjali Singh

In the novel, ‘death’ occurs three times – Beginning, middle and towards the end. Written in two parts, the first part is a first person narrative of Meursault. He appears to be an honest man who believes in the philosophy of ‘Live and let live’. In an odd twist of circumstances, he is drawn to commit murder. Part II is the proceedings post the second death; includes the trial that follows – contrasting ‘existence’ with ‘aliveness’ (of Meursault). ‘Aliveness’ marked by the many ‘first times’ such as

·         An urge to cry because he could feel the hatred of people in the courtroom;                   which he believes is ‘stupid’.

·         Realizes he is guilty – in retrospect of his behaviour post his ‘Maman’s death.’

·         His desire to kiss a man because he (the man, Celeste) gives a statement in the              court in favour of Meursault.

Proven guilty and waiting for his execution he undergoes a transformation. Fear grips him and replaces memories of good time when he was a free man. This is followed by the acceptance of the inevitable death, the end of life and the monologue justifying the acceptance. Chaplain who visits him is unable to influence him but is instrumental in triggering rage and an ‘offloading of the heaviness’ he feels. Finally, at the dawn of the day of his execution, he remembers his mother. This is the most powerful moment according to me: “For the first time in a long time I thought about Maman. I felt as if I understood why at the end of her life she had taken a ‘fiancé,’ why she had played at beginning again. …So close to death, Maman must have felt free then and ready to live it all again….Nobody, nobody had the right to cry over her. And I felt ready to live it all again too….” Ultimately, proximity to death infuses life and joy in Meursault.

I believe that death is a reality that should be accepted. The exception is ‘untimely death or unnatural death’ that puts a lot of question mark and is hard to accept, sometimes, never accepted at all.

Looking at nature, what is born must die. Beginnings have ends. The idea is for life to begin again. The cycle goes on. Nothing lasts forever. Death itself is also a beginning of a life force in another world.

Anjali Singh, Ph.D. Research scholar, Dr. B.R. Ambedkar University, Agra.

Depiction of Death in Indian Children’s Literature

Lisha Sinha

It is no wonder that adults always have a tendency to conceal the ghastly and painful reality of death from the juvenile minds of children. So, when someone dies, there is often repeated excuse that the person has become a star in the sky or has gone far away and will be back very soon. But this same concept becomes a herculean task for the literature to deal with especially by the children literature. However, in Indian’s Children literature there are perhaps different ways through which the dark concept of death is gradually infused in the young minds.

In Panchatantra the anthropomorphized animals while teaching the “wise conduct of life”, carefully break down the concept of death to children. One, the death of an animal is the child’s initial exposure to death which allows the child to undergo the same normal stage of anger, fear, regret and sense of loss like the story in The Loyal Mongoose.  Secondly, death is presented as a punishment for a mistake or a sin and thus acts as warning against wealth and worldly pleasure and seeks security within his own heart upon his moral character like the story in The Elephant and the Sparrows.

While in Thakurmar Jhuli (Grandmother’s bag of Stories), the classic collection of Bengali Folktales for children deals death as a case of ‘suspension of reality’. There is innumerable use of fancy and imagination yet it ponders on ‘the restoration of life’ which in case of evil is irreversible and in case of good there is always a chance of coming back to life in the form of plants, trees, stones, angels and such others like in the story of Suorani and Duorani. The purpose is to diffuse the tension of death by directly confronting it and rejoicing at it. Even the greatest fear of being orphaned is carefully handled where there is warm approach of acceptance of death and complexity of life.

Deducing from above, firstly it is necessary for the child to know that like the fictional world, the real world is equally dangerous for the unprepared.  Secondly, instead of turning away from their queries it is responsibility as adult to show the child that way of death is a natural process. And thus let the children be raised with the realization that death is a part of growing up.

Lisha Sinha, Ph.D. Research Scholar, Guru Ghasidas Central University, Bilaspur, Chhattisgarh.

                                       Who is More Powerful – Life or Death?

Mrigakshi Singh

Death: I am more powerful because I take away lives.

Life: No, I am the strongest because I give lives.

Death: But I take away lives from you.

Life: Sometimes, I stop you too.

King of Life and Death (COVID-19): I am voting for both of you. Who votes for life?

All the dead people raised their hands in the court.

King of Life and Death (COVID-19): Who votes for death?

All viruses raised their hands.

The Wise Old Man (who had voted for ‘Life’): I will ask two riddles to each of you; the one who answers correctly will be said to be more powerful.

All agreed.

The Wise Old Man: Here is the first riddle – What stays where it is when it goes off?

Life and Death (Together): A Gun!

The Wise Old Man: Correct. Next Riddle – If you have three oranges and take away two, how many will you have?

Both thought this was tricky but they could answer it because they were smart.

Life and Death (Together): Two! The two you took

The Wise Old Man: Correct.

King of Life and Death (COVID-19): It’s a tie. Both win.

Mrigakshi Singh (aged 8 years) is a student of Shri Ram Centennial School, Agra.

 

 


 

 

 




 

 

Tuesday, 7 July 2020

COVID-19 & I: Transforming Emotions into Creativity -- ELSA ONLINE MEET


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.


~