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Mithlesh Kumar Chaudhari


Mithlesh Kumar Chaudhary






The Brainchild

The Brainchild met my Heart a day
Asked: Are your days meant to play?

‘My Dear Brainchild’ said my Heart-
My beginning dwells in inspired art.

My heart along with dear Brainchild plays
With witty verse and words and on page.

My Dear Brainchild has felt more-
The virtuous circle: the richest core.

In imaginary journey the poetic pen
Ran to portray varied tastes of men.

Cool emotion and coloured feeling
Wait the arrival of divine feeling.

Through the journey of filthy islands
To speak the truth my heart stands.

Animosity, bane, curse and woe
On filthy islands they freely grow.

On the tongue place examined words
As curse and boon both fly like birds.

Far from the individual-coop
Virtuous deeds act like troop.

In the designed empire of mind
For new life words play to find.

Coloured-cool feelings line after line
In the palace of art shine in eternal line.

The words that win or move the heart
Stand best in the whole palace of art.

Each person and life on the earth
Suffers the lack of humane-mirth.



The Restoration

Ponder, ponder the Restoration world
Where debauched men and women find,
In debauchery the way of the world.

As soon as the Restoration theatre
Widely displayed lust and passion,
It turned in fashion from king to waiter.

Elizabethans, the paragons of animals
A little interfered by Metaphysical school,
Retreat and fear from moral criminals.

The Restoration men never heed
At the spouse to whom she longs,
For, others’ wife fulfilled his need.

Much drama the Restoration had seen
Dominated with cuckoldry themes,
Previous plays afraid of present scene.

Rise and fall of the cuckoldry scenes
Filled the audience and their senses,
Enjoyed similarly by old and teens.

Bed-partners in Restoration age
Change their partners as their clothes,
And play by the hearts unlike sage.

Men were lost in loose-delight
Ran like cuckold for a concubine,
At the peak of their filthy appetite.

Impious hearts in filthy fools
Kept their hands in the blouse,
On the stage to make some rules.

Ludicrous lust with frivolous sex
Cultivated the Restoration cult,
Imposing no tax on frequent sex.

Stale, perverse, plural love
Reached to every Restoration door,
In the glory of cuckoldry love.


Can We Another Shakespeare Find?

Can we another Shakespeare find,
When his works are only of its kind?

His mind’s eye has seen unseen
Facets of life in the reign of the queen.

Subjects range from clowns to kings
But he thinks only on men and things.

The kingdom Shakespeare made with pen
Was not passed by any country or men.

His mighty lines from poetic pen
Weave varied lives of varied men.

Some philosophers fail before his clown
Hence Shakespeare is alive in every town.

With Shakespeare only Keats stands
For art stands in them in all strands.

In the country of minds Shakespeare alone
Surpassed the heart of art in literary zone.

The universal truth is smelt by his pen
Embodied in the tales of towns and men.

Who touches his book, touches the truth
As he weaves his lines by his witty truth.

The last breathing with wisest sleeping
Left literary crop for eternal reaping.

His nuggets of wisdom reach each mouth
Whose glory spread from north to south.

All the literary hearts faint and moan
Before the heart of Shakespeare alone.


Dickens-Hardy
 
Procrastination shows the law
As dawn shows the day.
The Court shows the endemic flaw
As Dickens shows the way.

Injustice shows the sway
As childhood shows the man.
Dickens’ milieu shows its ray
Over each helpless and every ban.

Hardy shows fate as Fate
As wisdom shows the way.
Here mortals have to wait and wait
For what comes, when comes and what way.

Nor ‘all is wrong’ and ‘all is right’ never
All such nowhere does Dickens say.
But ‘something’ is wrong somewhere
That Dickens likes to display.

Poverty, crime and flaw of law
Became the burden of Dickens’ pen.
Irony, destiny and characters’ flaw
Weaved by Hardy’s mighty pen.

Hardy’s mind’s eye has seen unseen
In His heaven late presence of the God.
He is passed by Fate’s frivolous scene
Like struggling puppet before the God.

Dickens and Hardy with their pen
Paint the different rooms of lives.
Themes, characters and their men
Make their novels highly alive.

Man versus Nature in Hardy’s mind
Plays like half-loser without the Guide.
Both the characters and Dickens’ mind
Follow the path in the socialist side.



A Priest of Beauty

When I consider a single sight
From walking-heaven on the earth.
Replete with beauty and delight
Delights me with divine mirth.

The sleeping words on the silent lips
Ask me to sink in the lake like eyes.
A priest of beauty on thy coral lips
Tries to measure the whole paradise.

Ecstasy dwells in thy heart
Paradise is opened on thy face.
On thy lips thy words from heart
In my heart they sink with grace.

I sleep in love with open eyes
Heart to heart and eyes to eyes.

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Articles/Discussions


Editorial
Charanjeet Kaur: Editorial

Conversation
Sara Aboobacker in Conversation with Ayshath S R

Discussion
Srinivas Reddy: Sanskrit at the Opera

Literary Articles
Kinshuk Majumdar: Amitav Ghosh
Kusumita Datta: Kashmir and its Story Tellers
Rachel Bari: South Asian Poetry
Sonal Jha: Arun Kolatkar

Book Reviews
Dustin Pickering – ‘No Waiting Like Departure’
Gagan Bihari Purohit – ‘For You to Decide’
Purabi Bhattacharya – ‘Himalaya: Adventures, Meditations, Life’
Revathi Raj Iyer – ‘I won’t give you a leg up, Mr Death’
Sapna Dogra – ‘An Ode to Shimla’
Subashish Bhattacharjee – ‘Agniputr: When Agni First Spoke’
U Atreya Sarma – ‘Wakes on the Horizon’

Poetry
Ambika Ananth – Editorial Note
Arnab Mukhopadhyay
Bidyut Bhusan Jena
Madhab Chandra Jena
Maithreyi Karnoor
Mithlesh Kumar Chaudhary
Robert Beveridge
Sujit Mukherjee
Surbhi Goel
TS Hidalgo
Varun Rajaram

Fiction
U Atreya Sarma – Editorial Musings
Akshat Joshi – ‘New World’
Ananya Sarkar – ‘The Cats’
Eva Bell – ‘Entrapped’
Humera Ahmed – ‘A Different Sky’
Neera Kashyap – ‘As quiet as a feather falling’
Reema Tripathy – ‘Is Love the Reason?’
Sahar Raza – ‘Sacrifice’
Sukla Singha – ‘Fury’
Sunil Sharma – ‘The Shrinking Man’

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