“The mind grows when you face, encounter, situations on your own. You bring your own energy to solve them. Don’t go asking for advice forever. Take the reins of your life in your own hands; that’s what I mean when I say do your thing. You will be in trouble — it is safer to follow others. It is convenient to follow the society, to follow the routine, the tradition, the scripture. It is very easy because everybody is following them; you have just to become a dead part of the herd, you have just to move with the crowd wherever it is going. It is none of your responsibility.
...But your mental body, your manumaya kosha, will suffer tremendously, terribly it will not grow. You will not have your own mind, and you will miss something very, very beautiful and something that functions as a bridge for higher growth."
-Osho
A thought to ponder! Literature does not preach, it's object is not to change the society, but to change the man itself... his mind and heart , make him bit more humane, to make him understand himself and others bit more sincerely and sensitively...let's say bit more deeply.
Independence without responsibility can be quite corrupting. This ever growing news and writings about corruption and crime...borrowing and stealing, .rape and murders world-wide is quite disturbing and urging us to wake up and think, pay attention to what is wrong , where and how are we failing?
Is India (or shall we say Indians in general) are lacking a simple understanding or effort ...human touch! Has this rat-race, material comforts ...our greed has totally alienated us from our family, friends, surroundings, from the self also?
Our 'atman' or spirituality has been our biggest strength . It has led us successfully out of many dark and dismal ages , as well as from the blinding sun and thundering treachery again and again. Today in spite of our seemingly ever increasing economical growth, our power, everage Indian is more confused, more restless and blindly ambitious. India is not good enough for him. He can be nostalgic about it but is ready to abandon it on the first drop of the hat. Mass exodus or brain-drain can be quite damaging for any society. Why India is not good enough to an everage young Indian youth? Why he is running to America, Europe or Australia ...in fact anywhere outside India on the first opportunity!
After 62 years of the independence where and which direction we are moving...Is it only a slippery slope..are we happy to be just a ' dead part of the heard ' ? Are we so keen to catch up with the world, that we have become totally ignorant to our Indian values and our basic needs? Why are we finding our language, our food , our clothing outdated in today's fast changing society? In fact why we feel at a big disadvantage and discriminated world-wide being an Indian? We were a peace loving society ...then why so many atrocities and war at our own door steps? Our ever changing society and culture, is raising many questions in our mind ...specially in our younger generation's mind. This issue of Lekhni is a small endeavor to search for these answers...answers which are within us...within each Individual's own grasp, if we really want to!
As Robert G. Ingersoll said,
" He loves his country best who strives to make it best."
Wishing you all , Indians or friends of india, a very happy, peaceful and prosperous India and a noble and proud Indian identity ...!
We'd gained our first objective hours before While dawn broke like a face with blinking eyes, Pallid, unshaved and thirsty, blind with smoke. Things seemed all right at first. We held their line, With bombers posted, Lewis guns well placed, And clink of shovels deepening the shallow trench. The place was rotten with dead; green clumsy legs High-booted, sprawled and grovelled along the saps And trunks, face downward, in the sucking mud, Wallowed like trodden sand-bags loosely filled; And naked sodden buttocks, mats of hair, Bulged, clotted heads slept in the plastering slime. And then the rain began,--the jolly old rain! A yawning soldier knelt against the bank, Staring across the morning blear with fog; He wondered when the Allemands would get busy; And then, of course, they started with five-nines Traversing, sure as fate, and never a dud. Mute in the clamour of shells he watched them burst Spouting dark earth and wire with gusts from hell, While posturing giants dissolved in drifts of smoke. He crouched and flinched, dizzy with galloping fear, Sick for escape,--loathing the strangled horror And butchered, frantic gestures of the dead. An officer came blundering down the trench: 'Stand-to and man the fire-step!' On he went... Gasping and bawling, 'Fire-step ... counter-attack!' Then the haze lifted. Bombing on the right Down the old sap: machine-guns on the left; And stumbling figures looming out in front. 'O Christ, they're coming at us!' Bullets spat, And he remembered his rifle ... rapid fire... And started blazing wildly ... then a bang Crumpled and spun him sideways, knocked him out To grunt and wriggle: none heeded him; he choked And fought the flapping veils of smothering gloom, Lost in a blurred confusion of yells and groans... Down, and down, and down, he sank and drowned, Bleeding to death. The counter-attack had failed.
Does it Matter? (from Counter-Attack)
Does it matter?--losing your legs? ... For people will always be kind, And you need not show that you mind When the others come in after hunting To gobble their muffins and eggs. Does it matter?--losing your sight? ... There's such splendid work for the blind; And people will always be kind, As you sit on the terrace remembering And turning your face to the light. Do they matter?--those dreams from the pit? ... You can drink and forget and be glad, And people won't say that you're mad; For they'll know you've fought for your country And no one will worry a bit.
In golden Bengal In the serene fields Of crops growing from the black earth I saw Arpana Mazumadar Taking handfuls of seeds From a bag slung over her shoulder Scattering them on the soil Soothing and lulling An eight- month-old child tiied in a cloth on her back. Watching others look at her beauty her grace and glow admiring her she would smile back at them, shake off the enchantment yank back the long black hair flowing down to her buttocks tie it up and continue to scatter the seeds.
I saw it then And I saw it now.
In a village in Tamil Nadu on a blazing day at noon I saw in the ironworks Pallavan Swaminathan packing iron tools out of the flames rising from the bottom of the raging fire beating them shaping griders for houses and dwellings I saw it. The flames of fire reflecting on his black body rising and failing luminous and golden.
I saw it then and I see it now.
In Kashmir on the slopes of Srinagar I saw a tiny village Mohammed Yunus and his family sorting bundles of entangled wool more beautiful than anywhere else giving them form and colour making shawls and rugs
I saw it then and I saw it now.
In Southall, London I saw on the corner of Margret Road the sixty-six-year old venerable Sikh leader with his white beard working proudly beside other labourers adding rows above rows of bricks contributing to the building of a home for elderly Asians
I saw it then and I see it now.
In America’s Silicon Valley I saw young men and women Fresh from India learning and forging the new language of a new order drawing maps for the future in the world of computing making the virtual real. I never thought I would see it But I see it now.
Somewhere, on a London street corner I stand and I watch aloof and yet part of this Indian maelstrom, trying to reconcile childhood memories and the ever-changing present The good and the bad All these vignettes flashing by The traditional and the modern All these Indias that have me I did not always see it then But I see it now. And I also see that the overwhelming power of the west Which has also made me in its own way but could never take away India that is in me.
The Recipe
After revealing herself To the full moom's glory She awakensto her housewife's rhythm And begins to cook His favourite dish of Cream sausage masala She heats the pan on a low heat first Then pours the milk and Almond paste Putting the sausage in the pan Slowly stirs it A thick layer of cream Begins to form over the meat Now she shakes the bottle Pours more milk The sausage becomes creamy All over again And serves it hot He consumes it like a hungry wolf Bit by bit Until everything disappears.
His name was Fagg--David Fagg. He came to California in '52 with us, in the Skyscraper. I don't think he did it in an adventurous way. He probably had no other place to go to. When a knot of us young fellows would recite what splendid opportunities we resigned to go, and how sorry our friends were to have us leave, and show daguerreotypes and locks of hair, and talk of Mary and Susan, the man of no account used to sit by and listen with a pained, mortified expression on his plain face, and say nothing. I think he had nothing to say. He had no associates except when we patronized him; and, in point of fact, he was a good deal of sport to us. He was always seasick whenever we had a capful of wind. He never got his sea legs on, either. And I never shall forget how we all laughed when Rattler took him the piece of pork on a string, and-- But you know that time-honored joke. And then we had such a splendid lark with him. Miss Fanny Twinkler couldn't bear the sight of him, and we used to make Fagg think that she had taken a fancy to him, and send him little delicacies and books from the cabin. You ought to have witnessed the rich scene that took place when he came up, stammering and very sick, to thank her! Didn't she flash up grandly and beautifully and scornfully? So like "Medora," Rattler said--Rattler knew Byron by heart--and wasn't old Fagg awfully cut up? But he got over it, and when Rattler fell sick at Valparaiso, old Fagg used to nurse him. You see he was a good sort of fellow, but he lacked manliness and spirit. He had absolutely no idea of poetry. I've seen him sit stolidly by, mending his old clothes, when Rattler delivered that stirring apostrophe of Byron's to the ocean. He asked Rattler once, quite seriously, if he thought Byron was ever seasick. I don't remember Rattler's reply, but I know we all laughed very much, and I have no doubt it was something good for Rattler was smart.
When the Skyscraper arrived at San Francisco we had a grand "feed." We agreed to meet every year and perpetuate the occasion. Of course we didn't invite Fagg. Fagg was a steerage passenger, and it was necessary, you see, now we were ashore, to exercise a little discretion. But Old Fagg, as we called him--he was only about twenty-five years old, by the way--was the source of immense amusement to us that day. It appeared that he had conceived the idea that he could walk to Sacramento, and actually started off afoot. We had a good time, and shook hands with one another all around, and so parted. Ah me! only eight years ago, and yet some of those hands then clasped in amity have been clenched at each other, or have dipped furtively in one another's pockets. I know that we didn't dine together the next year, because young Barker swore he wouldn't put his feet under the same mahogany with such a very contemptible scoundrel as that Mixer; and Nibbles, who borrowed money at Valparaiso of young Stubbs, who was then a waiter in a restaurant, didn't like to meet such people.
When I bought a number of shares in the Coyote Tunnel at Mugginsville, in '54, I thought I'd take a run up there and see it. I stopped at the Empire Hotel, and after dinner I got a horse and rode round the town and out to the claim. One of those individuals whom newspaper correspondents call "our intelligent informant," and to whom in all small communities the right of answering questions is tacitly yielded, was quietly pointed out to me. Habit had enabled him to work and talk at the same time, and he never pretermitted either. He gave me a history of the claim, and added: "You see, stranger," (he addressed the bank before him) "gold is sure to come out'er that theer claim, (he put in a comma with his pick) but the old pro-pri-e-tor (he wriggled out the word and the point of his pick) warn't of much account (a long stroke of the pick for a period). He was green, and let the boys about here jump him"--and the rest of his sentence was confided to his hat, which he had removed to wipe his manly brow with his red bandanna.
I asked him who was the original proprietor.
"His name war Fagg."
I went to see him. He looked a little older and plainer. He had worked hard, he said, and was getting on "so-so." I took quite a liking to him and patronized him to some extent. Whether I did so because I was beginning to have a distrust for such fellows as Rattler and Mixer is not necessary for me to state.
You remember how the Coyote Tunnel went in, and how awfully we shareholders were done! Well, the next thing I heard was that Rattler, who was one of the heaviest shareholders, was up at Mugginsville keeping bar for the proprietor of the Mugginsville Hotel, and that old Fagg had struck it rich, and didn't know what to do with his money. All this was told me by Mixer, who had been there, settling up matters, and likewise that Fagg was sweet upon the daughter of the proprietor of the aforesaid hotel. And so by hearsay and letter I eventually gathered that old Robins, the hotel man, was trying to get up a match between Nellie Robins and Fagg. Nellie was a pretty, plump, and foolish little thing, and would do just as her father wished. I thought it would be a good thing for Fagg if he should marry and settle down; that as a married man he might be of some account. So I ran up to Mugginsville one day to look after things.
It did me an immense deal of good to make Rattler mix my drinks for me--Rattler! the gay, brilliant, and unconquerable Rattler, who had tried to snub me two years ago. I talked to him about old Fagg and Nellie, particularly as I thought the subject was distasteful. He never liked Fagg, and he was sure, he said, that Nellie didn't. Did Nellie like anybody else? He turned around to the mirror behind the bar and brushed up his hair! I understood the conceited wretch. I thought I'd put Fagg on his guard and get him to hurry up matters. I had a long talk with him. You could see by the way the poor fellow acted that he was badly stuck. He sighed, and promised to pluck up courage to hurry matters to a crisis. Nellie was a good girl, and I think had a sort of quiet respect for old Fagg's unobtrusiveness. But her fancy was already taken captive by Rattler's superficial qualities, which were obvious and pleasing. I don't think Nellie was any worse than you or I. We are more apt to take acquaintances at their apparent value than their intrinsic worth. It's less trouble, and, except when we want to trust them, quite as convenient. The difficulty with women is that their feelings are apt to get interested sooner than ours, and then, you know, reasoning is out of the question. This is what old Fagg would have known had he been of any account. But he wasn't. So much the worse for him.
It was a few months afterward and I was sitting in my office when in walked old Fagg. I was surprised to see him down, but we talked over the current topics in that mechanical manner of people who know that they have something else to say, but are obliged to get at it in that formal way. After an interval Fagg in his natural manner said:
"I'm going home!"
"Going home?"
"Yes--that is, I think I'll take a trip to the Atlantic States. I came to see you, as you know I have some little property, and I have executed a power of attorney for you to manage my affairs. I have some papers I'd like to leave with you. Will you take charge of them?"
"Yes," I said. "But what of Nellie?"
His face fell. He tried to smile, and the combination resulted in one of the most startling and grotesque effects I ever beheld. At length he said:
"I shall not marry Nellie--that is"--he seemed to apologize internally for the positive form of expression--"I think that I had better not."
"David Fagg," I said with sudden severity, "you're of no account!"
To my astonishment his face brightened. "Yes," said he, "that's it!--I'm of no account! But I always knew it. You see I thought Rattler loved that girl as well as I did, and I knew she liked him better than she did me, and would be happier I dare say with him. But then I knew that old Robins would have preferred me to him, as I was better off--and the girl would do as he said--and, you see, I thought I was kinder in the way--and so I left. But," he continued, as I was about to interrupt him, "for fear the old man might object to Rattler, I've lent him enough to set him up in business for himself in Dogtown. A pushing, active, brilliant fellow, you know, like Rattler can get along, and will soon be in his old position again--and you needn't be hard on him, you know, if he doesn't. Good-by."
I was too much disgusted with his treatment of that Rattler to be at all amiable, but as his business was profitable, I promised to attend to it, and he left. A few weeks passed. The return steamer arrived, and a terrible incident occupied the papers for days afterward. People in all parts of the State conned eagerly the details of an awful shipwreck, and those who had friends aboard went away by themselves, and read the long list of the lost under their breath. I read of the gifted, the gallant, the noble, and loved ones who had perished, and among them I think I was the first to read the name of David Fagg. For the "man of no account" had "gone home!"
In the High and Far-Off Times the Elephant, O Best Beloved, had no trunk. He had only a blackish, bulgy nose, as big as a boot, that he could wriggle about from side to side; but he couldn't pick up things with it. But there was one Elephant--a new Elephant--an Elephant's Child--who was full of 'satiable curtiosity, and that means he asked ever so many questions. And he lived in Africa, and he filled all Africa with his 'satiable curtiosities. He asked his tall aunt, the Ostrich, why her tail-feathers grew just so, and his tall aunt the Ostrich spanked him with her hard, hard, claw. He asked his tall uncle, the Giraffe, what made his skin spotty, and his tall uncle, the Giraffe, spanked him with his hard, hard hoof. And still he was full of 'satiable curtiosity! He asked his broad aunt, the Hippopotamus, why her eyes were red, and his broad aunt, the Hippopotamus, spanked him with her broad, broad hoof; and he asked his hairy uncle, the Baboon, why melons tasted ! just so, and his hairy uncle, the Baboon, spanked him with his hairy, hairy paw. And still he was full of 'satiable curtiosity! He asked questions about everything that he saw, or heard, or felt, or smelt, or touched, and all his uncles and his aunts spanked him. And still he was full of 'satiable curtiosity!
One fine morning in the middle of the Precession of the Equinoxes this 'satiable Elephant's Child asked a new fine question that he had never asked before. He asked, "What does the crocodile have for dinner?" Then everybody said, "Hush!" in a loud and dretful tone, and they spanked him immediately and directly, without stopping, for a long time.
By and by, when that was finished, he came upon Kolokolo Bird sitting in the middle of a wait-a-bit thornbush, and he said, "My father has spanked me, and my mother has spanked me; all my aunts and uncles have spanked me for my 'satiable curtiosity; and still I want to know what the Crocodile has for dinner!"
The Kolokolo Bird said, with a mournful cry, "Go to the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, and find out."
That very next morning, when there was nothing left of the Equinoxes, because the Precession had preceded according to precedent, this 'satiable Elephant's Child took a hundred pounds of bananas (the little short red kind), and a hundred pounds of sugar-cane (the long purple kind), and seventeen melons (the greeny-crackly kind), and said to all his dear families, "Good-bye. I am going to the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, to find out what the Crocodile has for dinner." And they all spanked him once more for luck, though he asked them most politely to stop.
Then he went away, a little warm, but not at all astonished, eating melons, and throwing the rind about, because he could not pick it up.
He went from Graham's Town to Kimberley, and from Kimberley to Khama's Country, and from Khama's Country he went east by north, eating melons all the time, till at last he came to the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, precisely as Kolokolo Bird had said.
Now you must know and understand, O Best Beloved, that till that very week, and day, and hour, and minute, this 'satiable Elephant's Child had never seen a Crocodile, and did not know what one was like. It was all his 'satiable curtiosity.
The first thing that he found was a Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake curled around a rock.
"'Scuse me," said the Elephant's Child most politely, "but have you seen such a thing as a Crocodile in these promiscuous parts?"
"Have I seen a crocodile?" said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake, in a voice of dretful scorn. "What will you ask me next?"
"'Scuse me," said the Elephant's Child, "but could you kindly tell me what he has for dinner?"
Then the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake uncoiled himself very quickly from the rock, and spanked the Elephant's Child with his scalesome, flailsome tail.
"That is odd," said the Elephant's Child, "because my father and mother, and my uncle and my aunt, not to mention my other aunt, the Hippopotamus, and my other uncle, the Baboon, have all spanked me for my 'satiable curtiosity--and I suppose this is the same thing."
So he said good-bye very politely to the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake, and helped to coil him up on the rock again, and went on, a little warm, but not at all astonished, eating melons, and throwing the rind about, because he could not pick it up, till he trod on what he thought was a log of wood at the very edge of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees.
But it was really the Crocodile, O Best Beloved, and the Crocodile winked one eye--like this!
"'Scuse me," said the Elephant's Child most politely, "but do you happen to have seen a Crocodile in these promiscuous parts?"
Then the Crocodile winked the other eye, and lifted half his tail out of the mud; and the Elephant's Child stepped back most politely, because he did not wish to be spanked again.
"Come hither, Little One," said the Crocodile. "Why do you ask such things?"
"'Scuse me," said the Elephant's Child most politely, "But my father has spanked me, my mother has spanked me, not to mention my tall aunt, the Ostrich, and my tall uncle, the Giraffe, who can kick ever so hard, as well as my broad aunt, the Hippopotamus, and my hairy uncle, the Baboon, and including the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake, with the scalesome, flailsome tail, just up the bank, who spanks harder than any of them; and so, if it's quite all the same to you, I don't want to be spanked any more."
"Come hither, Little One," said the Crocodile, "for I am the Crocodile," and he wept crocodile tears to show it was quite true.
Then the Elephants' child grew all breathless, and panted, and kneeled down on the bank and said, "You are the very person I have been looking for all these long days. Will you please tell me what you have for dinner?"
"Come hither, Little One," said the Crocodile, "and I'll whisper."
Then the Elephant's Child put his head down close to the Crocodile's musky, tusky mouth, and the Crocodile caught him by his little nose, which up to that very week, day, hour, and minute, had been no bigger than a boot, though much more useful.
"I think," said the Crocodile--and he said it between his teeth, like this--"I think to-day I will begin with Elephant's Child!"
At this, O Best Beloved, the Elephant's Child was much annoyed, and he said, speaking through his nose, like this, "Led go! You are hurtig be!"
Then the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake scuffled down from the bank and said, "My young friend, if you do not now, immediately and instantly, pull as hard as ever you can, it is my opinion that your acquaintance in the large-pattern leather ulster" (and by this he meant the Crocodile) "will jerk you into yonder limpid stream before you can say Jack Robinson."
This is the way Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake always talked.
Then the Elephant's child sat back on his little haunches, and pulled, and pulled, and pulled, and his nose began to stretch. And the Crocodile floundered into the water, making it all creamy with great sweeps of his tail, and he pulled, and pulled, and pulled.
And the Elephant's Child's nose kept on stretching; and the Elephant's child spread all his little four legs and pulled, and pulled, and pulled, and his nose kept on stretching; and the Crocodile threshed his tail like an oar, and he pulled, and pulled, and pulled, and at each pull the Elephant's Child's nose grew longer and longer--and it hurt him hijjus!!
Then the Elephant's Child felt his legs slipping, and he said through his nose, which was now nearly five feet long, "This is to butch for be!"
Then the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake came down from the bank, and knotted himself in a double-clove-hitch round the Elephant's Child's hind legs, and said, "Rash and inexperienced traveller, we will now seriously devote ourselves to a little high tension, because if we do not, it is my impression that yonder self-propelling man-of-war with the armour-plated upper deck" (and by this, O Best Beloved, he meant the Crocodile) "will permanently vitiate your future career."
That is the way all Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snakes always talk.
So he pulled, and the Elephant's Child pulled, and the Crocodile pulled, but the Elephant's Child and the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake pulled hardest; and at last the Crocodile let go of the Elephant's Child's nose with a plop that you could hear all up and down the Limpopo.
Then the Elephant's Child sat down most hard and sudden; but first he was careful to say "Thank you" to the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake; and next he was kind to his poor pulled nose, and wrapped it all up in cool banana leaves, and hung it in the great grey-green greasy Limpopo to cool.
"What are you doing that for?" said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake.
"'Scuse me," said the Elephant's Child, "but my nose is badly out of shape, and I am waiting for it to shrink"
"Then you will have to wait a long time," said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake. "Some people do not know what is good for them."
The Elephant's Child sat there for three days waiting for his nose to shrink. But it never grew any shorter, and, besides, it made him squint. For, O Best Beloved, you will understand that the Crocodile had pulled it out into a really truly trunk, same as all Elephant's have today.
At the end of the third day a fly came and stung him on the shoulder, and before he knew what he was doing he lifted up his trunk and hit that fly dead with the end of it.
"'Vantage number one!" said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake. "You couldn't have done that with a mere-smear nose. Try and eat a little now."
Before he thought what he was doing the Elephant's Child put out his trunk and plucked a large bundle of grass, dusted it clean against his forelegs, and stuffed it into his mouth.
"'Vantage number two!" said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake. "You couldn't have done that with a mere-smear nose. Don't you think the sun is very hot here?"
"It is," said the Elephant's Child, and before he thought what he was doing he schlooped up a schloop of mud from the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo, and slapped it on his head, where it made a cool schloopy-sloshy mud-cap all trickly behind his ears.
"'Vantage number three!" said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake. "You couldn't have done that with a mere-smear nose. Now how do you feel about being spanked again?"
"'Scuse me," said the Elephant's Child, "but I should not like it at all."
"How would you like to spank somebody?" said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake.
"I should like it very much indeed," said the Elephant's Child.
"Well," said the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake, "you will find that new nose of yours very useful to spank people with."
"Thank you," said the Elephant's child, "I'll remember that; and now I think I'll go home to all my dear families and try."
So the Elephant's Child went home across Africa frisking and whisking his trunk. When he wanted fruit to eat he pulled fruit down from a tree, instead of waiting for it to fall as he used to do. When he wanted grass he plucked grass up from the ground, instead of going on his knees as he used to do. When the flies bit him he broke off the branch of a tree and used it as a fly-whisk; and he made himself a new, cool slushy-squshy mud-cap whenever the sun was hot. When he felt lonely walking through Africa he sang to himself down his trunk, and the noise was louder than several brass bands. He went especially out of his way to find a broad Hippopotamus (she was no relation of his), and he spanked her very hard, to make sure that the Bi-Coloured-Python-Rock-Snake had spoken the truth about his new trunk. The rest of the time he picked up the melon rinds that he had dropped on his way to the Limpopo--for he was a Tidy Pachyderm.
One dark evening he came back to all his dear families, and he coiled up his trunk and said, "How do you do?" They were very glad to see him, and immediately said, "Come here and be spanked for your 'satiable curtiosity."
"Pooh," said the Elephant's Child. "I don't think you people's know anything about spanking; but I do, and I'll show you."
Then he uncurled his trunk and knocked two of his dear brothers head over heels.
"O Bananas!" said they, "Where did you learn that trick, and what have you done to your nose?"
"I got a new one from the Crocodile on the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River," said the Elephant's Child. "I asked him what he had for dinner, and he gave me this to keep."
"It looks very ugly," said his hairy uncle, the Baboon.
"It does," said the Elephant's Child. "But it's very useful," and he picked up his hairy uncle, the Baboon, by one hairy leg, and hove him into a hornets' nest.
Then that bad Elephant's Child spanked all his dear families for a long time, till they were very warm and greatly astonished. He pulled out his tall Ostrich aunt's tail-feathers; and he caught his tall uncle, the Giraffe, by the hind-leg, and dragged him through a thorn-bush; and he shouted at his broad aunt, the Hippopotamus, and blew bubbles into her ear when she was sleeping in the water after meals; but he never let any one touch the Kolokolo Bird.
At last things grew so exciting that his dear families went off one by one in a hurry to the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, to borrow new noses from the Crocodile. When they came back nobody spanked anybody any more; and ever since that day, O Best Beloved, all the Elephants you will ever see besides all those that you won't, have trunks precisely like the trunk of the 'satiable Elephant's Child.
The Rainbow
Boats sail on the rivers, And ships sail on the seas; But clouds that sail across the sky Are prettier far than these.
There are bridges on the rivers, As pretty as you please; But the bow that bridges heaven, And overtops the trees, And builds a road from earth to sky,
हमारे समय की आवारा पूंजी ऐसे समाज की रचना कर रही है जिसमें भावना और विचार के लिए कोई स्थान नहीं हैं। मनुष्य को पशु श्रेणी से अलग करने वाला तत्व साहित्य ही है जो गुण-दोष के विचार का विवेक देता है, यही कारण है कि इस आवारा पूंजी का साहित्य से बैर है। सुविख्यात हिन्दी आलोचक प्रो. रविभूषण ने 'सम्भावना` द्वारा आयोजित 'साहित्य और समाज के नये सम्बन्ध` विषयक परिसंवाद में उक्त विचार व्यक्त किये। स्वैच्छिक संस्थान प्रयास के सहयोग से आयोजित परिसंवाद में प्रो. रविभूषण ने कहा कि एक मनुष्य से दूसरे मनुष्य का जुड़ाव न हो इसके लिए भूमण्डलीकरण की तमाम ताकतें सक्रिय हैं। परिवार जैसी मजबूत संस्था हमारे दौर में छिन्न-भिन्न होती नजर आ रही है। उन्होंने कहा कि साहित्य जोड़ने का काम करता है तथा धनवान होने और बेहतर मनुष्य होने का भेद समझाता है। प्रो. रविभूषण ने बढ़ रही व्यावसायिकता को मनुष्यता के लिए खतरनाक बताते हुए कहा कि जीवन व्यापार नहीं है। उन्होंने कहा कि समाज को ऐसी खास दिशा में ले जाने वाली शक्तियों के सामने साहित्य जबरदस्त प्रतिरोध करता है और मनुष्य को व्यापक बनाता है। परिसंवाद में कवि-समालोचक डॉ. सत्यनारायण व्यास ने कहा कि जो साहित्य समाज के लिए उपयोगी न हो उसे साहित्य मानना भूल होगी। प्रेमचन्द की अमर कहानी 'कफन` को याद करते हुए उन्होंने कहा कि `कफन` जैसी रचनाएँ साहित्य की शक्ति का असली परिचय देती हैं जिसे पढ़ने के बाद दलितों-वंचितों के प्रति हमारी दृष्टि ही बदल जाती है। डॉ. व्यास ने कहा कि साहित्य की प्रकृति कलात्मक होती है लेकिन उसकी परिणति सामाजिक ही हो सकती है। भागीदारी कर रहे डॉ. राजेन्द्र सिंघवी, गोविन्दराम शर्मा और माणिक सोनी के सवालों पर प्रो. रविभूषण ने विस्तृत चर्चा की। प्रयास के सचिव डॉ. नरेन्द्र गुप्ता ने कहा कि आवारा पूंजी हमारे आस-पास समृद्धि का छलावा जरूर पैदा कर रही है लेकिन विश्व बैंक की रिपोर्ट का सच है कि विश्व की अस्सी प्रतिशत पूंजी पर केवल पांच प्रतिशत लोगों ने कब्जा जमा रखा है। उन्होंने इस छलावे को तोड़ने में साहित्य की भूमिका को रेखांकित किया। 'बनास` के सम्पादक डॉ. पल्लव ने शिक्षित समुदाय को सांस्कृतिक जागरूकता के लिए अपने दायित्व को तय करने की आवश्यकता बताई। परिसंवाद में सामाजिक कार्यकर्ता प्रीति ओझा, प्राध्यापक गुणमाला जैन, कन्हैयालाल सांवरिया, रामेश्वरलाल शर्मा ने भी भाग लिया।
इस अवसर पर चन्द्रकांता व्यास द्वारा सम्पादित राजस्थानी लोकगीतों के सद्य प्रकाशित संकलन `माँ के गीत` का विमोचन प्रो. रविभूषण ने किया। श्रीमती व्यास ने पुस्तक के सम्पादन के अपने अनुभव बताते हुए कहा कि सांस्कृतिक प्रदूषण के दिनों में लोक की यह विरासत हमारे लिए पे्ररक सिद्ध होगी। आभार प्रदर्शित करते हुए `सम्भावना` के अध्यक्ष डॉ. के.सी. शर्मा ने कहा कि साहित्य की भूमिका अब स्वान्त: सुखाय से कहीं अधिक चुनौतीपूर्ण है। माणिक सोनी, सम्भावना, म-१६, हाउसिंग बोर्ड, कुम्भानगर, चित्तौड।
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साहित्य में आशावादी संकेत-स्वयं प्रकाश उदयपुर।
हिन्दी की रचनात्मकता अपने लिए बरसों बाद एक भिन्न शिल्प की तलाश कर रही है। जो संस्मरण होना चाहिए था वह संस्मरण नहीं है, समीक्षा भी है, जो कहानी होनी चाहिए वह बीज उपन्यास भी है, जो जीवनी होनी चाहिए वह बहस भी है। ये आशावादी संकेत हैं। सुप्रसिद्ध कथाकार और 'प्रगतिशील वसुधा` के सम्पादक स्वयं प्रकाश ने उक्त विचार 'बनास` द्वारा आयोजित एक गोष्ठी में व्यक्त किए। 'नयी रचनाशीलता और हमारा समय` पर स्वयं प्रकाश ने कहा कि लेखन में आ रही विविधता का पाठकों ने स्वागत किया है और ऐसी कोशिशों से संभव है कि भविष्य में कुछ मौलिक कला रूप उभरें। गोष्ठी में वरिष्ठ आलोचक प्रो. नवल किशोर ने यात्रावृतान्त, डायरी और कथा रिपोर्ताजों के रूप में आ रही नयी रचनाशीलता पर विस्तृत टिप्पणी की। उन्होंने कहा कि इन कलारूपों ने सर्वथा नये गद्य की सृष्टि भी संभव की है। उन्होंने ममता कालिया की कृति 'कितने शहरों में कितनी बार` और स्वयं प्रकाश की कथा रिपोर्ताज शृंखला 'जो कहा नहीं गया` का उल्लेख कर बताया कि इनमें यथार्थ के प्रचलित ढाँचे से हटकर रचना कर्म आया है। 'सम्बोधन` के सम्पादक क़मर मेवाड़ी ने लघु पत्रिकाओं के समक्ष आ रही नयी चुनौतियों की चर्चा करते हुए कहा कि तुरन्त प्रसिद्धि के मोह से बचकर ही गंभीर रचनाशीलता संभव है। सिरोही से आये समालोचक एवं मीडिया विश्लेषक डॉ. माधव हाड़ा ने नयी रचनाशीलता पर सूचना तकनीक के असर को निर्णायक बताते हुए कहा कि अस्मितावादी विमर्शों के प्रसार में नये प्रभावों की भूमिका रही है। उन्होंने कहा कि मीडिया न केवल साहित्य की रचना प्रक्रिया को अपितु आस्वाद प्रक्रिया को भी भीतर-भीतर बदल रहा है। 'बनास` के सम्पादक डॉ. पल्लव ने कहा कि नयी रचनाशीलता की सक्रियता आलोचना के लिए बड़ी चुनौती लाई है जहां परिदृश्य में एक साथ चार-पांच कथा पीढ़ियाँ एक साथ कहानी लिख रही है। आकाशवाणी के कार्यक्रम अधिकारी लक्ष्मण व्यास ने विगत तीन-चार वर्षों में उभर कर आई नयी कथा पीढ़ी की चर्चा करते हुए कहा कि विचारधारा और प्रतिबद्धता की चालू जकड़बन्दी को इसने तोड़ा है। अध्यक्षता कर रहे वरिष्ठ कवि नन्द चतुर्वेदी ने कहा कि रचनाशीलता में नयापन स्वयमेव सम्मिलित है। उन्होंने सवाल किया कि रचनाशीलता के नयेपन की चर्चा मध्यवर्गीय आकर्षण से तो नहीं उपजी है क्योंकि इससे अन्देशा होता है कि यह आकर्षण साहित्य को सार्वभौमिक भावक्षेत्र से विरत न कर दे। नन्द बाबू ने कहा कि हमारे युवा रचनाकार पश्चिमी आग्रहों से आक्रान्त न हों यह चिन्ता जरूरी है, साथ ही रचनाशीलता के चरित्र को भी विश्लेषित किया जाना जरूरी है। गोष्ठी के अन्त में क़मर मेवाड़ी ने उपरना और पुष्पगुच्छ भेंट कर स्वयं प्रकाश का अभिनन्दन किया। संयोजन कर रहे गजेन्द्र मीणा ने सभी का आभार माना।
पुस्तक - मीरा एक पुनर्मूल्यांकन सम्पादक - पल्लव हमारे दौर में मीरा
हिंदी के वास्तविक और सशक्त स्त्री काव्य का आरंभ मीराबाई की कविता से होता है। उनकी कविता में स्त्री की आत्मा की ऐसी आवाज सुनाई पड़ती है जो पराधीनता के बोध से बेचैन और स्वाधीनता की आकांक्षा से प्रेरित स्त्री की आवाज है। जिसे आजकल स्त्री चेतना कहा जाता है उसकी सशक्त अभिव्यक्ति पहली बार हिंदी में मीरा के काव्य में मिलती है। मीरा का समय, उस समय के समाज, उसकी सामाजिक सांस्कृतिक बनावट और मीरा के परिवार को ध्यान में रखिए तो उनके जीवन-संघर्ष और आत्माभिव्यक्ति की स्वतंत्रता के लिए संघर्ष के महत्व का वास्तविक बोध होगा। चन्द्रा सदायत का यह कथन पल्लव द्वारा सम्पादित पुस्तक मीरा : एक पुनर्मूल्यांकनश् से लिया गया है। मीरा को भक्त कवयित्री के रूप में देखे जाने की परम्परा रही है किन्तु यह पुस्तक मीरा का एक नयी दृष्टि से मूल्यांकन करने का प्रयास करती है जिसमें मीरा को भक्त से अधिक सशक्त स्त्री कवि के रूप में देखने की जिद है। पुस्तक में नये और पुराने आलोचकों के विभिन्न आलेख लगभग इसी स्वर की पुष्टि करने वाले हैं। चन्द्रा सदायत का यह आलेख वस्तुत: मीरा को स्त्री काव्य की पुरोधा के रूप में प्रतिष्ठित करने का उपक्रम कहा जायेगा। चन्द्रा सदायत आगे लिखती हैं कि हिंदी के पाठ्यक्रमों में मीरा की स्थिति हिंदी समाज में स्त्री की स्थिति और पितृसत्तात्मक मूल्यों के वर्चस्व की दृष्टि का द्योतक है। यह एक लम्बी बहस का ही हिस्सा माना जायेगा कि पाठ्यक्रम की राजनीति में मीरा या कबीर के साथ कितना न्याय या अन्याय हुआ है। यहाँ मीरा के बहाने स्त्री और दलित प्रश्न फिर से प्रगतिशील आलोचना के समक्ष चुनौती के रूप में आते हैं। यह पुस्तक दरअसल मीरा के व्यक्तित्व और उनकी कविता पर पड़े विभिन्न भक्ति के आवरणों को हटाकर आधुनिक आलोक में मूल्यांकन का प्रयास है। पुस्तक में संकलित एक आलेख मीरा के अध्यात्म का समाजदर्शन और समाजदर्शन का अध्यात्मश् में सुधा चौधरी ने लिखा है कि विद्रोही मीरा जिस घृणित भाव से सामाजिक, सांस्कृतिक एवं पराधीन मूल्यों को चुनौती देती है उतनी ही परिपक्वता, समझ एवं सम्पूर्णता के साथ अध्यात्म के तात्विक मर्म का उद्घाटन करती है। यह उसके व्यक्तित्व की सकारात्मक रचनाशीलता एवं वैचारिक गहनता का परिचायक है। अध्यात्मवादी जीवन दर्शन परम सत्ता को निर्गुण, निराकार, निर्विशेष एवं अद्वैत रूप में मण्डित करता है। मीरा के भावपक्ष को देखकर लगता है कि उसने जगत के मिथ्यातत्व एवं संबंधों में स्वार्थपरकता को कितनी बारीकी से भेदा है। ठीक इसी तरह वरिष्ठ समालोचक रामचन्द्र तिवारी ने अपने आलेख भक्ति आंदोलन की मूल प्रकृति और मीरा की कविताश् में मीरा को मध्यकालीन भक्त साधकों की परम्परा में देखते हुए मीरा की काव्य भूमि को अधिक महत्व दिया है। उनका मानना है कि मीरा का दर्द औरों से अलग है, वैसे ही उनकी काव्य-भूमि भी अन्यों से भिन्न है। दरबारी कविता का तो कहना ही क्या अन्य संत और भक्त कवियों से भी कुछ अलग दिखाई पड़ती हैं। न तो कबीर की भांति हिंदू-मुसलमान और पंडित-मुल्ला से समान दूरी बनाए रखने की प्रतिज्ञा से बंधी है, न जायसी की तरह पंडितों के पीछे चलने की इच्छा से। ...... उन्होंने किसी तरह के आवरण में अपने को छिपाया नहीं है। लोक-भूमि से जुड़कर अपनी भावनाओं का उद्रेक ही उन्हें प्रिय है। इस भूमि पर सबसे गाढ़ है नारी की विवशता का इजहार करती मीरा की मर्म-पीड़ा। पुस्तक में डॉ. विश्वनाथ त्रिपाठी ने वर्ण व्यवस्था, नारी और भक्ति आंदोलनश्, मैनेजर पाण्डेय ने मीरा की कविता और मुक्ति की चेतनाश् तथा गोपेश्वर सिंह ने मीरा के काव्य का सामाजिक पहलूश् जैसे आलेखों में मीरा और भक्ति आंदोलन के संबंध में महत्वपूर्ण विचार दिये है। इसी कड़ी में मीरा को नये ढंग से देखने का प्रयास प्रो. शिव कुमार मिश्र ने अपने आलेख स्त्री विमर्श में मीराश् में किया है। वे मुक्ति के सवाल पर अधिक जोर देते हैं और उनका मत है कि बंधनों से अपनी मुक्ति का आग्रह मीरा में जरूर है परंतु उस मुक्ति की आकांक्षा के तार - स्त्री-जाति की वैसी ही मुक्ति से सीधे नहीं जुड़ते। प्रो. मिश्र का निष्कर्ष है कि मीरा का अपने पक्ष में अनुकूलन करने का काम व्यवस्था ने खूब किया है तथापि मीरा ने अपने समय में अपनी सीमाओं में जो किया, बड़ा काम था। उनका महत्व इस बात में है कि मुक्ति के सपने का उन्होंने पराधीन की आँखों में जीवित रखा। इन्ही अर्थों में जितना कबीर हमारे समकालीन हैं, उतना ही मीरा। प्रो. रामबक्ष का आलेख मीरा का मर्मश् बताता है कि मीरा की असली समस्या स्त्री के मूल अधिकार ४०० साल पहले मांग लेना थी और इसी कारण उसे बावरी करार दिया गया। वे लिखते हैं यदि मीरा की कविता को बारीकी से पढ़ा जाए तो हमें पता चलता है कि मीरा अपनी इन मांगों को कभी गंभीरता से नहीं लेती। यह उसकी चिंता नहीं है। उसका दर्द यह नहीं है। कौन विरोध कर रहा है ? कौन समर्थन कर रहा है ? कौन प्रेम के वशीभूत होकर समझा रहा है ? कौन मुझसे चिढ़ रहा है ? - यह महत्वपूर्ण नहीं है। मेरी सबसे बड़ी चिंता यह है कि कोई मेरे दर्द को समझ नहीं रहा है।श् पुस्तक में चर्चित कथाकार पंकज बिष्ट का यात्रा वृत्तांत विद्रोह की पगडंडी समूचे विमर्श के मध्य एक भिन्न आस्वाद देता है। इसमें उन्होंने मेड़ता और चित्तौड़गढ़ की यात्राओं पर लिखते हुए मीरा की कविता और जीवन पर सहृदयता से विचार किया है। ठीक इसी तरह जैनेन्द्र कुमार के प्रसिद्ध उपन्यास सुनीता के हवाले से प्रो. नवल किशोर ने मीरा पर विचार किया है और वे आगे बढ़कर वर्षां तक जाते हैं - सुनीता अब वर्षा में कायान्तरित हो चुकी है। वह घर नहीं लौट रही, बाजार जा रही है क्योंकि उसे चांद चाहिए जो उसे वहीं मिलेगा। आसमानी चांद को पाने का सपना वह कभी का छोड़ चुकी है और धरती के आभासी चांद को दिलाने वाली ग्लेमर की चमकीली राह उसने अपना ली है। अब उसे मीरा के इन शब्दों से नहीं लौटाया जा सकता - पांच पहर धन्धे में बीते, तीन पहर रहे सोय। माणस जनम अमोलक पायो, सोतै डार्यो खोय।। कहना न होगा कि यह पुस्तक मीरा को फिर से देखने, समझने और उनकी कविता का मूल्यांकन करने के लिए एक अवसर तो देती ही है। पुस्तक में शिवमंगल सिंह सुमन, रमेश कुन्तल मेघ, जीवन सिंह, नन्दकिशोर आचार्य, अनामिका और रवि श्रीवास्तव के आलेख भी बेहद ध्यान से पढ़ने की अपेक्षा रखने वाले हैं। स्त्री विमर्श के नये दौर में यह पुस्तक मीरा को पाठकों के बीच एक बार फिर ले आयी है।
गजेन्द्र मीणा शोध छात्र, हिन्दी विभाग मोहनलाल सुखाड़िया विश्वविद्यालय, उदयपुर - ३१३००१ मो. ०९९२८१३१२४५
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पुस्तक- अनमोल हास्य क्षणः लेखिका स्नेह ठाकुर
इब्सेन, स्ट्रिन्डवर्ग, शा के नाटकों का प्रभाव भारतीय नाटकों पर पड़ा। इन नाटककारों ने नाटक रूप और कथ्य को बदला। नाटक के पात्र सामान्य व्यक्ति हुए और उनकी समस्याएं आम आदमी की समस्यायें थीं। भारत की नाट्य परम्परा पश्चिम से अलग थी। यहां दुखांत नाटक नहीं से लिखे जाते थे। भारतीय दर्शन पीड़ा को जीवन का अंग नहीं मानता। पश्चिम में स्थिति भिन्न है। वहां ग्रीस के बड़े नाटककारों ने श्रेष्ठ दुखांत नाटकों की रचना की। किन्तु बाद में वहां भी क्रांतिकारी परिवर्तन हुए। मुख्य रूप से ‘कॉमेडी’ को भी उतना ही महत्व दिया जाने लगा। कुछ आलोचकों का तो यह विश्वास है कि सफल ‘कॉमेडी’ की रचना त्रासदी से कठिन है। कुछ हद तक यह बात ठीक भी है। शुद्ध हास्य से ओत-प्रोत नाटक की रचना सामान्य बात नहीं है। स्नेह ठाकुर के नाटकों से यह स्पष्ट होता है कि उन्हें पश्चिम और पूरब की नाट्य परम्परा का सही ज्ञान है।
‘अनमोल हास्य क्षण’ में स्नेह ठाकुर के पांच एकांकी हैं। इन नाटकों के पात्र भारतीय हैं और इनकी समस्याएं भी भारतीय हैं। ये भारतीय कनाडा में बस गए हैं और एक हद तक कनाडा में रहने वालों की तरह रहना चाहते हैं, किन्तु उनकी मानसिकता भारतीय है। संग्रह का अंतिम नाटक ‘कवि की दुर्दशा’ है। इसमें स्नेह ठाकुर ने एक बड़ा सफल प्रयोग किया है। एक तरह से इस एकांकी से गद्द निर्वासित है। सारा नाटक ‘आपरेटिक’ है। ऐलिएट ने नाटकों में कविता के प्रयोग पर बल दिया था और स्वयं भी प्रयोग किये थे, किन्तु उसे अधिक सफलता नहीं मिली। जब पाठक कविता पर मुग्ध होता है तो नाटकीय तत्व से दूर हो जाता है। शेक्सपियर में यह बात नहीं थी। उसके नाटकों में कविता और नाटकीय तत्वों का बड़ा अद्भुत सुमेल था। यह कहना शायद उचित नहीं हो फिर भी सत्य है कि ‘कवि की दुर्दशा’ में स्नेह ठाकुर ने कविता और नाटक का सही ढंग से मिश्रण किया है। कवि की पत्नी कनाडा में रहती है किन्तु उसकी आत्मा भारतीय है और उसकी भाषा और भाव पूर्णरूप से भारतीय हैं।
एकांकी नाटकों की सफलता के लिए नाटककार को अधिक श्रम करना पड़ता है। एक ही अंक में नाटककारों को नाटकी सारी शर्तें पूरी करनी पड़ती हैं। इसलिए जहां पाठक अथवा दर्शक नाटक के पात्रों से परिचित होता है वहीं उसे कथ्य की भी जानकारी होती है और फिर नाटक को ‘क्लाईमेक्स’ की ओर बढ़ना पड़ता है। यह प्रक्रिया कठिन है। स्नेह ठाकुर के एकांकी इसलिए अपने आप में सफल हैं क्योंकि उन्होंने किसी ऐसी समस्या को नाटकीय रूप नहीं दिया है जिनका अपना एक अलग अस्तित्व हो। जीवन के सामान्य पक्ष को ये सभी एकांकी उजागर करते हैं। ‘नाक का सवाल’, ‘नोंक झोंक’, ‘स्वार्थी मेहमान’ में जिन समस्याओं को लेकर नाटक लिखे गए हैं, वह हम सब की रोज-रोज की समस्याएं हैं। इसलिए पाठक वाद-विवाद के साथ ही कथ्य को पूरी तरह समझ लेता है।
इन नाटकों के सभी पात्र एक ही पाषाण खण्ड से बने हैं। बस स्नेह ठाकुर ने अलग-अलग स्थितियों में रख कर जीवन जाने-बूझे दायरे में रखा है। इस तरह उन्होंने लेखक और दर्शक के बीच के कान्ट्रेक्ट को बखूबी संभाला। विशेष बात यह है कि ये नाटक एकांत में पढ़े जा सकते हैं और इनका मंचन भी संभव है। मुझे विश्वास है कि पाठक और दर्शक समान रूप से इन नाटकों का स्वागत करेंगे। मुझे यह कहने में संकोच नहीं हो रहा है कि स्नेह ठाकुर की नाटकीय सूझ उच्च स्तर की है। विशेष रूप से इसलिए भी कि मंच पर कुछ ऐसा नहीं होता जो नया हो फिर भी नाटक पूरी तरह सफल हैं।
भगवती सिंह
रीडर (अंग्रेजी)
गुजरात यूनिवर्सिटी
6, SAMSMRUTA APARTMENTS,
NEAR AZAD SOCIETY, AMBAWADI,
AHMEDABAD-380 015, GUJRAT, INDIA
TELE. NO. 426149
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श्रद्धांजलीः
हबीब तनवीर को जसम द्वारा श्रद्धांजलि उदयपुर।
विख्यात रंगकर्मी एवं नाटककार हबीब तनवीर के आकस्मिक निधन पर जन संस्कृति मंच राजस्थान ने उन्हें श्रंद्धांजलि अर्पित की। श्रद्धांजलि देते हुए वरिष्ठ समालोचक प्रो. नवल किशोर ने कहा कि रंगमंच और नाटक की दुनिया में हबीब तनवीर को लोकनाट्य की पुनर्प्रतिष्ठा के लिए सदैव याद किया जाएगा। छत्तीसगढ़ी लोकनाट्यों को समकालीन रंगमंच उन्होंने जिस तरह नया स्वरूप दिया वह एक बडे रचनाधर्मी के बूते की ही बात थी। वरिष्ठ कवि नंद चतुर्वेदी ने हबीब तनवीर के रंगकर्म को आभिजात्य को तोड़ने वाला बताते हुए कहा कि चार वेदों के अतिरिक्त तनवीर ने पांचवाँ वेद जनवेद रचा जो लोक के गहरे अर्थों में होकर जाता था। चतुर्वेदी ने उपेक्षितों और वंचितों के पक्ष में हबीब तनवीर के नाट्यकर्म को बड़ी सांस्कृतिक आवाज़ बताया। रंगकर्मी महेश नायक ने कहा कि तनवीर का रंगकर्म संवादधर्मी होता था और व्यवस्था पर चोट करने के साथ उनके नाटक जिंदगी जीने के मकसद को भी उजागर करते थे। रंगमंच की भाषा के संदर्भ में नायक ने कहा कि कविता और स्थानीय बोलियों को नाटक में इस्तेमाल करने में उन्हें अद्भुत कौशल हासिल था। नायक ने कहा कि `नया थियेटर` के माध्यम से उन्होंने रंगमंच से बुर्जुआ थियेटर को विदाई दी। श्रमजीवी महाविद्यालय के सह आचार्य डॉ. मलय पानेरी ने हबीब तनवीर के प्रसिद्ध नाटकों 'चरणदास चोर`, `आगरा बाजार`, 'बहादुर कलारिन` की चर्चा कर बताया कि प्रतीकात्मकता से इन नाटकों में सामयिक जीवन की विडम्बनाओं पर खासा प्रहार किया गया है। `बनास` के संपादक डॉ. पल्लव ने कहा कि हबीब तनवीर का जाना रचनाशीलता से एक बड़े वैचारिक पुरूष का जाना है। उन्होंने कहा कि हबीब तनवीर का रंगकर्म दुनिया बदलने के सपने देखने वाला रचना कर्म था। जसम के डॉ. निरंजन सहाय ने कहा कि हबीब तनवीर इप्टा के संस्थापकों में से थे। जिन्होंने काल्पनिकता की दुनिया मे सिमट रही कला को जनता के बीच ला रखा। आकाशवाणी के कार्यक्रम अधिकारी लक्ष्मण व्यास ने कहा कि प्रतिगामी ताकतों के विरूद्ध हबीब तनवीर का संघर्ष प्रेरणादायी है। उन्होंने बीते दिनों 'सापेक्ष` पर जारी विशेषांक की चर्चा भी की। श्रद्धांजलि देने वालों में डॉ. चंद्रदेव ओला, डॉ. हेमेन्द्र चंडालिया, शोधार्थी नंदलाल जोशी, गजेन्द्र मीणा, राजेश शर्मा एवं अन्य विधार्थी भी सम्मिलित थे। अंत में गणेशलाल मीणा ने आभार माना। गजेन्द्र मीणा जन संस्कृति मंच ४०३ बी-३, वैशाली अपार्टमेंट हिरण मगरी, उदयपुर- ३१३००२
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In the end an interesting e.mail;
A Busy Country
Our country is facing the menace of terrorism and our leaders are busy in playing dirty politics. Our irresponsible media is busy playing in the hands of people with vested interests in business and power game. Our teaching community is busy in personal promotions and our students are busy and working hard for their personal career and our bureaucracy is busy in following the footsteps of their political masters by increasing their wealth and our engineers are busy in making weak public structures so as to enable them to make their own houses strong and our lawyers are busy in getting newer and newer cases for their progress and our players are busy in getting advertisement contracts and our businessmen are busy in share markets and our social leaders are busy in minting money through political connections and our judiciary is busy in activism and our friends are busy in chatting and our doctors are busy in making empires for their generations and our policemen are busy in getting a major share of institutional corruption and our forces are busy in making them modern and our working class is busy in getting increments and revised pay scales and I am busy in writing this blog and you are busy in reading this nonsense. THEN, who will fight terrorism????????
“The mind grows when you face, encounter, situations on your own. You bring your own energy to solve them. Don’t go asking for advice forever. Take the reins of your life in your own hands; that’s what I mean when I say do your thing. You will be in trouble — it is safer to follow others. It is convenient to follow the society, to follow the routine, the tradition, the scripture. It is very easy because everybody is following them; you have just to become a dead part of the herd, you have just to move with the crowd wherever it is going. It is none of your responsibility.
In the High and Far-Off Times the Elephant, O Best Beloved, had no trunk. He had only a blackish, bulgy nose, as big as a boot, that he could wriggle about from side to side; but he couldn't pick up things with it. But there was one Elephant--a new Elephant--an Elephant's Child--who was full of 'satiable curtiosity, and that means he asked ever so many questions. And he lived in Africa, and he filled all Africa with his 'satiable curtiosities. He asked his tall aunt, the Ostrich, why her tail-feathers grew just so, and his tall aunt the Ostrich spanked him with her hard, hard, claw. He asked his tall uncle, the Giraffe, what made his skin spotty, and his tall uncle, the Giraffe, spanked him with his hard, hard hoof. And still he was full of 'satiable curtiosity! He asked his broad aunt, the Hippopotamus, why her eyes were red, and his broad aunt, the Hippopotamus, spanked him with her broad, broad hoof; and he asked his hairy uncle, the Baboon, why melons tasted ! just so, and his hairy uncle, the Baboon, spanked him with his hairy, hairy paw. And still he was full of 'satiable curtiosity! He asked questions about everything that he saw, or heard, or felt, or smelt, or touched, and all his uncles and his aunts spanked him. And still he was full of 'satiable curtiosity!
At last things grew so exciting that his dear families went off one by one in a hurry to the banks of the great grey-green, greasy Limpopo River, all set about with fever-trees, to borrow new noses from the Crocodile. When they came back nobody spanked anybody any more; and ever since that day, O Best Beloved, all the Elephants you will ever see besides all those that you won't, have trunks precisely like the trunk of the 'satiable Elephant's Child.
-Christina Rossetti. 
हमारे समय की आवारा पूंजी ऐसे समाज की रचना कर रही है जिसमें भावना और विचार के लिए कोई स्थान नहीं हैं। मनुष्य को पशु श्रेणी से अलग करने वाला तत्व साहित्य ही है जो गुण-दोष के विचार का विवेक देता है, यही कारण है कि इस आवारा पूंजी का साहित्य से बैर है। सुविख्यात हिन्दी आलोचक प्रो. रविभूषण ने 'सम्भावना` द्वारा आयोजित 'साहित्य और समाज के नये सम्बन्ध` विषयक परिसंवाद में उक्त विचार व्यक्त किये। स्वैच्छिक संस्थान प्रयास के सहयोग से आयोजित परिसंवाद में प्रो. रविभूषण ने कहा कि एक मनुष्य से दूसरे मनुष्य का जुड़ाव न हो इसके लिए भूमण्डलीकरण की तमाम ताकतें सक्रिय हैं। परिवार जैसी मजबूत संस्था हमारे दौर में छिन्न-भिन्न होती नजर आ रही है। उन्होंने कहा कि साहित्य जोड़ने का काम करता है तथा धनवान होने और बेहतर मनुष्य होने का भेद समझाता है। प्रो. रविभूषण ने बढ़ रही व्यावसायिकता को मनुष्यता के लिए खतरनाक बताते हुए कहा कि जीवन व्यापार नहीं है। उन्होंने कहा कि समाज को ऐसी खास दिशा में ले जाने वाली शक्तियों के सामने साहित्य जबरदस्त प्रतिरोध करता है और मनुष्य को व्यापक बनाता है।
इस अवसर पर चन्द्रकांता व्यास द्वारा सम्पादित राजस्थानी लोकगीतों के सद्य प्रकाशित संकलन `माँ के गीत` का विमोचन प्रो. रविभूषण ने किया। श्रीमती व्यास ने पुस्तक के सम्पादन के अपने अनुभव बताते हुए कहा कि सांस्कृतिक प्रदूषण के दिनों में लोक की यह विरासत हमारे लिए पे्ररक सिद्ध होगी। आभार प्रदर्शित करते हुए `सम्भावना` के अध्यक्ष डॉ. के.सी. शर्मा ने कहा कि साहित्य की भूमिका अब स्वान्त: सुखाय से कहीं अधिक चुनौतीपूर्ण है।
हिन्दी की रचनात्मकता अपने लिए बरसों बाद एक भिन्न शिल्प की तलाश कर रही है। जो संस्मरण होना चाहिए था वह संस्मरण नहीं है, समीक्षा भी है, जो कहानी होनी चाहिए वह बीज उपन्यास भी है, जो जीवनी होनी चाहिए वह बहस भी है। ये आशावादी संकेत हैं। सुप्रसिद्ध कथाकार और 'प्रगतिशील वसुधा` के सम्पादक स्वयं प्रकाश ने उक्त विचार 'बनास` द्वारा आयोजित एक गोष्ठी में व्यक्त किए। 'नयी रचनाशीलता और हमारा समय` पर स्वयं प्रकाश ने कहा कि लेखन में आ रही विविधता का पाठकों ने स्वागत किया है और ऐसी कोशिशों से संभव है कि भविष्य में कुछ मौलिक कला रूप उभरें। 
हिंदी के वास्तविक और सशक्त स्त्री काव्य का आरंभ मीराबाई की कविता से होता है। उनकी कविता में स्त्री की आत्मा की ऐसी आवाज सुनाई पड़ती है जो पराधीनता के बोध से बेचैन और स्वाधीनता की आकांक्षा से प्रेरित स्त्री की आवाज है। जिसे आजकल स्त्री चेतना कहा जाता है उसकी सशक्त अभिव्यक्ति पहली बार हिंदी में मीरा के काव्य में मिलती है। मीरा का समय, उस समय के समाज, उसकी सामाजिक सांस्कृतिक बनावट और मीरा के परिवार को ध्यान में रखिए तो उनके जीवन-संघर्ष और आत्माभिव्यक्ति की स्वतंत्रता के लिए संघर्ष के महत्व का वास्तविक बोध होगा। चन्द्रा सदायत का यह कथन पल्लव द्वारा सम्पादित पुस्तक मीरा : एक पुनर्मूल्यांकनश् से लिया गया है। मीरा को भक्त कवयित्री के रूप में देखे जाने की परम्परा रही है किन्तु यह पुस्तक मीरा का एक नयी दृष्टि से मूल्यांकन करने का प्रयास करती है जिसमें मीरा को भक्त से अधिक सशक्त स्त्री कवि के रूप में देखने की जिद है। पुस्तक में नये और पुराने आलोचकों के विभिन्न आलेख लगभग इसी स्वर की पुष्टि करने वाले हैं। चन्द्रा सदायत का यह आलेख वस्तुत: मीरा को स्त्री काव्य की पुरोधा के रूप में प्रतिष्ठित करने का उपक्रम कहा जायेगा। चन्द्रा सदायत आगे लिखती हैं कि हिंदी के पाठ्यक्रमों में मीरा की स्थिति हिंदी समाज में स्त्री की स्थिति और पितृसत्तात्मक मूल्यों के वर्चस्व की दृष्टि का द्योतक है। 
विख्यात रंगकर्मी एवं नाटककार हबीब तनवीर के आकस्मिक निधन पर जन संस्कृति मंच राजस्थान ने उन्हें श्रंद्धांजलि अर्पित की।
-Dr. Sanjeev Sharma
