The Female Principle in Ashwatthama

          While translating Ashwatthama, a song-drama by Madhav Prasad Ghimire, I was struck with the way in which he made use of mother images. The astamarikas (goddess-mothers) protect the earth in the eight cardinal points of the compass, the shrike protects the eggs in the nest, the pregnant Woman pleads for the protection of the baby in the womb, the bitch breast-feeds the human child, and the earth's atmosphere protects it form the ultra violet rays of the sun. The conceptual, the natural, the human and the animal mother figures have the same role: that of protecting the child.

         This leads me to wonder how Kali, the supreme mother figure, features in this play. Joseph Campbell, a modern authority in mythology, sees Kali both as a preserver and a destroyer of life. He explains Kali to Fraser Boa thus:

         In the East, these two are put together in the wonderful goddess Kali. The word kali means black time, that time out of which all things come and into which all things return. Seen in these two aspects, one is the giver and one is the taker of life. She is represented with four hands. One right hand says, "Don’t be afraid." The other right hand offers you a bowl of rice. One left hand carries a sword, and in the other she holds a head, which she has severed. This is the goddess representing the totality of the life dynamic. (78-79)

In The Great Mother, Eric Neumann analyses the positive and the negative elementary character of the Great Mother. Kali has two aspects: she is both the World Mother (jagad-amba) and the Terrible Mother. However, this double function of the fundamental female principle needs further explanation because what she destroys is also what could otherwise have destroyed life. The demon she has killed, Mahisha of the Asura tribe, represents an anti-life thrust in the selfishness of unlimited personal ambition and pride. The All-In-All in Ashwatthama stands for tyrants with such ambition and pride.

         It is a textually significant coincidence that in Act V Song 3 the All-In-All says. "Perhaps the thunderbolt shattered the kali stone." Although the feminine adjective kali in this context means nothing more than black, it nevertheless has a resonance of Goddess Kali, the spiritual mother, also because the Soldier—a sympathizer-father of the child—has just accused the All-In-All of having smitten the child's mother with the agni weapon. The "kali stone" is meant to describe the biological mother of the child as someone who is as huge and ugly as a massive, ill-formed, black stone. Nevertheless, Neumann's assertion that a stone can also symbolize the Great Mother must be noted:

         Rock and stone have the same significance as mountain and earth. Accordingly, it is not only the mountain that is worshipped as the Great Mother but also rocks representing it—and her. (44)

         An assertion of similarity between a black stone and the mother goddess may appear forced, even though it is part of the Oriental practice to worship a (black) stone as a deity. Yet, the mother in Act V symbolizes the earth as well, which, if cut into two by war, will be unable to support human life. This leads me then to yet another mother image, namely, the metaphorical Earth Mother: "When sawed apart, even Earth Mother dies" (V. 5. 14).

         The stage direction in the beginning of Act V Song I describes a white line in the middle of a deep cavern in which darkness is infinitely extended. This white line divides two warring countries and serves as a shifting frontier between them. In Act V Song 4, the stage direction reads:

                  Inside the cavern on the one side of the white line the conquered country lies in darkness while on the other side in the victorious country night is bright as day with torches. Today, they are celebrating victory there.

Thus Ghimire presents a symbolic division of the world into two. This is a further reinforcement of another symbolic representation of the same in Act V Song 1:

Clutching an infant in her arms, a woman

with loosened hair runs screaming for help.         

In frenzy, the agni weapon smites her in half.

She falls like a sapling ripped by lightning.

 

Half the mother's side remains; the child unhurt,

Reposing on her shoulder, sucks the nipple yet,

The more the milk does not flow, the more it

                           sucks away,

it worries more that the mother does not move at

                           yet.

         It worries more that the mother does not move at yet.

 

This then is the situation of Earth Mother torn by wars and human beings striving to thrive on this planet.

         According to Neumann, in a basically matriarchal stage, the "fundamental symbolic equation of the feminine" is woman = body = vessel = world (43). The belly-vessel symbolism ultimately leads to the claim that the Great Mother is at once a giver and a taker of life. The womb/cave both releases and sucks in life. Ashwatthama attests to the fact that this deep psychic reality is still present in modern literature. The earth with its atmosphere is compared to the womb with its placenta. The ultraviolet rays of the sun are weapons that attempt to pierce the earth's atmosphere just as the agneyastra fired by Ashwatthama tried to pierce Uttara's womb. Not quite the Golden Cosmic Egg, earth is still the Egg that contains humanity. Like the eggs the shrike must protect, it is also in need of protection against the tyranny of man who is "himself a rack, himself a torture" (VI.4. 11).

         This difference between the aggressive-destructive male and the protective-creative female also points to a crisis of the matriarchal stage. When the masculine force dominates the Great Mother as life-giver, the mother figure is split into two halves and dies a symbolic death. Whereas symbolic life here can mean only a spiritual life where the to-be mother would have to embrace the trunk of the inverted tree with its roots "above" and its branches "below," the pregnant woman in Ghimire's song-drama embraces the trunk of the upright ashok tree and weeps. Symbolically, this trunk is the earth-phallus, and, therefore, an object from the patriarchal world, which cannot offer the needed protection.

         Joseph Campbell too explains the relationship between the male and the female. The female is a bright, twinkling figure that excites the male. Once excited, the male runs after the female. The female is first the activator who is then acted upon. Campbell does not elaborate upon the manner in which the female is acted upon by the male. Ghimire's Ashwatthama gives us a hint. Earth Mother is abused. She is destroyed instead of being protected. This is how the male-dominated society destroys the world of the female. That is why women bewail the loss of their sons, brothers, husbands, and in-laws who have been devoured by war in one way or another. The male acts to destroy.

         The female does not destroy. She preserves, protects. Her major concern is the propagation of the race. Her emotions are pity, kindness, love, and compassion. Her attitude is one of mercy and tolerance. That is why she is like an angel, like a goddess. She can become the destructive principle when the life she wants to protect is in danger of extinction. This is when she takes the form of Kali.

         In Ashwatthama, Kali the Destroyer is absent. The Pregnant Woman's insistence on the necessity of preservation of all life including that of the embryo is a voice of the female who is acted upon. She explains the role of a mother thus:

Woman begins a new life within life itself,

protects it with the soul and lights a spiritual

                           flame. (III. 5. 7-8)

Yet, in the patriarchal world of Ashwatthama, the female is helpless. All she can do is to weep and plead:

One soul is hurting even if none other hurts;

Protect that flame even if you cannot protect it.

                                                                        (III. 5. 9-10)

Generally, though, whether active or acted upon, the female principle, which represents a life dynamics, would be capable of demolishing the difference between destruction and preservation with the sheer energy of good-will. Wherever this happens, the Kali principle is present.

         In Ashwatthama¸ the personality of the tyrant All-In-All clearly illustrates an anti-life principle manifested in ambition and its accompanying pride in success. This tyrant destroys his enemies apparently to protect his people. However, to him, an enemy is a person who obstructs the fulfillment of his personal ego. Therefore, his imitation of the Kali principle is absurdly reductive in that the undiscerning head and the incompassionate heart remain sources of unwholesome darkness of motive and consequences of actions inspired by such motives. The rebellious Soldier's compassion, the Novice's youth and innocence, and the Old Father's loneliness render them human. The Men From the Village are human in their desire to animate the sword with a human consciousness. The Soldier who wants to protect the child has caught a spark of the Kali principle; but the people who chase the All-In-All away have really caught its fire.

         Symbolically, then, the more masculine asura principle acts upon the female principle by challenging it. It leads to total self-destruction whereas the kali principle results in the protection of lives. Ashwatthama has experienced the asura principle in his personal life in the Mahabharata. Now, he seeks the knowledge of the Kali principle. The Poet is capable of giving it to him. Both the Poet and Ashwatthama become more human when they symbolically merge the Kali and the asura principle within themselves and allow the Kali principle to dominate and control the latter.

         In Ashwatthama, the war-rent world is in a self-destruct mode. The only thing that can save it is not just "total disarmament" but compassion, pity, love, mercy and all the other denominations of the "soft-hearted" female principle. Where the female principle governs the human head and heart, the world is at peace with itself. Where the male principle dominates and subjugates the female principle, there is utter chaos. Therefore, Ashwatthama is a plea for the maintenance of the Kali principle in the human heart.

 

Works Cited

 

Boa, Fraser. The Way of Myth: Talking with Joseph Campbell, Boston: Sharmbhala. 1994.

Ghimire, Madhav Prasad. Ashwatthama. Kathmandu: Royal Academy, 1997.

Neumann, Erich. The Great Mother. Trans. Ralph Manheim. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1974.

 

Literary Studies

 

(Later collected in my book titled A Pond of Swans and Other Essays. 1st. Ed. New Hira Books Enterprises. Kathmandu, Kirtipur: 2004,)

The Tashkent Spirit in Devkota's Essays

 

In 1958, one year after the establishment of the Royal Nepal Academy, Laxmi Prasad Devkota led a delegation of Nepali writers to the literary conference in Tashkent. This was the first significant cultural encounter between Russia and Nepal. The impact of this conference, and of Russia as a more developed nation than Nepal, which had just opened itself up to the world in 1951, remains a culturally phenomenal event because of the perspectival tilt that it created in the vision of the poet who was versed in Western literature and civilization. At a time when the intellectuals of the world were involved in discussions about the East and the West, Devkota was thinking about the North and the South, about Russia and Nepal, and trying to understand the cultural and economic disparities between these two nations. Devkota's English prose is eloquent on this Russian experience, which is expressed in bold and rational appraisal of communism that applies science to life rather than depend on fate for human fulfillment. This paper attempts to understand some of the essays he wrote originally in English in the light of his foreign trips, especially the one to Tashkent.

There is no doubt at all that Devkota's travels outside the country contributed to his growth as a writer, to the refinement of his thought, and to the reinforcement of his conviction that modern literature has a powerful utilitarian function in the life of the society and the nation. Three trips to foreign countries made between 1953-1958 are of special importance in this context. First, Devkota attended the Fourth World Youth Festival in Romania in August 1953 and had the opportunity to exchange views with youths of many nations. During this tour, he also visited Switzerland, Hungary, and Bucharest. On the 24^th of August 1953, he visited Russia, where he stayed in Moscow for two days. From there, he travelled by train to Eastern Russia. On October 1, 1953, he went to Peking, China. Then, on October 5, he went to Hong Kong, Uhan, Nankin, and thence to Calcutta. He returned to Kathmandu in the last week of October 1953. His second important trip was to Delhi in 1956. There, he led a delegation of Nepali writers to attend the Asian Writers' Conference and gave a speech to the effect that all literatures of the world are one in essence. Finally, in 1958, shortly after the removal of his cantankerous duodenum in Calcutta, he led another delegation of Nepali writers to attend the Afro-Asian Conference in Tashkent, the former capital of Russian Turkistan. After that, he went to Moscow via Azarbaijan. He stayed in Moscow for twenty-eight days. He was physically examined in a hospital in Moscow where he stayed for some time and wrote several essays in English, which Mr. Ilya Redko helped publish and obtain remuneration with which he bought gifts for his children at home and paid other expenses.

L. Aganina, a Russian scholar of Nepali literature, records a few titles that were published in Russian translation during this time: "Mountain Cataract" (pahadi nirjhar), "Crossroad" (dobato), "Rice, Lentil Soup, and Mustard Stems" (dal-bhat duku), "Rest-plinth" (chautaro), and "In Moscow" (maskoma) (316). "We Nepalese" was one of the poems published in the collection of literature by writers who attended the conference in Tashkent.

There is little in Nepali literature that narrates the Tashkent experience. Madhav Ghimire's article titled "Those Days of Ours Are Gone!" makes a point worth noting:

As soon as we arrived in Tashkent, we were busy attending the conference and meeting writers from various nations. In front of the conference building, among many flags of Africa and Asia, our national flag with its emblems of the sun and the moon was fluttering. In the conference hall, we were treated as equals to all the representatives of other nations. In that flag, Nepal was as big as other countries; in that conference, Nepal was equal to the rest. Nepal was certainly not small. In what was Nepal inferior? (186)

In his article titled "A Noble Mission," Mao Tun, the editor of the monthly Chinese Literature, recalls the Navoi Theatre where the flags of more than forty nations fluttered on the roof. In Navoi Square, the newly built Tashkent Hotel was imposingly grand, he recalls, and reminds us that Tashkent was once a stop on the Silk Road (148).

The Chinese perspective on the Tashkent Experience is recorded in Chinese Literature 1 (1959), which devotes fifty (143-193) out of a total of 246 pages to "The Tashkent Spirit." This section of the magazine contains the "Appeal of the Asian and African Writers' Conference to World Writers" (143-146), which was unanimously passed at the plenary session of the Conference on Oct. 13, 1958. The goals and visions of the conference are spelled out clearly to writers and intellectuals who represented 1,500 million people all over Africa and Asia:

We have met in Tashkent, the capital of Uzbek SSR, inspired by our faith in the future of our people and our literatures, inspired by the lofty ideals of peace and friendship among the nations of the globe. We are unanimous in our conviction that literature is closely linked with the destinies of our peoples, that literature can flourish only in conditions of freedom, independence and national sovereignty and that the elimination of colonialism and racialism are a prerequisite for the full development of literary creation. (143)

The appeal goes on to explain that the themes of "our" literatures are human right, freedom, and dignity. It also declares, "literary and cultural creation is possible only in conditions of freedom" (145). Its stance against imperialism and colonization is firm and lucid:

While we the writers of Asia and Africa wish to strengthen our cultural contacts with all countries in the world, including the western countries, we reject the division of culture into superior and inferior, eastern and western. We shall strive, therefore, for the inter-relation of all cultures and for the preservation of the entire precious store of world culture. We repudiate the attempts of imperialists and colonialists to divide and disrupt our ranks and affirm our unity on common ideals and common aspirations. We call upon you the writers of the world to raise your voice against all human wrongs, against wrongs done to individuals and wrongs done to peoples—the wrongs of injustice, colonialism and exploitation. And we wish you to sing of the lofty qualities of man, of freedom, and of hope for the future of all our peoples and the peoples of the rest of the world. We writers are the conscience of the people. We are responsible for the fate not only of contemporary humanity, but of the future generations as well.

It is clear from this declaration that the Tashkent Conference was a step against imperialism and colonialism. Writers and intellectuals (from Burma, India, Indonesia, Uganda, Senegal, and elsewhere) had found a common enemy in imperialism and colonialism, which they denounced. They were there to raise a voice against racism and exploitation, against discrimination of all sorts, and against the ravages of war. They were in quest of world peace.

And that is why individual writers and intellectuals of all nations fully agreed with this appeal. S. Ousmane, a writer from Senegal who attended the Tashkent Conference, writes:

Before the conference met, the Western capitalist press said that it would attack and depreciate Western culture whether English, French or Italian. But the truth is no hostile feelings were shown at the Tashkent Conference to any national culture, Western or otherwise. All were regarded with equal friendliness. ("From Our Guest Book" 192-3)

He also informs us that writers from Italy, Turkey, Brazil, and France attended the Conference as observers (193).

This was the spirit of unity among writers and intellectuals at the Tashkent Conference. On October 22, 1958, the Soviet government gave a reception for the delegates in the Kremlin. N. Khruschov, the then Chairman of the Council of Ministers of the Soviet Union, defined the Tashkent Spirit in the following words:

By this term you mean friendly mutual understanding and collaboration among the masters of culture of the various peoples in the struggle for the great aims of mankind, the firm link between the writers and the lives of their peoples, the active participation of literature in the struggle for the freedom and independence of your countries and in the building of the new life where freedom and independence have already been won. (Tun 150)

Thus, the Tashkent Conference was "on the path of the development of world literature" (150). Responding to this notion, Ananta Toer from Indonesia, defined the writer's function: "The writer is the engineer of the soul. I hope the decisions of Tashkent will be a starting point in the shaping of the soul of Asia and Africa" ("From Our Guest Book" 189).

Devkota had already been shaping the soul of Nepal. Some of the ideas that floated in the Tashkent Conference reinforced his belief in universal humanhood and in the necessity of fighting injustice not only in one's own country, but also all over the world. A serious question Devkota faced was how writers, who continue quarreling among themselves, could lead a nation to its intellectual dawn. In several of Devkota's essays written originally in English, he compares and contrasts Russia with Nepal and studies what is missing at home. Impressed with the technological and scientific development of Russia, he compares the Nepalis with the Russians, wonders why such differences exist between human beings, and suggests that Nepali writers unite to improve the quality of life in Nepal.

Let us now take a closer look at some of Devkota's English essays.

An essay titled "The Sputnik" is about the Russian satellite 2 b launched in 1957. It celebrates human victory over physical forces and interstellar space while rejoicing in human potentialities. In Nepal, Tenzing's conquest of "terrestrial altitudes" once created a sensation. In Russia, the launching of the satellite has excited "expectation of future miracles of science." It has generated "shocks to [Nepali] priestcraft" because man's "thaumatergic brains" has shown a capacity to compete "with the mystic symbol of Infinite Intelligence." The poet sees

the gates of a new world and a new age fly open for the living and the on-coming generations to enter into…. Lunar estates; astral holidays; space marvels; cosmic phenomena; miracle rays; Space Travel Guides and agencies; neutral zone charts; firmamental aerodromes; and what not!

To put it briefly, Devkota sees in the sputnik not only a scientific miracle but also transformation of man's awe of God into "an awe of his own miraculous potentialities." This transformation can also be dangerous for humanity, says Devkota:

Yet God or Intelligence guard him on his perilous way! For he has angers and appetites, moods and morbidities, which, as habitually operative in the sphere of human or international relations, may lead to the battle of jealous giants resulting in terrific clashes. Even the natural instinct of Fear may lead to the most undesirable consequences.

In a way, these lines recall to mind the fate of Hiroshima and Nagasaki while almost foreseeing the cold war of the 1960s and after between the two superpowers of the world.

While the poet appreciates the materialistic humanism of Russia and speaks highly of the application of science to social organization and everyday life, in "The Philosophy of Silence and Inaction" he is very clear about his personal stance vis-à-vis Materialistic Philosophy.

But with all my appreciation of this applied Materialism, which implies more humanism than we know in practice with all our high-sounding principles, I have a personal belief in the existence of a human spirit, a non-material inner personality embodied in the physical frame, which is immortal and continues to live beyond the grave!

Instead of the materialistic West and the spiritualistic East, tilting the axis by 90⁰, Devkota talks of the antipodes of the Marxist and materialist North and the spiritual South.

While the mystic fog of spiritualism has retarded scientific and technological growth in the South, the negation of spirit in the North is not acceptable to Devkota. He seeks a way to attain "perfect equilibrium" between science and religion, between reason and mysticism, within his own heart and writes:

From an eclectic standpoint, the fundamental essence of all existing Religion is Humanism, and it can be distilled by Reason out of all gospels and holy books! This element in practical application to social life must produce the highest culture and the ideal society!

Yet, this is exactly what religion has not been able to do and what scientific materialism has been able to achieve in Russia, he says.

As long as living is more important than dying, there is no problem in this. However, when faced with death, people do consider the possibilities of after-life. This is when liberation or emancipation of the soul becomes a major consideration and its conversion from geeba to Shiva, the Good of All, must be realized. Devkota writes:

The possibility of Liberation depends upon its nature, the degree of its refinement and its realisation of Godhood! The Spirit works through Silence: Mauna! It comes through Silence and passes away through Silence, leaving the material case aside, into the unknown, to attain its final peace in the Being of God…. And when the soul is in a perfectly correct mood, it flies like an invisible bird from its cage, liberated from all worldly desires and struggles! Your external actions must cease.

But he also admits that he does not know whether such things actually happen. Therefore, he says that he must "practically apply the principle of Silence to these questions! For they cannot be answered."

Devkota concludes by identifying two types of people. Given the possibility of returning to the world to go through the hardships of life once again, the philosophers of peace (the spiritual people) would not like to come back to this life again; but, the philosophers of struggle (the scientific materialists) would be willing to return. Devkota's choice is clear:

Up till now I feel I should like to come back through death to serve my people and my State! Only when all decide against my active presence here, I shall take the alternative, I believe!

Devkota is indeed a strong nationalist and the bulk of his literary oeuvre is informed by this sentiment. Aganina testifies to this: "I had seen him not as a detached observer but as a person who was very concerned for the future of his country, for the future of the whole globe" (317). In "The Muscovite and the Kathmandu Wight," Devkota compares the opposite poles of Kathmandu and Moscow, of the South and the North, of the Himalayas and the Urals. In Kathmandu, where spiritualism, Brahminism, and Buddhism prevail, monarchy tags on. Private entrepreneurs, landlords, and mill owners still exist. Moscow is the capital of a progressive materialistic state governed by the proletariat. Kathmandu is the "oldest of worlds" with its tantras and religious mystic arts. In this antique city religion flourishes, while science starves. By contrast, gods and priests have been eliminated in the gigantic modern state so that science flourishes and there is abundance of everything. Modern architecture presents beauty and utility. Here, the Nepalese are pale, wan, ailing, wily, morbid, sentimental, and lacking in the spirit of independence. They suffer from an inferiority complex and are servile and diffident. The Russians are well fed, robust, and healthy. They present "a perfect picture of independence of spirit and the full measure of confident individuality."

After democracy in Nepal, Devkota says that some people changed their old habits. This does not mean, however, that equality in practice, which exists in Russia, has been realized in Nepal too. Devkota finds the Nepalese superior in art and imagination, and in poetic images to the Russians. Here, everyone is a poet, he says; nobody is scientific. Generally, all are god-imbued. Unlike the bright and optimistic Russians, the Nepalese are pessimistic in attitude and lack science and reason. They love luxurious inaction to the extent that they do nothing even against exploitation. Everyone is corrupt because people are starved. The Russians, unlike the Nepalese, are well paid, well fed, and properly disciplined.

To see the differences between two very different nations is one thing; to be able to do something to minimize the differences is a Herculean task. In "The Necessity of a Strongly Organised Writers Union for Nepal," Devkota suggests that intellectuals of the nation have to accept this challenge of diminishing the differences by shaping the soul of the nation.

He begins this essay by recalling the "perpetual sunshine" in the North and by bemoaning the "eternal darkness" in the South. He then hypothesizes that "Writers' fates are determined by the socio-political philosophies and the systems that evolve out of them." Comparing the writers of USSR and Nepal, he concludes: "Where Intellect is starved or neglected, we are conscious of the presence of a diseased system." The major symptoms of the disease are the lack of state encouragement for poets, writers, and artists whose stomachs are so starved that they cannot function as intellectuals should for the benefit of the nation.

Devkota then goes into a description of the state of the Nepali writers who are "the most unfortunate of human tribes." These writers are not paid their royalties, they are denied copyrights, and there are no laws in their favour. They are generally frustrated also because they have been "pushed back by a political tide, that started by ourselves, has rushed…towards exploitative heights." The result is that there is "a democracy without Enlightenment" in Nepal.

The writers themselves are to blame for the condition in which they are in at present because they resign too easily to their fate. They are unable to unite against exploitation because they fail to stand united. They weaken themselves by personal jealousies and wrangling. Their mutual distrust and disrespect works against their goals and ideals. They are unable to become "law breakers or iconoclasts." Instead, they become "pen-wielding criminals who preach life and practise the philosophy of Death." Writers will do well, Devkota argues, to remember the basics of social etiquette and acceptable conduct.

Besides writers themselves, the government too is to blame for their plight in Nepal. He writes:

What the USSR Government does to their Writer's Union there is a matter that should make our Cabinet Ministers blue for shame before our murdered Union of Nepalese Writers.

While the writer's union has governmental patronage in Russia, Nepalese writers are starved and subdued: "It is strange that the more you hunger, the more you feel the necessity of holding your tongue…. And relations among starved spirits tend to run to unpleasantness." However, writers have to struggle against unpleasant circumstances. That is why they should unite under a strongly organized writers' union.

Aganina recalls Devkota's address to the Tashkent Conference:

We are living in an age of great struggle against destruction in favour of the continuation of life, against colonialism and imperialism in favour of national sovereignty. Literature is not an item of luxury of any one class. Today's literature is a powerful tool of the people and of the nation. (317)

To use literature as a pro-life tool, writers must sacrifice illusory notions of their own glory and immortality and begin to speak against injustice of all sorts. To do so, they must practice just conduct themselves.

 

Works Cited

 

Aganina, L. "Mahakaviseeta Bhetghat." Mahakavi Laxmi Prasad Devkota. Ed. Bhavani Ghimire. Kathmandu: Vidhyarthi Pustak Bhandar. 316-318.

"Appeal of the Asian and African Writers' Conference to World Writers." Chinese Literature 1 (1959): 143-146.

Devkota, Laxmi Prasad. English Essays. Ts.

"From Our Guest Book." Chinese Literature 1 (1959): 184-193.

Ghimire, Madhav. "Those Days of Ours Are Gone!" Mahakavi Devkotaka Anibani. Ed. Ghataraj Bhattarai. Kathmandu: Laxmi Prasad Devkota Prathisthan, 1999. 180-187.

Tun, Mao. "A Noble Mission." Chinese Literature 1 (1959): 147-151.

 

The Kathmandu Post March 27-28, 2004

(Later collected in my book titled A Pond of Swans and Other Essays. 1st. Ed. New Hira Books and Other Essays. Kathmandu, Kirtipur: 2004.)

कविता

गुलाफ

 

प्रेमको ज्वाला जस्तो

भर्भराउँदो गुलाफ,

तेरो जवानी मेरो स्मृतिपटमा

व्युँझिन्छ — आफ्नै खरानी !

सहज चमकमा अहो ! कस्तो

भर्भराउँदो छस्, हे गुलाफ !

तँ कविताझैं मुलायम, सुन्दर,

म तेरो खोजमा ...

निरन्तर खोजमा ... अलमल, अलमल ।

चमक अनन्त छ,

त्यहि हो जिवन !

तर सत्यमा हैन, सतमा व्युँझिएस् !

हुनु जस्तो सुन्दर केही छैन ।

नबिर्सिएस् !

 

माघ २, २०८१

 

 

कविता

निरर्थक मिठासका संगीतकार
धतुरो बाँढ्दै चिर्बिराउँछन् ।
दिल दुख्दा
ढुङ्गाले हृदय फुटेको बताउँछन् ।
हर्षभाव उछलाउँदा
पूर्णिमाको जुनमा अप्सरासँग रत्तिइँदै
देशकालभन्दा पर पुगेको बताउँछन् ।
कसैलाई “हो” भनिदिन्छु ।
कसैलाई “होइन” भनिदिन्छु ।
मेरा पनि त क्षणक्षणका निर्णय छन् नि !
गन्नैपर्नेलाई भने म पक्कै गनिदिन्छु ।

     माघ १, २०८१

 

 

विवश, लाचार !

उसको शव बोकेर हिंडेका नायकले आफ्नो कुमबाट
गोप्याङ्ग भारतमा, स्तन अफ्रिकामा, नितम्ब मध्यपूर्वमा
र हात पाऊ यूरोपमा वा अन्य कतिपय पृथ्वीका बेनाम बगरमा
तप्काउँदै हिंडेका भए पनि
शवको शीर काठमाडौंकै होटेलहरूमा पाइएको समाचारले

पोलेको मन यस्तै यस्तै थलोमा मन्दिर निर्माण गर्न मान्दैन ।
ढुकुटीको झैं न्यायको चुहावटले होला
आँशु सम्भाल्न जान्दैन ।

क्रोधको के कुरा भो र ?
निरीह हेर्ने लाचारले
दुखेको दिल पोख्नबाहेक जान्दैन ।
महाकाली आफै जागेको दिनको प्रतिक्षामा
धेरै कुर्न पनि मान्दैन ।

कस्तो संसार यो !
उता अत्याचार,
यता विवश, लाचार !

माघ २०, २०७४

 

सुनकोशीको तिरैतिर 

सुनकोशीको तिरैतिर

सिमलका रूख

तिमीसँग साट्दै आएँ

सारा दुःख सुख ।

जवानीमा मै फसेथेँ

तिम्रो रूप देखी

आज बस्छु हृदयको

सच्चा भाव लेखी ।

रूपभन्दा हृदय पो

अझ राम्रो रैछ

मायाँ पाएँ होनहार

जवानी त्यो गैछ ।

तिमी जस्ती भावनाकी

बल्दी रूपरानी

आज कस्तो दिलदार

पाएँ खुसी मानी ।

सिकाउँछौ ज्युनलाई

आनन्दमा डुबी

ढल्किंदो यो देह थाम्ने

कस्तो तिम्रो खुबी ।

तिमीबाट जे जे सिकें

सिकें ज्युनलाई

अहोभाग्य मेरै भन्छु

तिमीलाई पाई ।

माघ २८, २०८१

महाकवि लक्ष्मीप्रसाद देवकोटा संग्रहालय

 

१। कवि–कुञ्जको सानो प्रतिरूप (miniature)

 

महाकवि लक्ष्मीप्रसाद देवकोटा संग्रहालयमा राखिएको कवि–कुञ्जको प्रतिरूपमा नमिलेका कुराहरू छन् । मैले ती कुरा औंलाई मिलाउन सके राम्रो हुने आशय सम्बन्धित व्यक्तिहरू समक्ष राखेको हुँ । तर उहाँहरूबाट अब यस प्रतिरूपलाई चलाउन नमिल्ने कुरा गर्नुभएकोले म चुप लाग्न परेको हो । निम्न कुरा मिलाउनु पर्ने देखेको छुँ ।

१) पूर्वमा भर्‍याङको सानो झ्याल

२) पश्चिममा छिंडीको वैठकको झ्याल

३) पश्चिममा बुइङ्गलका दुईवटा झ्याल

४) दक्षिणमा बुबाको कोठाको बीचको झ्याल

५) दक्षिणमा छिंडीका दुईवटा झ्याल