Words: 1979 – 2010
Published
by:
Aadi
Publications, 18, Jain Bhawan, Opp. N.B.C. Shanti Nagar, Jaipur – 302 006, (2012).
(A Collection of Poems)
D. C. Chambial
Acknowledgements
I owe my grateful thanks to the editors of these
journals/magazines in which one or more of these poems have been published:
Art
and Poetry, Bharat Protiva, Bizz-Buzz, Bridge-in-Making, Canopy, Contemporary
Vibes, Creative Forum, Cyber Literature, Deshkal, Eureka, Explorer, Indian Book
Chronicle, Indo-Asian Literature,
Journal of Indian Writing in English, Journal of Post-Colonial
Literatures, Kafla, Kohinoor, Metverse Muse, New Horizons, Poet, Poetry Time, Poetry
Today, Poets International, Reflections, Replica, Samvedana, Scholar, Shine,
Skylark, the Future, The Quest, Triveni,
Voice of Kolkata; the Weeklies: The Palampur Reporter, The Himachal Reporter; the Sunday Magazine Sections of daily
Newspapers: Indian Express, and The
Tribune, (all Indian).
Lotos,
The Shell (Yugoslavia), Archenoah,
Log (Germany), Zenit (Austria), the Mawaheb, Plowman (Canada), Manxa (Spain), Perigramma (Greece), Prophetic
Voices (USA).
I also owe my gratitude
to the editors of the following anthologies for including my poems in their
anthologies: Indian Verse by Young Poets
(1980), Modern Trends in Indo-Anglian
Poetry (1982), Prevalent Aspects of
Indian English Poetry (1983-84), Busy
Bee Book of Contemporary Indian English Poetry (2007), Brave New Wave (2009), Poets
for World Peace Vol. II (2010), Poets’ Paradise (2010), Capriccio (Germany, 1999), Liebesgedichte (Germany, 2000).
And also to such other
publications that I, in the long course of my writing career of more than 40
years, might have forgotten and lost copies of them.
I am also grateful to
Dr. Atma Ram, Ex- Education Adviser to the Govt. of Himachal Pradesh, Prof.
Shiv K. Kumar, Indian English major poet and critic of renown, and Dr Jaydeep
Sarangi, a critic, who have not only wrote ‘Foreword’ to my previous
anthologies that were published individually but also encouraged me in my
interest in this genre of creativity. I also express my thanks to Sh. PCK Prem
who has been kind enough to go through my poems and make some valuable
suggestions.
I shall be failing in
my dharma (duty) of a writer, if I do
not express my gratitude to Aadi Publications, in general, and Mr. Deepak Jain,
in particular, who took special and personal interest in the publication of
this book.
Preface
Poetry writing, for me, has
been a natural process of creation, as a response to the sudden joggle to my
poetic sensibility at the sight of some particular spectacle, emotional
response to some reading, prevalent poverty, corruption, and social bias of
human beings in the society, and also of gender discrimination, besides the
hiatus that our system has created in the society, scams, and siphoning of the
public money for personal benefit to get opulent in this country of the poor people
who are dying for want of food whereas tons of grain is rotting in our stores.
The poetic process, as I
construe, is very much akin to a biological process of procreation. Like the
two human beings, male and female, who meet to conceive a child, the external
stimulus and human sensibility come together and the idea of a poem, or any
work of art, is imagined. After conception, a
period of gestation is must, which varies from species to species; similarly,
the idea conceived, with the help of external stimulus in a sensitive mind,
needs some time for gestation, a period for the
maturity of the idea, to develop into a coherent and organic thought. This
period or time for the ripening of thought also varies from one creative person
to other. And, when the thought has matured in the mind of the poet/artist,
he/she becomes desperate to bring it forth, like the mother, who can’t help
giving birth to the young one after the period of gestation and embryonic
development is over; the artist becomes restless in delivering the
poem/artifact, in concrete form, and giving it a life. After the creation is
over, the creative artist heaves a sigh of relief and feels satisfied, like the
mother having delivered the child. This work of art, poem/artifact, also lives
its life and faces stiff struggle to exist. The successful ones live and attain
fame, while the unsuccessful ones are lost in the drains of time. The
poem/artifact, which attracts immediate attention of the readers and critics
alike, can be said to be successful and passes the test of time and becomes “A
thing of beauty and joy for all”; and, the one, that gets little or no
response, fails to survive and is discarded.
I also believe in the poetic
theory, of “plurisignation” propounded by Philip Wheelwright, in his book, The
Burning Tree (1952), and consider a poem good that evokes varied responses
from the readers and the critics. It not only delights but also instructs,
simultaneously.
This edition of Collected
Poems has poems of my two more anthologies published separately: The
Mellow Tones (2009), and Words, the latest one appears for the first
time in the present collection. These are my offerings for the readers and
critics interested in poetry. It’s their judgment that counts for all work of
art.
February 2011 DC
Chambial
For
Sienna
(My
grand-daughter)
INTRODUCTION
Indian English poetry,
after the 1980s, has extensively grown, with a large number of poets writing
variously. It also looks chaotic with the looming presence of the already
established poets. The two features, in fact, make it a complex task to
appraise new talents despite the merits they evince.
It is unfortunate that
the media backed critics, academicians and scholars continue to appreciate the
canon, and often act as detractors, when it comes to even acknowledge the
presence of new voices. Their resistance to or rejection of without reading
several promising but self-published poets bespeaks their prejudices, if not
open condemnation, which needless to say, not only discourages readers and
researchers but also warrants ‘death’ of the genre.
Yet, there are some
positive signs: there are a few committed editors, poets, critics, reviewers
and some academicians who have kept the quest for worthy poets on. They
continue to promote new talents and new researches.
Like the several poets
of the 1980s and 1990s, D.C. Chambial as a poet, has added to the diversity and
innovativeness of the genre and among them he succeeds in establishing himself
with his considerable creative output and poet excellences. His poetic oeuvre
reflects a rare maturity. As a multilingual talent, Chambial explores the
present, putting on the masks of a peasant, a lover, a humanist, an observer,
and a reformer, with the sole purpose of establishing peace and order in the society,
and harmony between human and Nature. Apart from a wide range of thematic
concerns such as corruption, suffering, death, degeneration of values and
society at large, socio-political concerns and man-woman relationship, the
predominant themes in Chambial are Nature, ecological concerns and
eco-consciousness which functions at two levels- aesthetics and mysticism.
Nature breathes and
speaks prominently in his multifarious verses. The Nature scenery,
particularly, that of Kangra, H.P., the home of the poet, has made a great
impression on him. Almost all his poems contain some description or reference
related to Nature or Nature related objects. His poetry encompasses the Kangra
landscape: ‘dark hills’, ‘mountains’, ‘rivers’, ‘swift rivulets’, flora and fauna,
combined at times with its habitat. Nature is so deeply infused in his poetry
that one might even go to the extent of designating him as a Nature poet. In
his delineation of naturescapes, the poet seems to be akin to the Romantics.
For instance:
blent in the
grains of sand,
transpires into
the hue of marigold
and scent of rajanigandha
and the leaves
green
full of hope
and life serene.
i’m one with
nature
and drink deep
from her store. (‘In Harmony
with Nature’)
The lines are highly
sensuous and are full-tinted portraiture of Nature with all vocabulary that is
necessary for communicating the attire and action of a favourite scene. The
above lines remind one of Keats’ ‘Ode to a Nightingale’:
I cannot see
what flowers are at my feet
Nor what soft
incense hangs upon the boughs
But..., guess
each.
Apart from the
positively presented images of Nature one also finds the darker sketches of
Nature in poems such as, ‘Dark Deep’,
‘Marina Beach, Madras’, ‘An Old Man’, ‘The Stones’ and others. Chambial’s
Nature poems that contain the dark aspect possess affinities with the
Victorians: “Nature red in tooth and claw”. For instance:
Cold and stolid
stones
senseless and
apartheid
wriggle with
spades and
sickles
atop murderous
hills
erode into
sands (‘The
Stones’)
This aspect reflects
the poet’s concern for both Nature and Man and is meant to sensitize the
readers to the havoc caused by man and man made machines on Nature and its
repercussions. The poet envisions humans in harmony with Nature and vice-
versa:
I feel the body
disintegrating
and flying in
the air
above the
Himalayas;
flows down to
the coolest oceans; (‘In Harmony with
Nature’)
Chambial’s broodings
over Nature actually point to two major concerns: aesthetics and mystical
experience: his self- conscious use of Nature imagery into the fabric of his
aesthetics. The psychological relationship the poet and Nature is the creative
afflatus. In terms of aesthetics it can be described as the internalisation of
natural imagery and exteriorisation through poetry.
Further, his conception
of Nature has affinities with mystic experience as discerned in the works of
the Romantics like Wordsworth, S.T. Coleridge, Shelley, Keats. Underlying the
whole fabric, the whole intricacy of decoration there is the inspiration/
desire for spiritual perfection in Nature. W.T. Stace in his book, Mysticism and Philosophy, avers that
mystical experience can be classified as either extroverted or introverted. In
introverted mysticism the environment is lost. Extroverted mysticism is a
Nature experience wherein one can sense being a part of something for longer
than one’s individual ago and feel connected to Eternity:
I’m one with
Nature
and drink deep
from her store. (‘In Harmony
with Nature’)
This state of being is
complete and in its fullest. It is the blissful state where the soul
experiences a complete communion with Nature. In fact, it is the threshold of
spirituality.
Further, the following
lines aptly restate the sublime intuition of oneness:
When you
bechance to be
there in the
mountains
you feel free.
And cry
in the heat of
the moment. (‘Cruel
Hour’)
The poem ‘Misty
Reality’ bespeaks God’s grandeur manifested in Nature:
I see the
myriad beauties
On this side of
the hill
And perfect
darkness
On the other.
Willy-nilly
flow like water
From this to
that
Forgetting
about
The colour and
creed
And be one
there.
Go
with a hope
To be part of
the myriad:
Who has seen
this
Dream become a
reality?
In the poem there is
the soul’s urge to be a part of the myriad beauties of Nature and to experience
the feeling of blessedness and ecstasy through the unitive state but the
reasoning mind doubts the accomplishment of this state:
Who has seen
this
Dream become a
reality?
The interrogative mind
shakes the senses from the state of trance. D.C. Chambial appears as a
quasi-mystic poet as most of his Nature poems capture and articulate the state
of mind which is filled with awe, urgency and fascination. For instance:
A beautiful
home exists beyond:
Without roof
and without floor.... (‘Beautiful
Beyond’)
Here is an
Aurobindonian urge to go beyond spatial boundaries, i.e., in vastness. Being
beyond space and time is the highest state of objectivity or reality. Moreover,
the lines echo Robert Frost’s ‘Mending Walls’.
A similar kind of
experience is reflected in the following lines, echoing Krishna Srinivas:
I feel
A falcon
freedom
To fathom
The deepest
skies.
And
have a glance,
Of the BEYOND
Where FULLNESS
Abounds all
around:
The
fullness of Kalpas
And even
beyond... (‘A
Falcon Freedom’)
Here, again one comes
across the unitive state where every object dissolves in one, oneness and one
envisions luminosity, the cosmic light that is so radiant that one cannot
withstand. It is in state that the soul experiences a falcon freedom.
Apart from the themes
discussed above the other large themes that might be pursued through Collected
Poems include: appearance and reality, the actual and the ideal, suffering,
good and evil, the links between art and life, and Nature and human beings.
The imagery a poet uses
is one way he gives life to his themes. D.C. Chambial’s poems are mirrored by
their characteristic imagery, which is beautiful, realistic, striking and
precise. The images that recur in his poetry are of many kinds. Images from
Nature form an integral part of his poetry. ‘Flowers’, ‘mountains’, ‘trees’,
‘valleys’, ‘sun’, ‘river’, ‘hills and peaks’, ‘snow’ and the celestial images
have been frequently pointed out to create therapeutic effect to the readers
amidst sordidness and barrenness. These images also convey the poet’s strong
Romantic flare for Nature and also play a vital role in the understanding of
his aesthetic ambitions and achievements.
The animal images (such
as ‘wolves’, ‘rats’, ‘cats’, ‘dogs’, ‘fox’, ‘crows’, ‘owls’, ‘hawks’,
‘vultures’ and others) are used mainly to depict degeneration, corruption,
anarchy and chaos. His poetry also presents a series of pictures of modern city
life through images of dirt and animal imagery.
In D.C.Chambial
pathetic fallacy is a remarkable feature. The poet personifies the Nature
objects to partake of human emotions:
The sun’s gone,
the moon wails,
meteors play funny tricks. (‘Cargoes of Bleeding Hearts’)
The lines display a
power of beauty ordaining the sad tranquilling of sky and sunset.
Chambial’s verses also
exemplify economy of expression and precision. For instance:
A spark
to ashes
ashes spark.
A
star
to night
night dawns. (‘Evolution’)
This is lyrically
mystical and rhythmically spiritual. The poet displays great vareirties, both
from poem to poem and within individual poems. He prefers irregular rhyme to
end rhyms to create a greater effect, for a sudden tightening-up, for an abrupt
change of mood. For example:
Virtue weeps
bitterly:
Silently sobs
dew, satan smiles
At his success.
(‘Virtue
Weeps’)
The poet also employs
assonances and alliterations in abundance that has much of the echoing and
wielding effect of full rhymes. The following lines a la Krishna Srinivas are an illustration of this:
In these
momentous moments
Time melts
Personal pains,
All is a grand
gala of
Guileless beatitude (‘Momentous
Moment’)
D.C. Chambial also
experiments with the stanza pattern. His stanza patterns vary from poem to
poem. It could either be a three-liner, a quatrain, a five-liner like tanka, a
couplet, or a sonnet form. His shorter verses reflect the economy and urgency
of lines.
F.R. Leavis in his book
The Great Tradition (1948) states,
“words in poetry invite us, not to think about and judge but to feel into or
become.” D.C. Chambial’s verses play the same role. Since they are devoid of
cerebral puzzles, they provide more comfort and ecstasy. His verses give us the
impression of an eye that detects and communicates most simply and effectively.
Dhanbad R.K. Singh
Rajni Singh
BOOK ONE: BROKEN IMAGES (1983)
1. THE
STONES
Cold and stolid
stones
senseless and
apartheid
wriggle with
spades and
sickles
atop murderous
hills,
erode in sands,
tarry on
ensor edge,
vacillate like a pendulum;
pole to pole
in a vain hope
of
of dole.
2. VOLCANO
Life —
an urge to go
to deeper recesses
but annulling
force
of buoyancy
doesn’t relax
until volcano
erupts.
Agastya gone
to south
weary Vindhyas await
in dolorous hope
of return.
It
gushes to satiate
heat of the
soil,
enthralling
melody simmers
on the waves:
it is mermaid.
Quest is over.
Storm is calm.
3. IN A TRANCE
Words
gyrate like
falcons
in the skeletal
sky,
flow in streams
of passions
past emotional
hills
and sentimental
valleys,
clouds gather
overhead
to give myriad
shapes
to colliding
thoughts.
Image
after image
appear on the
blank canvas
pregnant with
sun and snow
and prismatic
glow.
Withdraw
in awe
in pleasing
dread
to enjoy the
blissful
from a distance
in trance.
4. SUBMISSION
A cold
ball of fire
by and by
sinks into
the sea of mist,
earth and heaven
cover themselves
in compromising
pose,
submit to divine
urge.
5. A BLADE OF
GRASS
A gush
of sobs and sighs
lifted the
flimsy window screen
and amidst
whirlpool
of warm tearful
pearls
spread forth her
apron to gather
starry jewels.
Impatient
heart tossed
in ebbs and
tides
rocked like a
tong of bell.
Cargoes
of thoughts
lay scattered
near sand-dunes;
greenery leered
to see her
tremble
like a blade of
grass
and fall down
a rootless tree
in storm.
6. INCARNATE
It has been
raining;
lost in
meditation there sits
the solitary
survivor
post-deluge
relic
and recalls:
coffee, beer,
whisky,
ball, cigarette
and lighter,
lights in
fluorescence,
rockets, steps
on Moon,
skyscrapers,
Skylabs,
even discovered
Jupiter’s tail.
A
rumble of tremor
shakes the roots
in rhyme and
time to mongrel hoot.
Smoke wriggles
in blank
From the
ash-tray.
A
couple in waist-deep dance
in galore of
frivolities,
ravished
mountains
melt into dark
and gloom.
Dogs bark;
she upbraids
skirt
to show
bottle-legs,
sighs deep.
A dotard
lingers,
she giggles.
Roars tractor;
plays on flute.
Sun goes down—
a king
dethroned.
Smoke shrouds
the mango grove
to dance with
clouds
on a carbon
carpet.
Down
there in paddy fields
a song booms to
day’s toil
while birds wing
homeward.
The
solitary survivor
rubs his eyes
out of past
dreams,
chants mantras
to invoke
another
sun-incarnate.
7. THE
REVERBERATIONS
There
was no sound
when you cried
yourself hoarse;
in despair fell
down,
sound did echo
over hills and
in dales.
In
either case
there was none
to catch the
reverberations
the real
message.
8. OCEAN OF
DESPAIR
Smile
on face
goes on
pilgrimage.
Dead stones
wail like Niobe
by cold water.
Hot snow and
cold fire
fire in the
cloud of dust
a fountain of
blood.
Lava boils in
womb.
Hills
tremble, weeps sky …
a stream of pensive
smoke
flows into an
ocean of despair.
Ashes …
Earth
and heaven
in wedlock at
horizon.
9.
IDENTIFICATION
Roads
in zigzag
snail
from various
sides
and reach an
end,
a blind hole.
No exit.
10. HUMAN FAITH
Argentine
peaks of yonder hills
disseminate
crystals
of calm,
gladness and purity
to the environ
around,
collide with
sound of sedition
in metropolis.
Lizards
and serpents
hiss in an
island,
eye at the sky.
Desert has no
bounds.
Virgin
hills!
Let honey flow
to those who
have eaten
the fruit
forbidden
and fiddle
with the infant
geriatrics
of human faith.
11. STEADFAST
Sixty
Winters and Summers sixty
I have seen:
bald hills and
white mountains
from the yard of
my thatch—
not flinch even
an inch.
Spring comes
from a ring
to deck the valley
at the foot of
the hill,
clouds thunder
and blast
over the rafts.
The Sun and Moon
have their
natural course.
Why should I,
then, stir
from my stance?
The
buds and petals
who I stalk
brand me an old
prig.
I am not
Polonius,
dear Hamlets!
12. LIFE
Life is
music
attuned by
maestro divine.
Pleasant
to those
who pick
and dance with
the song.
Jargon
to those
who fail to find
rapport
on the steps of
melody and heart.
14 MOON
Every
night the Moon
comes and goes
lives and
re-lives
by degrees.
Each
fortnight
lean thread to
full moon,
full moon to
lean thread
in an unending
rehearsal
on the stage of
firmament
enacts His
glory.
15. A TRIBUTE TO A HERO
(for Jayaprakash Narayan)
The
bird flew very high
on its last
voyage
to perch on the
citadel of fame
and sang a note
from the peaks
the valleys
reverberated.
The
flame flickered and burnt on
in storms and
cyclones
and like a
light-house
on the ‘perilous
seas’
guided the ship.
Light
flashed
in the welkin
of the troubled
land
to put the
digressed pilgrims
on the right
track.
Mountain
of courage stood
till the last
breath was out.
Invincible to
all the attacks,
harboured a
forest
of harmony
rooted in disharmony.
The
pillar stood fast
supporting the
mansion
rooted in the
lore
of rich
inherited faith,
bright hope.
Salubrious
air and pollens
of crystal free
thought
for the
cultivation of a rich crop
of rich and
prosperous people
free from the
weed.
Bird is
dead!
Flame is out!
Light has gone!
Flutter is in my
mind,
gleam, through
my heart.
Halo is around
my soul!
16. A CAPTIVE
How desperately
I’ve tried and
tried
to break the chakravyuha
of cobweb
around my
transparent self
by fencing with
shields and sabres
of words and
figures
borrowed from
fanciful fantasies.
Words envenom
sorrows,
figures weave a
cocoon of bliss
and captivate my
trans-poised self
in the soulful
effulgence.
17. MANACLES
Do not make me a
pet
like a bird in
cage
or puppy in the
lap
nor enthrall
in the manacles
of your hands.
Let me roam
far, far away
on the bank of a
placid river,
on the hills
clothed with snow,
sleep and dream
on the flossy
moss
by the brook.
Let me fly
beyond the
outskirts
of time and
space
to where maiden
bliss
kisses off
cares and
concerns.
18. SCIAMACHY
A swarm of
gnomes
rises
from an infernal
lake
towards the Sun
making
strange and
horrible sounds.
Jackals, wolves,
cats and rats
agog to see
rising betaals
to pin stemming
rays
from the Sun.
unmindful
we are engaged
in catatonic
sciamachy.
19. FRANTIC
RHYTHM
Through the
window
I see trees
dancing
to a frantic
rhythm
nurtured on
mountains,
deep in seas.
Yellow leaves
irresistibly
fling themselves
before the fury
of the wind.
Heaven denounces
hypocrisy,
apathy, selfishness,
lewd indulgence
in sensuality.
Icy gush of wind
from silvery
peaks
slaps my cheeks,
slams the door,
the moment
I try
to pry…
Thunder,
lightning,
codes of conduct
insignificant
when man
resolves to play
beast
and revert
to prehistoric
ogres
devouring
one another.
20. EVOLUTION
A spark
to ashes
ashes spark.
A star
to night
night dawns.
21. WAITING
Wait,
let me flow
down.
I bet, hard as
rock.
The heat of
dreamy eyes
melts me
into a molten
sea.
Hold up
and let me drop
inch by inch
glucose in
veins.
Frozen lake
awaits loving
hearts
to come and
softly spill
the honey of
their hearts
into the placid
pool
of dreamy eyes.
Agony anchored
deep in heart.
Who doesn’t know
emotions red
flow
from eyes in
wait?
22. ASHES
How tightly
pinned on the
table;
magnetic rays
from your
luscious lips
transfix heart
on the cross;
every tendon
tense.
Unable
to quench thirst
that singes mind
like forest
fire.
Smoke rises,
jealous air
blows the
cinders.
Images
f
a
l
l
one by one
like the big,
old deodars.
Ashes
calm and quiet.
Poor ashes!
23. MOSAIC
Soft
and serene petals bloomed
in dales of
heart, wither in awe;
weep, plunge
into whirlpool of despair.
A familiar
soprano manacles mind.
Earth revolves
and sinks down
into mire of
smoke.
Pearls down
marble cheeks.
Unable to
collect
in a palette
to weave them into
a mosaic
on the canvas of
time.
24. DAWN
Victory
over gloom
Of the night,
Gleeful smiles,
honey’d music
of divine
singers,
prayers of
innocent hands
burn frosty
incense
in the censer of
virgin pool
and blush
as open palms
join
for Dhaulagiri.
Dendron heads
stand
blood red before
the altar;
a morning
of live hope
dawns
to uncover ‘n’
absolve
sin of din.
0 comments: