Thursday, 4 April 2024

Light Inspired by Anuradha Bhattacharyya

Introduction to the novel, published by Dustin Pickering at World Inkers, New York and Dakar. “In this unique journey called writing, there are several stations, stopping by which one can pick up a few grains of wisdom. As the journey progresses, the experiences of those stoppages conjoin to yield special insights. The trick for success in writing is to linger on those experiences even after you have departed the station. Writing is a special vehicle for sharing one’s accumulated wisdom, bit by bit, or fictionally put together in a single story. I am sharing here a story that is inspired by the life and thoughts of a young man named Deep Narayan Nayak whom I came to know a few months ago. The core of his wisdom is to illuminate many hearts through his tireless striving. His is a story of how light can be kindled from a struggle with shadows. The shadow he had dealt with, in his childhood, empowered him to identify similar shadows in other human beings. Not only that, he also came across worse than shadows – complete darkness. I have been awestruck by the way he speaks about the villages he has worked for. He has infinite respect for all creatures. From the shadows of ignorance, when he draws them to light, he is not watching his steps. He goes headlong into what he thinks is necessary. Thankfully, he is blessed with the instinct for the right path. He calls his endeavour, the teacher of the streets. He invites his fellow men to act as he does. He has spread the message in remote districts of India, places where political interference is the least. According to me, his motto is, I go where political leaders fear to tread. Looking back at the type of government intervention designed to bring to light all the backward classes, I feel, for all these seventy-five years, they have done very little. Their minions are insincere. Even some of the local orders are directly opposite of what makes the poor enlightened. Ignoring all hurdles and taking many risks, Nayak has made great strides in educating backward classes. I told him, poverty is a favourite subject of writers. He was not amused. He has seen so much poverty that what the fictionists have written appear far less dismal. His enthusiasm for the Adivasi community, which is his focus now, prodded me to look at education from a philosophical perspective. I am not very comfortable in telling tales of squalid situations, but I decided to delve on the mystic quality of his efforts. In this narrative, fictionally told by his eldest sister, I have omitted references to places, time, the pandemic and other circumstantial facts that probably enhanced his philanthropy. The guiding principle of this litany is educationist. The guiding light is the man I am calling Deepu.”

Sunday, 9 May 2021

Corona Doldrums

 The epigraph of my book of poems on the year 2020


Poetry

 

From time to time

I get the feeling

Helpless my

World’s a reeling,

The turbid clime gives

Stress undue,

But palliative poetry

Comes to the rescue.


Corona Doldrums by Anuradha Bhattacharyya


Friday, 25 December 2020

The Webinars

 

Conferences, seminars and symposiums were sponsored

Once in a year by academic institutes

With scrutiny of the strictest kind…

The new norm has transported everyone abroad

In a jiffy, with the onrush of emotion,

The need to strengthen ties with others

Across the length and breadth

Of this wonderful planet –

That so near threatens

To be taken over by a clever virus

That’s evolving every month for a better grip

On human life, animals and birds,

Devouring the richest heritage of medicine

In no time, straining all of human faculties.

 

The webinars have solved the quandary

Of distance, and through virtual exchanges

Much of knowledge is still spread,

Discussed, analyzed and reformed. Well,

Thanks to the time of the twenty first century

The century of hi-tech and the century of the internet;

Thanks to all the homework done before

Now work from home is not a problem.

We did not know what would befall this year

But we did want the speed of light.

From wheels of wood we have come this far

In our toils on this vast planet of ours

That no one should blame us

For lack of movement from place to place anymore.

Wednesday, 23 December 2020

Nothing

In a void,

Stranded for a short while,

The space, the environment chokes you.


You fear the limit,

The possibility of containing nothing,

Screaming to be released from the trap.

 

It must be terrifying –

The fear of the uncontrollable, the unknown

The lack of a prospect.

 

It is possible to demonstrate

Dignagar Poetry Festival (Online) December 2020

How a person is driven crazy

With the fear of nothing.

 

It will never go

Unless there is acceptance

After which progress can be made.

Tuesday, 24 November 2020

Struggle

 

We cannot now step back

In the midst of a struggle

And think how or when

It will give us strength

For the future.

We can only wait and watch

While all along

Like the worm wriggling out of a cocoon

With gumption and fortitude

Try to become the better of ourselves.

Insight

Words and numbers transposed

Often render a new meaning

Not available to the quick eyed.

Insight

Can offer a service to a people

Far superior to their own.

Wednesday, 26 August 2020

Virtual Classes


Our leaders

Asked us to be self reliant

But all about me is

Micro chip reliance

There used to be 

A hundred hearts

Throbbing in the cover

Of the school 

Now lost in quantum space

Are floating heads 


You can not tell if the heart is in it

On screen 

It so seems

The nose might have it

Or maybe the eyebrows

I practically feel 

Helpless

Talking to infinity

Paranoid chatter 

And much less

Myself 

In virtual space.

Friday, 8 May 2020

My Genome


To think that my genome
Knows who is foreign
And how to treat it
As guest
Politely but with distrust
Not open up the treasures
And let it in
To split, conflict, scatter
All of me in union
This would be a humble
Assumption.
Considering
How many invaders crossed the land
With the high ambition of looting
How many succumbed
To my polite hospitality
And accepted dormancy
The thought makes me proud.