“For last year's words belong to last year's language And next year's words await another voice.”
-T.S. Eliot.
(Year 7- Issue 83)
In this Section: Favourite Forever: William Shakespeare. Poetry Here & Now: Ghanshyam Ayangar, Shail Agrawal. Story: Mahesh Chandra Dwivedi. Kids'Corner: An Aesop's Tale, Nursery Rhyme: Patrick Winsstanley.
&
Monthly News & Views in Vividha
( A literary plateform for all: You Can also join us with your creative writtings and positive inputs )
It is New year's eve and celebrations are going on all around. Fire-crackers and Champaign glasses jingling with laughter and merry-making on dance floors, dinner tables and bars and casinos, in town squires. Every body all dressed up and ready to welcome the New and bid farewell to the old. But what puzzles me most is the abstract nature of it all, an imaginary scale to measure an un measurable span!
Years come and go and we float away all our life in this ever and forever flow , it does not get spent, we do. We celebrate and mark out occasions out of it to make it special; some happy, some sad. .Then make monuments and museums to store and preserve it. Time spent a corpse of our desires and forthcoming an unborn baby. Regret it or treasure it, It keeps on snatching dear ones and also rewarding us with new, a fair share of all its gains and losses,. Change is its basic nature, it cannot stand still. New year is traditionally a special time, when we take the stalk of the old and welcome the new. Wish a better future to our friends and relatives and hope for the best of time. How can time be good or bad!
They say time waits for no body, yet sometimes it keeps on lingering on specially when we are waiting for some thing or somebody yet only time knows what is the best or worst time . Recently read a wonderful poem on Time, which I will like to share with Lekhni’s readers .
Time will come, time will go Time shall reap, that time has sown
Time comes slowly, time goes fast Time will linger, time outlasts
Time sees all, time knows best Time remembers, time never forgets
Time will hide, time will reveal Time will open, time will seal
Time brings hope, time brings fear Time brings distance, time draws near
Time will help, time will hinder Time will shine, time turns to cinder
We forget about time, yet it's all we would know In time, there is everything, and time will show.
Nate Hawk
Wishing all Lekhni’s readers a really good and happy time in year 2014.
From Shakespeare to present time writers and poets, lot of interesting stuff we have packed in this issue for our readers. Enjoy a good read ! -Shail Agrawal
Every body mourned his departure, from politicians to the ordinary citizens of his country. When he fell ill in January 2011, Eva Ntuli, a churchgoer in Soweto, told the press: "We don't forget him. Even the smallest children cry: Dada, you must live for us. They pray everyday."
Without him, the life of Ms Ntuli, and the lives of millions if not billions, are all somehow diminished.
Mandela spoke on many things. Often his most inspirational statements were also the most obvious. Yet they always sounded eternally compelling, coming from a man who had lived, and suffered, to such an extent as he.
"No one is born hating another person because of the colour of his skin, or his background, or his religion," he wrote.
"People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite."
"We want him to remain forever. But what more do we want from him?"
Archbishop Desmond Tutu spoke these words in January 2011, when Nelson Mandela was hospitalised with an acute respiratory infection.In a televised address, President Jacob Zuma said: "Our nation has lost its greatest son. Our people have lost a father.Barack Obama said "we will not likely see the likes of Nelson Mandela again".President Obama said: "I am one of the countless millions who drew inspiration from Nelson Mandela's life. My very first political action, the first thing I ever did that involved an issue or a policy or politics, was a protest against apartheid. I studied his words and his writings. The day that he was released from prison gave me a sense of what human beings can do when they're guided by their hopes and not by their fears. And like so many around the globe, I cannot fully imagine my own life without the example that Nelson Mandela set, and so long as I live I will do what I can to learn from him.UN Secretary General Ban Ki Moon said: "Only because of such a great man like Nelson Mandela is it possible that particular people in Africa and elsewhere are able to enjoy freedom and human dignity. We have to learn the wisdom and determinations and commitment of Mr Mandela to make this world better for all."
· Former US President Bill Clinton said: "History will remember Nelson Mandela as a champion for human dignity and freedom, for peace and reconciliation."
· F.W. De Klerk, former South African President, said: "I think Nelson Mandela's legacy is 'don't be bitter about the past - take the hands also of your former enemies'. Peace is the best way forward and in order to have lasting peace you need to have reconsideration, there needs to be also forgiveness. I liked him and I immediately felt that this is truly a man of greatness."
· Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said: "He was the father of his people, a man of vision, a freedom fighter who rejected violence."
· “Nelson Mandela redefined leadership,” he continued. “He showed that great things can be achieved by leading through wisdom, empathy and integrity, with no other agenda than humanity. He taught the world about the power of forgiveness and the importance of treating everyone equally. His strength was in his compassion, moral courage and a wonderful ability to bring light into any situation.”Richard Branson
Blow, blow, thou winter wind Thou art not so unkind As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen, Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly: Most freindship if feigning, most loving mere folly: Then heigh-ho, the holly! This life is most jolly.
Freeze, freeze thou bitter sky, That does not bite so nigh As benefits forgot: Though thou the waters warp, Thy sting is not so sharp As a friend remembered not. Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly: Then heigh-ho, the holly! This life is most jolly.
All the World's a Stage
All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances, And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms. Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lined, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slippered pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide For his shrunk shank, and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion, Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.
Another fresh new year is here . . . Another year to live! To banish worry, doubt, and fear, To love and laugh and give !
This bright new year is given to me To live each day with zest . . . To daily grow and try to be My highest and my best!
I have the opportunity Once more to right some wrongs, To pray for peace, to plant a tree, And sing more joyful songs!”
Ghanshyam Ayengar
Edge of the time
Sitting on the edge of time I stretch out To catch all the floating bubbles of time In my small and slippery palms Clapping and celebrating each I manage to burst.
Centuries have tickled in between Since you spread out the board And we started to play this game How come, only you know all the rules
This game is strictly in your control. Why then, this elusion of power and grandeur These tears and fear, drama of emotion & illusion Why each day a new rainbow in a sky of hope?
Win or loose, I am just a puppet on your string Why then a throbbing heart; And a mind too ?
{Explanatory Note: This story is in Indian context. The word ‘nose’ is here used synonymous with honor: ‘raised nose’ means honor gone up, ‘stooped nose’ means honor lowered down and ‘cut nose’ means total loss of honor.}
You are seeing my stooping nose- it has become bent because of a fracture in its bone. But this is not the only reason for its stooping down- it is also stooping because of my having been born in such a gutless society which turns a blind eye to atrocity being committed on the helpless by the powerful, it is also stooping because of the shame of that police which spends more time in protecting the criminals-turned-politicians than getting them punished, it is also stooping because of the shame of those administrators who for their selfish motives keep trying to emasculate the police and make it subservient to the rulers, it is also stooping because of the shame of those advocates who feel proud in getting the criminals acquitted by hook or by crook, it is also stooping because of the shame of those judges who for selfish reasons or ignorance prefer acquitting criminals on flimsy grounds, and most of all it is stooping because of the shame of those politicians who do not feel ashamed in including mafia in their party and making them members of parliament and ministers.
Please do not look at my nose with disdain- it was not stooping down at the time of my birth. I was born with a ‘raised nose’- my father was a reputed freedom fighter of Lucknow district. He was in the forward ranks of those who led ‘Quit India’ movement and after attainment of independence his name was spoken with great respect in the whole state. Influenced by the stories of his valor I had joined army as a soldier at a very young age during Indo-Pak conflict of the year 1965. Then in 1971 I was decorated with ‘Vir Chakra’ for my bravery during the war, which culminated in creation of Bangla Desh. My joy had known no bounds when I was married with the beautiful Sharmishtha in 1975. And when our daughter Roma was born to her in 1979, we had thrown a grand party at our residence in cantonment of Bhopal.
When terrorism raised its serpentine head in Punjab, I was detailed on duty at Amritsar in 1984. There during a fierce and successful operation against the terrorists, a hand grenade lobbed by them had burst near my right leg. This had so badly damaged my leg that the army doctors, despite their skill and devotion, could save my life but not my leg. Consequently I had become dependent on a crutch for walking. But this had in no way lowered my prestige. On the other hand, my colleagues had started treating me with greater respect. My nose had been ‘raised’ further when I was decorated with ‘Mahavir Chakra’. However, due to physical infirmity I was given a medical discharge from the Army with all attendant benefits. Thereafter we had come to Lucknow and started living in my paternal house.
I had never considered the loss of leg in action as my bad fortune, but what started to happen hereafter shook my faith completely. Roma was only a 7 years’ old child when Sharmishtha fell prey to the meningitis endemic of 1986 and within a week she left the two of us forever without uttering a word. Thereafter Roma became the raison d’etre of my existence. Now the sole aim of my life was to raise Sharmishtha’s nishani (gift)Roma to a dignified womanhood. I bestowed the love of father and mother both on the motherless child. And by seeing her growing into a loving, intelligent and beautiful adolescent, I started feeling that my nose was going up further.
On 12th April 1994, it was the last day of Roma’s 10th class examination. On her return from the school I had asked her,
‘Roma! How did you fare in the mathematics examination today?’
Roma had effusively replied,
‘Papa! Today’s paper has gone cent-percent correct.’
Affectionately I had put my hand on her head, and started praising her. Then she expectantly asked,
‘Papa! Now when are we going to Shimla?’
I had earlier promised her a holiday in the cool environs of Shimla after her examination and without letting her know I had already got two berths in the three-tier sleeper class in Punjab Mail (train’s name) reserved for 15th of April. So with a twinkle in my eyes I said,
‘How soon would you like to go?’ and then without waiting for her answer I added, ‘Are you ready to start on 15th April?’
She burst with joy and hugged me muttering, ‘Pa..pa…’.
Next three days passed quickly in making preparations for the journey. I watched with inner joy that Roma thought carefully of everything that might be needed by me in Shimla and kept it in the suitcase properly. I proudly noted that she had fully inherited the qualities of sacrifice for the family and hard work from her mother.
‘Papa! Rickshaw is at the door.’ Roma said enthusiastically and helped me putting the luggage in it. We reached Charbagh railway station and took our seats in three-tier coach S-1 of Punjab Mail at 4.30 P. M. The summer afternoon was hot and the coach was full, but unmindful of the heat Roma was happily engrossed in her imaginary thoughts of Shimla. As soon as the train started, about half a dozen young men entered the coach. Standing near the door they started talking boisterously among themselves as if there was nobody else present in the coach. The content of their talk consisted mainly of offensive and lewd comments against their bosses and women-colleagues. Some of them were also smoking and filling the coach with its offensive stench. From their conversation it became apparent that they were government employees working together in some office in Lucknow and used to commute daily on monthly season tickets from Sandila to Lucknow and back.
The conduct of these men was highly offensive to other travelers, but they did not appear to have any consideration for others. Their loud voice unnecessarily attracted the attention of other travelers and they were forced to listen to their foul tongue.
After the train crossed Lucknow city, one of them said,
‘Come, let us play Rummy.’
Another added,
‘O. K. You make space available. In the meantime I am lighting another cigarette.’
Then the first one threw a long look inside the coach and came to the place where Roma and I were sitting. We were sitting near the window and by our side were an old couple that, from their clothes, appeared to be simple rural folks. The young man looked at the four of us haughtily and commanded,
‘You people vacate these seats as we have to play Rummy here.’
His voice was threatening and the old couple started leaving their seats. Seeing this I intervened and told them,
‘Why are you leaving your seats? You have been sitting there from before.’
Upon this that ruffian insolently said,
‘You oldie! Shut up. You also get up and tell that girl also to get up.’
My face got red with humiliation, but controlling my emotions I said’
‘Don’t you have manners to speak properly?’
On hearing our hot talks his companions started closing near us. I was feeling surprised to see that out of about 60-70 persons sitting in the coach nobody was coming forward to help me nor anybody was even speaking in my support. Their faces were showing only frightful need to escape the ugly situation.
Then that man advanced towards me and holding my right hand pulled me with a jerk. I could barely manage to stand balancing wholly on my left leg. On seeing me being humiliated like this Roma got up and started hitting him with her fist. The ruffian got infuriated and caught Roma by her shoulders, and then immodestly forced her down on the berth. In the meantime I got opportunity to pick up my crutch and as I was about to hit him with the crutch, he snatched it from my hand and hit me hard at my nose. I heard Roma calling ‘Papa’ and then that rogue’s voice, ‘Hey girl, how dare you stand?’ Then my head swooned and while getting unconscious I slumped on the floor. During the interregnum I heard Roma crying with a choking throat, ‘Papa………..’ and then again ‘ Papa… help me…save me…’ During my semi-conscious state also I could hear the cries of Roma, but could not lift my body up. Roma, whose every tear had been like thousand tears of mine, was crying for help and my heart was squeezing on my incapacity to help her and other passengers’ cowardice of not coming up to help her. Then I became fully unconscious.
When I regained consciousness I found Roma holding me in her hands and sobbing with the words ‘papa..papa…’ Some other passengers were also standing by my side and one of them was sprinkling water on my face. The scoundrels were not there. Roma’s face was flushed red because of her humiliation. I saw that she had some reddish marks on her cheeks but any other injury she did not seem to have suffered.
My nose was aching unbearably as its bone had broken in the middle. Somebody had cleaned the blood, which had oozed from my nose. The passengers who had watched Roma’s and mine humiliation like frightened kittens were now incessantly speaking on the growing criminality among the youth and police’s inefficacy. From their talks I learnt that the hoodlums had detrained at Sandila railway station, which had come soon after I lost consciousness. Roma and I got down at Hardoi station and came back to Lucknow by the next train. Next morning I was admitted in the Command Hospital where the doctor fixed the broken bone of my nose.
The two parts of the bone of my nose have jointed, but it has become bent and stooping in the same way as my self-pride has become stooping, as my self-confidence has become stooping, and as my faith in sacrificing oneself for the society has become stooping. Today I find myself unable to convince me that by sacrificing my leg for such a thankless society I have acted wisely. Sometimes, in my lone moments, I have also started questioning myself whether such a democracy in which hooligans and rogues roam free is more desirable than dictatorship.
Roma’s entire persona seems to have become thunderstruck. She has withered like a cruelly broken bud. When I face her I become dumbfounded: with which words can I redeem her honor? how can I rebuild her self-esteem? how can I light her heart with hope?
I am an old soldier, my nose is also old and within a few years it will turn into dust along with myself; but will Roma ever be able to stand by the ideal of my life that instead of earning power and pelf through dishonesty, cheating, and selfishness, it is more worthwhile to stand by integrity, devotion, and sacrifice for the country.
Autumn was coming to an end. All the insects and animals were working very hard to stock their larders with enough food to last them through winter. They all knew that winter time would be tough - it would be cold and food would be scarce. Also as it would get dark soon, it would be difficult to go and get the food.
Everyone was working hard, except for Mr Grasshopper. He loved autumn. Autumn was a time when the leaves changed colour. It was all so so pretty. The trees seemed to be on fire with red, yellow and orange leaves, which then fell off and covered the ground. There was a pleasant breeze too.
Mr Grasshopper spent his days playing. He jumped from leaf to leaf and from one fallen twig to another. What he liked best was the way the leaves bounced when he jumped off them, and how the leaf he landed on swayed with his weight. "Yooo eeeeee. Life is lovely, the world is beautiful, I want to play forever..." he sang.
Just then little Miss Ant happened to pass by. She was dragging a heavy grain of rice behind her. "Oowf. This is so heavy. I wish I could get some help with this. I should have asked my brother to come along to help me," she was muttering. "Oh, do you need help?" asked Mr Grasshopper.
"Yes, sir. Would you give me a hand? My ant hill is just a few trees away, but this is so heavy," replied the ant happily. "Naw. First you come and play with me for some time, then I shall gladly help you. What are you toiling for anyway? Autumn is so beautiful, you too should enjoy the weather while you can," the grasshopper said.
"No, Mr Grasshopper. You too must start collecting your food for the winter. Otherwise it will be tough as there won't be anything to eat," said the concerned ant.
"Nothing doing. I will go out and find all the food I want when I am hungry. Right now it is time to play and have a party," the silly grasshopper replied. So Miss Ant just shook her head and went on - "Huff, puff, huff, puff."
Then winter came. It was so cold that the ants didn't dare to come out. But their tummies were full and they were warm and happy. Actually, everyone was warm and happy, except for Mr Grasshopper. He was cold and hungry. As he went hunting for food only when it was less cold than usual, he got very little to eat and soon became very weak and hungery.
"Oh, why did I spend my days playing? I should have listened to the ant..." he thought with regret.
Eat, Drink and Be Messy
Once, upon a thyme leaf, There lived a lazy snail, Who munched and dozed, and dozed and munched, On thyme he breakfasted and lunched, And when it came to half past nine, He chose once more to dine on thyme.
Later, upon the thyme leaf, Was a rather plumper snail. But, reader dear, his life was brief, For this is no fairy tale.
He ate more and more, and grew fatter and fatter Until one day he exploded, bang, splat, splatter. One minute he was there, The next he'd gone. The coroner's verdict 'A snail thyme bomb'.
रायपुर । प्रथम सृजनगाथा डॉट कॉम सम्मान-2013 के लिए कवि डॉ. असंगघोष (जबलपुर) का चयन किया गया है । यह सम्मान उन्हें उनकी कविता-कृति 'मैं दूंगा माकूल जबाब' (शिल्पायन प्रकाशन, दिल्ली द्वारा प्रकाशित) पिछले 7 वर्षों से संचालित साहित्य, संस्कृति और भाषा की अंतरराष्ट्रीय वेब पत्रिका सृजनगाथा डॉट कॉम (www.srijangatha.com) द्वारा इस वर्ष से साहित्यिक, सांस्कृतिक, रचनात्मक व कलात्मक लेखन को प्रोत्साहित करने के लिए सृजनगाथा सम्मान का शुभारंभ किया गया है । उन्हें सम्मान स्वरूप 21,000 की नगद राशि, प्रशस्ति पत्र, शॉल और श्रीफल प्रदान कर अंलकृत किया जायेगा । सम्मान हेतु चयन समिति में श्री गिरीश पंकज, पूर्व सदस्य साहित्य अकादमी व संपादक सद्भावना दर्पण, रायपुर, डॉ. सुशील त्रिवेदी (आईएएस) वरिष्ठ साहित्यकार, रायपुर, अशोक सिंघई, वरिष्ठ कवि, भिलाई, डॉ. बलदेव, वरिष्ठ आलोचक, रायगढ़ शामिल हैं । चयन समिति के सदस्यों ने उन्हें 'अमानवीय होते समाज में मानवता के छूटते जा रहे पहलुओं को धैर्य और प्रामाणिकता के साथ रेखांकित करनेवाला कवि' बताया है ।
सृजनगाथा डॉट कॉम के संपादक जयप्रकाश मानस ने बताया कि यह सम्मान 8 वें अंतरराष्ट्रीय हिंदी सम्मेलन. श्रीलंका, कैंडी के मुख्य अलंकरण समारोह में 20 जनवरी के दिन हिंदी के प्रतिष्ठित आलोचक डॉ. खगेंद्र ठाकुर, श्रीलंका में पदस्थ भारत के द्वितीय सचिव व कवि विनोद पाशी तथा मॉरीशस की लेखिका रेशमी रामधोनी के कर कमलों से प्रदान किया जायेगा ।
29 अक्टूबर 1962 में मध्यप्रदेश के जावद कस्बा के एक दलित परिवार में जन्में डॉ. असंगघोष की अब तक तीन कविता संग्रह प्रकाशित हो चुके हैं - ख़ामोश नहीं हूँ मैं, हम गवाही देंगे और मैं दूंगा माकूल जबाब । वे तीसरा पक्ष पत्रिका के सह-संपादक हैं । वर्तमान में वे मध्यप्रदेश में मुख्य कार्यपालन अधिकारी जिला पंचायत के रूप में सेवारत हैं । उन्हें हमारी बधाई । आप चाहें तो उन्हें 08224082240 पर बधाई दे सकते हैं ।
किशोर श्रीवास्तव कृत जन चेतना कार्टून पोस्टर प्रदर्शनी ‘खरी-खरी’ ने इस माह अपने प्रदर्शन के 28 वर्ष पूरे कर लिये हैं। इस प्रदर्शनी का पहला आयोजन दिल्ली दूरदर्शन ज्ञानदीप मंडल की झांसी शाखा द्वारा झांसी में किया गया था तब से ले कर अब तक विभिन्न संस्थाओं सरकारी कार्यालयों एवं स्कूलों आदि के द्वारा झांसी व दिल्ली सहित इसके सौ से भी अधिक प्रदर्शन आगरा, मथुरा, खुर्जा, ललितपुर, उरई, देवबंद, जबलपुर, अंबाला, गाजियाबाद, शिलांग, बेलगाम, गोवा, सोलन, पुरी, डलहौजी, साहिबाबाद, हिम्मतनगर, भरतपुर, बिजनौर व नांदेड़ आदि विभिन्न जिलों में संपन्न हो चुके हैं। यह प्रदर्शनी कार्टून, छोटी कविताओं, स्लोगनों एवं लघुकथाओं के माध्यम से राष्ट्रभाषा और सामाजिक, सांप्रदायिक सद्भाव के प्रचार-प्रसार एवं विभिन्न सामाजिक विसंगतियो पर कुठाराघात के मद्देनज़र वर्ष 1984-85 में तैयार की गई थी। जिसका निःशुल्क सफर सतत् जारी है। इस प्रदर्शनी के निःशुल्क आयोजन के लिये कोई भी प्रतिष्ठित संस्था श्री किशोर श्रीवास्तव से सीधे इन नंबरों पर संपर्क कर सकती है -mo. 9868709348, 8447673015 ph. 011-25889475
आर. के. तलरेजा महाविद्यालय में द्विदिवसीय अंतरराष्ट्रीय संगोष्ठी संपन्न उल्हासनगर. विश्वविद्यालय अनुदान आयोग द्वारा संपोषित हिंदी विभाग आर. के. तलरेजा महाविद्यालय, उल्हासनगर एवं साहित्यिक सांस्कृतिक शोध संस्था, मुंबई के संयुक्त तत्वावधान में गत दिनों नवंबर 2013 को द्विदिवसीय अंतरराष्ट्रीय संगोष्ठी का आयोजन ‘भक्ति साहित्य में विश्वबंधुत्व की भावना’ विषय पर किया गया. कार्यक्रम का उद्घाटन श्रद्धेय आचार्य डॉ. शिवेंद्रपुरी के करकमलों से संपन्न हुआ. पं. शांडिल्य ने अपने सुमधुर स्वर में सरस्वती वंदना प्रस्तुत की. उद्घाटन सत्र की अध्यक्षता करते हुए डॉ. शिवेंद्रपुरी ने कहा कि भक्ति जनमानस का मूल्य है. बीज वक्तव्य में मुंबई विश्वविद्यालय के आचार्य डॉ. रामजी तिवारी ने भारतीय समाज के ‘वसुधैव कुटुंबकम’ की भावना पर प्रकाश डाला. प्राचार्य डॉ. ललितांबाल नटराजन ने स्वागत भाषण देते हुए संगोष्ठी में पधारे सभी व्यक्तियों का सम्मान किया. आर. के. तलरेजा विश्वविद्यालय के पूर्व हिंदी विभागाध्यक्ष डॉ. दशरथ सिंह ने भक्ति साहित्य के महत्व को स्पष्ट किया. सिंधी भाषा की एकमात्र डी.लिट. उपाधि ग्रहण करने वाले डॉ. दयाल आशा ने सिंधी भक्ति साहित्य में विश्वकल्याण की भावना पर प्रकाश डाला.
डॉ. शिवेंद्रपुरी ने उद्घाटन सत्र में सोनभाऊ बसवंत महाविद्यालय, शाहपुर के उपप्राचार्य एवं हिंदी विभागाध्यक्ष डॉ. अनिल सिंह द्वारा संपादित पुस्तक ‘वैश्विक परिदृश्य में साहित्य, मीडिया एवं समाज’ का विमोचन किया. इसी कड़ी में डॉ. प्रदीप कुमार सिंह, हिंदी विभागाध्यक्ष, साठेय महाविद्यालय की पुस्तक ‘सूफी साहित्य का पुनर्मूल्यांकन’ का भा विमोचन किया गया. दक्षिण कोरिया से पधारे हिंदी के विद्वान डॉ. को. जोग. किम ने भक्ति साहित्य को भारतीय साहित्य की अमूल्य धरोहर तथा विश्वकल्याण का मार्गदर्शक माना. इसी सत्र में साहित्यिक सांस्कृतिक शोध संस्था की ओर से साहित्य एवं संस्कृति के क्षेत्र में उल्लेखनीय कार्य करने वाली विभूतियों को शाल, श्रीफल और प्रशस्तिपत्र प्रदान कर सम्मानित किया गया. इस अवसर पर डॉ. दिलीप सिंह ने डॉ. शिवेंद्र, डॉ.रामजी तिवारी, डॉ. दयाल आशा, डॉ. एस. एन. सिंह, डॉ. रामआह्लाद चौधरी, डॉ. बीना खेमचंदानी, डॉ. सतीश पांडेय आदि को सम्मानित किया. डॉ. किम ने साहित्यिक सांस्कृतिक शोध संस्था की वेबसाईट का उद्घाटन किया.
प्रथम सत्र में डॉ. शीतला प्रसाद दुबे ने भक्ति साहित्य में व्यक्त विश्वकल्याण की भावना पर प्रकाश डाला. कलकत्ता विश्वविद्यालय के हिंदी विभागाध्यक्ष डॉ. रामआह्लाद चौधरी ने वर्तमान व्यावहारिकता एवं आपाधापी से भरे जीवन में भक्ति साहित्य की प्रासंगिकता को स्पष्ट किया. सत्र के सम्माननीय अतिथि डॉ. किम ने बड़ी सहजता से हिंदी भक्ति साहित्य की भावभूमि की कलातीत सार्वभौमिकता को स्वीकार किया.
उच्च शिक्षा और शोध संस्था, दक्षिण भारत हिंदी प्रचार सभा, हैदराबाद के आचार्य एवं अध्यक्ष डॉ.ऋषभ देव शर्मा ने भक्ति को चेतना एवं व्यावहारिकता से जोड़ते हुए समय के साथ उसे गंभीरता से ग्रहण करने की अनिवार्यता पर बल दिया.
औरंगाबाद विश्वविद्यालय के पूर्व विभागाध्यक्ष डॉ. अंबादास देशमुख ने भक्ति साहित्य की भाषा को विश्व मानव से जोड़ने वाला मूल तंतु बताया. सत्र की अध्यक्षता डॉ. दिलीप सिंह ने की. डॉ. मुक्ता नायडू ने संचालन किया और सभी का आभार व्यक्त किया.
इस सत्र के आरंभ में इस वर्ष दिवंगत हुए हिंदी साहित्यकारों को स्मरण कर श्रद्धांजलि समर्पित की गई. डॉ. राजेंद्र यादव, डॉ. के. पी. सक्सेना, डॉ. शिवकुमार आदि साहित्यकारों की आत्मा की शांति हेतु संगोष्ठी में दो मिनट का मौन रखा गया.
संगोष्ठी के उपरांत सभी अतिथियों और प्रतिभागियों को 5000 वर्ष पुराने अंबरनाथ मंदिर, टिटवाला गणेश गणेश मंदिर (जिसे सिद्धि मंदिर माना जाता है) का भ्रमण करवाया गया.
प्रतिभागियों की विशाल संख्या को ध्यान में रखकर संगोष्ठी के दूसरे दिन छह समानांतर स्तरों में संगोष्ठी आयोजित की गई. अस्सी से अधिक प्रपत्र प्रस्तुत किए गए जिनमें सूर, कबीर आदि के अलावा मराठी, सिंधी, तमिल, कन्नड़, पंजाबी आदि अन्य भारतीय भाषाओं के भक्तों के साहित्य में वर्णित विश्वकल्याण और विश्वबंधुत्व की भावना पर प्रकाश डाला गया. इन छह समानांतर सत्रों में विभक्त संगोष्ठी के विषय थे – साहित्य और मानव मूल्य, सूफी साहित्य और लोक संग्रह, हिंदीतर भाषाओं में विश्वबंधुत्व की भावना, भक्ति, दर्शन एवं कृष्ण काव्य, राम साहित्य और लोकमंगल आदि. इन सत्रों की अध्यक्षता क्रमशः डॉ. दिलीप सिंह, डॉ. रामआह्लाद चौधरी, डॉ. अनिल सिंह, डॉ. अंबादास देखमुख, डॉ. ऋषभ देव शर्मा और डॉ. अशोक धुलधुले ने की.
संगोष्ठी के समानांतर सत्रों में डॉ. श्रीराम परिहार, डॉ. श्रीराम जी तिवारी, डॉ. घरत अर्जुन, डॉ. नारायण, डॉ. उत्तम भाई पटेल, डॉ. माधव पंडित, डॉ. विष्णु सर्वदे, डॉ. शेषारत्नम, डॉ. रामनाथम और डॉ. मधुकर पाडवी विशेष अतिथि के रूप में उपस्थित रहें. उक्त सत्रों का संचालन डॉ. मोहसिन खान, प्रा. संजय निबलाकर, डॉ. एम. एच. सिद्दीकी, डॉ. शील अहुजा तथा डॉ. मिथिलेश शर्मा ने किया.
समापन सत्र में साहित्यिक सांस्कृतिक शोध संस्था द्वारा डॉ. शीला गुप्ता, डॉ. शेषारत्नम, डॉ. मुक्ता नायडू, डॉ. अशोक धुलधुले, डॉ. शेख हसीना, डॉ. शीतला प्रसाद दुबे का प्राचार्य ललितांबाल नटराजन एवं डॉ. दिलीप सिंह ने शाल, श्रीफल एवं प्रशस्तिपत्र प्रदान कर सम्मानित किया. इस सत्र के अध्यक्ष डॉ. दिलीप सिंह ने संगोष्ठी की सफलता और उपलब्धियों की चर्चा करते हुए संस्था की ओर से सभी का आभार व्यक्त किया. इस अवसर पर उपप्राचार्य नंद वघारिया, कोंकण से पधारे प्रा. अर्शद आवटे, गुजरता से आए डॉ. उत्तम भाई पटेल, प्रा. रीना सिंह एवं छात्र प्रतिनिधि डॉ. उपाध्याय सूर्यभान ने संगोष्ठी के विभिन्न पक्षों पर अपनी टिप्पणी प्रस्तुत की.
समापन सत्र का कुशल संचालन डॉ. अनिल सिंह ने किया. संगोष्ठी को सफल बनाने में सक्रिय सहयोग देने हेतु डॉ. अनिल सिंह, सह संयोजिका प्रा. रीना सिंह, प्रा. योगेंद्र खत्री, डॉ. अजय सिंह, डॉ. पी. के. सिंह और कर्मठ छात्राओं को धन्यवाद देते हुए संगोष्ठी के संयोजक डॉ. संतोष मोटवानी ने सभी के प्रति आभार व्यक्त किया.
It is New year's eve and celebrations are going on all around. Fire-crackers and Champaign glasses jingling with laughter and merry-making on dance floors, dinner tables and bars and casinos, in town squires. Every body all dressed up and ready to welcome the New and bid farewell to the old. But what puzzles me most is the abstract nature of it all, an imaginary scale to measure an un measurable span! 
Every body mourned his departure, from politicians to the ordinary citizens of his country. When he fell ill in January 2011, Eva Ntuli, a churchgoer in Soweto, told the press: "We don't forget him. Even the smallest children cry: Dada, you must live for us. They pray everyday."
You are seeing my stooping nose- it has become bent because of a fracture in its bone. But this is not the only reason for its stooping down- it is also stooping because of my having been born in such a gutless society which turns a blind eye to atrocity being committed on the helpless by the powerful, it is also stooping because of the shame of that police which spends more time in protecting the criminals-turned-politicians than getting them punished, it is also stooping because of the shame of those administrators who for their selfish motives keep trying to emasculate the police and make it subservient to the rulers, it is also stooping because of the shame of those advocates who feel proud in getting the criminals acquitted by hook or by crook, it is also stooping because of the shame of those judges who for selfish reasons or ignorance prefer acquitting criminals on flimsy grounds, and most of all it is stooping because of the shame of those politicians who do not feel ashamed in including mafia in their party and making them members of parliament and ministers.
Autumn was coming to an end. All the insects and animals were working very hard to stock their larders with enough food to last them through winter. They all knew that winter time would be tough - it would be cold and food would be scarce. Also as it would get dark soon, it would be difficult to go and get the food. 
रायपुर । प्रथम सृजनगाथा डॉट कॉम सम्मान-2013 के लिए कवि डॉ. असंगघोष (जबलपुर) का चयन किया गया है । यह सम्मान उन्हें उनकी कविता-कृति 'मैं दूंगा माकूल जबाब' (शिल्पायन प्रकाशन, दिल्ली द्वारा प्रकाशित) पिछले 7 वर्षों से संचालित साहित्य, संस्कृति और भाषा की अंतरराष्ट्रीय वेब पत्रिका सृजनगाथा डॉट कॉम (
किशोर श्रीवास्तव कृत जन चेतना कार्टून पोस्टर प्रदर्शनी ‘खरी-खरी’ ने इस माह अपने प्रदर्शन के 28 वर्ष पूरे कर लिये हैं। इस प्रदर्शनी का पहला आयोजन दिल्ली दूरदर्शन ज्ञानदीप मंडल की झांसी शाखा द्वारा झांसी में किया गया था तब से ले कर अब तक विभिन्न संस्थाओं सरकारी कार्यालयों एवं स्कूलों आदि के द्वारा झांसी व दिल्ली सहित इसके सौ से भी अधिक प्रदर्शन आगरा, मथुरा, खुर्जा, ललितपुर, उरई, देवबंद, जबलपुर, अंबाला, गाजियाबाद, शिलांग, बेलगाम, गोवा, सोलन, पुरी, डलहौजी, साहिबाबाद, हिम्मतनगर, भरतपुर, बिजनौर व नांदेड़ आदि विभिन्न जिलों में संपन्न हो चुके हैं। यह प्रदर्शनी कार्टून, छोटी कविताओं, स्लोगनों एवं लघुकथाओं के माध्यम से राष्ट्रभाषा और सामाजिक, सांप्रदायिक सद्भाव के प्रचार-प्रसार एवं विभिन्न सामाजिक विसंगतियो पर कुठाराघात के मद्देनज़र वर्ष 1984-85 में तैयार की गई थी। जिसका निःशुल्क सफर सतत् जारी है। इस प्रदर्शनी के निःशुल्क आयोजन के लिये कोई भी प्रतिष्ठित संस्था श्री किशोर श्रीवास्तव से सीधे इन नंबरों पर संपर्क कर सकती है -mo. 9868709348, 8447673015 ph. 011-25889475
प्रस्तुति 
