A Multiple Living: Short Fiction

P C K Prem

P C K PREM

              He was in search of a focal point from where he could start and finish. Whatever he did, it only began somewhere he did not know, and it ended and he failed to wrap up what it was. That was a huge dilemma of a man of action. A man, who believed in what he did and yet wanted to substantiate how it benefitted or hurt others irrespective of the initial intents he harbored. He did not recognize why unsteadiness overwhelmed when search of harmony triggered off a yearning to live dispassionately rather apathetically. He heard sermons many a time, sitting at the feet of many saints whenever an opportunity knocked at the silent door of mind.

“You know when a man looks out, he finds many cracks and disjoints and feels pity for men, who live in inconvenient times.”

“You disturb. I do not agree what you see and realize, Trinath.” Amin said tersely.

Tri looked at the void as if, and laughed ironically, “Amin, it is your problem. If you want to see life you ought to feel it and forget the self and enter into the psyche of another person you look at…”

              Amin appeared baffled. A man, who thinks too much, is a burden. He restrained anger. Tri tried to adjust the sling bag and felt the stuff he had kept in the little bag. He took out a diary and a book, felt assured and pushed them back into the bag and kept it on the bed. Amin did not want to enter into an argument. Tri was always befuddled he thought and often talked of the wacky and untenable situations. Tri appeared unyielding and audacious. He was irrational. Despite foibles, he was a man of equanimity and looked quite apt and consistent. He just tried to make out but still was doubtful whether he was right. At times, he thought, Tri had some truth in what he often said. 

“Don’t you think we always try to find meaning in evil designs we nurse but often overlook or throw out what appears fine, of good quality. Have you ever dissolved identity in another man? Man does it but does not realize.”

“It is debatable but it is not issue you raised.”

              Amin was honest. Tri went to the kitchen and silently prepared tea. Amin stood on the threshold and watched without a word. Probably, Tri was singing in whispers.

“It is good to make tea.” He laughed and from the small plastic boxes, took out a few biscuits in a plate and fried peanuts. After five minutes, he poured tea into glasses kept in a tray, “Come. Let us take tea.”

              The room was simple with a small table, two chairs in the centre and a bed in one corner of the room. It was neat and not a speck of dust one noticed. Near the bed, a small wooden shelf he had kept with nearly thirty books arranged in a perfect order. A little stool had newspapers and some old issues of a magazine. He placed the tray and the plate on the table and handed over a cup to Amin. He sat on the bed cross-legged, took a sip, looked at the bookstand and said, “I am a theorist you say. What I say you do not understand you say.” He did not stretch the point.

              After a pause, he said in low voice, “I do not know if it happens with you or not but I cannot avoid what I churn within. It is awesome, painful and interminable. An academic exercise hints at futility. Thinkers do not produce anything concrete. Yes, ideas they give. Is it hard work?” He looked at the window. He appeared a bit stressed. He got up, straitened the crumples of the bed sheet, removed the curtains to one side, and gave a cynical smile.

“It is not very old. Just see the building and look at the synthetic chords in the balconies with many types of linen in the sun. It offers a disgusting look. People talk of quality life, of aesthetic values and morals and see…cannot they find a suitable place?”

“What is wrong with you? It is life of apartments. It is not village where you step out and find plants, trees, fields and…why did you come here if you are uneasy?” Amin was vague.

              Amin was practical and never meandered in areas hazy. He lived each moment of life and wanted to make it meaningful.  After a deep thought, she said, “They live each moment. I find nothing wrong if they wash and dry out linen in full view. You see obvious nakedness even when you are well dressed up.”

They had finished tea. Tri picked up the tray and the plate and went to the small kitchen. Without wasting time, he returned and sat on the bed as usual, “I often sit and prepare lessons.” He appeared not very happy. With an abrupt jerk, he got up and stood near the window and said, “You are correct. Let everyone live…it was just a thought. It is difficult to correct anyone. As teachers…what one does?” The questions lengthened out to touch empty walls. In one of the walls, hung a calendar that carried a smiling photograph of the chief minister.

“He must smile despite tension. He is not a happy man.” 

              Tri looked at the obligatory smile, looked at the palm and hand, and said, “I am a hawker and sell vegetables. At times, I carry readymade garments, go around the streets, cry loudly and sell products. I perspire, I go hungry and thirsty but I do not find rest. Selling roasted peanuts and grams is another experience. The entire body aches and I stretch arms and legs while I sit on the wayside bench, I chew up some grams and drink water from a public tap. I do not regret. I work. It happens with me. Amin, I cannot escape. To get up early in the morning, collect newspapers from the vendor and distribute is a tiresome exercise. Everyone wants paper at the door. You roll the paper and throw …to earn livelihood is a difficult.” After a long pause, he said, “However, it is satisfying. I tell you it is good. You do not get much time to think. If you dream it is bread, you think of bread. It is day-to-day living. In work, you forget everything else.”

              Amin was uncomfortable as irritation swept away sympathy for Tri. He did not understand a word Tri uttered. Suddenly, Tri said stridently, ‘Amin, not everyone does it. None thinks or perhaps, abhors reflecting over. If you sell vegetables, it is good or else it rots and you suffer loss. Women tire you out when you sell goods. When you sell nothing for some time, eyes go blank and you pray. Family at home waits for you. It asks you to work. When you reach home many smiles greet you and you forget the fatigue.”

“Why a man tries deliberately to maneuver and appears to rationalize where he fails? You do it quite often. You are a teacher. I know you think but here you relate unconnected simulations or possibly, you go berserk. Why do you try to find heroic qualities where you find nothing? ”

“Now, you fall into the trap. I wanted you to reveal what goes on inside. You know, many a time a man lives differently and he is not the self.”

“To intellectualize simple living is a disease.”

“No, it is not. It drives you to reality. You face facts. You know matters you never dream of… Amin, it is difficult to survive. As a teacher, what you think, you tell the truth. No, Sir, truth does not exist. Thinkers often buildup structure of lies and convert a chaste lie to truth …”

“Tri, what is wrong with you.”

“I went to the great saint. He told it was wrong to presume that you live honestly. It is not possible. He confided. Even saints live with lies.”

“It is already late.” Amin got up.

“Just stay a little more. It was not out of joy that I prepared a cup of tea. I wanted it. You may not admit. It gave some freshness, some energy to think more. Zeal to understand what you do not perceive correctly exasperates. Do you think of a woman within, who washes clothes and the dirt you spill? Then, you hold out against the sneers and giggles of...  I tell you what happens.” He went to the kitchen and cleaned a few utensils he had dumped in the hand basin. Amin just looked on impassively, and was bewildered.

              He noticed each movement of Tri. He was a strange man he realized now. He was obscure and eccentric, confused and yet quite rational, forlorn and still appeared effervescent and held on to optimism even in a collapsed life. He was a simple teacher, the colleagues in the collage often held opinion discarding certain unfathomable but thoughtful remarks. However, when he was alone with the fellow, he appeared a devastating theorist, a man quite apart and apathetic. Today, he had almost defeated him and he did not know how to come out. The haphazard and idiotic depiction of work of vastly dissimilar men gave sufficient torture. He appeared a man of the world and a person, who cared for the social location of life of various classes. It was all cluttered and arcane.

“If you wish to understand, you ought to undergo the anguish of living another life. If you interpolate and juxtapose a different identity, substitute yourself, say, you think of me, and talk and act as Trinath.  You will experience newness, a kick and a kind of transformed fortitude to live life differently.”

              An inconvenient pause troubled Amin immensely. He wanted to go out but unique anxiety to stay kept feet glued to the ground. A man of uncanny thoughts had clasped his wrist and arm strongly with concealed hostility and aversion. He tried to analyze but failed. He did not know what to do.

“I wanted to live another life with apparent handicaps and seeming pleasure and consequent agony. It looked like a dream but it was not. I lived through a harrowing period of ambiguity, distrust and defeat. Hawker is a man, a hard worker. He only hopes but fails to realize hopes and dreams. A factory worker dreams of happy life but falls down when he looks at the fellow worker with an amputated arm and yet another, who is crushed. A visualize a village and a farmer working in the fields. He sings a melancholic song and revisits past through a folk song of a distant past, of abortive love and caste conflict in love. I think of the beauty and of the ugliness but still, I experience faint consolation. It is living at many levels with or without motif. Still, you affirm you are nowhere. A weird situation haunts. The farmer thinks of failed crops and the spectre of hunger and death. It is dreadful. Amin, yes, you think, visit a different life, enter and feel the excitement of victory and failure, of opulence and scarcity and terminal shortage.”

              Amin thought of a man suffering from mental disorder. Tri was a serious thinker, who did not take life lightly and invariably deliberated on the complexities of life. Life was a blessing he often said but today, he was flabbergasted and nearly perplexed at the understated turn in the phrase of feelings and thoughts. Trinath was a different man, who was not only a conscientious teacher but also a man of the world. He thought intensely of the poor, the defenseless and the people, who lived in unvarying scarceness and denial.  Amin felt overstrained with something he failed to identify.  Tri stood as a giant as if. If he were in politics, he would have made a huge imprint he guessed but that way he undermines the stature of politicians, who thought of public. Perhaps, he was not right he corrected self-created thoughts.

“Amin, I know the dilemma. You may deny but a man is never vacant inside.” He looked at him and mopped the granite platform of kitchen, “Now, it is alright. To cook food in a clean kitchen gives you pleasure. I cannot tolerate dirt of waste of vegetable, potato and onion…greasy plates repulse. I can do the duty of a woman. What do you think?

“You get married.”

“A good suggestion but how going about. Parents want but you know I am unsure.”

“…” Amin wanted to go but the suggestion he gave caused immense trouble because the idea persuaded him to justify. Why did he think of it? Tri was a difficult man. He was not a normal man. A few intuitive aberrations did not permit Tri to live in harmony with others. Was he right? Questions pestered and defied cogent answers. 

“It is not possible to escape from the imagined area of darkness and light you create around. To experience life at different levels expands you, allows time to contemplate and digest what you hold.  I told you it is difficult to interpret life in inconvenient times. I am a worldly man, who notices everything and realizes the predicament of living meaningfully. I am not a saint but sainthood teaches you the art of abstinence in plenty…” He laughed and laughed as echoes of laughter filled the air.

              Amin stood wordless. Silence appeared comfortable.

“I just dramatized a trivial existence. Do not take it seriously.” Tri gave a hugely roaring laugh and then added, “Man lives in trivialities and thinks he is important. It is this area of disquiet and dim light I wish to dispel.”

Suddenly, he was forlorn fighting against the fake smiles.

                                                                *****

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Setu October 2021

Shiva Purana and Glimpses of Ancient Wisdom

P C K Prem

P C K PREM

Study of literature whether contemporary or ancient gives glimpses of age, its socio-economic, political, religious, philosophic and historical aspects and thus, it is a compound approach to life and existence. Vision, knowledge and wisdom of the ancients attract and teach true art of life and do not hide imperfections and negativity. Subjects of perennial interest – creation, preservation and dissolution form the fundamental substance when they tell through various discourses, tales and legends about creation, destruction, and growth of life in between. They speak of different ages, Solar and lunar dynasties, lineage of rulers with microscopic particulars. Sage Vyasa taught and transmitted ancient wisdom to his devotee Lomaharshana, who passed on the sacred knowledge verbally to holy men at Naimisha forests and later, these wise sages while interpreting the wisdom made additions and alterations and hence, the figure of puranas increased and so it is difficult to tell the exact number of Puranas with conviction and correctness.

One can easily say that Puranas are in truth, encyclopedic in scope and import where one finds essence of life and existence in totality, and where social, economic, political, religious, psychosomatic, and philosophic dimensions become obvious. A judiciously meditative and reflective intellect goes further than the borders of transitory life and wishes to concentrate on life beyond as glimpses of mysteries open up. Treatment of multifaceted subject is heterogeneous, exciting and stimulating for an inquisitive intellect. It teaches art of living in entirety with emphasis on truth and righteousness.

To confine the vastness of Puranas to a definition is fraught with dangers of imperfection, immaturity and meager perception of the subject matter. Mahapuranas and Up-puranas are the two classes. Sage Vyasa wrote Puranas perhaps to convey the essence of the Vedas. Puranas are tales of kings, sages, celestial and semi-celestial beings, gods and goddesses, daityas, human beings – mortals and immortals, and so speak of time and life. These contain the inner world and the worlds beyond, man is still trying to fathom with eagerness. He wishes to know the depth and immensity of what exists next, and tries to comprehend the mind and heart and the immeasurable and manifold dimensions relating to philosophic, psychological, mystical and spiritual yearnings. Objective is to teach man the art of life based on truth and uprightness in simple language and approach and correlate ordinary man’s karmas and desires with the life of created beings wielding super powers with proclivities toward truth and falsehood, piety and injustice, triumph of truth over prejudice and evil. Puranas act as a mirror to men to see truth and glorify life with faith, devotion and truthful karmas. It is a path to freedom from internal and external bondages.

Immensely vast in scope and treatment, scholars put puranas in three categories – Vaishnava Puranas, Brahma Puranas and Shaiva Puranas and these contain profound elucidation of Sattvic, Rajasic and Tamasic gunas of humankind respectively. Therefore, they speak about the Trinity – Vishnu symbolizes Sattvic virtues, Brahma tells of Rajasic and Shiva speaks about Tamasic nature and tendencies of created beings, which determine destiny.

Shivapurana speaks about the glory, splendor, and rituals before prayer and worship, idealistic and philosophical principles of Shaivism. Through teachings, religious disquisitions, laws of dharma, karmas and virtues, it gradually reveals different aspects of life contained in various samhitas (segments) as they portray sermons and expositions of grandeur, enormity of mysticism and divinity of created beings – mortals or immortals.

Besides the story of creation and birth of Brahma, it tells about the coming up of Lingam, creation of universe, emergence of Rudra, daitya Taraka, Kamadeva and lord’s anger whom Rati saves, Parvati’s tapa, birth of Ganesha and Kartikeya. One learns about the images of Shiva as lingams, various tirthas and emergence of Jyotirlingams and tirthas, Shiva-ratri fast, significance of ashes – bhasma, Shilada’s son Nandi, yagya of Daksa and its devastating consequences, tales of asuras namely: Andhaka, Hirayanakasipu, Hirayanaksa, and of monk Upamanyu. Five incarnations of Shiva, description of eight murities of Shiva and image of Ardhanarishwara and understanding the essence of Shiva-tattva that are for the benefit of humankind find right delineation.  It talks about forty-two incarnations before one knows about Nandi. In the course of even casual look at the holy book, one learns about nature of hells to which sinners ultimately go and suffer for the consequences of karmas.

Purana narrates godly characteristics, manifestations, exploits, origin of phallic image – installing and worship of lingams – the images of lord Shiva at various places and the legends associated with lingams.

 It is good to penetrate into the essence and meaning of purana’s teaching, religious anxiety, man’s future, role of celestial beings and man’s acts and devotee’s zeal to seek merger with the Absolute –the Supreme lord. Meditation on the lord Shiva may seem easy but initial preparation for proper prayer and worship requires fulfillment of certain rituals.

The legends in the Purana convey the essence of ancient wisdom and the eternal message to contemporary man.  

Many ages before, Brahma’s manas putra sage Narada, wanted to know about Shiva. Nothing existed in the beginning of creation not even the cosmos, the universe. Brahma begins to narrate the tale of creation and tells that only He (the divine essence) existed but water was everywhere. Brahma was bereft of any property regarding the extent, range, temperature – hot or cold, a man understands in ordinary language, and further, he was without the beginning or the end and therefore, defied thoughts of limits. Vishnu manifested ‘the self’ in the great form and relaxed on the water. When he slept, a lotus flower (padma) of many petals took birth from the navel. Padam’s stem dazzled as if it were a cluster of a thousand glittering suns and from the core of the lotus, Brahma took birth, wandered around, and witnessed a vast and unfathomable ocean.

Many Questions – ‘Who am I? How and from where did I come? What am I to do? Whose son am I? Who gave birth to me?’ cropped up in the mind of Brahma. He wanted to find conceivable answers, and so, he looked deep into the lotus and wished to find its centre. Out of inquisitiveness, he travelled along padam’s stem and continued to travel for another hundred years but failed to find Padam’s centre and roots, and therefore, after a thought, he returned to the place of birth but failed to find the entity, the little cell from where he had emerged.

Brahma was exhausted and therefore, thought it better to take a break. A voice suddenly woke him up but he was lost in deep tapasya – meditation and intense tapa for twelve years. After austere tapa, Vishnu with four arms appeared before Brahma. Vishnu’s hands held a sankha (conch shell), a chakra (a discus), a gada (mace) and a padma (lotus flower). Brahma was surprised to the see the man he did not know.

Engaged in a serious dialogue, Brahma and Vishnu noticed a luminously elegant lingam (Shiva’s image) appearing before the lord. It had no beginning or end. Vishnu requested Brahma to stop arguing, when they observed materialization of the third unknown being. Linga’s identity raises questions ‘who is he and why did he come and from where?’ They looked at each other and seemed extremely astonished.

Vishnu told Brahma to transform into the figure of a swan (a bird hamsa) and fly high even as Vishnu changes into the form of boar (varaha) and went down into the depths of water. They went with the intent to investigate and find out the farthest points of both sides of linga. Brahma was now a white swan and flew high into the sky. Vishnu as a white boar went down to know the truth of an unknown being linga. The search continued for four thousand years but they failed to locate the limits –the end of linga. After the journey in search of linga’s limits, they returned to the place from where they had begun. It was time to pray and so spent another hundred years in prayers.

After the long prayer, they heard the sound of ‘om’ and soon, an amazing being turned up with five faces and ten arms. It was Mahadeva – Shiva. Vishnu was a bit happy and said, “It is because of the fight we had that you arrived on the scene. It is good I say.”

Shiva said gently, “We are ‘One’ with ‘One Entity’ and here, we are in three components. Brahma is the creator. Vishnu is the preserver and I am the destroyer. Another being would take birth from this body and he would be Rudra. Rudra and I are ‘One’. Let Brahma create now” and he disappeared. After Shiva left, Brahma and Vishnu abandoned forms of ‘the swan’ and ‘the boar’.

Vishnu created a huge egg (anda) in the vast limitless deep-sea and entered the egg, and in the meantime, Brahma began to pray. He gained immense power through tapa and meditation and created many holy men and sages. Thereafter, the process of creation began. Brahma, after initial aura of mystery, decided to create male and female components for an innovative process – a sacred creative act through the union of male and female constituents. The Supreme lord assigned the sacrosanct function to Prajapati Daksa, who encountered many problems in the beginning but later, surmounted all impediments and fulfilled a divine duty.

Purana is a vital treatise on karma, bhakti – devotion, wisdom and knowledge, the three qualities of – sattva, rajas and tamas, and the elucidation of gunas – the qualities through tales make the purana interesting and contemporary as always and emphasizes the path of dharma.

Truth and virtue fill life with happiness but violence and malice cause sufferings. An anguished man seeks refuge at the feet of the god or goddess. He tries to understand the nature of acts (karmas) and therefore, tentatively prays and worships to get rid of bodily and mental afflictions. He explores nature of karmas and learns that every act originates from the quality of three gunas-sattva,  rajas and tamas. The conduct and nature of man depends upon the impact of gunas. When he turns to religious texts, he knows the true meaning of sattva, rajas and tamas. Various holy books urge men to live truthfully and honestly – a life of dharma. Virtuous karma is dharma (a life of truth and righteousness) of man, for karma with a righteous motive serves man and humankind.

Karmas are precursors to human relations, love, passion, anxieties, thirst, uncertainties, jealousy, hatred, greed and attachment, and carry the longings for reward. Social obligations presuppose certainty and thus, liberation from worldly joys or sufferings becomes difficult. However, karmas if understood correctly, guide a man to freedom from earthly shackles. ‘Pleasant and enjoyable’ karmas-preyas (pleasant) do not create obstacles, for such karmas cause attachment to transient material joys, and bring pain, grief and sorrow. Virtuous and humanistic thoughts originating from acts enrich man with inner ecstasy and bliss and at this moment, karmas are bereft of the thoughts of recompense. Impassiveness to fruit of karmas brings inner peace and proves enlightening to man and society and so, karmas attain unique characteristic – shreyas (good). To perform duties rightly, is the real dharma of man irrespective of the status he holds in the social, economic or political hierarchy, otherwise ubiquitous putrefaction stares.

Faith in Shiva, the Supreme not only eliminates sufferings from the life of a man but also grants deliverance. Purana consists of six sub-sections (samhitas) with more than two hundred and fifty chapters. One learns about the birth of Brahma from the navel of Vishnu, Linga, Rudra and then, it speaks of the process of creation, through prajapati Daksa. It tells about the tapa and penance of Parvati and Shiva, of the birth of Uma and the lord of love, of legendary yajnas, of Ganesha and the interaction with other gods and celestial beings, of incarnations and various daityas and of elimination of iniquity, violence, untruth and unrighteousness and establishment of laws of dharma.

In the light of the above one observes that righteous acts determine destiny of man from the social, economic, psychological, philosophic, political and religious aspects. Karmas are integral to the essence of dharma, integrity, truth and uprightness and evaluate man’s acts. Man’s development not only relates to material growth but also growth of inner man. Tales contained in the Purana explain and expound the quintessence of inherent message. Continuity in narrative remains uninterrupted whereas the sacred radiance of texts and subtexts of various inbuilt legends, sages’ anxieties about life and existence on earth and beyond, spreads philosophic and spiritual light and so each facet of purana enlightens, dispels doubts and darkness, and brings light.  

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If man serves humankind, performs worldly karmas honestly and pursues path of truth and honesty, it definitely leads to salvation. Atonement absolves a man from the affects of karmas if he abandons wickedness and imprudence and loves virtues and dharma. If a man maintains sanctity of acts and words, life turns meaningful. Human beings possess tremendous power to live as they wish. A life of limpidness, truth and self-respect values devotion and truth and an elevated and godly life, offers real connotation and delight. A man listens to the scriptural teaching and hears religious men but ignores the real substance.

Delusory potency of the lord is unfathomable and teaches lessons to ‘ego and arrogance’ filled created beings.  A man if understands ‘the self’ only then, he comprehends the essence of Param-brahma Paramatma, the Supreme Brahma, who bestows supreme ecstasy – true ananda and is nirguna – beyond virtues, and nirbikara – beyond the limitations of belief and three gunas of sattva, rajas and tamas. He is Supreme Trinity – Brahma, Vishnu and Mahesh, the origin of all lords and gods.   

 Devotion in right spirit is the ultimate path to deliverance one learns. Created beings, the three worlds, regions and directions function under an unambiguous plan the lord emphasizes. Without any illusion and delusion, Supreme Brahma, explains the secret outline and design of creation and the divine sanction. For any sacred mission, a man if devoted and genuine attains the highest objective.

If a devoted man genuinely understands heavenly objective of gods behind the creation and life’s mystery, he really makes life evocative. Incarnation carries a purpose the lord tells. To abandon ‘the self’ in devotion purifies ‘the inner self’ and here, a man loves man and humanity – the message of the Supreme.

     Elegance, nobility and virtues, truth and dharma lead a man to fulfillment and ultimate deliverance. If a man of pure heart thinks rationally, he goes near the divine and invisible power. Dharma, righteous conduct and concentration on the tattva – essence of life and existence beautify life. Tapa helps a created being to attain goal. Not only created beings but also the gods of heavens and celestial souls consider Shiva as the origin and source of creation and delusory potency, who bestows power on Trinity – Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva. Life of daityas devoted to gods teaches eternal lessons to humankind. Love, devotion and intense bhakti offer essence of life. World is not real and so, a man lives in delusion and illusion. Impiety survives if hatred, violence and sins thrive and so invite miseries and death.  

 One ought to respect privacy and supremacy of one’s region and grant it to others, and nobody should ever think of infringement, tells Shiva Purana.  It further tells that if a man adheres to the path of truth and righteousness, and spends life without prejudice or feelings of injustice for anyone, he makes man and society happy. Man ought to be genuine in what he does. Virtuous Karmas bring joy and prosperity, the tales highlight quite often. 

  If one has faith in one’s karma born of virtuous qualities, one is surely free from sufferings, for evil karmas cause sufferings. A man if knows his limitations and understands delusory powers of the great god that even Brahma does not know it is good. Faith in the invisible frees from sufferings and delusory living, and therefore, for a man, who seeks refuge in gunas – sattva, rajas and tamas, salvation on apt understanding is certain.  

The world witnesses an eternal struggle between the good and the evil, in the images of gods and the demons and there is no let up. Evil forces look virtuous in the beginning but soon return to original nature and enjoy pleasures. It increases hunger for more, and consequently, revulsion, hostility, brutality, ego and conceit overwhelm. Death is unavoidable, howsoever, strong and mighty a man is. Many undergo tapa and penance for years and seek immortality from the Supreme but face death. If one goes beyond the borders of wisdom and intellect of the creator, he commits a momentous blunder, for the creator assigns each one fixed time, karma, space and location. Even in intensity of bhakti, a man fails to go beyond what the creator designs.

Wickedness enjoys short life. Asuras symbolize insatiability and violence, transgression and brutality whereas gods are harbingers of peace and harmony and evince interest in bhakti and tapa. Gods want happiness of created beings and never disturb the flow of system and so, promote goodwill, tapa, bhakti, wellbeing and prosperity. Whoever works against the dictates of Supreme gets retribution and lives in oblivion. Supreme lord wants eternal continuity of humanity and guides to deliverance if a man lives righteously.

 Lord creates a world where birth, death and rebirth are inevitable. He specifies role of power, pelf, pleasures of the senses and material prosperity. For the growth of population, he defines the role of females. The lord seeks consent of Supreme Brahma the Pitahamaha, undergoes tapa and pleases Mahadeva, who appears in an amazing figure of ardhnarishawara – a figure of a man and a woman in equal proportion.

If Shiva undergoes tapa for a long period, goddess Shiva also undertakes austere tapa for many ages. One understands the sacred function of creation and procreation, a function within the borders of morality and dharma.  For the pleasure and benefit, wellbeing and happiness of the devotees, the Supreme Lord wanders on earth and the three worlds in various guises. He not only purges the three worlds from sins and iniquity but also establishes the rule of dharma. To achieve the objective, even gods and goddesses experience distress and grief. If a man works hard with devotion and faith, he attains objective of life he ought to understand. Contemporary man whatever may be the status, grade and stage in life ought to learn to live with a spirit of tolerance, patience, truth, righteousness, honesty and integrity, which are conducive to peace and harmony.

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Setu October 2021

P C K Prem

P C K Prem

An author of more than sixty books in English and Hindi, P C K Prem (p c katoch of Malkher Garh-Palampur, Himachal, a former academician, civil servant and Member, HP Public Service Commission, Shimla) a widely published author has eleven collections of poetry (and Collected Poems in four volumes), six novels and four collections of short fiction. He has six books on ancient literature and two on folklore. A few significant works on criticism are Contemporary Indian English Poetry from Himachal – edited 1992, English Poetry in India: A Comprehensive Survey of Trends and Thought Patterns 2011, TEN Poetic Minds in Indian English Poetry 2016 and Time and Continuity 2016. Creative writings in Hindi include twenty novels, nine books on short fiction, one collection of poetry and criticism.

He is also an author of History of Contemporary Indian English Poetry – An Appraisal 2019 in two volumes and The Lord of Gods 2019 also in two volumes, based on Srimadbhagavata Mahapurana AND As I Know SHIVA PURANA 2021

Editors – Rob Harle, Dr Sunil Sharma and Sangeeta Sharma, published through the Authors press, Delhi a critical book on the Poetry and Hindi Literature of P C K Prem – PCK Prem: Echoing Time and Civilizations 2016. The Authors press again published another critical book on novels – The Spirit of Age, and Ideas in the Novels of PCK Prem (Editor: Dr. P.V. Laxmiprasad). Dr Jogindra authored a book on the Hindi literature of P C K Prem –PCK Prem Ka Kathasansar (Nirmal Publicatons, Delhi 2005) with special reference to his Kaalkhand, a Hindi Novel in Five Volumes. Dr Hemraj Kaushik has edited a collection of select short stories. P C K Prem Ki Chuni Hui Kahaniyan recently through Pushpanjali, Delhi 53 in 2019.

Recipient of several literary awards, he is a poet, novelist, short story writer, a reviewer and a critic in English and Hindi from Himachal. At present, he lives at Palampur, Himachal, India.

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Authors A-Z

A viewpoint on Poets and Poetry in Difficult Times

P C K Prem

P C K PREM

          Many a time, a poet, a creative artist experiences incredible stress of age. However, it stirs imagination and strength of mind to see realities, which make life difficult and at the same time, throw challenges. Encounters with persons of wide range experience and knowledge, build up feelings of resolve to read human mind and heart. Even chance meeting, creates plethora of impressions with crowds of feelings and thoughts.  I fail to offer logic in a normal sequential course of fallout but it often happens with a sensitive intellect, who wishes to participate in the affairs of the world.

         An intellectual inquiry into the actualities of life reveals a deadly conundrum where man tries to put aside emotional areas so that he puts up a gutsy face and understands judiciously existence and identity in complex times. Questions of survival at the worldly level and happening beyond arise but do not find apt answers. Who, why and how of life appear to disturb but he ignores. An assortment of thoughts and feelings gather, an ordinary man realizes but avoids in-depth scrutiny and so outlook regarding life never gains intensity or depth of understanding. Wherever, crisis of feelings, perplexity of ideas and thoughts about the man and the world exist in inquiring intellect, it is a cautious journey into the regions of man’s natural ability to react and speak about what he feels and if it continues, he begins to reflect seriously.

           To seek possible help, he goes back to see what he gets from heritage, the wealth of experience and wisdom of ancestors, the ancients. It happens with an ordinary man engaged in routine acts of making survival easy and if he reflects on life a little more, he thinks of wealth he cares little but owns as a right as if. Ancestral wealth is something on which he survives from day one and ironically, he is rarely beholden to ancestors.

         Intellect and heart work and try unconsciously to find rationale of background in which man lives in totality where men, matter, nature, experiences, impressions, little jealousies and bitterness, postulations, future and destiny pull together such various fragments and segments of life and experiences, and thereafter, in solitary moments, a few perceptive brains begin to analyze.

         From here, a man goes to past, I think now. Earlier, perhaps I hardly thought seriously, for that was not the age, I console. However, now I think of scattered books and some scrawls on loose papers including notebooks, which teachers told or taught to take notice, for these keep knowledge integral to some extent even if one is unconcerned about what the ancient or modern critical theories propound.   

         On inquiry, one finds every vigilant and astute intellect is a critic and an artist as well. It was and is a mass of treasures of wisdom and knowledge in literature parents, grandparents, and their parents and so on…had kept secure for future.

         It was a dead wealth –land, house, books and…memories left around but never visible even as I thought they lived somewhere inside and inspired to continue the journey. It is not new but it provokes to think. After all, a man wishes to live when he fully knows that nothing survives. Why it is? This thought process stirs a few and a man feels there is something eternal, lasting and indestructible what the dead left for future and there, he thinks of the huge wealth they left turns into motivation and inspiration for the generation living now and those who will live in future.

         If the old offer adequate stuff to think over what is futile, a mere waste or short-lived, then explicitly, it is it is possible to presume.  If one understands it an exactly eternal flow of thoughts and feelings, it appears a contradictory thought also but it is not a faulty route of valuation during deliberations.  It is something timeless and ageless. A spring from where one gets inspiration and so life moves on and on and therefore at this stage, questions of birth and death arise. Even while you ponder over the futility of wisdom that fails to know what is beyond, it is from here that creative artists, saints, religious men and intellectuals begin the arduous and endless task of never-ending inquiry into the mystery of life.

         As a man grows up he leans back on what ancestors left, and thought, draws inspiration and continues to live life while the artist also wakes up to say what it wants in a more stylistic, distinguished and classy manner of expression. If he, you or I write, it is expression of what they bequeathed. Therefore, I simply think I am continuing the tradition good or bad and so you, everyone else and I will hand over the legacy to future.  A creative artist continues to revive what he gives with a faint freshness, and usually speaks of something innovative, which is not always true and at times, it is blatant discomfiture.

         It was a different frame of mind when I wrote verses that investigated deep into the mystery of life, existence and its objective on earth. The questions were not new but ancient. Perhaps everyone was worried about, since the times of primeval man, who possibly had initially, no knowledge of source of inner pain or physical wounds and if he had it was inexplicable and from that age, he travelled a long distance in time and space.

         Questions troubled as I wrote, and death or the dead often caused genuine anxieties. I understood the meaning as everybody knows its philosophic and ordinary meaning but really fails to explain. The mysterious theme often occupies the man when in thoughtful moments and so ideas of life and death crawl and generate bruises in regions of emotions and thoughts. However, birth is not of consequence. Death is. I did not wish to die. Does anyone want? I just think of past and speak truth perhaps, for there is hardly any substitute. 

         Near the middle age in many instances, a man realizes that death is the only foreseeable truth. One purposely avoids discomforting thoughts I feel. On the death of someone in the village, I vividly recall, I visited the cremation ground and carried wood, some dry, a bundle of green tree’s twigs instantly felled. The dead was consigned to flames and then, the collection of ashes, going to Hardwar and those unpleasant rather awful rituals and unwilling acts of charity and gifts to pandas of hungry eyes. However, that was their livelihood so…why to incur displeasure. I know dead lives inside everyone and a man, at times, realizes that the dead is still alive.  Existence of the dead inspires to live and live. What a charade! At melancholic moments, it teases and pricks and then, one feels to write a requiem –a soft funeral song. The experience of this hymn or whispering is also an inspiring moment for a creative artist.

         Mind it, uncertainty of death and faces of the dead act as basis of fears and thrills, and you think…and so, I write. It is this thought that gives birth to Half Men –the incomplete men. It is an allegorical figure one creates when perfection appears impossible. It is not a question of any critical knack or theory. It is a fact and basis of what you write at time. A creative artist cannot exist in isolation and art does not take birth in a void. No doubt, nature is always dear to many men whether susceptible or insensate. It is good to escape from the teasing thoughts of worldly worries but then how long. A creative write must talk with whatever medium he chooses –prose, poetry or intervallic unfolding or story or simple text of a few lines, plain and yet thoughtful and therefore, if he talks lyrically, it is an art and so he is proud of it.

         Knowledge as ignorance is bliss, a challenge and a dangerous weapon also that kills I realize. It is time of crisis in perilous and complex times and an opportunity to seize and act wisely. Intellectuality is vile, wicked and ostentatious if it indulges in the pastime of purging, a kind of exclusion and therefore, the consequences could be unfortunate.

         It is the message of contemporary times I could make out, when I go through again lyrics of many poets and shuffle pages of poetry books at leisure and think of age and obscurity. One is hesitant to accept if poetry provides pleasure in hard times. Lyrical delight is transient, is the truth but to assure ‘the self’ it is good to repeat poetic lines frequently as it underlines warmth of heart and intellect. Like any other considerate and nervous man, I may appear livid and hurt but I am interested to discard and destroy the debris of iniquity and indiscretion that make life wretched and forlorn. To what extent I am a winner, is the question, for care and compassion is necessary in life during wicked times.

         It is an effort to align with everyone as thoughts of sharing grief and agony of times with the other in analogous situation, offers relief with whatever hope and happiness in store, a man keeps. I hold I am always a protagonist of life of joy and a staunch believer in continuing the fight against evil forces that try to injure social body. There is nothing new in what I say and I guess it is with others to whom I am talking to…a very selfish thought I nurse but I cannot stay away from the callous and sadistic manifestation

         Maybe, one reads people and times with exclusive personal viewpoints, for one notices conflicts and variations in the conduct of men around, who speak of life of hope in plenty. One may say he wants to convey meaning of trust and expectancy even while a man might not change habits. However, when habits become mere rituals, it is a sign of lethal languor and boredom. It often happens with some anonymous belief and therefore, variation is possible, and no doubt, finality suffers. In the same way, meanings presuppose a different profile. 

         A creative artist is very active at times, thinks of life from various perspectives, and then abruptly, he is silent. It does not mean that passivity or lassitude takes over afterward, or it is a kind of dreariness or lack of interest in man and humanity. Ego and self-centeredness one feels overwhelm a man I know. It is a great flaw but one cannot hide. One  goes back and realizes that understanding minds of people and the conditions of life in which they live all over the world have an affirmative aura of mystery, and requires a man to inquire deep into and comprehend the cycle and rotation of enigmatic life.

         The truth is one speaks about others at times distrustfully and there a cruel thought determines and one appears honest and genuine when one is selfish, and one cannot deny this state of mind. Mind it a man does not consider principles matter in life and the thought provokes. Is it one wonders?

         This difficulty is deadly and in the art of poetry, it is an inspiration. A strange suggestion I consider. It is possible it is restricted to me only! Truth is bitter, all say and one should accept. Even godly men tell lies…and if one resists the temptation to tell lies, it is great. A creative artist ought to know. It is disastrous I think when alone. However, a lover of art ought to learn to live with required and redundant possibilities. It is not always truth. Amidst truth, reality, mendacity, and trumped-up episodic inspiration for a work of art live and thrive.

         If it is peace, violence also makes life miserable. If man speaks of growth, he also owns up imperfections in attitude with overshadowing sense of sadism and cynicism. It is all in poetry…a work of art, a slice of literature.

         It is time of conciliation and conflict, running parallel to attain goal of an ideal life amidst fears of ambiguities and prejudices a man scarcely appears to confess. How to define and give definition to this psychological state is a thorny question before an artist of words and so through verses a poet tries to construe what he understands. Even if a creative writer is a critic, at the time of creation of poem or story or novel or any piece of art, he is unconscious of the critic present inside. Absence of a critic in a creative mind is good for the any piece of literature.

         As a critic, at times, gives immense joy and pain enjoyable during the period one is tempted to share experiences obliquely. I was witness to tremendous social, economic and political changes, and recognized paroxysm of intellectual curiosity and sense of inquisitiveness sans reaching potential finale in judging the outcome because of incongruities and absurdities men of the age carried notwithstanding plenty of radiance and light.

         I wondered and asked ‘the self’ of its scope and dimensions. Is it an individual hang over to look philosophic I am bewildered and prompted to ask ingenious intellects. Is it possible to measure ‘the self’? Not so easy but efforts to reach somewhere or nowhere, invariably exist, and from here, inquiry may begin, which one can share only through oblique literary endeavour or when he scribbles a few poetic lines at random.

         I am still to find out. However, the period of incubation and intense deliberation while one goes through the process of creative work is wearing and harrowing. A man is alone and morose and seems to rotate single footed and only heaves deep sad sighs while he stretches arms as if in yogic posture to get relief but suffocation continues to enhance inner sufferings as he fails to understand what takes place outside and thus, passing through frustration, he visualizes strange and mysterious scenarios. 

         Experience of terrifying magnitude haunts during the period but an artist out to meet the creation so that before he finishes, he hits upon a logical fulcrum, again a futile attempt, as a poet, I realized.

           Therefore, to find opportunity of steadiness and firmness in meanings that change each moment recedes further and this situation makes a creative artist alive and fit in spite of the uniformity in which he lives.

         Aberrations no doubt he stumbles upon but a blueprint is discernible to an astute poetry lover in a particular verse when he looks into the word construction and its lyrical storyline or the text as rituals, which indirectly, give pleasure to the ears rightly or wrongly. It seems a puzzle many a time.

          Creation of artwork is a serious act and to walk on a poetic track is a unique experience. One tries to weave story of a modern man within a story, and it does happen during the composition of long poems. It is unconscious formations of a long verse in the corners of heart and mind, and a poet doubts if it was also premeditated and conscious. In short, in verses of a few lines, one is comfortable. However, long verses need concentration on thought, emotions and the statement an artist wishes to make to avoid trap falls. At times, contradictions work toward pacification and fusion. In this mental state, construction is powerful, effective and genuine.

         In each reflective and investigational quest, a creative mind visualizes a real man many times. Even when he is in a crowd or in a large hall, a predisposed mind hears many voices and giggles, whispers and ardent boos and sighs.

         At another moment, hurling of abuses, mikes and chairs, caps and papers with purpose perhaps creates a scary and uncanny scenario, a modern propensity. Voices and words carry images of numerous walking silhouettes laughing and sardonic and thus, appear to provoke a creative mind, a poet, who is distraught at the contemporary socio-political scenario and therefore, he caricatures such anecdotes with irony and a little of anguish and anger.

         A poet writes lyrics and it hardly matters whether it is long or short. It depends on thought he develops and yes, it looks odd and frightening but the truth is he takes up a theme even if it appears hazy and begins to grow with it until prospective clarity comes to the lines as he tunes up words. Again, intensity works hard to interweave rational body of a man in motion. It creates a man but it is not a full man. It is half, for it is incomplete and imperfect and so an artist fails.

         Even god (if one accepts such an existence), who created man, was perhaps non-serious because on analysis it is difficult, for an inquiring intellect is prone to say that man –particularly a modern man, is an image of god. If he is, it is a huge travesty. However, a creative mind tries to sympathize with the man despite infirmities of body and intellect, who is a picture of wretchedness in reality of splendour and magnificence, as anguish and desolation overwhelm.

         Now, what is this man? It baffles. One feels it inside and it is the inside of everyone. A great puzzle it is to locate its positioning though it registers its presence every moment whether pleasant or agonizing, and this begins distillation of emotions and thoughts and here, the artist wishes to arrest it in appropriate lyrical lexis.

         A man, as a creator tries to identify it with a purpose even if indefinite. A creation, to the architect -the creator of piece of art looks larger than life and at that stage, it challenges the creator. It is a dilemma.

         In a man, an incomplete man or say half man notwithstanding, flaws are not only shadows but also it seems, these enter the minds and hearts of people around and it makes one aware of the contamination. Creation is a cumulative outcome of what creator’s intellectual energy does.

         Doubts arise at times and one feels convinced that the creator fails. Not the creation it is, and this unforeseen realization disturbs.

         Man, an incomplete man or say half man is a bomb, a crust of love, compassion, empathy, hate and annihilation, and an embodiment of three basic qualities of sattva, rajas and tamas also.  Many a time, a creative mind thinks but fails to locate its true status, for he is an image of god or a bundle of flesh and bones. Still he lives not only within but also breathes outside of each one and therefore, speculations linger on without reprieve.

         A creative mind begins to realize that it is bad rather deadly.  However, he withdraws for it is an implausible thought emerging out of fear psychosis or perspective or one may call it neurosis. Qualms and uncertainties put stress on the inner man the second voice of a man of flesh and bones. He is listening whether alone or in a crowd and so, it becomes a burden. Perhaps, he ignores it as in incurable consternation he thinks and trusts even while he lives in skepticism, the pitiable man –a fractured structure that moves, sitting inside everyone. That gives some stimulating driving force to poetic frenzy but it speaks of truth irrefutable.

         Maybe, a man (?) feels, history is alive, culture breathes as the old pulsate. Man may look not happy when he finds people walking with gruff faces, where heads look like patches of darkness, for it is dormant yearning of man to perpetuate tyranny of lies, to live a life of men, not precisely men and therefore, many questions crop up. Here, one fumbles and falls but cannot correct deformities, for creation at times, turns out massive burden realities of life create, and none can find a getaway. Consequent nestling within is a luxuriant soil for lyrical passion.

         Without knowing, we continue to find solid basis where life can hold a torch of eternal love, peace and harmony. Perhaps a man (an incomplete man?) a creation of god will keep flame of eternal love and compassion burning.  It is wish of god. Does god exist? Doubts with flickers of faith, stir a lyrical heart and mind.

Going beyond the traditional constraints, many a time, brings not only cynicism but also confusion. Man pursues path of time-honoured ethical organism he creates. It can be a technique or could be straightforward and multipart.

Man moves about from the classy flavour and experience of the old and the ancient to the current times in a vastly changed attitude where he confronts internal and external anarchy and chaos without possible let off. In spite of the argument to the contrary, he evinces love for the old and dead secretly and that causes inconvenient situation as he finds poetic expression a bit effortless and still a challenge.

It is predicament of the author, a poet, who carries historic judiciousness within and later, links it to current times through poetic outpouring or write-ups.

Perhaps, a creative artist, a poet… wants rationalization for what he writes or wishes to know the correctness of what he states. In such an eventuality, it is reticence and lack of certainty that forces to find foothold and solid stand even in shaky appendix of identity.

A writer understands the utility of living in a group and away from it, and still he wants autonomy, wishes to preserve detachment from the crowd, and so looks out for intellectual resolution without annoying anyone.

A man in good faith reasons out existence and the idea of righteousness and thought of interests of people he often meets. Therefore, he treads path of truth and here, he confronts traditional but suppressed resistance from ‘the self’ and this quiet activity persuades to invent ‘another self’ and if the inclination spreads, it gives birth to men of a singular nature.

Distinction is subtle but it has sense of mesmerizing exploration when a man lives as half man or incomplete man and so the creation of split or half men is the consequence of flawed thought and concept but underlines the existence of imperfect man, probably a full man. One knows that the poet’s imagination is free from shackles, and the thought may be strange and eccentric, but imagination has its reasons.

Living of men as incomplete men raises questions of identity at that time. Retrieval of delusion and illusion for a poet is interesting and exciting but not very gratifying. A man in search of completeness and wholeness it appears,  lives in dreams, phony notions of magnitude even as he creates a new world with heavens and gods for convenience of ‘the self’, for he becomes a central character and preceptor.

It looks strange. It is a land where imperfect men jump from the earth to the sky and create heavens for pleasure and it is an excursion without hang over of morality or principles, and so the real men are lost. 

In modern times, a thought besieges that men, who talk and walk, suffer not from ‘the identity crisis but from the loss of it’ because individual zones of illusions overwhelm and defeat the principle of birth and eventually vanish into oblivion.

Not the perception or the exposition of impasse it is as men in search of complete distinctive entities take control of the mental landscape but it is intricacy of sustaining it for long …because perceived deformation drives to ultimate end.

Was it a creation out of mind's eye and vision for the pleasure and joy of creating men partially without ever envisaging disastrous formations, which only perpetuated sin and impiety but continued to live? Or was it a poetic creation to disturb ‘the self’ and find comforting asylum elsewhere, for it also offers lyrical joy when one thinks of location of atypical creation in another man –not complete as yet but a bit mystifying proposition.

Questions arise, puzzle and confound but inquiry continues as one grows in a civilized world as fractured man in the image of a full man…for it is exploration of ‘the self’ through ‘the self’, and that is a challenge for man to situate identity somewhere without noise. Does poetry help in arriving at a conceivable solution to these manifold quests, questions stay alive? 

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 P C K Prem (p c katoch of garh-malkher, palampur, himachal, a former academician, civil servant and member psc hp, shimla), an author of  more than sixty books (English and Hindi) is a poet, novelist, short story writer and a critic in English and Hindi from Himachal, India.

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Setu September 2021