A Revelation That Comes with 5 September, 2018

                                                                                         

From the pen-APN

Life finds a meaning when one’s own familial well-being is ensured and the individual’s inner attitude to serve others shines spontaneously and out of gratitude towards society. It feels good to be an instrument of progress in peace of mind and accompanying ease of action arising from a clear conscience. I will say it is God’s grace when your life is blessed with such invaluable gifts. The first gift is that all the minimum requirements for a decent life are fulfilled and the second gift is that you are in good health and in sound state of mind to serve the world around. When these two things meet together life becomes a beautiful song.  

September 5, the special day dedicated to teachers, made my heart supple and made me understand the above truth amidst the love and joy of some happy students.  

Into a Life Mechanical

From the pen-APN

In the fast-changing world, every moment the norms of life are changing. Man is continually changing. His/her attitudes, beliefs, thinking and the situations around him/her are changing from moment to moment. In such an ever-transforming world, every individual is toiling hard to keep balance.

Newly invented tools, new scientific discoveries and use of modern technology in all walks of life have given super speed to these processes of change. In short, the world has become super-dynamic. The world shows kaleidoscopic changes as if it was the trailer of a super-fast Hollywood action film with time-lapse effect.

Today a preschooler of the twenty-first century can amaze an adult of the 80’s by his/her agility to deal with modern gadgets, computers, smart-phones and allied technologies.  

In such a world where there is steep competition to survive and where everything is valued on the basis of utility and where everything is judges basing on skills, profit-loss implications, the vocation of poetry, drama, literature and fine arts seem incongruous.

It seems Literature will soon fashion itself on the notes of some jarring metallic sounds of industrial machines. Now, literature is losing the charm of the morning sunrise and the magic of dew-laden grass. In the opposite, Literature has started to accommodate in its body the digital rhythms of robotic operations, breathless run of automobiles, the strife between warring zones, the extreme fight for depleting resources and the dying voice of morality.

The nature-poetry, the fresh puff of breeze, the burbling cascades, the varied tall and short plants, which give a characteristic green to earth, are all going to fade away in the closed cubicles, which are artificially chilled with air-conditioners.    

If all things run like machines and with machines disrespecting the fine sensibilities of literature, we will soon turn into some robots and we will be no more the human beings. We will be like the battery-powered doll which mechanically beats the drums to declare that there is some life in it but all know that such liveliness is without a heart. It is simply mechanical and functional.

Whitish Ash of Burnt Memories

From the pen-APN

A lamp was glimmering somewhere but its light was visible to me in the night. It was a starless night and the atmosphere was humid and the soil was wet because for two days it had rained continuously.

The glowing lamp’s hope , the dark night’s despair and the teary rain’s anguish were somehow whispering my life’s tale.  

I was standing inhaling the smell of wet ground and listening to the mixed sounds of so many nocturnal insects. In the shrill noise of those unseen creatures and in the thickness of darkness, I was experiencing a fleeting night, which would soon end, heralding a new morning with some sunshine.

As I internalized my attention to read the scars on my own heart, to my surprise, I discovered no scars but some burnt out whitish ash all ready to manure the substratum of my heart with more feelings, with more compassion and more humanity. And the ash was nothing but my burnt out memories arising out of an unhappy relation.

Fixing my eyes in the distant starless dark sky, my lips produced a faint smile and  a thought-wave crossed my mind bringing a conclusion that  “she was nothing but a strong fire and she burnt me like hellfire. But, lo! I was not killed and the remnant dusty ash deep in my heart is but a sign that I am now a purified one- free and blest, like a winged creature chasing the morning sun.”

The night had passed and a smiling sun was rising in the east sky.

A Meditative Joyful Song

From the pen-APN

With many Smiles of hope fading in despair,

With much of life murdered by unfaithful affair,

Life still stands tall with a meditative joyful song,

Of forgiveness, of humanity and a heart strong…

A Night Journey in the Fog Via Kalinga Ghat

From the pen-APN

In the stealth of a moonless night, my vehicle was climbing down Kalinga Ghat. The hills that stood by the sides of the road were hardly visible as thick fog had covered the Ghat road. The fog was so thick that anything was hardly visible beyond 15 meters. It was the month of May and such heavy fog in the night was unexpected.

I groped my limited knowledge of Geography. I remembered some content of my Geography textbook which I used to read during my class 10. It said that what is perceived as fog by the people at the top of mountain looks like cloud to the people at the foot of that mountain.

My speed was reduced to sub 20 km/hr because I was now piercing through the thick layers of water vapors. The windshield wiper of my car was rhythmically cleaning the windshield. I wanted to stop my car and get down and click a half dozen of photos in the headlamp of my car but my friend who was accompanying me discouraged me from doing so.

Getting out of the car in that foggy night amidst the wilds of the hills was enchanting but it had some risks too.

“Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains.”  I realized the meaning of this maxim, in real sense, when I had to accede to the requests of my friend.

I stayed inside the car with the doors shut but I shot a short video of that foggy night through the windshield and I had to remain contented without having the feel of the cloud/fog vapors on my skin.

“Man is born free, and everywhere he is in chains."