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Daljit Singh’s recently
published poetic-collection, Bavrey Bol (October, 2001)
is a major work comprising 294 pages. This is the second book of
his poems in Punjabi, the earlier one being Sidhre Bol
(1998). In it he has touched many aspects of human degradation
due to corrupt practices in the public and private sectors. The
agencies employed for the welfare of the common people devise
new methods of exploitation. Nothing worthwhile filters through
the big churning that takes place concerning welfare schemes as
the process turns out to be an end in itself. The schemers are
now united as never before, while the persons at the receiving
end feel lonely and discarded:
Then
in the old
times
thieves were a
scattered lot.
Now
the case is
quite the reverse
you and I
(the suffering
lot)
are forlorn and
forsaken
(Then and Now)
The poet that
resides in the heart of Dr Daljit Singh (Padam Shri
Award-winner) is at variance with the prevailing situation in
this part of the world. He wants his fellow-beings to be on
their guard as the forces of darkness are closing in from all
the sides. He does not want them to be taken in by glib talk and
phony promises. He wants to thwart the efforts of the big guns
to hoodwink the people who are trustful by nature. They
generally repose full faith in others but find themselves before
long in the blind alley. Even the divine sanctuaries, mostly in
the countryside, fair to provide them the much need solace of
the mind. Mostly the birds of prey reside in these resorts where
spiritual capsules are handed round at regular intervals:
The vultures
have now altered entirely their life-style.
They no more
fly high
on their
sail-like wings
nor do they
build their nests
on top of his
trees
to embarrass
the passers-by
with their
droppings.
Their new
dwelling-places
are known to
everyone
as they spare
no one
from their bear
hug
tightening
ever.
(Where have the
vultures gone?)
Just as Bacon
sees but Shakespeare sees through, it can be said that while
others see, Daljit Singh sees through. He, no doubt, sees
through the games that the high-ups in the political and social
circles play. At the same time, he is fully conscious of the
changing patterns of existence. He can count on his fingers the
blessings of this age where medical science has made tremendous
progress.
His eyes are
set at the restoration of human dignity when there will be no
conflict between labour and capital and the warmth of
togetherness will lend a glow to every face. At present deep
down in his heart, the broken strings are vibrating in the
mid-air. He wants to join them so as to hear divine symphony in
the dome of his heart. In a way it is ‘the desire of the moth
for the star, of the night for the morrow’:
In this fog of
the times
I find it hard
to discern
the wholeness
of your presence.
Standing amidst
the multitudes
at the festival
ground
I wonder
who has been
lost
and who seeks
the other most?
(Who has been lost?)
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THE
person who is busy daylong, from the early dawn to the late
evening in diagnoses and eye-surgeries of one sort or another
is not happy with the present state of affairs. He is
disturbed that there is so much squalor, disease and poverty
around him. The dawn of freedom, more than five decades ago,
has belied the hopes of the masses for a better tomorrow.
Their aspirations have remained unrealised so far. With the
increase in population has increased the miseries of the
common people. The little bit that is ear-marked from time of
time for their betterment fizzles out at many stages. The
attempt to dole out what is left simply adds insult to the
injury. In his poem Nawan Yug, he says:
