The past in the present tense
By Adil Jussawalla

I was four when Antione de Saint-Exupery’s plane was shot down off the coast of southern France. I was 15 when I began to read his Vol de Nuit (Night Flight) as one of our French texts at school. I was 17 when I first read a poem by Ted Hughes. I was 20 when I bought his second book Lupercal.

Now, at the age of 58, comes a surprise which involves both authors. One day I read that a bracelet that belonged to St. Exupery and parts of his plane are found on a creek near Marseille. The next day I read that Hughes is dead.

No one really knew exactly where St. Exupery had been shot down. Now a vital clue has surfaced. Some people knew where Ted Hughes was, whether shot down by critics or not. He lived in Devon. More people knew he was Britain’s Poet Laureate and husband Sylvia Plath’s. Very few people knew he had cancer.

So the past gives up its secrets, one by one. In January this year, not long before Hughes’ last secret was revealed, his publishers brought out Birthday Letters, poems addressed to his dead wife. That had been a secret he’d kept for about 25 years, the time-span the poems cover.

As for St. Exupery, not so long ago, it was revealed in a biography that though he did reconnaissance work for France and was shot down by the Germans, he was something of a fascist. Would he have preferred France to be more like Germany?

I’m not saying that the truth will out, sooner or later. Too many people have disappeared without trace, too many murderers have never been identified for me to believe that. Crime has been known to pay and the innocent, instead of the guilty, known to be punished.

What I’m saying is that in all present phenomena, there’s a presence of the past. Who better than ourselves to know it, who carry around such an accumulation of secrets within us, that it’s a wonder our eyes aren’t permanently clouded over? We who demand transparency of our governments and our public institutions can scarcely be transparent ourselves.

Knowing this, certain writers aim for transparency to break through the clouding of self. The poems of George Herbert and The Confessions of St. Augustine are nothing if not transparent. So also the poems of Kabir and Meera.

Closer to our time, we have the transparency of James Baldwin’s essays and the exorcising luminosity of Sylvia Plath’s later poems. With the past so much with us, such writing helps disperse our own clouds.

It’s the past and the historic oppression of his race that makes Baldwin say. "I want to be an honest man and a good writer." It’s a good principle for a writer to follow, the best I know.

— ANF

A ‘Rahi’ on poetic journey

By Naresh Goyal

PRITAM SINGH ‘RAHI’ has tried his hand at poetry in Punjabi and Hindi. He has written ghazals, songs, sonnets and even blank verses. A sincere appraisal of his poetic work establishes him as a poet of intensity. Rahi speaks his heart out in an enlightened way.

Unlike other poets Rahi’s style of expressing, visualising and defining things, thoughts, ideas and experiences is unique. He abstains from criticising or even citing the names of those poets who have made a mere mockery of poetry. This couplet expresses his feelings."

"Dard de maqtal ‘ch hovega ohna da hisaab,
bahar di khatar ghazal nu jo zibaah karde rahe."

Rahi has presented his feel in ghazal in a pathetic manner. Another couplet, says.

Ik paase raat da hanera hai,
ik paase deeva bujhia bujhia hai

Free poetry, though in vogue nowadays, doesn’t serve the purpose. Most poets who try their hand at it cut a sorry figure. However, Rahi seems an exception when he writes:

Is vaar aahlane di badli hai roop-rekha,
jee sadke aaye bijli laatan de sar ‘ch naah ke

and

"Ik parchhavan andar mere, ik parchhavan baahar,
parchhaven di deh de baajhon, hor na koi thahar,
dohan di seema nu langh ke, main kiddan langh jaavan!"

Punjabi poet and critic Satinder ‘Noor’, in an interview eulogised the ghazal as a perfect vehicle of expression without condemning free poetry and said it was very hard to engender intrinsic expressions in free poetry. Rahi defies this as his verses cast a grip on reader’s mind. Some extracts below.

"Is jeevan di dharti andar, kaun khidave phull gulabi,
is jeevan di dharti utte, uggia e har than te bhakhra."
"Phir koi lai ke baharaan aavega,
phir milega rooh nu khussia qaraar;
zindagi phir laayegi shola shingaar,
phir koi ‘maalkauns’ gaayega!"
"Ajj da din meri khatir hai sazaa,
be-wafaai teri mahkegi zaroor;
Latth javega mera sara gharoor,
phir utthega zindagi vich zalzala!"

‘Rahi’ has defined ‘love’ in a new shibboleth. Two verses penned by him describe it as under:

‘Eh ik vanaj avalla takkiya, mool hi palleon jaave;
Sukh khatir jis dar te jaayiye, dukh kase vich paave!"
"Ik tere didaar di khatir, jag vich gaye bagoye;
teri khatir layi namoshi, par tere na hoye!"

A beloved who is immersed in love but her lover is angry with her and doesn’t talk to her. The desperate girl, to persuade her armour, pleads, as enumerated by ‘Rahi’:

"Saun mahina kachi rut ve, andar sanghat baahar dhup ve;
kaalian badlian nehra ghup ve, utton vairia teri chup ve!"

‘Rahi’ has also composed a few songs that are beautiful and convincing indeed. Some snippets below:

"Chanani da ves pa ke, ghook sutti punnia;
raat di atthri jawani, roop di hai phuljhari!"

and

"Taarian de hans turde, dudh da sagar vage;
soch andar vang chhanki, yaad di jaagi pari!"

Born in October, 1936, Rahi is associated with various publications. In the 60s, he started a journal ‘Darshan’ when he was in high school. Another Punjabi journal Muhandra was brought out in 1968.

The first book of his Punjabi poems, Karuna came in the market in 1960 and since then he has never looked back.

Needless to say, he has hundreds of poems, songs and couplets to his credit. ‘Rahi’ has, so far given 11 books of Punjabi poetry which include - Kachnar, Kaya de rukh, Kanjakan, Karuna, Atthra Ghora, Parat dar Parat and Sukke pattan di dastak. His lone book of Hindi poems, titled "Vriksh, deewar aur andha kuan, edited by Basant Kumar ‘Ratan’ hit the market three years ago. In addition to this, more than a dozen books of various languages have been translated by him into Punjabi.

The book Jaljeev is for children and has been published in both Punjabi and Hindi.

Ghazals, sonnets and songs penned by him have been published in leading publications but he has never been bestowed with any reward of honour. Responding to a query, Rahi quips: "To acquire any honour, you have to grease the palms of the concerned ones, which I have never done."

Rahi is the only Punjabi poet in the Malwa region of Punjab who has not only done M.A. in five subjects but also has passed D.Sc. (ayurvedic). He, first, served at Mastuana, near Barnala (his native place) and then in 1970 he got a job as a lecturer in Punjabi in S.D. College, Barnala (Sangrur district) from where he retired last year.

Asked about how his interest developed ‘Rahi’ recollects that in 1947 at the time of Partition when he was barely 11 he carried home a heap of books from a deserted Muslim’s house, as he had temptation of reading books right from his childhood.

At this, his grandfather got furious and ordered him to throw away all the books. According to him, this shocked him very much and from that day he vowed to write innumerable books.

When asked about his place in literature ‘Rahi’ reeled off a couplet just to answer this question:

Mit gayian paidan da main safar haan,
Anjaanian raahan di raah-guzar haan;
dinon din jehadi hai ghatdi ja rahi,
us sadi di main yaaro umar haan!