IN SEARCH OF LOVE

In search of love, in search of beauty
Do I wander from place to place
(Though where to go I do not know)
From where I can get such pity
That leads to love thats leads us face to face.

When face to face we'll stand upon a lonely land
Over the river, flows the breeze on bridge
What will you whisper in my waiting ear
So eager to hear I that you tell me please.

All the drops of dew seems so few
When compared to the drops of Love
That comes from heaven in form of rain
To touch the heart straight, not in curve.

O what lovely scene just you imagine
My joys ache; and in such a situation
When everything is so perfect and pure
Can you say it a mere infatuation ?

What matters if my fate comes so late
What matters even if my chance never comes ?
And still my searching goes for thee
Not who feels for me but feels like me.

Mithun Dutta
M.A.[Previous]
Banaras Hindu University

BLUE WHALE

Blue Whale




Right in the deep blue sea
I sail with my spreaded wings
Like an authoritative Monopolist
The small ones maintain a distance
Of fear from my way
For I have all right to stay

God created me hugest to swim ocean stream
No one even dares to mess with me
For I am the Blue Whale
Of the deep blue sea.

Tuhin Majumdar
M.A. (Final)
Department of English
Banaras Hindu University

A Metaphysical Sonnet

Leaving fairy tales far behind
Today only you ,me and Freud ,
Instinct becomes our forte
And does't want any shade .
Our singularity has seasoned an intense love
And it alarms plurality and panoply of time ,
Now desire is running rocket
And instant fleshly fireworks are devoid of crime.
Trying to quench the thirst
Of love-syrup to the lees
We,the lovers have broken
The hands of watches and time flees.
Heart beats ,nerve strikes and flesh shrieks
But (we know ) we, the predatory birds are nothing but freaks.




Gourab Singha
M.A. [Previous]
Banaras Hindu University

History and Culture in 'Train To Pakistan'

A novel is considered to be the most social of the literary forms,as it explores the human conditions through the use of narrative fiction and records mankinds struggle with itself in a social context. The great novels are deeply rooted in socio-cultural tradition which is a sum total of actions,habits,customs,and believes of an organic community.

Train to Pakistan is one of the classics of modern Indo-Anglian Fiction.It mirrors a picture of the bestial horrors inacted on the Indo-Pakistan border during the terror haunted days of August 1947. The "leaders" has sown the seeds of communial suspicion and the partition was the result.Like the whirlwind, the mad act of partition was uprooting masses of humanity,mingling them,and throwing them across the border in heap after heap.

Mano Majra a border village on the bank of the Satluj,with a railway bridge spaning the river was known for peaceful co-existence and communal harmony. But 1947 was not like other times.Suspicion and viloence has griped the year and an ill-wind carried them even to little oases of communal harmony like Mano Majra .

Mano Majra is an example of Indian culture par excellence. It is inhabited by a Hindu family of Lala Ramlal, Sikhs, and Muslims.They live peacefully without any malice towards one another. Khushwant Singh has very beautifully described Mano Majra which has three brick buildings--one is the home of Lala Ramlal,the other two are the Sikh Temple and the Muslim Mosque. These three buildings enclosed a triangular shape with a large Peepul Tree in the middle. Mano Majra thus represents India transcending the regional boundaries.

The bridge mentioned in the novel bridges the gap between the Sikhs and the Muslims. The final act occurs on the bridge where everything is set to kill the Muslims going to Pakistan by train. It is triumph of Love and Sacrifice. Jugga who is 'Badmash' is surprisingly surcharged with fine emotions and tries his best to save the Muslims from being killed. The Train to Pakistan does not carry the dead bodies of the muslims, it carries rather a message for people living on the other side of the border. Mr. Singh attempts through exposition of a very many problems of Indian Society has been confronted with for age together. A man who laughs and makes all laugh for the sake of life......and love.

" let the dead have the immortality of fame

but the living the immortality of laugh and love."

By Amar Pratap Singh

Department of Linguistics

Banaras Hindu University

From Dusk Of Hopelessness To Dawn Of Hope!

Life has become a starless night,there are no stars and hence no ray of hope. Everyone has left him and drowned in the sea of sorrow,all the time he only weeps and contemplates--"What is my fault? When and where I committed the sin? I was always helpful to others,always holding them in times fo trouble and now why nobody is there to hold me in the test of time.My loved ones left me in the dark,so that I can never come out. Pessimism has become the definition of my life. Everyday when I sleep I hope the next morning can bring a ray of positivity for me but every morning is as dark as the starless night. At times, I feel I should commit suicide but I don't know from where some force holds me and I stop myself. May be somewhere in the starless night, there is a moon which is not visible now but I think when clouds of sorrow will disperse and moon will be visible, I will definitely come out of this dark room and I know the dawn of hope will either engulf me or I will merge in my Almighty."

Manjari Shukla

M.A. (Previous)

Department of English

Banaras Hindu University

The Chamber Of Secrets

It was the chamber of secrets

It was the Gas Chamber, where

The number of deaths remained a secret

He was the omnipotent

The chamber was his battleground

He was the legislative, executive and judiciary

He was the all-in-one of his pandemonium

One day the things turned around

The executive was himself executed in the chamber

The chamber turned out to be a boomerang

A labyrinth indeed

The creation turned out a destroyer of his creator

It was the chamber of secrets

It was the gas chamber.

Tuhin Majumdar

M.A. (Final)

Department of English

Banaras Hindu University

So Shy Am I ?

When I summon all my courage

To march ahead and ask

What is your name I realise

Thats not a simple task.

I know you name,you know it well
The plan is superflop,

The prologue of my talk will be

The climax of my hope.

I found a plan so wonderful

I gonna as you time

But then alas! my damn wrist

I have a watch of mine.

I have a thirst unquenchable

Your bottle I may seek

But with no former acquaintance

I know not what you'll think.

If directly I would proceed

And with you shake my hands

Before my intensions you read

I'll say now we are friends,

But what to do if enraged you

Will slap me on my face

The pain in Hell I may endure

But never such disgrace.

To gain your tender sympathy

I had a plan so weird

Appreared with my hair uncombed

And uprgown moustache beard.

When that plan failed, I took the blade

And brushed through all my chin,

My gender was in danger when

They calld me androgyne.

If for some strange coincidence,

I sometimes could you see

To talk or not to talk that is

The question posed to me.

Before I could answer to that

Question positively

Beholding me as if a ghost

You with your friends do flee.

I can from the Airtel tower

For your sake jump and die

But how come vis-a-vis dear

Express my feelings I?

I am no handsome macho-man

Nor am i so well built

For losers like me dreaming such

Is also called a guilt.

Still my feeling is still for you

It will not diminish

You may not come, but I will wait

I have that only wish.

By Umesh Patra

M.A. (Previous)

Department of English

Banaras Hindu University

happy hamlet's day

..the aesthetic overlapping..of the blue over the red!..

..a perfectly unfamiliear face in a perfectly familiar nook..

..a perfect manifestation..of a bluish ambition..a bloody moment of perfection..a perfect chance for proliferation..

..imposition of matters over the utterances of perfected procrastination..and for sure a perfect procrastination it was..

a christ for me and a third christ to make me his destiny

..and as for the evening i would be alone,surrounded by darkness and silence:and in that moment of supreme tenderness i would be transfigured..i would be 'transfigured'..weakness and timidity and inexperience would fall from me in that 'magic moment'!..

..and there would be a hamlet,the eternal priest of imagination..he would be to make you feel the momentum of terrible breathing..and of my profane baptism..and of the thoughts that are going to change the tears with utmost inability---the most gracious inability of existence..

..and i would be there to make you exist 'without you' 'tomorrow,tomorrow and tomorrow' without failing..

i would pretend to be a hamlet
for i am hamlet

and hamlet is me..

..and i would be your hamlet to console you with his words..for he is the progenitor of our species..

..there is enough excuse to declare the brazen death of time for i can not tolerate you to tolerate these my words;

"time was,time is but time will no longer be"

..but before that i must reincarnate 'me' to be cadence of 'Him'-the brightest of all angels..

..salvation awaits hamlet..as it does you and me..

..so, i wish you "a very happy hamlet's day"



By e!amnot chatterjee
M.A. (Previous)
Department of English
Banaras Hindu University

TRAP

Coming out from my studied reverie,

I decide to bare myself in words

And I was lost in myself so deep;

A Known syllabus-chained bachelor threats a brat

And whack him into the heap.

Hovering rebellion captures his soul and mind

Consciously my bachelor eaves drops a breaking sound

He delates but the brat confused

Second and minute both at them frowned

The brat-amateur, turns into fury

And smashes all the time-stamped separations.

To show a stifling ones destination

Suddenly awakening with liberty splashed perspiration

I saw, the brat is now that bachelor one

And he---me beside my studied operation.

By Gourab Singha

M.A. (Previous)

Department of English, BHU

What am I ???

By Maneesh Rai

M.A. (Previous)

Department of English, BHU

What am I ?

Merely a cold bundle of nerves!

Or a swing in Vacuum

The one that to yet God serves

Or a part of an eternal continuum?

A degenerate progeny of A. and E¹.

Or an elevated man will I be.

Nothing is sure, nothing certain

Why to live and how to attain

The Eternal Bliss!

The Eternal Bliss!

OKOT P’BITEK,

A Minstrel of Pensive Love not just a poet in Song Of Lawino.

For so heart touching the song has been.

Of life 'O' Lawino you stand on the desert,

And go far and beyond with wrecked heart.

By Sabya Sachi Gayen

And again O graceful poetry of English,

Monopolize you what heavenly Bliss.

So reaches the falcon in what Afro-soil,

And roosts there with no trouble and toil.

Hence mesmerize your sharp eyes whose mind

In an Ugandan poet your all spells find.

O unique art of ringing the wedding bell

Between English and Acoli exhibits not to fail.

So cultural centre in that country capital

Along you become director of theatre national

And song of Lawino, one of the great masterpiece

Which to enjoy no one should miss

And here Lawino, O poor Acoli damsel

In what manner is stained your wedding bell.

Where is your husband so debauchee Ocol

Seems to me, nothing but a poor soul

Enchanted by the beauty in the west

Bleeds your heart, Oh! Lawino he at best.

Ah! Glorious Acoli culture on the stage of earth

Of life O Lawino you stand on the desert,

And go far and beyond with wrecked heart.

P’Bitek makes you to take rebirth.

Oh! no! at the burden of cultural description

O Lawino, becomes your pain a notion.

Oh! Weep! Weep! Lawino weep quite loud,

Evacuate from your mind the cloud,

Of pain, emotion and that pensive love

Eh! Becomes you a symbol o’ sweet dove

Of not your culture but all Afro worlds

Thus what golden fresco of love moulds

But Alas! What stigma in on your portion

As rebukes Lawino in so caustic motion.

Hay! P’Bitek! Have you done what mess?

Really, the more you darken her face.

Not the way you have to show her pain,

Makes your pen not her, a lover but insane.

But yet your lines in course repeat

In a tragic grandeur, in order to meet.

Eulogize I with honour your nice attempt

Along the style of verse everyone to tempt.

And hence with the unique craft of your hand

A new horizon of English, there expand.

Of love you attune what unholy dirge,

Which is the emotion, yet to submerge.

O holy minstrel of incredible Acoli-land

In what way your lyrics you command,

Ah! Ends it in a very tragic note

But justifies in global stage a culture remote.

And thus play you with your dark violin

Sabya Sachi Gayan 
M.A. (Previous)
Department of English, BHU

LALI…An Oracular Identity

Cuty look, with dreamy eyes,

Lali, with the shades of light,

Sporty fawn, with hairy chain,

Have the mighty power intense,

In nature’s pampering paradise, with exhaultation,

With the guests of assertion.

Halt my Eve! From the words of Satan;

Oh! That delicate flower trodden, under the feet of convention;

Nay! She’ll not bury her someone’s surname,

Neither will wait for a cherubim to rescue from heinous surface,

Hail! The golden rays of enlightenment,

Now, let my discretion stir my recognition

I’ll expand my Lali on the darken canvass,

That’s my destination.

By Pooja Kushwaha
M.A. (Previous)
Department of English, BHU

THE LAMP

THE LAMP

BY Pritish Midya

M.A. (Previous)

Department of English, BHU

The charming day departed soon

And all warmth gone

Evening creeps then imperceptibly

And darkness shrouds the whole gloomy sky.

Beside a stagnant window

You sit alone like a deaf

But a lamp at a distance

You can never see.

A denigration demur…

Then density come and deride…

Oh! The cruel past!

Never come, never come

Behold her!

She tries to shy

But not like the sun.

She may be fowl, but she is fair

She may be holy, she is sinner

Yet when the dark night passes away all

There the lamp stands still

But who knows……………………….?