Sunday, May 26, 2002		Books

HE is a well-known Punjabi poet. He is easily the most-travelled writer of Punjabi. The wanderlust has given birth to three interesting travelogues, including the one about his travels across the People's Republic of China. Harbhajan Halwarvi's latest collection of poems and ghazals, Pulan ton Paar (Navyug Publishers, New Delhi) appeared sometime ago.

Halwarvi has remained active in the Naxalite movement in early 70s, for which he was arrested and put behind bars. Some of his readings and writings are the product of this incarceration. But Halwarvi soon outgrew his early fixations and in the course of time de-ideologised himself to become a poet of the "eternal processes of nature" and of the complexity of human relations.

Says he: "Nadian lahu-narhan han/Dharti de sadaul jism dian/Inhan de panian 'ch hunde ne/Zindgi de anu/vigsian te gum hoian/Peerhian de aks/Sabhitawan de naksh/Ho sakan na add kadi/Dharti, nadi te zindgi" (The rivers are blood vessels on the muscular body of the earth. Their waters carry organic particles, along with impressions and images of those generations and civilisations that grew, flourished and disappeared on their banks. The earth, river and life are inseparable). The poet says that sometimes people with different ways of life live on the either side of the river. But there are bridges which join both the banks and the people living on them bind themselves in blood relations. Whenever the bridges are washed away by stormy rivers, they are built anew.

The poem Jashna de Din (the days of celebrations) is a bitter satire on the state of the Indian Republic as it is after 50 years of Independence. The poet in this poem exhorts the reader not to be unduly perturbed. He avers, "Don't take it to heart if the targets have not been achieved or if the caravans have gone astray or if the predators have joined them in the garb of hermits... what is there if voice prevails over virtue... or if the ideals and beliefs are shattered everyday... or if the gods and demons again churn the ocean together; whether nectar or venom comes out of it, don't bother."

The poem carries forward the same consciousness that had once forced the poet to take to the path of armed revolution. But now he can only lament or feebly grieve. He has made a number of compromises and sometimes in his disillusionment feels lonely. The poem "Ikall" (loneliness) has three movements. The poet says that the day's newspapers with their screeching headlines are knocking at his door. Despite the usual busy routine and the din of the day, the poet is unconsciously possessed by a spell of loneliness, unleashing a sad train of thoughts. This inner vacuum and silence grow on the heart. This loneliness and inner void could be the product of "broken images" littered all over the place. Many a writer with strong ideological moorings has fallen prey to this kind of disillusionment particularly, after the collapse of the socialist utopia.

Nikki Dunia (My little world) is a beautiful poem about the cognitive process and the appropriation of the world by an individual when he fans out in his surroundings. This is how being-in-itself becomes being-for-itself and then being-for-others. The individual's small world slowly expands into the infinite universe through the process of "knowing" and "doing" and thus assimilating it cognitively, making it a part of his consciousness.

The role of language in this adventure is emphasised in the poem Pachhan (identity). The use of words and expressions gives a unique identity to each individual. But this identity also turns out to be an illusion, a kind of maya of the Advaita Vedanta. In the poem Bharon the poet says, "Lorhda si kujh te kujh milda riha/Jo nahi si apna/Oh apna lagda riha/Par gumia kidhre/Jo rahinda bhalda/Tan hi aksar/Sanghne nehre 'ch dive balda/Karamat ho jan da/Koi bharam sochin palda". (What I got was at variance with what I desired. What didn't belong to me appeared as my own. I lost somewhere what I longed for. So I lighted the lamps in the inky darkness with loads of illusions in the mind hoping for a miracle to take place).

The birds of desire keep flying high and the poet gathers himself to assert that he has a lot of dash and stamina in the wings, no matter gusty winds are blowing around. In one of the ghazals the poet maintains, "Let there be gloworms, if not the stars in the dark night. I have scattered around the burning pieces of my smouldering existence". With this kind of disintegration, the poet waits for the ultimate message. In the poem Bulawe di Udeek (waiting for the call) the poet says, "I shall move forward as soon as I receive the call. Somebody will kindle my inert thinking and set it in motion. The thrill of the new journey will recharge the body. I may leave more footprints on the dusty paths...." So the poet moves on from one world to another. If Halwarvi, a senior journalist from Chandigrh, continues composing poems, he is likely to turn a little mystical and transcendental.