LETTERS HIVE
Thanks a lot for sending me a copy of the 16.64 July-September 2021 issue of Contemporary Vibes. As I have been very busy with the editing of our two journals, I couldn’t go through the contents of the issue earlier. Beyond any doubt, this issue is an amazing one, rich with excellent critical and creative contents. Let me express my
deep gratitude to you for publishing my short story.
Coming to a brief feedback of the issue, let me start with your Vishleshnopnishad which enlightens the readers through your interpretation of the spiritual book. Your editorial on Political Iconography is very relevant today when the names of the martyrs give way to politicians. Dr. Poonam Dwivedi’s interview with Dr. Vikram Chopra is informative and thought-provoking. Dr. D. C. Chambial’s critique of R C Shukla’s poetry book is an excellent analytical study. Dr. Kailash Ahluwalia has made a very detailed analysis of Rashmi Malhotra’s short story book. Coming to the poetry section, I like very much, the poems of Dr. Suresh Chandra Pande, Vinod Khanna, Dr. Kailash Ahluwalia, Prof. Binod Mishra, Dr. Manas Bakshi, Dr. O. P. Arora, Prof. Nandini Sahu, Neelima Wig, and PCK Prem. Prof. Jagdish Batra’s article “From Monk to Mahatma: Godmen in Literature” and PCK Prem’s “Shiva Purana and Glimpses of Ancient Wisdom” are very impressive in imparting knowledge and wisdom. Overall it is a superb issue! Many, many congratulations dear Anil ji!
Prof. Dr. K. V. Dominic, (English poet, critic, short story writer, editor), Kannappilly House, Thodupuzha East P.O., Idukki Dist., Kerala, India, Pin: 685 585. Phone: 91+9947949159 Email: prof.kvdominic@gmail.com
I felt doubly happy at the receipt of Contemporary Vibes issue No. 64 because in addition to the present one, I also got its issue No. 59 as a gift. In this issue, the richness of its content is augmented at the inclusion of India’s one of the most renowned critics and poets Dr PCK Prem’s two creations : a poem(Corona and Memories) and a research paper (Shiva Purana and Glimpses of Ancient Wisdom). The thought provoking editorial rightly analyses the present state of democracy tracing it since independence and rightly emphasizes the need for the inculcation of Martyrs’ sacrificial spirit.
The issue includes Prof. K.V. Dominic’s story “Aren’t They Our Sisters’ which upholds the dictum ‘Art is not for Art’s Sake’ but for “Life’s Sake’. He takes up the issue of the exploitation of women as sex workers, who are pushed into the cauldron of brothel through some men’s stratagem and deception and are forced to live a life of misery and penury. The protagonist in the story helps them to reestablish themselves in the mainstream of society.
I found the reading of Dr D.C. Chambial’s critique of R.C. Shukla’s poems on love extracted from” The Parrot Shrieks” very enlightening. He not only illumines the nuances of the content of the poems but also brings out his thesis succinctly how the poet presents love as an argument like an advocate. Dr Dalip Khetrarpal In his beautiful and lucid critique of Shambhu Prasad Singh’s phenomenal book ’Environment Conservation through Region’ emphasizes the need for the abandonment of a life of luxury and follow a simple life style and code of conduct set by Lord Shiva. The review of the book ‘Dusk to Dawn’ by Dr Ravi Bhushan egged me on to buy and read this anthology of poems in English , Hindi and Urdu. I hope my association with CV would not only continue in future but also get strengthened.
Sagar Mal Gupta, Retired Professor of English, Email :guptasag 69@gmail.com
I gather from the letters written to the Editor that most readers are happy to see that the CV has been back into its original shape. It is like ‘the return of the native’. The same goodly appearance with the familiar touch, taste and smell is back. Indeed, we welcome this issue, and believe that it will refill its coffers with the familiar content like before.
The Editorial, as usual, touches the very nerve of the society. This time it deals with ‘Scramble for Political Iconography’. I quote verbatim from it: Post colonial India has witnessed a scramble for political iconography, and the subtle scrambling has assumed the proportions of battle of wits, nerves and feverish histrionics to outwit the political adversaries in the social sector, educational institutions, literary hubs. The editor has boldly pointed out the malaise that has spoiled the country’s health.
Dr. Gurmit Singh Sandhu, employing a multi-disciplinary approach restates Guru Nanak’s faith in his message of universal brotherhood, inter-religious harmony, and the importance of the ‘shabad.’ Guru Nanak’s philosophy is still relevant in the contemporary world, he truly asserts. Poonam Dwivedi’s Dialogue with Dr. Vikram Chopra who is the President of Shakespeare Society of India is worth reading as it lays bare the convictions the person holds. During his Graduation and Masters, Dr. Vikram developed a special liking for Greek Tragedy, Shakespeare and John Keats. His important postulate is that Tragedy is not an expression of despair, but the means to overcome despair. Dr. D.C. Chambial discusses R. C. Shukla’s “The Parrot Shrieks” at length. In this volume, Dr. Chambial emphasizes that the poet presents love in three different categories: one, raising it to spiritual heights; two, love outside married life; and three, love as deceptive. Dr.DalipKhetarpal’scritique ‘Environment Conservation through Religion’ analyses the causes and effects of pollution. Themes highlighted are, environmental pollution, global disaster, humanism, man’s interference with nature etc. His observation rests on Shambhu Prasad Singh’s books namely-Nalanda to World Civilization, and, ‘Vishwa Sabhyatako Nalanda ki Den’. His observations concern the present situation in the country. Dr. Kailash Ahluwalia’s observation on Rashmi Malhotra’s book may attract the attention of the readers, as he dilates upon the content to reveal the inner meaning of certain aspects of it.
Both short stories are good, but the first one, that is, “It is All For a Shake’’ needs a little more work on it. Prof. Jagdish Batra’s research article is a good read refreshing our knowledge about the Godmen dealt with in various books of literature. PCK Prem’s Shiva Purana truly gives glimpses of ancient wisdom. He observes , Shiva purana speaks about glory, splendor, and rituals before prayer and worship, idealistic and philosophical principles of Shaivism. In addition, his poem Corona & Memories is quite significant in present context .
I read all the poems with interest and enjoyed them. Dr. O.P. Arora’s poem, Potter’s Wheel, is an interesting read. For the proverbial ’return of the native ’of the CV., the editor deserves congratulations. It is such a relief!
Congratulations on publishing a hard-hitting editorial outlining the maladies that have infested the socio-political structure of the day. Just like Macaulay demolished the old Indian culture by introducing an altogether new system of education, we are witnessing another type of subversion of educational institutions. Objectivity has been sacrificed and a clear tilt towards a particular ideology is visible. Private universities are selling degrees like vegetables. Some universities in Himachal Pradesh have crossed all the limits and an inquiry is going on, while people who bought such degrees are working in jobs in important positions. If WhatsApp news is to be believed, a matric failed Tej Pratap Yadav has been awarded a doctorate degree by Takshila university. Reservations in jobs and admissions have further stunted the growth of real talent.
In your editorial, you have eulogized the brave sons of the soil, the martyrs who laid down their lives to obtain freedom from foreign rule. But we have debased their sacrifices by ignoring their descendants. Durga Bhabhi, who accompanied Bhagat Singh acting as his wife in a train journey to Calcutta died unknown and unsung in 1999 in a Ghaziabad house. Does anyone know where her son Shachinder is who lost his revolutionary father Bhagwati Charan Vohra while the former was still an infant? It was in the news a few years back that the kin of Shahid Udham Singh was working as a daily wager in Sunam. There are so many others who deserve attention but are living in ignominy. The fruits of freedom are being enjoyed by impostors who did not move even a little finger to deserve these. They were served all of it on a platter. This situation is getting worse by the day with more and more fake people becoming a part of the political melee.
Hope is seen when sane voices like your editorial are raised. The media, barring a few, has otherwise lost its credibility. One wishes and prays for better sense to prevail. Besides my rant as above, I also enclose a poem for the upcoming issue of CV for your consideration.
Vinod Khanna, Email: vinodk60@yahoo.co.in
I am deeply indebted to you for having so kindly published my short-story ” It’s All for a Snake” in your journal of global renown ( July-Sept) and having mailed me a copy of C.V. Traversing the literary garden of C.V. and savouring the exotic beauty of literary blossoms, I found myself in the world of literary bliss. It’s an undeniable truth that C.V. , growing to greater heights in its literary status and eminence, has become an inspiring platform for poets, fiction-writers, critics and reviewers and a reliable source of material for research-scholars and a worthy journal that offers immense literary pleasure to the votaries of literature.
The editorial ” Scramble for political Iconography” ,dwelling on political iconography manifested in empowering the pseudo-intellectuals and mediocrity at the suppression of the genuine intellectuals and the meritorious and highlighting the true iconography of our freedom-fighters, patriots, martyrs and our valiant soldiers, is highly thought-provoking and makes readers ponder over the present sociopolitical scenario in the country. Kudos to the editor for having penned such an insightful and enlightening editorial.
While each poem published in this issue in its unique theme and vivid depiction emanates a pearly glitter, delighting the readers, a couple of poems ” Indian Roads’ agony” and “Carona & Memories” caught my critical attention. The poem “Indian Roads’ agony” is apparently a pitiable lamentation of Indian Roads soiled and polluted by people uncaring for sanitation. Though the roads in India are free from the tyranny of unending traffic during lock-down, they are far from being happy as they are subjected to a different kind of tyranny through their getting soiled, defiled and polluted by animal lovers throwing biscuits and left-overs on roads and animals urinating and defecating freely on vacant roads. Creating something animate out of the inanimate, the poet succeeds in presenting the hard, social reality of people’s negligence of sanitation during the period of Lock-down. Another poem “Carona & Memories” depicts so graphically the prevailing devastation caused to the humanity by the the haunting, fatal pandemic in the world and the horrible scene of unending suffering of people and the precious lives from the globe being snatched away . The poet, hailing the noble and supreme services and sacrifices made by doctors during thes dark times, pays tributes to doctors
Dr Chambial’s critique ” Love as an Argument: R.C. Shukla’s “The Parrot Shrieks” making a critical analysis of the celebrated poet’s poems, presents a thorough study of ” human love in its varied hues and manifestations such as romantic love, extra-marital love and selfish,carnal love”.The short-story ” Are n’t They Our Sisters” ,delienating the wretched and miserable lives of prostitutes ( call-girls) so realistically, brings out the grim, shattering realities as to how young girls and women in our society are deceived and exploited by selfish, deceptive men in the name of love and how these exploited women end up being trapped in the flesh-trade. Rajesh, being the son of such an exploited woman, quite aware of the tribulations of such unfortunate women, offers employment and secured lives to the hapless, ill-fated women in his company. The story with reformative zeal and moral message about the necessity of viewing the miserable plight of the victims of male carnal pleasures with sympathy in its true social, realistic perspective
Kailash Ahluwalia’s critique “Rashmi Malhotra’s Gracious Feminism in “Endless journey of Life and other stories” is indeed an excellent critical study of man-woman relationship in marriage and the travails experienced by married women in male-dominated families of Indian society as the stories in the collection reveal so vividly. Dr.Vadapalli V.B. Rama Rao’s critical article “Manas Bakshi’s Latest work: Soliloquy of a Soldier” dealing with multifarious, poetic themes in this story-book such as human relationships, exploitation of the under-privileged, philosophical musings over life and the crude urban reality of deforestation in the name of urbanization, industrialisation and modernization, brings out the poetic genius of the renowned poet.
All the poems, short-stories, critiques , reviews, the interview of the literary luminary, adorning this issue of C.V., offers the readers immense literary pleasure, literary knowledge and enlightenment. I heartily compliment the visionary editor and the dedicated team of poets, writers, critics and reviewers for their commendable service to the promotion of Indian-English literature of high standards. I am mailing a poem of mine “God Ashamed of His Masterpiece” as my humble contribution to your esteemed journal and I appeal to you kindly to publish the poem in the forthcoming issue of C.V.
Dr.Venugopala Rao Kaki, Lecturer in English ( Retd), Indian-English poet, short-story writer, critic and freelancer,
D.No.64-7-12A/5, Treasury colony, Atchutapuram, Kakinada-533004, Andhra Pradesh.
I enclose two poems for your consideration for publication in the forthcoming issue of Contemporary Vibes. I shall be extremely grateful if you will publish either of the two if it is worthy of publication. Thank you very much for your time and consideration.
Prof. Sagar Mal Gupta, Email:
I am submitting a poem from my collection, ‘From the Alcove’ for Contemporary Vibes. I hope you enjoy reading it and publish in Contemporary Vibes with a small introduction and a few words on your feelings on the poem.
Nilakshi Borgohain………………..
Thank you a lot for sending me two issues together :Vol.16,Issue 64-July-Sep.2021 & Vol.15,Issue 59-April-June 2020 of CV. I am immensely pleased to have received these two issues together. Please find 3-4 Poems attached for the forthcoming issue of CV as well as for your kind consideration.Also do acknowledge on receipt.
Dr.S.C.Pande, Nainital-UK.(India).
Hope you are doing well and in good health. I have written a review of ‘Dwelling With Denial’, a collection of poems by Rajiv Khandelwal. I would be really thankful to you if you could publish it in next issue of contemporary vibes.
Dr. Jayshree Goswami, Assistant Professor Kolkata Police Law Institute
Kolkata- 27
I Yamuna is sending a poem titled On The Bare Blue Sky.
If it will be OK you publish in CV Thanking you
Yamuna Kambar———-
I am forwarding an article to be published in the next issue of contemporary Vibes. Hope it is upto the mark.
Alka Kansra Email: kansrachd@yahoo.com
MEETING OF MINDS
Anil K.Sharma’s SOCH KI DUNIYA (YouTube Channel #sochkidunia)
On the 15th of recent August a highly introspective, rousing, and thought-provoking YouTube channel was launched by the Anil K. Sharma Editor-in-Chief of Contemporary Vibes. Normally, ideas and thoughts we hear and read are stereotyped and oft-repeated with only some variation in presentation or expression. But the depth of thought and breadth of vision of Anil Sharma is mellower, deeper, more liberal and appeal to all intellectuals, wise and common-sensical people. Making his observation, thoughts and feelings viral through YouTube on the Independence Day i.e. 15th August, he made it explicit that freedom is meant only for the rich or for those in power, but the poor have always remained in captivity, as freedom of thought, speech, expression and action has always been beyond their ken. While the rich have always been free to say or do anything since time immemorial,the poor, the choked media, the muzzled press, the helpless- hapless, the subjugated, and the depressed remain languished, choked, and subsequently die. Such rejected, neglected, and frustrated people, in fact,require freedom to release the plethora of their pent-up thoughts, feelings and emotions. They pathetically and vainly clamour for their fundamental rights which they never get or even hope to get in any future. Various pretentious national and international organizations have come up with the pretext for bettering or improving or moralizing society. But it is bitterly ironic that they, instead of benefitting society or elevating it to some desirable level, have built their own large empire and accumulated unaccountable wealth in the name of some beliefsystem. Radha Soami Satsang is one such organization. Radha Soami means ‘Lord of the soul’; it is supposed to be a spiritual organization but most farcically its focus is only on beefing up its multiple hidden nefarious agendas to amass wealth, power, fame, and popularity and construct a colossal empire that also spreads in many parts of the world through its various branches and large following with liberal donations. Today, it is like a large private commercial organization owned or controlled by one person or group. Likewise, many more such organizations exist almost everywhere with the same iniquitous aims and designs.
Even today we remember the three blessed gifts of Mahatma Gandhi —Swaraj, Satyagraha and Swadeshi. We witness the first two in day-to-day life but the third has vanished with the disappearance of Gandhi. Mr. Sharma further affirms that one should not get engrossed in routinized and humdrum affairs, like, belief system, the food we eat, the clothes we wear, the criticism we direct against one another, thesis, antithesis and synthesis we finally but futilely construct, etc. One should rather emulate the principles of Gautam Buddha who explicated,“Appo Deepo Bhava” viz.‘Be the light unto yourself’ which further means, enlighten your mind and light the mind of others. Our thoughts should not be controlled by others, since we and no one owes our own thoughts. We should not follow the crowd or be a part of it, but the crowd should follow us. This may be as difficult as swimming against the tide as we live in a society with stringent norms, but it is not impossible. He then finally exhorts the whole dormant and inert humanity to be the ‘person of his own thought- be a lamp unto yourself.
In his small inspiring and stirring lecture, Anil Sharma has strongly emphasized the importance of original thinking as against the cheap deeds of copy-cats and plagiarists. It is only our original thinking, uninfluenced and unaffected by any whims, biases, prejudices, customs, and conventions that our mind can grow and human knowledge can progress. If not, everything will remain stagnant and this little pitiable world will eventually be converted into a festering pile of putrescence.
Thus, Anil K. Sharma has insightfully and meaningfullydelineated the constituents that our world of thought should have for only proper constituents cancontribute to our mental growth and also to thegermination of the society as a whole.
Enter then the world of thought from any door opened by Anil K. Sharma!
Dr. Dalip Khetarpal, Author, Poet, Critic, Reviewer, Editor, Short-Story Writer and Columnist. Former Academician and Administrator.
Bringing out Gems from Debris has brought a sense of satisfaction and solace. It was an earnest endeavor to communicate enriching and elevating thoughts and I am glad it has served the desired purpose. The book that contains deep reflections and meditative thoughts of eminent scholars, writers, poets, artists and social thinkers of India and several countries including Australia, Japan, Pakistan, Singapore, Sweden, UK and USA, has been hailed as ‘many-splendoured, glorious, magnificent, majestic and elegant in form and insightful in content’.
Many thanks for your valued contribution and your kind words of appreciation. The brochure giving some details about the quality and content of the book, is enclosed. You will also be glad to know the book is also available on Amazon, Kindle and Flipkart. The links for the three are also enclosed. I request you to share the brochure and the links with your friends and institutions in your academic and social circles. Once again I express my deep appreciation and gratitude.
Hope you also manage review of the book in CV.
Vikram Chopra
Dual Nature of Creation
Whenever I give a lecture on quantum physics, I feel as if I am talking on Vedanta’
Hans – Peter Durr
As a student/ teacher of science I studied as well as taught the dual nature of sub-atomic particles on which the modern structure of the atom is based. According to this the particles exist as wave as well as particle. This means that all matter in the universe exhibits a dual behaviour. Waves are always associated with energy. Every object in the entire universe is made up of molecules which in turn are made up of atoms. Atoms are further made up of electrons, protons and neutrons. Protons and neutrons form the nucleus that occupies very little space and electrons revolve around
the nucleus. Electrons are nothing but packets of energy. Having a closer look at the structure of the atom, we see a big void. Thus the physical world is made up of energy and not tangible matter. Scientifically all matter is made up of energy and spiritually we call this energy as divine energy. Here I remember another quote by the world renowned physicist and philosopher Hans-Peter Durr where he says “I studied matter for the last thirty five years only to find out that it does not exist ! I have been studying something that does not exist. Exactly what Adi Shankar said long back from the Upnishads: a lot that you see doesn’t exist “.
Creation exists on the principle of duality. There are always opposites. Every plus has a minus to balance and every gain is cancelled by a loss. Things always fluctuate from one extreme to another. When things are not going right for us, our actions of the past or the mass karma of the people around us hits. To balance we have to stay grounded, otherwise we won’t be able to meet these challenges. Spiritual strength comes from communing inwardly with God. When we offer our ego to God, he transforms us into himself.
Science and spirituality move hand in hand. The two overlap each other in many respects.But to understand this concept we require a deep insight into the fundamentals of science as well as we need a quest for spirituality. An ordinary man is living superficially without knowing the depths within. His existence is fairly simple- a few desires, a few intellectual and aesthetic pursuits, some tastes, some ideas and a stream of unconnected and frivolous thoughts, health and disease, some joys and some griefs. Most of us, in our inward journey are as underdeveloped as the primitive man in his outward life. We are improving our outward life with every passing day but we forget to undertake the inward journey, though we keep on hearing about it or reading about it.
Ancient Indian spirituality recognised that man lives in ignorance and has to be lead towards higher knowledge. Our life should be a balance between the two worlds- the depth of our inward being and our outward life. The spiritual knowledge perceives that there is a great thing within us, our inner self. Our real self is neither the intellect nor the thinking mind but the divinity within.
Both science and spirituality have a common factor that is the search for truth. One is searching for the physical truth and the other is trying to find the truth of the consciousness. Science today does not consider consciousness as a reality and spirituality mostly is unscientific. The need of the hour is to make spirituality more scientific so that people are more open to spiritual growth, the much needed growth.
Alka Kansra Email: kansrachd@yahoo.com
Gems from Debris
Bringing out Gems from Debris has brought a sense of satisfaction and solace. It was an earnest endeavor to communicate enriching and elevating thoughts and I am glad it has served the desired purpose. The book that contains deep reflections and meditative thoughts of eminent scholars, writers, poets, artists and social thinkers of India and several countries including Australia, Japan, Pakistan, Singapore, Sweden, UK and USA, has been hailed as ‘many-splendoured, glorious, magnificent, majestic and elegant in form and insightful in content’.
Many thanks for your valued contribution and your kind words of appreciation. The brochure giving some details about the quality and content of the book, is enclosed. You will also be glad to know the book is also available on Amazon, Kindle and Flipkart. The links for the three are also enclosed. I request you to share the brochure and the links with your friends and institutions in your academic and social circles. Once again I express my deep appreciation and gratitude. Hope you also manage review of the book in CV.
Vikram Chopra
POEMS
I am Preeta Chandran
The storm raged all night,
Destroying, like a beast gone berserk,
But here I am, at dawn,
Still standing – unbroken, unbent.
The floods submerged everything in their wake,
But here I am, still afloat,
Refusing to sink or be washed away.
The fire razed everything to the ground,
But stubborn, I rose from the ashes.
And so, you must know,
That is how He intended me to be.
No wrath, no nature’s fury,
No disease. no pandemic,
Can permanently scare me.
Because the nature of time and space,
And the ways of nature itself,
Need me – to rebuild, heal, and sustain.
And so, when in doubt,
When scared or lacking faith,
When tired or ready to give up,
Give yourself a chance.
Repose within yourself,
Look within you,
And I promise, you’ll find me there.
I am neither God nor Angel,
But, I, the unbreakable,
I, the invincible,
I am the elixir itself.
I am the human spirit
Who’s never dispirited.
Vinod Khanna
Small was the world, when as a child
In arms of mother, I ranted and riled.
Whiteness of milk only I adored,
Bitterly I wept, whenever ignored.
Did she ignore cynosure of her eyes?
No, came running hearing my cries.
Whenever she found me a bit unwell,
Devoid of sleep her eyes would swell.
What anguish she felt I can’t tell,
Want to ask? Ask the temple bell.
She forgot food to see me smile,
What pure feelings in world so vile.
Now selfishness rules, treachery rife,
How I miss the angel in my life.
Introspection- Dr. Manas Bakshi
Yesterday’s food
Stale today,
Ants line up
To save something
For the rainy day-
Rain or Sun
Same thoughts’re
Coiled up
In the sullen pall
Of isolation,
Two opposing
Political lines meet
In the lure of
Power to reign.
Who gains? who loses?
Colourless gambit
Makes no difference,
Somewhere still
Love’s in wait
In a full moon terrain
For a flower’s smile
In untimely rain
To inscribe words
Of hope, tolerance
And faith in humanism
On the leaf
Of existence.
The granddaughters of Dera Neelima Wig
What did she think Our grandmother Cooking dreams on her Iron skillet As she rolled wheat pancakes To feed a row of hungry mouths. She stilled the Sutlej and the beas’ Dancing in her veins To breathe magic from those mountains To her clan. Her salt marches, her burning clothes She ground her pain to tears till They dried like parched spices in Her courtyard The generation succumbed to the ravages of time when her time was up like those before and those after. Her granddaughters eye Today gleam with the same light As from the world over Each one looks up from her tablet or cell, As they rise to unite over zoom As serraike plays in the backdrop. A life not wasted Just as years of sacrifice Appear Formed like an ochre and sienna harvest As the haze lifts from blackened spheres.
Dalim
Like dalim seeds were my teeth,
Father said when I was a little girl.
His words endured, rooted in my mind
Until I grew up to learn its
Sanskrit name to be dantabeeja**.
In history, legends and mythology
Is the precious fruit venerated
Growing aplenty in the garden of Eden
The Koran too mentions a heavenly paradise
Where anaar’ trees grow.
A revered fruit of the Buddhist, the laughing
Buddha, carries shiliu` in his sack of wealth.
Maximilian I of Austria,
Adopted this Punica granatum`
As his personal emblem.
In the ancient sweet
Tamil tongue
It is a maadulam paazham***
With seeds hidden
Like a woman’s thoughts.
This large berry ripens to a blushing bride
When the constellation
Orion is visible in the night sky.
The old tale goes that Orion and
Pomegranate whose name was Side did then wed.
My mouth must be a chalice
From where a wealth of fair words sprout.
And so, I believed long ago,
With the credence of a child
That every word I uttered was true.
If my teeth compared with
The arils of such a regal fruit
Of life, resurrection, fertility, beauty.
I could only learn to love
These bushy shrubs which bore the fruit.
When my husband and I
Moved to our home, I planted
Two rows of pomegranate trees
On either side of the garden path.
There, Persephone always met Demeter.
The pomegranate nods
Like a polished leather pouch
With a turreted crown
From its leafy shrub, sways like
A rubescent bauble on a Christmas tree.
Slicing open the fruit is to
Unbolt the lid of a treasure chest.
Wherein a riotous explosion
Of colour, smell, and taste,
Seduce my senses.
Translucent sacs of sparkling garnet,
Store sweet-tart juice,
Squirt out at a squeeze
To sprinkle my face
Like a blessing.
The coral blooms, crimsonfruits,
Garland my beloved
Bronze statue of Lord Krishna
Serenely poised with his flute
On a tabletop in the room above—
Playing the melody of life
For all who desire to hear.
*Pomegranate in Assamese.
**the teeth-seeded one ` pomegranate
***Maadhu is woman, ullam is mind and pazham is fruit
GOD ASHAMED OF HIS MASTERPIECE 24th March 2020.
Dr.Venugopala Rao Kaki,
In my morning stroll,
I sighted a puppy
Crushed on the road
Lying in a pool of blood,
Shocked and agonized,
I stand gazing
At the crushed tender
Body of the poor, hapless puppy,
Just a few feet away
At the edge of the road
Standing a dog looking
So piteously at the puppy’s crushed
Flesh scattered all
Over the road in blood
With a woebegone visage,
Its tail drooping,
Its gloomy eyes shedding
Tears of unspoken pain,
It is not barking,
It is moaning,
It is no doubt the mother
Of the puppy,
How the baby-dog
Crushed on the road
Is a horrendous fact
Dawned over me,
A reckless driver ran
So carelessly his vehicle
Over the poor puppy
And snuffed out
Its tender life, snatching
Away a baby’s life
From its mother so mercilessly;
If it were a human being
Met with an accident,
Complaint lodged,
Police swung into swift action,
Investigation made
To nab the culprit
For punishment,
But here, it’s only a puppy,
A baby of a mother dog,
No complaint for the gruesome
Crime the mute mother makes,
No police spotted there,
No criminal investigation,
With no punishment
For such horrible murder
Of the baby dog,
The criminal just goes scotfree
On his speeding-spree of his vehicle,
The mute, mother dog
Still standing there so helplessly,
Looking with tear-filled eyes
At her baby’s crushed body,
Moaning and wailing;
But God in heaven
Feels ashamed of His
Proud Master-piece-Man
For his insensitivity,
Barbarity and inhumanity
Towards mute, innocent animals.
Dr.Venugopala Rao Kaki,
Lecturer in English( Retd),
Indian-English poet,short-story writer,critic and freelancer,
D.No.64-7-12A/5,
Treasury colony,
Atchutapuram,
Kakinada-533004,
Andhra Pradesh.
Poem : On Bare Blue Sky
On bare blue sky
In bit of time – wore
White , dark clouds
To play varied games
Probably,
It might be its intention
Of glittering with many pictures
Seemed like craft’s
Enjoyed by changing their shapeness.
Elephants roaring on hills
Kids by the sides
Trees near the snow
Were on their moods of the play – the soon changing
As the nature of their religion.
On bare, blue sky
Had a vast endless ground
Of its own had allowed
The clouds to appear to live with their will
On the way.
On the other side of the sky
Red Saffron strips
From dawning sun were in active mood
Meditating on beauteous roads
Bare, blue sky
Being a ruler of the kingdom
For various plays and dances
Had provided space
Received nothing
But charited
Gave chances
Inspired clouds experienced
The equality, fraternity and liberty
But
Space was witness for the scene…..!!
Yamuna. Kambar
Ramadurg.
Dalim*
Like dalim seeds were my teeth,
Father said when I was a little girl.
His words endured, rooted in my mind
Until I grew up to learn its
Sanskrit name to be dantabeeja**.
In history, legends and mythology
Is the precious fruit venerated
Growing aplenty in the garden of Eden
The Koran too mentions a heavenly paradise
Where anaar’ trees grow.
A revered fruit of the Buddhist, the laughing
Buddha, carries shiliu` in his sack of wealth.
Maximilian I of Austria,
Adopted this Punica granatum`
As his personal emblem.
In the ancient sweet
Tamil tongue
It is a maadulam paazham***
With seeds hidden
Like a woman’s thoughts.
This large berry ripens to a blushing bride
When the constellation
Orion is visible in the night sky.
The old tale goes that Orion and
Pomegranate whose name was Side did then wed.
My mouth must be a chalice
From where a wealth of fair words sprout.
And so, I believed long ago,
With the credence of a child
That every word I uttered was true.
If my teeth compared with
The arils of such a regal fruit
Of life, resurrection, fertility, beauty.
I could only learn to love
These bushy shrubs which bore the fruit.
When my husband and I
Moved to our home, I planted
Two rows of pomegranate trees
On either side of the garden path.
There, Persephone always met Demeter.
The pomegranate nods
Like a polished leather pouch
With a turreted crown
From its leafy shrub, sways like
A rubescent bauble on a Christmas tree.
Slicing open the fruit is to
Unbolt the lid of a treasure chest.
Wherein a riotous explosion
Of colour, smell, and taste,
Seduce my senses.
Translucent sacs of sparkling garnet,
Store sweet-tart juice,
Squirt out at a squeeze
To sprinkle my face
Like a blessing.
The coral blooms, crimson fruits,
Garland my beloved
Bronze statue of Lord Krishna
Serenely poised with his flute
On a tabletop in the room above—
Playing the melody of life
For all who desire to hear.
*Pomegranate in Assamese.
**the teeth-seeded one` pomegranate
***Maadhu is woman, ullam is mind and pazham is fruit
MOTHER (Vinod Khanna)
Small was the world, when as a child
In arms of mother, I ranted and riled.
Whiteness of milk only I adored,
Bitterly I wept, whenever ignored.
Did she ignore cynosure of her eyes?
No, came running hearing my cries.
Whenever she found me a bit unwell,
Devoid of sleep her eyes would swell.
What anguish she felt I can’t tell,
Want to ask? Ask the temple bell.
She forgot food to see me smile,
What pure feelings in world so vile.
Now selfishness rules, treachery rife,
How I miss the angel in my life.
TO SWETANKAR
Shankar D.Mishra
O my Love! Let’s soar to a State faster than light, and higher than the clouds,
Where, the din of the mundane worries and anxieties, the sweet serenity shrouds,
Where we can quench our thirsts drinking the delicious draughts of Elysian ecstasy,
Where we can mitigate our hearts’ hunger forever guzzling the elixir of peace!
O my Love! Let’s soar sooner to a realm to heal our wounds of worries with our panacea of Love,
To relieve ourselves of the ominous glares reclining and rejoicing on the chariot of Dove,
To solve smoothly, with our foolproof startegies and stratagems, life’s inscrutable mystery,
To forget forever the sores of sorrows singing blissfully the ballads of our Love’s victory;
Yes, O my Love, to get rid of tedious monotony, and humdrum hallucinogen,
And to befriend beatitude; embrace euphoria as the eternal denizens of Heaven!
Poem – Emerging From Silence
Kailash Ahluwalia
The fiddle
The songster
And the bird,
(Zoological name of which)
I do not know —
Directionless
Mysterious
Half visible in semi light
Through the chinks of
The ancient door,
That rests not on a sill
But hangs over the spread of snow
Melting gradually into the air,
Making holes into space-
Fiddle plays soothingly
Vibrating through
The eternal void,
Reverberating through the dome
Of an empty gourd,
Held by a bony hand
Of asomeoneunfamiliar
Stranger in looks & gestures-
My limited being,
The bewildered self
Surrounded by dreams,
Aversion and skepticism,
Hopes and illusions,
Transfixed in an imaginary universe —
Emerging slowly
Like an eclipsed moon
From the utter silence.
Who Shall Curate the Beauty of the Valley?
Dr.K.V.Raghupathi*
Why have the guns sprouted like wildflowers in the valley?
Like the shots in a Hollywood film of the 1960s I heard
day after day, night after night in the valley
that was once known for its spring beauty,
film shooting and refuge for the artists.
When can I hear the tenderest whisperings of the birds?
Where have they gone hiding?
When can I sense the silence of the valley?
When can I see, only trees and their thick foliage
but not soldiers in camouflage holding guns marching ahead?
I hear only crunching of their boots.
Women like rag pickers search for their sons amidst debris
among the ruins, among the blood-splattered ramshackle buildings and houses
unmindful of the eerie atmosphere and the darkening horizon
trembling, wailing with their faces covered with anger, frustrations, and shame
hurling stones and vile words at the forces.
Violence in the valley on its four legs prowling
kicking the silence wounding.
The valley is bleeding between the thighs
like menstrual blood flowing and tainting
the green with the night stars turning red in the sky.
The valley is so hollow one can see blood right through it
What a cheap life all is!
How empty life is at the nozzle!
Blood-locked all the seasons
life nursed in the womb returns to the womb of the earth by a bullet.
There is no violence like the valley-violence.
Can spring resuscitate life with new nestlings sing
replacing the sound of bullets?
Along the trackless track of the valley
before the world ending blood
there is no life like a valley-life that passes by
Who shall curate the beauty of the valley?
Social Distance
Dr.K.V.Raghupathi*
Six feet from others is like a rule
that we follow in a ballet.
But the rule can never slice warmth and love in blood.
I cannot miss overhearing things, hop and play
I cannot stop strolling through the roads and streets.
I cannot forego the ease of opening a door for someone.
I cannot connect with people and friends via zoom.
I cannot give up shaking hands, holding hands and swinging
or sharing the sidewalk comforts
or even having a drink with others.
I look for where ‘social’ and ‘distance’ meets.
Surely every inch of place on this globe is mine
The streets and roads are full of people with no six feet distance rule
I can no longer do
as the world flows around me like the river Ganges under the bridge.
About the Poet:
Poet, short story writer, novelist, book reviewer and critic, K.V. Raghupathi has published twelve poetry collections, two short story collections, two novels, eight critical/edited books besides four books on Yoga and numerous stimulating and thought-provoking articles in various international journals, both on line and print. He is a recipient of several awards for his creativity. He lives at Tirupati, AP. Email: drkvraghupathi@gmail.com
BEAUTIES OF NATURE ARE NOTHING, BUT OUR PERCEPTION!
Twinklingcountlessstars,silvery moon
That crowntheskies,
Sunlightatdawn,goldenglamorous
Crimson tintedyellowglow
Ofsunsetinthewesternhorizon,
Sailingcloudslikeheapsofglidingwoollyfabric
Incloudysoftdarkskies,
Glitteringtenderdewdropshanging
On thesharp-edgedblades
Ofmorninggrassandleaves–
–thebeatitudestillnessunseen,
Snow-cloakedmountains,
Crystalwateredlake,lashingwavesoftheblueseas,
Lashesmyslumberingspirit,
Awakensitandfillsitwith
Exquisitejoyandwonder,weird.
Trancebroken,Irevisitedthesamenature
Andfoundherbereftofallbeauties
Robbedofasifbymysanersense.
Anewawakeningthensuddenlydawns,
Makingmerealizethatnatureisasitis,
Hasbeenandhadbeen.
tismyperception,visionandmood
That color,frameandshapeit.
BysimplychangingthewayIlookatthings,
ThethingsIlookat,change.
Viewedthroughconsciousnesselated
Itisbeautiful,beyondcompare,
Viewedthroughconsciousnessmelancholic
Itisjusthorrible,
Viewedthroughasaneandbalancedmind
Itisneitherexquisitenoruglybutisonlywhatitis.
Idelveddeeperintomyownperception
Ofcruelandmeanmankind,
Anddiscovered,itisalsonotwhatitis,
Itisactuallywhatwe’vemadeofit
Aswe’vemadeofnature.
Theforestsaredenuded,
Theirfloraandfaunaannihilated,
Poachersandhunters, inlieuofsomeprofitorgain
Intensifytheirdrive,theirbrutality;daybyday
Tomakeanimalsextinctandinaudible
Thelividfrighteningroarsoftigersandlions,
Thetwitteringofbirds,thehissingofsnakes,
Thetrumpetingofelephants,thegruntingofhogs,
Thescreechingofbats,thebuzzingofbees,
Thescreamingofchimpanzees,thechirpingofcicadas,
Thehowlingofwolves,thecroakingoftoads,
Thebleatingofgiraffes,thescreamingofmonkeys,
Thehootingofowlsandmorenoisesofanimals
Forcommunicatingtheirmoods,thoughtsandfeelings
That alsobuildthenaturalatmosphereoftheforest–
–areallnowhushedupbythebanditrypillaginghuman hands.
Manshould ariseandawake,
Shouldforcehimselfintosomesoul-searchinganalysis
Byrecognizingtheblessingsofnature
Andreturnitsgrandeurandverdancy,
Itstruenaturalform,
Andbeitssincerefriend,
Asit’saretrieverandnotadeceiver
Likehim.
Dr. Dalip Khetarpal,
Author, Poet, Critic, Reviewer, Editor,
Short-Story Writer and Columnist.
Former Academician and Administrator.
By: Preeta Chandran
The storm raged all night,
Destroying, like a beast gone berserk,
But here I am, at dawn,
Still standing – unbroken, unbent.
The floods submerged everything in their wake,
But here I am, still afloat,
Refusing to sink or be washed away.
The fire razed everything to the ground,
But stubborn, I rose from the ashes.
And so, you must know,
That is how He intended me to be.
No wrath, no nature’s fury,
No disease. no pandemic,
Can permanently scare me.
Because the nature of time and space,
And the ways of nature itself,
Need me – to rebuild, heal, and sustain.
And so, when in doubt,
When scared or lacking faith,
When tired or ready to give up,
Give yourself a chance.
Repose within yourself,
Look within you,
And I promise, you’ll find me there.
I am neither God nor Angel,
But, I, the unbreakable,
I, the invincible,
I am the elixir itself.
I am the human spirit
Who’s never dispirited.
Bio
Preeta is a digital learning and technology professional and a writer and poet. She is CEO at e WandzDigital Services and former AVP at Genpact. She is the author of two published poetry books (The Painted Verse, The Portrait of a Verse), and a children’s fiction (The Chemical Drones) co-authored under the pen name HashWrite. Her poems have been published in numerous anthologies around the globe.
I No More Read Your Letters
I no more read your letters
I know
They contain
A volcanic eruption
Of the same flow of thoughts
Guised in newer, fresher manner
I no more read your letters
For unopened
They still deliver
A fast heartbeat
But I do go through them
In my dreams
Relishing each word
Each feel
At snail speed
Just like the slow movements
Of your pleasant fingers
Over my yearning veins
Life Online
A shift to online transaction
Away from all Jabbering work of assiduous fashion
Is a miraculous transfer to a modern trend
A revolution in communication
A quantum jump in scientific term;
But it is accompanied by more modern practices
Of degrading Nature, denuding wildlife
Depleting fast all accumulated resources
Poisoning Environment all around us;
Online suits them most who want
To utilise it for their own selfish purpose.
Depending entirely on online
No earth-link with pencil paper or ink
Like weaning away from mother’s breast
Children left in the mid-world to sink
Like a farmer bereft of his traditional shield
Rain mud spade sickle seed in his field
Like hanging in the balance
Feet not touching the ground
Hands not holding anything sound
Key to hold on to any support
May be taken away without prior report;
Even a fall shall not be on the ground
No sound, you’ll not be found.
People would be compelled
To charge against each other
Like a massive body of soldier
Who without judgement
Has to obey only the order.
It is as if a civilisation is shifting its base
Away from the pristine source
Away from all earthly resource
To help a few to amass all wealth in their hands
In few marked parts of the land
Everything to bring under their brutal control;
Knowing full well the impermanency
Of the few, their inevitable mortality.
A civilisation hanging in the balance
Cannot remain forever thus
Halting the natural progress
Through Natural process;
It necessitates removal of all those
Responsible for this state
A pack of in-humans at their best
In all the States of the world
To save the civilisation from ruin
To help it shine under the sane and selfless
Leaders of the earth fresh and new
So that after the dawn
The sunny days may continue.
(c) Aju Mukhopadhyay, 2021
On This Dotted Line
O.P. Arora
On this dotted line I live and sleep, no divide
over me fly the rockets and missiles, either side…
Ego-game they revel in, like the kids licking candy-ice
whenever they have enough stock to dazzle the skies
or need to ignite the flagging spirits of the asides…
I sneak into either side, look at the tattered children
playing with the broken parts of these deadly weapons
outside the religious places feeding their various hungers…
No, no remorse for the dead or the suffering, martyrs’ glorification
conditioning their minds for fanaticism and nationalism…
Their ding-dong game gone on for eons, no thaw
No, they won’t fight to the finish, aim at a draw
enough to keep the flame alive, the joy of see-saw
incite the credulous to be their pawns, to embrace frenzy
manoeuvre to keep the fire burning, to sustain their glory…
But who are you? How can you survive on no-man’s land?
Oh that! They both suspect but think I am on their band…
A mere human, sans religion or nation, a non-entity…
They are no exception, if you scan the pages of human history–
One side, Man, so grand and glorious, the other, so mean, so ugly…
ANY WIFE TO ANY HUSBAND
I married you
not out of any love for you;
yet I did so,
for I know I should marry
some idiot one day,
all to provide myself
a false sense of security.
You were a lecherous rat
in your cosy bed
and made me just garbage and meat.
All your advances in bed
began with a heroic smile
and ended with a villainous rape.
Oh! It was more pain than fun.
The best way to enter a man’s heart
is through his stomach,
said your Cunning Mom
the day I became you wife.
Did your Brainy Dad ever tell you
the best way to enter a woman’s?
Perhaps he too is a novice like you!
Your father, his father and you,
perhaps learnt through flesh-crazy circle,
the unending hedonistic delights
of entering a willing woman.
Poor souls! you look more
at the bait than at the hook.
Once hooked, you are angled for eternity.
All the time I showed you
the light and light only
when you groped in darkness.
Yet you never thanked me.
Perhaps you thought it my duty.
When I led you out of the tunnel,
you smiled, not at me but to yourself.
You had number of affairs
but relied on me for true love.
A tormenting reality to accept.
The kids born of my womb
were born of your loins too.
Yet suspicion rose in you
as you loved to crucify yourself.
You made all my long days longer.
I made your hard days jog trot.
You never wanted to be questioned.
But you made me answerable
to every mistake of yours.
You wanted me to be a woman of wisdom.
but wisdom can only be given to man of knowledge.
You called me earth and
sowed your seeds in me.
I bore you fruit
only to strengthen our bond.
You bragged that they are
flesh of your flesh and bone of your bones.
Stupid! Think twice before you utter a word.
The home I made of your house,
the kids I made for your bliss,
the reliable friends I brought in,
the hostile relations I turned amicable…
Oh! Only I could do that delicate handiwork.
You are nobody; nothing to crow about.
Do not draw a long bow; take life as it comes.
P.RAJA
The Sea of Pedigrees
True that.
A bottomless embrace is the response
even when the
question is mysterious.
It transfers sustenance, security, keenness
guides and glides harmony apposite
from body to body, soul to soul.
Merging animated
sans questions
charms the senses and touches
your passion.
This, only this,
is panacea of the cosmos, the creation.
You whispered these honeyed words in my ears
when I bit your earlobes
in a deep embrace.
I floated in the sea of frenzied dreams
and dream visions
when you futilely attempted to explore
the nook and cranny–just all of it–
of my body beautiful.
It’s not easy my love
to touch the mysteries of the ocean.
And I smiled prevailing.
You seemed to be at some solution.
I looked deep in your eyes.
I could essentially see your
desires of pedigrees
unfulfilled, unattended, unrequited.
Instantly I took charge of
your dreams, wishes and your subterranean passion.
I whispered, ‘take me as you like me,
it’s a complete surrender.’
You assumed I was right,
and you preferred the act of capitulation.
As I merged with you in you
and mocked to be asking for clemency
you smiled honored.
You said, ‘you ain’t seen nothing yet lady’!
That was my triumph! Making you the man,
the elemental man, was my resolution.
Now the memory of that moment is my safekeeping.
Ah, I have to rather safeguard it
lest time’s talon corrupts it
in my myriad day long mundane action.
Nandini Sahu
The Sea of Pedigrees
True that.
A bottomless embrace is the response
even when the
question is mysterious.
It transfers sustenance, security, keenness
guides and glides harmony apposite
from body to body, soul to soul.
Merging animated
sans questions
charms the senses and touches
your passion.
This, only this,
is panacea of the cosmos, the creation.
You whispered these honeyed words in my ears
when I bit your earlobes
in a deep embrace.
I floated in the sea of frenzied dreams
and dream visions
when you futilely attempted to explore
the nook and cranny–just all of it–
of my body beautiful.
It’s not easy my love
to touch the mysteries of the ocean.
And I smiled prevailing.
You seemed to be at some solution.
I looked deep in your eyes.
I could essentially see your
desires of pedigrees
unfulfilled, unattended, unrequited.
Instantly I took charge of
your dreams, wishes and your subterranean passion.
I whispered, ‘take me as you like me,
it’s a complete surrender.’
You assumed I was right,
and you preferred the act of capitulation.
As I merged with you in you
and mocked to be asking for clemency
you smiled honored.
You said, ‘you ain’t seen nothing yet lady’!
That was my triumph! Making you the man,
the elemental man, was my resolution.
Now the memory of that moment is my safekeeping.
Ah, I have to rather safeguard it
lest time’s talon corrupts it
in my myriad day long mundane action.
Ahalya’s Waiting
“Ahalya,you will live here for many thousands of years,
eating wind, without any food, lying on ashes
and generating inner heat. Invisible to all creatures,
you will live in this hermitage. And when Ram,
who is unassailable, comes to this terrible forest,
then you will be purified. By receiving him as a guest
you will become free of greed and delusion,
you evil woman, and you will take on your own form
in my presence, full of joy.”
Echoed husband Rishi Goutama’s command
bestowed upon the beautiful wife Ahalya, who had just had
her first ever orgasm, the fulfilment of her
womanhood through Indra, in disguise of Goutama.
‘Ahalya’, the ‘one with no ugliness’–
the woman beautiful turned into a stone there and then.
Reek of patriarchy with
the social game of victim-blaming began.
I am Ahalya. Am I really waiting since centuries
for my salvation by just a touch , and for my redemption?
I have the Indriyas, the five senses, inside me
so solid that I cannot be transformed to oblivion,
I am as inert as a stone.
While my acquisitive mind retorts, my steady mind waits.
I am the Sthit-pragya Sadhak , I have my Indriyas
in my own accumulation.
Doing my sadhana, I am time and timeworn.
Oh Ram, finally you are generously plentiful
to meet me, after ages of waiting. But my penance
is not yet completed. I will not consent
oh Ram, to be redeemed by you for an offense
that I have not committed.
I am untainted, confident and clean.
What purity on me will you assign?
What is the merit of this debate on of my pollution?
Oh Ram, the archetypal Ram,
if you really need to touch me,
touch me as the elemental woman. Touch me
as the galaxies do collide, touch me with
all your unspent unbiased emotion.
Touch me as the blue firmament touches the stars.
Make me your lyre and lure me.
Give my harmony your personal touch.
I assure you, you’ll solve the mysteries
of the universe with my touch,
because I am the quintessential, ultimate woman.
Your touch should be your creative language,
your behaviour, your basic attitude.
With my touch, stars ought to dance across your skin.
Your touch must take away my fears of
all Goutamas and Indras.
Love, soothe my anxiety and
fill my senses with your compassion.
Touch my cognizance and you can redeem the stone.
Make me your Muse.
You know, touch is where miracles arise
And exchange of the light and dark begin.
The curse of Rishi Goutama may be immobilized
with your touch, with this assertion.
My redemption lies not just in your touch
but in zero tolerance of
any marginalization.
I need a rejoinder from the society
and from you, oh the most knowledgeable one,
for my quintuple patriarchal relegation.
Father presented me, the puppet, to husband on his free will.
Husband couldn’t fulfil me as a woman.
Indra tricked me to satiate his desire, not mine.
Inept, impotent husband cursed me
with what right, oh, with what right,
to become a stone exactly at a moment
when I was satiated as a woman!
And now why do I need yet another man, you, oh Ram,
to touch me and cleanse me of my uncommitted sin?
Touch sensitive, touch deprived,
touch-waiting, I would rather wait till eternity.
I prefer to reject your offer of touching me
on the condition of taking me
into the snares of purity-pollution.
I am my own possessor, proprietor, I am my woman.
Let me remain ethically upright on my own terms—
this is my ultimate liberation.
***
Reference to Goutama’s curse:
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Prof.Nandini Sahu, Professor of English, IGNOU, New Delhi, India, is an established Indian English poet,creative writer,theorist and folklorist. She is the author/editor of fifteen books; has been widely published in India and outside. Prof.Sahu has received the Gold Medal from the Hon’ble Vice President of India for her contribution to English Studies. Her areas of research interest cover New Literatures, Critical Theory, Folklore and Culture Studies, Children’s Literature and American Literature.
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