Literary Vibes - Edition CXLV (27-Sep-2024) - POEMS & BOOK REVIEWS

Title : Meadow Mates  (Picture courtesy Ms. Latha Prem Sakya)

Dear Readers

I have great pleasure in presenting to you the 145th edition of LiteraryVibes which comes decked with some beautiful poems and scintillating stories. We also have with us two new writers. Ms. Surya Rajesh of Kerala currently resides in Italy and writes lovely stories. Ms. Anita Panda from Mumbai is a wonderful poet who pens powerful poetry. Let us welcome them to the family of LiteraryVibes and wish them the very best in their literary career. 

September is an important month on the calendar, as it hosts Teacher’s Day on the 5th. Words are not enough to convey our appreciation to the teachers who have molded our lives and rendered invaluable service to the nation. There are many among the readers and lots of members in our LiteraryVibes family who are Teachers, Professors, past and present. I pay my respectful homage to all of you for being such great nation-builders and spreading knowledge and enlightenment in society. 

There are numerous inspiring stories about the dedication and commitment of teachers. A few are really heart touching. Let me quote one of them here - it is a favourite of mine: 

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THE LIST
By Helen P. Mrosla

He was in the first third-grade class I taught at St. Mary’s School in ­Morris, Minnesota. All 34 of my students were dear to me, but Mark Eklund was one in a million: very neat in appearance with a happy-to-be-alive attitude. He also talked incessantly.

I had to remind him repeatedly that talking without permission was not acceptable. What impressed me so much, though, was his sincere response every time I corrected him for misbehaving: “Thank you for correcting me, Sister!” I didn’t know what to make of it at first, but before long I became accustomed to hearing it many times a day.

One morning, I made a novice teacher’s mistake. When Mark talked once too often, I told him, “If you say one more word, I am going to tape your mouth shut!”

It wasn’t ten seconds later when Chuck blurted out, “Mark is talking again.” And since I had stated the punishment in front of the class, I had to act on it.

I remember the scene as if it occurred this morning. I walked to my desk, opened my drawer very deliberately, and took out a roll of masking tape. Without saying a word, I proceeded to Mark’s desk, tore off two pieces of tape, and made a big X over his mouth. I then returned to the front of the room. As I glanced at Mark to see how he was doing, he winked at me. That did it! I started laughing. The class cheered as I walked back to Mark’s desk, removed the tape, and shrugged my shoulders. His first words were, “Thank you for correcting me, Sister.”

The years flew by, and before I knew it, Mark was in my classroom again, this time for junior high math. Since he had to listen carefully to my instructions, he did not talk as much in ninth grade as he had in the third.

One Friday, after working hard on a new concept all week, I sensed that the students were frustrated with themselves and edgy with one another. I had to stop this crankiness before it got out of hand. So I asked them to list the names of the other students in the room on two sheets of paper, leaving a space between each name. Then I told them to think of the nicest thing they could say about each of their classmates and write it down. That took up the remainder of the class. As the students left the room, each one handed me the papers. Mark said, “Thank you for teaching me, Sister. Have a good weekend.”

That Saturday, I wrote down the name of each student on a separate sheet of paper and listed what everyone else had said about that individual. On Monday, I gave each student his or her list. Before long, the entire class was smiling. “I never knew that I meant anything to anyone!” I heard whispered. “I didn’t know others liked me so much!” No one ever mentioned those papers in class again. I never knew if they discussed them after class or with their parents, but it didn’t matter. The students were happy with themselves and one another again.

Several years later, after I had returned from a vacation, my parents met me at the airport. As we were driving home, Mother asked me the usual questions about the trip—the weather, my experiences in general. There was a light lull in the conversation. Mother gave Dad a sideways glance and simply said, “Dad?”

My father cleared his throat as he usually did before saying something important. “The Eklunds called last night,” he began.

“Really?” I said. “I haven’t heard from them in years. I wonder how Mark is.”

Dad responded quietly, “Mark was killed in Vietnam. The funeral is tomorrow, and his parents would like it if you could attend.” To this day, I can still point to the exact spot on I-494 where Dad told me about Mark.

I had never seen a serviceman in a military coffin before. Mark looked so handsome, so mature. All I could think at that moment was, Mark, I would give all the masking tape in the world if only you would talk to me. The church was packed with his friends. The pastor said the usual prayers, and the bugler played taps. One by one, those who loved Mark took a last walk by the coffin and sprinkled it with holy water.

I was the last to bless the coffin. As I stood there, one of the soldiers who had acted as a pallbearer came up to me. “Were you Mark’s math teacher?” I nodded as I continued to stare at the coffin. “Mark talked about you a lot,” he said.

After the funeral, most of Mark’s former classmates headed to Chuck’s farmhouse for lunch. Mark’s mother and father were there, waiting for me. “We want to show you something,” his father said, taking a wallet out of his pocket. “They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it.” Opening the billfold, he carefully removed two worn pieces of notebook paper that had been taped, folded, and refolded many times. I knew without looking that the papers were the ones on which I had listed all the good things each of Mark’s classmates had said about him.

“Thank you so much for doing that,” Mark’s mother said. “As you can see, Mark treasured it.”

Mark’s classmates started to gather around us. Charlie smiled rather sheepishly and said, “I still have my list. It’s in the top drawer of my desk at home.

Chuck’s wife said, “Chuck asked me to put his in our wedding album.”

“I have mine, too,” Marilyn said. “It’s in my diary.”

Vicki reached into her pocketbook, took out her wallet, and showed her worn and frazzled list to the group. “I carry this with me at all times,” she said without batting an eyelash.

“I think we all saved our lists.”

That’s when I finally sat down and cried.

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A very touching story from far-off America, isnt it? We have, in our country, numerous teachers who have been an inspiration to humanity. Let me mention a few of them, although there are hundreds of others whose dedication makes us hold our heads high in pride. There is Aditya Kumar, the Bicycle Guru in Lucknow, who goes from village to village across 64 kilometers to hold classes for students under the trees, an Abdul Malik, a teacher in Padinjattamuri of Malappuram district in Kerala, who swims across the river every day to be in his school in time to start his classes, a R. Sathy, the Head Mistress in Malumichampatti Panchayat Union Primary School in Coimbatore district, who mobilises students by going from home to home and then, along with teaching, also organises them to be "Chinna Commandoes" to prevent open defecation in the village, or a P. K. Ilamaran, a teacher in Kodangaiyur of Chennai who cooks and feeds breakfast to 120 hungry students before starting classes every day.

I have my own story which I am tempted to mention here. In 1975 I had worked as a Lecturer at Banaras Hindu University for two years before joining the civil service. I had some very dedicated, brilliant students who went on to excel in life in different fields. A few of them are kind enough to remember me on Teacher's Day and send their regards to me. But this year I had a pleasant surprise waiting for me on Guru Divas. I got a message from an unknown person conveying her thanks and regards for being a good teacher to her. On enquiry I found she was a student who had attended an induction lecture I had given last year in my old department where I had studied fifty years back. The message moved me a lot and made me think that if a student could remember me on Guru Divas for just one lecture she attended, do I not owe something to the Department of Political Science at my Alma Mater, which had nurtured me for two years during my university days?

I immediately called the Professor and HOD to ask if I can be of some service to the Department. She told me that the students are clamoring for a separate Departmental library where they can study outside the teaching hours. By a happy coincidence I remembered a friend of mine, an old student of the same department, who is a builder in Bhubaneswar. I spoke to him and he readily agreed to build a Libray hall for the students. We are going to meet the Vice-Chancellor next week and hopefully the hall will be ready and dedicated to the students in a few months. I have a request for all the readers who are reading this editorial. Please close your eyes for a moment and send a prayer to whichever Gods you belive in, to make this mission a success.

Before I forget, let me mention that my story, "Tapaswini...." in today's edition is about the love of a devoted student for her brilliant Professor - a special Guru Divas offering from me! 

Hope you will enjoy the offerings in LV145 and share the following links with your friends and contacts:

https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/561 (Poems and Book Reviews)

https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/560
(Short Stories, Anecdotes, Travelogues)

https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/559 (Young Magic)

There are two medical anecdotes by Dr. Gangadhar Sahoo, the prolific Gyanecologist, at https://positivevibes.today/article/newsview/558

Hope you remember that all the 145 editions of LiteraryVibes are available at https://positivevibes.today/literaryvibes 

Please post your feedback in the Comments Box located at the bottom of each page.

Take care dear readers, enjoy the closing days of monsoons with LiteraryVibes in your hands. We will meet again next month, first with a Special Pooja edition of short stories on 12th October on the occasion of Vijaya Dashami, and then with LV146 on 25th October, the last Friday of the month. 

With warm regards,
Mrutyunjay Sarangi 
Editor, LiteraryVibes
Friday, the 27th September, 2024

Table of Contents :: Poems

26) Dr. Mrutyunjay Sarangi
     VOICES

Table of Contents :: Book Review

1) Dr. Rekha Mohanty

    Reflections & Echoes

2) Mr R. M. Prabhulinga Shastry

    REGAINING THE UNLOST (Book Review by Ms Gargi Saha)

 

 

WIFE

Prabhanjan K. Mishra

 

Let’s play a hand of rummy
staking whatever is left between us.
You bet your pride; I, my ego.

Shuffle and deal the inane cards
in a way that defeat us both,
sinking us to impossible togetherness.

Let’s take a stroll
stop at a rattling tea-cart,
share a cup, half and half.

But share our stories in full,
not leaving even the insidious
or the ludicrous, the annoying dregs.

Let the memories pause;
we trudge ahead dodging questions,
many in number, the answer is but one.

Let’s cry for all we have lost;
laugh over the few wins, rue the slips
that matter, also the immaterial ones.

Let’s make this evening worthwhile;
the day has passed etherised,
a tired dog hanging its hangdog tail.

Let’s die our deaths in our togetherness;
unsung, unheard, a patch of timid mimosa;
let a green shoot rise from our humus.

Prabhanjan K. Mishra is an award-winning Indian poet from India, besides being a story writer, translator, editor, and critic; a former president of Poetry Circle, Bombay (Mumbai), an association of Indo-English poets. He edited POIESIS, the literary magazine of this poets’ association for eight years. His poems have been widely published, his own works and translation from the works of other poets. He has published three books of his poems and his poems have appeared in twenty anthologies in India and abroad.

 

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MISSING THE OBVIOUS

Dilip Mohapatra

 

A deluge of data 

demands and diversions

engage our cognition 

in constant battle

with its avalanche of inputs 

and rooted 

in evolutionary adaptiveness

we take recourse to

selective attention

and extricate ourselves

from this informational

whirlpool.

 

While taking the cerebral

shortcuts 

we are accused of

staring so intently at the doughnut

but missing the hole

and while hanging between

cognitive revelation 

and concealment

we look ahead and beyond

but miss out

what is nearby 

and in our close proximity

lost in the darkness

at the foot of the candle. 

 

We are conditioned to believe

that life is complicated

layered with intricacies

and its challenges and 

problems need a thorough 

analysis and

to reach a solution

we get entangled in the web

of hypotheticals

leading to analysis paralysis 

while we sacrifice simplicity

on the altar of complexity

like examining a mural

with magnifying glass 

while the broader essence 

gets lost in minutiae. 

 

 

In the midst of life’s intricacies

I learnt  that missing the obvious 

can be disastrous too…

as I found out on 

our thirtieth anniversary 

when my wife decked up

in her bridal sari and jewellery 

asked me how did she look?

I raised my head

from my iPad 

and gave her a blank look

and said hesitatingly

my dear

you are like no other

my sweetheart 

my children’s mother…

 

Then she disappeared 

and after few minutes 

reappeared

dressed in her usual homewear 

smelling of oil and spices

and asked

how did she look now?

I still gave her a vacant

stare

and as usual

missed the obvious

maybe my mind 

was playing the trick

for I didn’t notice

what she was holding in her hands

the proverbial 

and ubiquitous

broomstick!

 

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RAISING YOUR SON

Dilip Mohapatra

 

As you grow into a man

my son

listen carefully…

Don't stare at girls on the street

or wolf whistle recklessly.

Imagine someone doing 

the same to your mother

your sister

or even you.

 

The girls you know

are no longer confined 

to their homes

playing house or growing up 

to cook and sew.

They're your equals 

in college corridors

sports fields

and workplaces too

giving you a run for your money

and may outshine you.

 

Don't despair or fret in anger

accept it graciously…

Grin and bear it

for fairness is the key

and in life’s game of chess

let the best person win.

 

If on a date

don’t make uninvited advances

respect her dignity 

and personal space…

her boundaries 

her voice

her silence.

Don’t ever forget that

wholehearted consent 

is paramount

and should always be in place.

 

You convey your love 

to one whom you are

besotted with…

If she doesn't respond as you hope 

don't stalk or intimidate.

Love is never forced

everyone has the right of choice. 

Brush it aside

move on

and don't feel dejected

for every heart has its own path

even if vulnerable 

and unprotected.

 

Your friends may

ridicule you

for your good manners 

calling you soft and spineless

while claiming 

aggression to be 

a sign of strength

a macho man’s makeup 

show them your spine is stronger

standing upright and straight

defying toxic norms

standing for what's right

without any inhibition

fear or fright.

 

Dilip Mohapatra, a decorated Navy Veteran is a well acclaimed poet in contemporary English and his poems appear in many literary journals of repute and anthologies worldwide. He has seven poetry collections, one short story collection and two professional books to his credit. He is a regular contributor to Literary Vibes. He  the recipient of multiple awards for his literary activities, which include the prestigious Honour Award for complete work under Naji Naaman Literary Awards for 2020. He holds the honorary title of ‘Member of Maison Naaman pour la Culture’. He lives in Pune and his email id is dilipmohapatra@gmail.com

 

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HOWL IN THE WIND

Abani Udgata

 

Here it comes again

to-night, drowning the monsoon,

laying aside the chatter of rains

from the depths of the earth, from

tectonic shifts  of faith .

 

The ravished limbs on pyre

burn to the chant of wandering

jackals and hyenas baying incessantly

in the pallid lights of a weak moon

under a remorseless midnight sky .

The crackle of joints, the sharp edge

of the flame, the wail of the wind together join the howl in the night.

 

This night of the howl is a betrayal.

A knife that slices through the beauty

in innocence,

defiles the coveted truth .

Our bare bones flutter in the wind.

Ashes of wildness choke our eyes.

Tomorrow when we meet, dearest,

your eyes will be empty sockets

too dark, for light to enter.

I will drape around you my arms,

two snakes .

When we kiss, a dry draught of wind

will pass through an empty distance.

 

Abani Udgata lives in Bhubaneswar. Writes poems both in English and Odia. Udgata has been awarded in all-India poetry competitions and published in anthologies. He has been a regular contributor to LV. Email: abaniudgata@gmail.com

 

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SOMETIMES

Sujata Dash

Sometimes between twilight and deep dark night

I summon my bundle of memories

to inhale the redolent phases of life

exuding warmth and positive vibe

Sometimes I try to tune into my original self

 but fail and lapse back into silent reveries

 slowly sink like a fateful ship

 as subtleties distance and ostracize 

 and i am beseeched by harsh realities

Sometimes pitch dark clouds 

whisk away stars and the moon from life

I become less and less of myself

get shoved away from my space

like a nosediving defeated kite

Sometimes I do fall to rise

repulse insidious pressures of modern living

barrel my way through blinding blizzard

walk defiantly along scissors of time

unfollow bizarre happenings

to limp back to harmony

Sometimes I put a deaf ear to ramblings

the nauseating pauses those echo within

deftly manage the mast and oar of existence

by sheer grit and perseverance

to bring more and more of me to fore

espouse gratefulness to this one time offer.

 

Sujata Dash is a poet from Bhubaneswar, Odisha. She is a retired banker.She has four published poetry anthologies(More than Mere-a bunch of poems, Riot of hues and Eternal Rhythm and Humming Serenades -all by Authorspress, New Delhi) to her credit.She is a singer,avid lover of nature. She regularly contributes to anthologies worldwide.

 

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AMIDST CHAOS

Hema Ravi

 

The young immigrant was on holiday.
 
As the car went past dusty, crowded streets,
she watched children at play –
scantily dressed, grimy, yet
radiant as the sun overhead over the
patched tents. Aluminum utensils, and mongrels
lay beside the elderly lady who rested,
keeping a watchful eye over the urchins.

 Mother read aloud the news article.
“Nordics are always winning the happiness race”
They are small, homogenous, and wealthy.”

Promptly retorted the little one:
These children are also happy!

 

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FROM A PULPIT

Hema Ravi

 

A sweet smile while meeting
colleagues and managers…
Back home, the scowling side
revealed to those who share
moments of joy and gloom,
taking them for granted.

 Family – for demands,
Money – for transactions!
One follows the other;
traps us in the maelstrom.

 In thought and deed, we taunt
when they get involved in
our domains and dealings.
Our egos reign supreme
when we’re with these loved ones –
shed tears when they’re gone?

Greed takes us far away
to disown all loved ones,
destroy the scaffolding
of life called FAMILY.

 

Hema Ravi is a poet, author, reviewer, editor (Efflorescence), independent researcher and resource person for language development courses... Her writings have been featured in several online and international print journals, notable among them being  Metverse Muse, Amaravati Poetic Prism, International Writers Journal (USA), Culture and Quest (ISISAR), Setu Bilingual, INNSAEI journal and Science Shore Magazine. Her write ups and poems have won prizes in competitions.

She is the recipient of the Distinguished Writer International Award for excellence in Literature for securing the ninth place in the 7th Bharat Award, conducted by www.poesisonline.com.  In addition, she has been awarded a ‘Certificate of Appreciation’ for her literary contributions by the Gujarat Sahitya Academy and Motivational Strips on the occasion of the 74th Independence Day (2020) and again. conferred with the ‘Order of Shakespeare Medal’ for her writing merit conforming to global standards.(2021). She is the recipient of cash prizes from the Pratilipi group, having secured the fourth place in the Radio Romeo Contest (2021), the sixth place in the Retelling of Fairy Tales (2021), the first prize in the Word Cloud competition (2020) and in the Children’s Day Special Contest (2020). She scripted, edited, and presented radio lessons on the Kalpakkam Community Radio titled 'Everyday English with Hema,' (2020) a series of lessons for learners to hone their language skills. Science Shore Magazine has been featuring her visual audios titled ‘English Errors of Indian Students.’

A brief stint in the Central Government, then as a teacher of English and Hindi for over two decades, Hema Ravi is currently freelancer for IELTS and Communicative English. With students ranging from 4 to 70, Hema is at ease with any age group, pursues her career and passion with great ease and comfort. As the Secretary of the Chennai Poets’ Circle, Chennai, she empowers the young and the not so young to unleash their creative potential efficiently

 

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WHEN A POET IS BORN

Anita Panda

The earth does not tremble!
The sky does not roar!
The universe does not proclaim!
When a poet is born.

Like the fragrance of a flower
Like the whiff of a perfume
Like the twinkling of a million bright stars
Like the swirling galaxies
A poet is born.

With showers of blessings
From ancestors smiling down
Paving the path
For a thousand more
Like rows of illuminated lamps
A poet is born…

 

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THE ‘PINK’ SEAT

Anita Panda

Gender has now flown to the skies
Turned colour coded with the ‘pink seat’!
Lest groping males on adjacent seats
Violate her dignity!

From plane to boardroom to parliament
She must always be on alert!
Securing her space with ‘quotas’
Thwarting her right to equality!

From being on tenterhooks constantly
Travelling on late nights, at dark public streets
She must always be tense and watchful!
Never at peace!
Oh! What if she is molested, raped or killed???

She must always mark herself ‘safe’!
On metros, trains, in public buses
Travel with her gender
To create islands of safety and security.

After all she is born a female!
Jeopardising her fight for gender equality !!

In the land that worships the ‘Devi’!
She must suffer misogyny still
Oh! How can she not be vigilant of her safety 24/7 ??
Lest she be devoured by the hungry male gaze!

Oh! Not to worry!
The ‘pink seat’
Will safeguard her dignity. And peace of mind.
In a still deeply patriarchal India!
Blue is after all only for the boys !!!

 

Anita Panda is a Mumbai-based bilingual writer-poet, the self-published author of ‘GENESIS’, (2021), dedicated to her valiant Late brother Colonel Suryakant Panda & the author of her debut book of 47 English poems-  ‘SONGS OF MY SOUL’ (2023).

 

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HE , THE GOD CRIES FOR JUSTICE

Braja K Sorkar

 

Humans and animals are not different from one another.
Man is a peculiar kind of animal!.
History has attested to it.
Still animals and humans are not the same.
Individuals possess humanity, a conscience, and a mentality!
Despite their fierce hunger, primitive people were also loving.
They put their life in danger for their women.
Rape was outlawed even in prehistoric cultures.

What is justice? Why does modern civilization need to go
for  justice! Did primitive men sought justice ?
And did they ever demonstrate  against rape?

The cities  and towns and the country as a whole
and the entire world right now demand Justice!

Animals needs justice , they deserve it , said God.

Today, man has vanquished God, and 

He is knelt before the rapist!
He cries for Justice as man …

 

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FAR AND NEAR

Braja K Sorkar

 

Everything seems to be in a mess inside.
It's laughing outside!
Someone comes closer, someone comes nearer
and melts in the heat of the bodies.

All the migratory birds have returned
To their nests.
The  winter still remains and
the songs  of their feathers rest on cold ground!

I saw some signs in the Kulik forest  that day.

Those who have been so far away,
How did they come close to each other?
I've learned the  secrets of nearness..

Braja K Sorkar is a bilingual author, poet, Essayist, and Translator. 10 Titles have beenpublished in his credit and a highly acclaimed poetry collection in English, titled ‘ Syllables of Broken Silence(2021) for which he received ‘The Indology Award’(2021). He has edited a prestigious literary magazine in Bengali ‘Tristoop’ since 2001 and an International English literary journal’ Durgapur Review’ since 2023. He edited an International Anthology of World English Poetry, titled’ Voices Now: World Poetry Today’ (2021). His poems have been translated into many languages. He lives in Durgapur, West Bengal. Contact: email: brajaksorkar369@gmail.com. And brajakumar.sarkar@gmail.com Whats App: 9064231839

 

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THE LONELY TEA

Shri Satish Pashine

 

The tea sits cold,
on the table, untouched.
She’s not here today,
not to sit by my side,
nor sip her tea or water—
it’s Hartalika Teej.

Steam rises slowly,
in the quiet, like a whisper.
Each day, she shares her thoughts,
but today, even they are silent—
she’s busy in the kitchen,
preparing something just for me.

The cup in front of me is beautiful,
fresh from yesterday,
but there’s no one to share it with.
I take a few sips,
talking to myself,
the news murmuring in the background,
Ravish Kumar echoing through YouTube.

Why do these memories flood back?
Her presence,
her soft advice over tea,
“Do this, not that.”
But this tea isn’t truly alone—
old conversations linger,
a single toast rests,
and not too much jaggery, just the way she likes.

Tomorrow will come,
the cup will fill again,
and new stories will quietly unfold,
amidst the noise of the news.
I’ll soak in her advice,
sipping slowly,
and she’ll chide me,
“Eat the almonds first, before the toast.”

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THE JOURNEY OF SILENCE

Shri Satish Pashine

 

As my age and wisdom
progress,
amidst the tangled chaos
of the world,
I find myself slowly
being guided
towards the silence,
a path perhaps
leading to the profound.

Our words,
our thoughts,
now seem to fade away,
lost in the void,
not echoing
in anyone’s mind,
drowned in the world's
endless din.

Even amid the clamor
of worldly voices,
within me,
a deep silence
settles,
bringing a sense of
inner peace
and profound contentment.

This journey of silence
offers me daily
a glimpse into deeper truths,
where serenity and
understanding converge
to unveil the essence of existence.

If there is something
to be expressed,
I inscribe it,
where comprehension and tranquility
intertwine.
Whether it is read
or remains unseen,
I have conveyed my essence;
this is my true fulfillment.

Shri Satish Pashine is a Metallurgical Engineer. Founder and Principal Consultant, Q-Tech Consultancy, he lives in Bhubaneswar and loves to dabble in literature.

 

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LOVE BLOOMS IN FREEDOM

Leena Thampi

 

Oh! dear soulmate listen to my song

Let's lose ourselves in the music of cosmos

Your presence in my life is like a gentle breeze

Soothing my soul, putting my mind at ease

 

I yearn for your passionate love, so pure

It’s a feeling that I cannot ignore

I am like a sailor lost at sea

Without thee, I am nothing, just debris

 

You are my guiding light, my lodestar

Leading me through darkness, no matter how far

Your love is the anchor that keeps me grounded

In a world full of chaos, you are the unique one I’ve found

 

To hold me close and keep me sane

You are the one who eases my pain

I thank the universe every day

For bringing you into my life in every way

You are my other half, my missing piece

Without thee, my world would cease

 

Your love is like a symphony

Playing in my heart, so sweetly

I dance to the rhythm of your love

Serenading me from the heavens above

 

I feel your love pulsating through my veins

It’s like a drug, taking away all my pains

Our souls loved one another long before we ever knew 

This was once in a lifetime love 

The One we cannot UNDO

 

Born in Jammu and brought up in Delhi ,Leena Thampi is an articulate writer who's lost in her own little epiphanies and she gives them life with her quill. She's an author extraordinaire with four books to her credit -"Rhythms of a Heart", "Autumn Blaze" , An Allusion To Time' and Embers to Flames.

She has many articles published in India and abroad. She has received many elite accolades from different literary platforms worldwide.She has been awarded by Gujarat Sahitya Academy and Motivational Strips twice for her best contribution towards literature in the year 2021  and 2022.She was also the recipient of Rabindranath Tagore Memorial  literary honours 2022  by Motivational Strips.

Her work mixes luminous writing, magical realism, myths, and the hard truths of everyday life.

Besides her flair for writing and deep-rooted love for music, she is an Entrepreneur,Relationship and life coach,specialised in child psychology.She is also a dancer and actor. She is currently working on her fifth book which is a collection of short stories.

 

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GANPATI BAPPA

Avantika Vijay Singh

 

 He came,

He sat,

He saw,

He lived amongst us...

I didn't want to send him off,

But I did

‘cause in sending him

I release my

Attachment,

Greed

Ego...

I let go...

For there is nothing

Permanent.

 

The next day…

I wake up in the morning

To see nothingness…

Just flowers floating free

At the site of Visarjan

And the words of a famous Vedic mantra

Slip automatically

“Om purnamadah purnamidam purnat purnamudachyate

purnasya purnamadaya purnamevavashisyate

Om Shaantih Shaantih Shaanti.”

 

A powerful reminder

Everything emerges

From the infinite universe

And again, merges back with it.

The void is not nothingness

But wholeness…

An optical illusion

For the Universe is whole, and

“From wholeness comes wholeness.”

Avantika Vijay Singh is a writer, editor, poet, researcher, and photographer. She is the author of two solo poetry books i.e., Flowing… in the river of life and Dancing Motes of Starlight (her debut ebook). She is the winner of the Nissim International Award Runners Up 2023. She enjoys writing humour too for her  blog “Ordinary People, Extraordinary Lives” in the Times of India.

 

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EQUALITY IN REALITY

Dr. Rajamouly Katta

 

Equality is joy and fair,
like a flower to bloom fresh
But scarce and rare

once in five years,
it duly steps in at household
to wipe off tears.

to remind equality,
all of us of the sole vote right
as a guest in amity.

It flies like a bird
in the full sprit of ‘liberty’,
only in talk as a word.

It invites us to a feast
like siblings to reflect fraternity
with no enmity least.

it dips us in a drink
then it fills our empty pockets,
leading us to the ink.

It cheers so with all
until votes are cast in secrecy
it turns us all thrall.

the rare guest skips
Bidding goodbye with a smile
to shine on its lips.

we wake up to reality
after the swing of intoxication
to live a life of actuality.

it appears all a dream,
a balloon of promises to burst,
life in democratic stream.

 

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LEADER-LIKE-PARENT

Dr. Rajamouly Katta

 

The leader is like the parent
to look after people like children
with plans and schemes in intent
in their welfare as brethren.

he is like the hen to protect
its chicks from kites and vultures 
so, they grow safe and perfect,
with lessons of risk for all creatures.

people are his life, his heart
his breath, his wealth, his keen
they live well in his governing art
poverty unknown, tears unseen.

he is the giver for he offers air,
water and food for them he is on earth,
all basic needs in his utmost care,
his birth is solely for their mirth.

they are unaware of the danger
lurking and growing sans their notice
they firmly believe he is the giver
but they do not know what they miss.              

for he borrows various loans
when surplus is the budget
the lion’s share, he owns
to rise a tycoon, to fly by plane jet.

it is a pity that he bulges,
becomes stronger and richer
swallowing all theirs but he poses
when people-children turn weaker.

they wake to the unexpected lapse,
when family and nation collapse.

 

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NARROW WALLS

Dr. Rajamouly Katta

 

Man wants never to be single
for society is his residence
he can’t live alone, in isolation
for no man is an island.

for that matter no creature
loves to be single and aloof
the fish in aquarium in full rapture
swimming with other fish, a proof.

the beasts love to be together
in living and in relaxing
birds fly with their wings all together
in flying and in living.

by coos, birds meet at a place,
nor by their phone calls.
beasts join a spot by cries all days
not by WhatsApp messages.

when one is in trouble
all its race rush to one’s rescue
poor are they with instincts
but rich are they in virtues.

all they with instinctual traits
love no narrow walls built
all theirs seem to excel greats
to have barriers is a guilt.

no visa essential to cross their land
and live free in any nation,
no passport as none to demand
to present for permission.

man of insight marks to be inhuman
by building a narrow wall
in the name of caste or race, his creation
region, religion and all.

 

Dr. Rajamouly Katta, M.A., M. Phil., Ph. D., Professor of English by profession and poet, short story writer, novelist, writer, critic and translator by predilection, has to his credit 64 books of all genres and 344 poems, short stories, articles and translations published in journals and anthologies of high repute. He has so far written 3456 poems collected in 18 anthologies, 200 short stories in 9 anthologies, nine novels 18 skits. Creative Craft of Dr. Rajamouly Katta: Sensibilities and Realities is a collection of articles on his works. As a poet, he has won THIRD Place FIVE times in Poetry Contest in India conducted by Metverse Muse  rajamoulykatta@gmail.com

 

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LIFE’S SURPRISE

Dr Nanda Kishore Biswal

 

Limited is our means
to unveil life’s unknown ways,
mystery-ridden as they are,
that spring a surprise beyond comprehension.

The ones we lean on
who our very own we claim
slyly let us down
betraying all our trust, belying all hopes
that comes as a rude shock.

The ones we least expect
lift us up, dissipating the monotony
of the dark clouds
gathered in mind’s sky and the deepened silence.

The very same people they are
who break the chain of self-doubts
one is trapped in,
and breathe life into the feeling of emptiness,
 filling it with meaning.

Making them sing life’s song
long forgotten, effortless becomes
the flow of words
turning them into poets.

Altruistically their prayers go for others
and their wellbeing,
never for the self.

A garden of kindness is their heart
blooming with compassion
for all beings,
hope incarnate they are,
leaving their footprints
while spreading lights wherever they are.

They ignite minds, smoothen ruffled feathers,
giving cherished memories,
though short is their stay.

Not surprisingly, people there abound
who break us with their words.

Should we then get stuck up there
ignoring the petty details
that impede life’s grand view?
And lose the forest
for the trees?

Others are there
who overstay their welcome
mindlessly droning on
about banal things.

Inane is their living.
To the wrong they are attracted
like Dushasana in Mahabharat,
despite knowing what is right.

Bitter gourds like they are
with healing value nil.

Motive hunting is understandable,
but motiveless malignity
runs deep in their blood
and life makes sense,
they think.

Know them who break your heart
again, and once again.

Waste not and wait not for their validation.
Value them who get you going
through their words
like your mother’s
which make you pampered
that you’re her best child and the handsome one
which makes you think so
and make you believe even for a while.

Dr Nanda Kishore Biswal, after teaching  English language and literature for more than thirty five years in different colleges of Odisha, retired as an Associate professor. Passionate in reading poetry,  intermittently, he has been writing poetry since his college days.1996 to1999 was his most fertile period when his Odia poems were published in almost all Odia dailies as well as in most of the Odia magazines.  Also he writes English poems. He has authored The Fictional Transfiguration of History in the Novels of Salman Rushdie, Amitav Ghosh and Rohinton Mistry. Besides, he has edited  Prananath Patnaik:A purveyor of Egalitarianism Currently,  he is engaged in writing reviews of the poetry collections of the new poets who write in English.

 

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FRANGIBLE VOICE

Soumen Roy

 

Crying for more than decades
Decades after decades
Every decade seemed to be so less
Rajasthani sands are  hushing up all the tears
Shrieking lonely in  barren lands
Where kindness has been burnt shamelessly
Following holy rituals
Where dignity has been just an offering in religious flames
So hollow on its own!
All sorts of ethics and fairness have been trampled underfoot
The decree has never been ashamed!
Shameless business going on and on!
Who's glory is this and Who's not?
Will the dead conscious wake up again!
The marshal has been ignited
Come on alone!
With colours of opaqueness
In the lands of nothingness
Marching  with hope within pure flames
So voices can be heard again
In no man's land
Out of nothingness search that everything

Soumen Roy is a professional writer, best selling author and a tri-lingual poet. He has been vasty anthologized. His novel and poetry books have been part of International Kolkata Book Fair as well as Newtown book fair. He is the receiptent of Laureate Award 2022 along with many others. His poetry has been a part of international poetry festival 2017 and Panaroma international Literature festival 2023. He has published in different newspapers, magazines and web portals. He has been part of a web series named Showstopperzz, a cinema for a cause. He loves photography, painting and music.

 

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THE SUNBEAM THROUGH THE INTERSTICE

Jay Jagdev

 

It was dark outside when I woke up,

The Sun was hours away,

Through the window I was facing the darkness,

With a lone star blinking in the Milky Way.

 

I chose to close my eyes for some time more,

And saw the sun's rays coming in.

Through the interstices of the arching tree,

Glowing the fog within.

 

It touched the snowy dews lying on the grass bed,

Turning them into a carpet of weightless cloud.

Also, the lone dew drops dangling from the quivering leaves,

Into glittering pieces of diamonds.

 

I woke up later with the urge to pen,

Which I had not thought of since days seven.

The whys in my mind got its answer,

For the Sunray was late to come to my frosty life to make it warmer.

 

 

Jay Jagdev is an entrepreneur, academic and author. He is a popular blogger and an essayist. His foray into poetry is new. His essays are regularly published in Odishabytes and his poems on life and relationships have been featured in KabitaLive.

He is known for his work on sustainable development and policy implementation. As the President of the Udaygiri Foundation, he works to preserve and develop native language, literature, and heritage by improving its usage and consumption. More can be known about him on www.jpjagdev.com

 

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PAIN AND THE WORLD

Sudipta Mishra

 

 

THE MYSTERY OF LOVE

Bipin Patsani

 

Falling in love with an image

built in imagination of the mind

and subjective perception

does not last long.

 

Love rests on acceptance of one another

with mutual trust and respect,

care and concern whatsoever one maybe

in success and failure

with human weakness and behaviour,

the melody growing sweeter ever

as in rising and falling cadences in a song.

 

Love born out of unquenchable thirst

and expectations only

nourished with daydreams

is nothing but lust and it dies soon

in unfulfilled desires and boredom.

 

Love is a river flowing full in spate

touching nourishing both the banks

which flourish with its greenery.

Too much pressure and demand

breaks the bond and the boundary.

What ultimately remains is

the bare stretch of stone pebbles

and sand cradling a thin flow of memory.

 

Only in love, un-possessive, may the Muse

inspire one to reach the height of excellence

and can be called divine and no self-deception,

a Beatrice being instrumental

in the coming of another Divine Comedy.

 

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PRIDE AND ANIMOSITY

Bipin Patsani

 

Our pride lies in growing big,

growing really big and beautiful

with an empirical attitude to life,

not in erasing the historical process

in our proactive projection

of animosity and false prestige.

 

It is in being distinct in our objectivity

and cosmopolitan creative genius

that we can excel in our world

in every sphere; in art, craft, literature

 science, technology and architecture

as we had excelled in days of yore,

rather than following blindly

the footprints of the prejudiced.

 

Those stupid snobbish despots

who cannot do anything monumental

in their ride in power

to be remembered, go to the past

and defame their predecessors,

pinpointing their weaker side

ignoring all the good work they did.

They even defame century old men of mettle,

deface and destroy their monuments

and boastfully taste a sense of pride.

 

Bipin Patsani (b. 1951) has published poems in many prestigious journals and poetry anthologies including Indian Literature, Chandrabhaga, Journal of Indian Writing in English, Indian Scholar, Kavya Bharati, Poetcrit, International Poetry and Prophetic Voices etc. He has been translated to Spanish and Portuguese. He has three poetry collections to his credit (VOICE OF THE VALLEY, ANOTHER VOYAGE and HOMECOMING). He is a recipient of Michael Madhusudan Academy Award/ 1996 and Rock Pebbles National Award in 2018. He did his Post Graduation in English at Ravenshaw College, Cuttack in 1975 and served as a teacher in Arunachal Pradesh for 34 years till his superannuation in 2012. He also received Arunachal Pradesh State Government’s Award in 2002 for his dedicated service as a teacher. He lives with his family at Barunei Colony, Badatota in Khordha District of Odisha, India.

 

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MYSTERIES OF LIFE

Arpita Priyadarsini

 

 

SHAHI DARWAZA

Dr. Paramita Mukherjee Mullick

The red sandstone royal gate, the Shahi Darwaza.

For Emperor Shah Jahan to enter the Taj Mahal.

With 22 small domes on its top

Showing the years to make the Taj Mahal.

Also called Drawaza-i-rauza, which means way to the mausoleum.

With exact geometrical shapes and patterns

Since Shah Jahan was fascinated with geometrical shapes.

The Great Gate is the gateway to the gardens, which symbolically represent Paradise.

Beware there is an optical trick ...if you walk towards the gate the Taj seems smaller and if away from the gate the Taj seems larger.

Surprisingly adorned by Hindu motifs of red lotuses, leaves and vines

These motifs are inlaid with semi-precious stones in white marble.

Arabic calligraphy of the Quran inlaid in black stone

The Shahi Darwaza symbolises the separation of the inside spiritual world and the outside materialistic world.

So this is the Sahi Darwaza, the right door to get in.

 

Dr. Paramita Mukherjee Mullick is a scientist, a national scholar transformed into a globally loved, award-winning poet. Her poems have been translated into 40 world languages and she has published 9 books. A globe trotter she loves calling herself a global citizen. Not only does she write poems but she promotes peace poetry, multilingual poetry, global poetry and passionately promotes indigenous poetry. Paramita believes that by promoting indigenous languages, she can bring some endangered languages into the main stream. In 2019, she got the Gold Rose from MS Production, Buenos Aires, Argentina for promotion of Literature and Culture. Apart from  many awards like the Sahityan Samman in 2018,  Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore award in 2019, Poetess of Elegance 2019 and many more she was one of the recipients of the prestigious Panorama International Literature award from Greece in 2022. Paramita is the President and Initiator of the Mumbai Chapter of the Intercultural Poetry and Performance Library (IPPL) and also the Cultural Convenor and Literary Coordinator (West India) of the International Society for Intercultural Studies and Research (ISISAR).

 

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PEACE

Ms Gargi Saha

 

 

NIRVANA

Dola Dutta Roy

 

My search has been endless,

looking for you!

 

Sometimes, I stand empty-handed, 

in a daze.

Staring at the dancing beams

of the fluorescent moon,

Riding on the waves

of the dark blue ocean.

I watch the passage of lingering moments,

In silence and

I just -- wait.

Unable to stir.

 

On stormy nights,

In the purple shadows

of the dirt roads,

I fight fear.

Greed churns in my belly.

Rage burns in my eyes.

I hear the flutter of hate,

Deep, deep in my heart. 

To strike and seek revenge.

 

But in shame and sorrow, 

I recoil.

 

And then again,

Like a fool

I look for you

In the roadside taverns.

Where merriment reigns,

In the midst of

deafening laughter and

the clinking of glasses,

where men and women

Sell their souls

with a few pieces of silver.

 

I turn away in agony.

My sadness deepens.

I run to seek answers

Among travelling gypsies,

Who speak in riddles.

Talk in foreign tongues

And warn me

in the voice of mystics.

I realize,

they feign wisdom.

And I learn little!

 

I walk for miles

like a woman possessed.

I stagger and fall.

My stomach, empty.

My hair in knots,

My skin in ugly wrinkles and my eyes half shut.

 

Deep in the silence of the woods,

Where time remains frozen,

I fold my hands and weep,

waiting for the light

that would wash me clean.

 

I hear a thousand bells

ring in my heart ! 

A thousand petals

open all at once!

Moving the wheels within,

Singing and swirling.

 

I laugh in screams

To escape from this mortal frame of mine!

I know

This is where night waits

to give way to light.

This is where I must find

My answers,

My long awaited --

NIRVANA!

 

Born in Kolkata, I have had  the privilege of being raised in a cosmopolitan environment embracing all cultures and beliefs. Graduating from Calcutta University with Honours in English Literature and then finishing my Master's in the same from Jadavpore University, I took up teaching as a profession.

My teaching experience extended to teaching English in Iran after which I moved to the USA for furthering my studies.  Subsequently, I taught English Language at Claremont University in Southern California.Returning to India, I joined the world of Advertising with JWT, a leading Ad Agency in the country. Now that I'm  retired, I pursue my passions like painting, writing fiction and poetry and have authored 3 books of fiction on social anomalies and human relationships.

 

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MY WALKING POEM

Sreedharan Parokode

 

A poem is the true depiction 

of the mental 

state of the poet.

 

The pen may be alone i

in the vicinity of thought 

to pour out the innumerable   

emotions including

pleasures and pains!

 

Some times, 

poem speaks on variety of subjects, 

and on the other hand,

it searches for an apt way  

to tell the truth.

 

Without the hiding remarks, 

the poem directly goes into 

the heart for

filtering what is heard 

after penetrating all the evils 

within no minutes?

 

There may be favourable and unfavourable situations 

to elaborate!

 

The motto is to rejuvenate 

the mind by adding 

additional strength when it is necessary....

 

 

P.L.Sreedharan Parokode is a bi-lingual poet and lyricist from Malappuram district, Kerala. He has a Master's degree in English literature and Population Studies and a Post Graduate Diploma in Parental Education. Sreedharan has thirty books of poetry to his credit, including 'Weeping Womb', 'Slum Flowers,'Mahatma Gandhi' 'Nelson Mandela',Poems', 'Don't mum Please'  etc. He has also written songs for professional dramas,  for albums, songs for competitions, devotional songs etc. He has written songs for animation film also.
Sreedharan has attended various literary conferences in India and abroad.  He presented his poems at World Congress of Poets, in Taiwan, 2015, China, 2018, and literary conference in Serbia, 2007.
He has received awards and honours from various organisations, such as, Sahitya shree Award, Sahitya Shiromani Award, Shan E Adab Award etc. He has also received an Hony.Doctorate from the World Academy of Art and Culture
Sreedharan is currently engaged in Doctoral Research in Population Studies from Annamalai University. Earlier he was working in the Administrative wing of the University of Calicut.

 

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MY THOUGHT IS MY CHOICE

Anasuya Panda

 

I was talking without thinking, like a small girl with bobby printed pink frock,
You then constrained me, to put a break on my resilience and talk.


Sizzling with the turmoiled thoughts,
I totally drifted inside the trolled attitude of yours.

Like a kid I spoke, may be, but couldn't forget the things like  kids do easily,
If I can't laugh at the same joke, then how can I brood on the same hurt repeatedly!

How long I hurt myself by thinking the same, time after time,
Disquiet or peace, which one should I accord priority in life!

I accept you are like you,
And I am like me,
Gradually felt, the noise is getting slower inside me,

I can't change your understanding, and your behaviour,
But, can change my attitude to view them better.

Controlled the rage, controlled my unwanted thought,
My thought is my choice, this is the remote control for it.

You didn't hurt me that day!
It is me who created thoughts to react to the situation negatively.
I conclude with this positively.

A software engineer by profession, Ms. Anasuya Panda is a voracious reader, a happy mother and a versatile writer, poet, essayist, translator and blogger. She has contributed to numerous magazines in Odisha and other parts of India, a daily article on women's empowerment to the online magazine Positive Affirmation being her signature creation. A recipient of many awards, she has published a popular collection of short stories in Odia in 2021. Anasuya has this to say about herself: "A traveller in perpetual search of life, to know self, to unlock the secret  of who I am and why I am here

 

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PUZZLES

Niranjan Barik

 

Long after he is gone, he puzzles me,

Dharama, the teen extraordinary , who jumped

From Konark, the Black Pagoda

 In the dead of the night,

So that at the daybreak none can show a finger towards him

 And certify that here was the prodigy,

Who solved the puzzle finally,

In the setting the Pinnacle.

 He was the wonder child,

(Mother’s darling having missed father’s love)

 Tried to save the reputations of twelve thousand craftsmen and artisans,

Who had given their sweat and blood for twelve years,

Forgetting their homes and hearths,

He bothers me hundreds of years after the jump,

Like another enigma, Socrates,

His mistake was that he was crazy after knowledge,

Made the youth mad for knowledge,

To question in the quest, to remain in-satiated Socrates,

 Not a content or pleasantly satiated pig,

 But the hero like our adored Shiva,

 Gulping the hemlock,

To make his conviction alive and method of search survive for ages.

They are puzzles as they did not know compromises.

Their sacrifice was just not for the contemporary, but for the future.

 From Home to Society to Universe of Power all over the world,

Don't we see the orthodoxies and arrogance,

The status quoists, the nay-sayers,

Privileged in their comforts & luxuries,

To force the Dharmas & Socrates to make way for them!

 

Dr. Niranjan Barik is a retired Professor of Political Science from Ravenshaw University, Odisha and is currently attached there on teaching and research on an ICSSR project. He is passionate about literature and writes poems, short stories

 

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WISH QUESTION

Muthusami Annamalai

 

VOICES

Dr. Mrutyunjay Sarangi

No more shall walls cofine the suppressed voices

No more groans will be stifled by demonic hands

No more the sky will turn red with innocent blood

No more winds will carry the breaths of despair.

Trees will sway, leaves will fall

Flowers will wilt, buds will wither

The lights will go off ominously,  one by one

Darkness will dump icy flakes everywhere.

The spirit of the raped, the dead will rise 

From dark halls, dingy rooms of hospitals, institutions

Unseen hands will beckon the seekers of truth

The whispers will grow and spill out dark secrets.

Somewhere a march will start

A procession with a thousand candles

Somewhere a million voices will soar

And speak for the forlorn, anguished souls.

Dr. Mrutyunjay Sarangi is a retired civil servant and a former Judge in a Tribunal. Currently his time is divided between writing poems, short stories and editing the eMagazine LiteraryVibes . Four collections of his short stories in English have been published under the title The Jasmine Girl at Haji Ali, A Train to Kolkata, Anjie, Pat and India's Poor, The Fourth Monkey. He has also to his credit nine books of short stories in Odiya. He has won a couple of awards, notably the Fakir Mohan Senapati Award for Short Stories from the Utkal Sahitya Samaj. He lives in Bhubaneswar.

BOOK REVIEWS

REFLECTIONS & ECHOES

Dr. Rekha Mohanty

The abilities to reason deeply, to reflect introspectively, to understand complex ideas, and to craft meaningful narratives are unique characteristics that define humanity.
The power of imagination frequently surpasses that of mere knowledge.
Thoughts resonate reflecting vivid images .
The audios strike in mind to be echoed often appearing more vibrant than the actual world around us.
Verses that flow with rhyme provide a gentle comfort to the ears . Like a composer weaves harmony, a poet orchestrates beauty through own expression of language.
This book serves as author’s artistic journey, drawing inspiration from her surroundings and the nuances of daily life.

This book contains sixty one poems each one starts from a fresh page for relaxed reading aiming at a subtle merge of thoughts of both reader and writer.

The paper back version as well as Kindle edition of the book is available through Amazon and Flipkart in India, US and UK.

Col( Dr) Rekha Mohanty is an alumni of SCB Medical College, Cuttack, Odisha and she has spent most of her professional life in military hospitals in peace and field locations and on high altitude areas.She has participated in Operation Vijay (Kargil war)in 1999 and was selected for UN missions in Africa for her sincere involvement in crisis management of natural calamities in side the country and abroad where India is asked to do so in capacity of head QRT in Delhi for emergency medical supplies.She had also participated in military desert operation

’ Op Parakram’ in Rajasthan border area.After relinquishing Army Medical Corps in 2009,she worked in Ex Servicemen Polyclinic in Delhi NCR and presently is working in a private multi-speciality hospital there to keep herself engaged.

Her hobby is writing poetry in English and Odia.She was writing for college journals and local magazines as a student in school.

Being a frequent traveler around the world,she writes travelogues.The writing habit was influenced by her father who was a Police Officer and used to write daily diary in English language he had mastered from school days in old time.Her mother was writing crisp devotional poems in Odia language and was an avid reader of Odia and Bengali books.Later her children and husband also encouraged.

Dr Rekha keeps herself occupied in free times for activities like painting, baking and playing card games the contract bridge.

She is a genuine pet lover and offers her services to animal welfare organisations and involves in rescue of injured stray dogs.Being always with pets at home since early childhood ,she gives treatment to other dogs in society when asked for in absence of a vet.She delivers talks on child and women health issues to educate the ladies in army and civil.

After sad demise of her husband Dr( Brig)B B Mohanty in February 2023,she devoted more time to writing and published her first poetry book’Resilient Leaf’in August 2023.Since then there is no stopping and she is going to publish her second book of poetry soon.

She enjoys reading E magazine LV , newspaper current affairs ,writing poetry and watching selected movies whenever she gets time.She keeps travelling places of interest in between for a change which is a passion as a girl since days roaming with parents and siblings .Her motto is to be happy by giving the best to self and to the society.She is lucky to have a supportive family.

REGAINING THE UNLOST (Book Review)

Mr R. M. Prabhulinga Shastry

Book Review by Ms Gargi Saha

Regaining the Unlost by Mr R. M. Prabhulinga Shastry is a metaphysical book that discusses philosophical concepts in detail. The entire novel is based on Indian Advitic Spiritualism which deals with the Almighty, the Atman, the Creation and the Beings. This spirituality has already been envisioned and preached in various scriptures by the Indian Sanatanas who established the Institution, which imposes all the required rules and regulations to each and every human being who have been honoured as Ritualistic Being which could preserve the entire creation for the beings to be emancipated i.e. to Regain the Unlost which means once again to be the Almighty according to whose will, Oneself only as each and everything and each and every one would come into existence which means to be appeared as thing and one.

In the course of debating done, there are some poems composed which strengthen the content of items of dialogue. The Indian Advitic Spiritualism, definitely endorse authoritatively each word, line, poem, content of item written in this novel. The characteristics of this book are:There are two characters only. They keep asking questions. And solutions are also there.
There are no location or scenes in the entire novel. The entire novel abides in dialoguing. The characters have no names. The subject of the novel is according to Indian Advitic Spiritualism, what is the end of marriage.

The Sanatanas , the First and Foremost Indians, have  envisioned the absolute Truth that there would be only One in existence from beginning less to endlessness. From this one, the Energy and the Matter (as the five fundamental elements i.e. sky, air, fire, water and earth ) would come into existence. Along with them one would come into creation as one, one, one…. Thus innumerable ones would come.

The nature and bodies would be made of the matter. Each and everyone would cherish the illusion that one would not be omnipresent, omniscient and omnipotent like one from whom they would come into creation. Owing to this cherishing each and everyone would assume that one has lost actually what one would not know. Thus each and everyone would be born either as male or female according to one’s deservedness. Also each female being would differ from another female being and also the male being would differ from another male being.
The body of any being consists of three types of bodies. They are 1) Micro body 2) Macrobody and 3) Casual body. The Casual body would be the same for all the beings but deeds would be recorded separately for all. The Macro body and Micro body would be separate for each and every being.

For being emancipated from this mundane world, each and every female being would have to reach its male being. For this reaching, the female being would have to practise attentively and devotedly. At the same time, the male being would have to keep itself sacred to be reached by the female being. Human beings have to select a female being or a male being and to select this match there are certain customs, traditions established by the society.

While abiding by the rules and regulations imposed by the society, the customs, the traditions etc, the female being and the male being would have to attend the physical intercourse and also attain spiritual intercourse to be liberated from the mundane world. Emancipating from the mundane world means to regain what they have actually unlost.

In the first chapter the speaker argues that we ought to be rationalistic. In the second chapter the speaker defines rationalism as the practice of treating reason as the ultimate authority. The third chapter discusses will and the chapter four throws light on illusion. Cherishing the illusion means immersing in it.

In chapter six, the author discusses the relevance of ‘I’ He says,’’ So worshipping the ‘I’ would mean worshipping each and every ‘I’ and worshipping each and every ‘I ‘ to each and every ‘I’ would mean to worship the ‘I’ only? He further suggests that education is the manifestation of perfection existing in the human beings already.
In chapter seven he asserts ‘Do and I would be one and the same. The only ‘I’ would actually be the consciousness’s. In chapter eight he further discusses, ‘Like the only ‘I’ would cause for doings of each and every ‘I’ the Male being would cause for doings of the Female being to retain its feminity. In consequence of their own rewards or retributions, the beings would receive their repeated lives.’Chapter ten substantiates sense pleasure. Chapter eleven and twelve  throws light on the Casual body. It would be neither a bit of each and every ‘I’ nor any sort of matter to whichboth the only ‘I’ would be during the many goes on. ‘As the Casual body, the only ‘I’ would be the spectator for each and every being done and every ‘I’ would be of each and every aftermath of that doing and the consequences of each and every aftermath too. Chapter fourteen affirms that each and every doing contains the Mind, the Speech and the deed. Chapter seventeen suggests that homo sapiens behaves while applying minds, whereas all other beings do without applying their minds. It also adds that all other beings except humans have their own minds but they don’t have intellect to apply the minds..

Chapter eighteen explains kinship and relationship and warns not to make love in front of others. By doing so they would fall into beastliness, which is the state of voluptuous beings. Chapter twenty nine discusses sexual intercourse at length. In chapter thirty three, the author advices for homo sapiens to know its own lineage. Later on, learn that it must not suppose even in dreams to have illicit affairs with any homo sapiens from its lineage and behave with all from its lineage as its children or parents. The parent is expected not to beget progeny only but also get progeny flourished physically, mentally and spiritually. The child is expected not only to perpetuate its lineage but perpetuate the spiritual values established by its parent, grandparent and even great grandparent.

Chapter forty highlights morality, aesthetics in detail. Chapter forty one focuses on art and chapter forty two deals with literature. Chapter forty three and forty four enumerates music and congeniality.

In the course of debating alone, there are some poems composed, which strengthen the content of items of dialogue. In the concluding chapter fifty eight, the author becomes very philosophical in analysing, ‘Nothing would have been. Nothing would last as nothing. Nothing would contain in nothing and no one….. Sky, space and place would have been nothing in nothing. Top and bottom would have been nothing in nothing. So zero would have been present. Zero would have been going on…….’

All the Envisioners of spiritualism must agree and accept the subject. The English grammarians might not agree the usage of very few words like ‘Player ‘I’, ‘Believer ‘I’. It could be proved that the English language would adapt the very strange thought of Sanatanas envisioned in Sanskrit language perfectly without any confusion or opacity.

Reading this book readers will be transported to a higher level of distinguished thoughts, feelings and aspirations away from the carnal, mundane, materialist life. I congratulate and wish the author all success in future endeavours. Hope his philosophy and metaphysical bent of mind could transform humanity for a better, happier, serene tomorrow and the egoist, monstrous ‘I’ dissolves in a boundless pool of quietude.
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Biodata of Mr Prabhulingam Shastry: Mr Shastry has been writing since 1995. He is an adorer of Poetry. To write on topics of spiritualism is his passion. He has 15 Poetry books, 3 Novels, one collection of essays and one translation from Sanskrit to English to his credit.

He has 10, Poetry books, 4 Novels, 2 collections of stories, one translation from English to Telegu, three dramas and 9 books of essays in Telegu.

Two collections of poems in Telegu are yet to be published. One drama in English is under consideration.

Ms Gargi Saha is a creative writer and has published two poem books namely, 'The Muse in My Salad Days ', and 'Letters to Him '.Her poems have been featured in National and International Journals. She has received the Rabindranath Tagore Memorial Award and the Independence Day Award for poetry. Presently she edits several scientific research papers. She can be reached at gargi.paik@gmail.com