fहndi - Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwavidyalaya
fहndi - Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwavidyalaya fहndi - Mahatma Gandhi Antarrashtriya Hindi Vishwavidyalaya
She opended the door of my mother’s room.a familiar fragrance embraced me softlyIn that devotional ardour, I was taken abackwhen I saw many white rosesneatly arranged in a basketportraying something beyond realitythey were similar to the white roseI had carried from India.similar to the one I offeredevery year to my mother’s memoryon her death anniversarysimilar to the one, I was to offerto her memory, here in Rawalpindi.fgndi •April-June 2013 :: 77
7. LIFEThat day when I entereda magnificent wedding pandalthe fragrance of flowers, melody of musicthe fake smile of the newly-wedded couplethe mystic smoke of ceremonial firecould not capture my pulse, rathera strange loneliness stirred my soul,an unusual pain of withdrawalOverpowered my consciousnessI don't know why.That day when I attended the funeral ofmy friendthe real smoke arose fromthe burning human flesh whichportrayed something beyond realityI wondered what it was.A reawakening or a reality of lifeOr the end of an illusion?Or what?Is death freedom from relationship?Is death freedom from tomorrow?Is death freedom from emotions?Is death freedom from origin?Is smoke a material realization?Of beauty, of ugliness... or is it thewisdom of being without ego?Is it bliss... clarity and peaceOr what... ?Courtesy, Roli Books.Kusum Ansal, born 1940, is a leading author whose ouvre contains poetry, novels, shortstories and travelogues. Some of her well read books are—ek aur panchvati; pate badaltehain; weh aya tha; yadon ke hamsafar. She also writes in Punjabi. Her works have beentranslated into English, Greek and Russian, Kusum Ansal organises a literary forum ‘Samvad’and is actively associated with a number of social service groups. She lives in New Delhi.78 :: April-June 2013fgndi •
- Page 25 and 26: development of the idea of a worldl
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- Page 29 and 30: The Concerns of CriticismShambhunat
- Page 31 and 32: On the basis of feudal thinking the
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- Page 35 and 36: silent about Hazari Prasad Diwedi.
- Page 37 and 38: Imperialism. The imperialists had c
- Page 39 and 40: conventional reformers to evaluatet
- Page 41 and 42: expansion of knowledge emotions are
- Page 43 and 44: unprincipled propaganda takes place
- Page 45 and 46: drowning with shame or pride in it.
- Page 47 and 48: made criticism a pure literary subj
- Page 49 and 50: It is a great paradox that in an ag
- Page 51 and 52: how much they are mixing with it. M
- Page 53 and 54: peculiar way of protest against not
- Page 55 and 56: Radha Worship in Hindi LiteratureL.
- Page 57 and 58: valuable ornaments and clothes. His
- Page 59 and 60: literature in general and Hindi lit
- Page 61 and 62: Not only this the hunger which I go
- Page 63 and 64: 3. We the Janvadi PoetsWe are write
- Page 65 and 66: 5. A FarmerThis time paddy crophas
- Page 67 and 68: isolated, lonely and stained with p
- Page 69 and 70: 3. A COFFIN AND A BOTTLEIn this roo
- Page 71 and 72: The omnipresence of your super imag
- Page 73 and 74: As I look at the black and white pr
- Page 75: But when I touched the door of the
- Page 79 and 80: 2. TEA WITH DONNEGood Morning, dear
- Page 81 and 82: 4. HI, KRISHNA!Hi, Krishna!What’r
- Page 83 and 84: Malbe Ka MalikMohan RakeshJai Ratan
- Page 85 and 86: 'Everything else has changed but no
- Page 87 and 88: feet, on a brick path near the open
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- Page 91 and 92: 'So what happened?''Nothing happene
- Page 93 and 94: Mad DelightMohan Rakesh was as much
- Page 95 and 96: In continuous rhythmic movements, h
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- Page 101 and 102: stretching road ahead."And how much
- Page 103 and 104: the car."Tell me what do you want?"
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- Page 109 and 110: Rites for The DepartedChandrakantaR
- Page 111 and 112: gazing at the swiveling waves of th
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- Page 115 and 116: He won his mukti in that instant of
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- Page 119 and 120: The Voice Which was Progeny...Tarun
- Page 121 and 122: growl, blare and shouts had compell
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She opended the door of my mother’s room.a familiar fragrance embraced me softlyIn that devotional ardour, I was taken abackwhen I saw many white rosesneatly arranged in a basketportraying something beyond realitythey were similar to the white roseI had carried from India.similar to the one I offeredevery year to my mother’s memoryon her death anniversarysimilar to the one, I was to offerto her memory, here in Rawalpindi.fgndi •April-June 2013 :: 77
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