'Love is all important and its own reward.' (A Tamil Proverb)
A valentine Special
Issue-12-Year 1
In this issue: Favourites Forever: W.H. Auden, John Clare, Percy Blyth Shelley, Elizabeth Barrett Browning. Poetry Here & Now: Wendy Cope. Introduction to ...Shail Agrawal. Quotes On love.
Love is an all encompassing feeling, difficult to fathom... a complex yet a very gentle and moving moment in one's life. It has got that 'Midas touch' which can turn ordinary into special. But there are no half ways or shortcuts in its path. It demands total surrender of one's ego...complete unity of heart ...So for a feeble or a doubting mind it can be quite an empowering and suffocating experience; yet it manages to exist everywhere, pervades all and everyone.
In its bewildered and enchanted world, words change their meaning with a flutter of an eyelid and people with the very first encounter( we all know the story of a frog turning into a handsome prince with a single kiss and a pumpkin carrying Cinderella to the ball of her life). When it enters our lives, it leaves us literally paralyzed and dumbstruck by it majestic beauty and awe. Often it is difficult to find a single suitable word to express this love; because none is subtle or intense enough to convey its depth or intensity ;
Vishakha, Radha's saheli tries to explain this love to her in Keshav's Geet Govindam;
“It is not fire But it burns the body It is not a weapon But it pierces the heart It is not an intoxicant But it intoxicates It is not a fishing rod But attracts the fish of the mind.”
So, love, like Brahman of Indian spirituality, is “not this” and “not that” – then what is it? Again she says :
“It is difficult to sustain this love More difficult than climbing the sky Than walking on the edge of sword It is as if one tries to catch air in a net Or to hold mercury in one’s palm.”
So what is this love?... To understand love one has to feel it; and we all have felt it at some point in our lives. May be without even realizing its true value or strength , or even the magic it can create in this tired and puzzled world.
God's greatest gift to mankind is perhaps ' Love' . It taught us not only to create and protect but to nurture and appreciate this wonderful life. At its sublime, love empowers us with the virtues of God himself---gives us the power to create, nurture and protect; power, Brahma and Vishnu had. But at its lowest or worst, it can turn into a green eyed monster...destroy or inhale its prey ruthlesly. This is the reason often societies worst crimes are crimes of passion. It can arouse jealousy, hate and anger; so powerful, that it could destroy its prey completely. Our shastra' s tell us that in true love we 'rise' above all, not 'fall' in it. Where one falls; that is temporary... just a lust or infatuation and like any other fall it is sure to dent or damage us; even foul us . Sooner or later a desire to come out of it will be strong ... compelling to immerge and cleanse !
While this coarse or physical love gives us all sorts of discontent and heartaches, true selfless love has the power to dissolve all differences, wipe off all the pain. It has power to break all barriers mankind has ever created. In this puzzled and frustrated selfish world it can wipe off all the differences; not only from the hearts of two individuals, but from the national boundaries and the barriers of race and religion.
Mahatma Gandhi once said;" As long as you derive inner help and comfort from anything, keep it."
So let us celebrate this love. Let us pray that this true love can stay forever in our hearts, in our families , in our society, above all in our war-torn and troubled world.
Some says that love's a little boy, And some say it's a bird, Some say it makes the world go round, And some say that's absurd, And when I asked the man next-door, Who looked as if he knew, His wife got very cross indeed, And said it wouldn't do.
Doe it look like a Pair of pyjamas, Or ham in a temperance hotel? Does it odour remind one of Ilams, Or has it comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is, Or soft as eiderdown fluff? Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges? O tell me the truth about love.
Our history books refer to it in cryptic little notes, It's quite a common topic on The transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in Accounts of suicides, And even seen scribbled on The backs of railway-guides.
Does it howl like a hungry Alsation, Or boom like a militry band? Could one give a first-rate imitation On a saw or Steinway Grand?
Is it singing at parties a riot? Does it only like Classical stuff? Will it stop when one wants to be quiet? O tell me the truth about love.
I looked inside the summer-house; It wasn't ever there: I tried the Thames at Maidenhead, And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang, Or what the tulip said; But it wasn't in the chicken run, Or underneath the bed.
Can it pull extraordinary faces? Is it usually sick on a swing? Does it spend all it time at the races, Or fiddling with pieces of string?
Does it think Patriotism enough? Are its stories vulgar but funny? O tell me the truth about love.
When it comes, will it come without warning Just as I'm picking my nose? Will it knock on my door in the morning, Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like achange in the weather? Will its greetings be courteous or rough? Will it alter my life altogether? O tell me the truth about love.
-W.H.Auden
*
FIRST LOVE
I never was struck before that hour With love so sudden and sweet Her face is bloomed like a sweet flower And stole my heart complete My face turned pale a deadly pale My legs refused to walk away And when she looked what could I ail My life and all seemed turned to clay
And then my blood rushed to my face And took my my eyesight quite away The trees and bushes round the place Seemed midnight at noon day I could not see a single thing Words from my eye did start
They spoke as chords do from the string And blood burnt round my heart Are flowers the winters choice Is love's bed always snow
She seemed to hear my silent voice Not love's appeals to know I never saw o sweet a face A that I stood before
My heart has left its dwelling place And can never return no more-
-John Clare
*
LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY
The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with ocean, The winds of heaven mix forever With a sweet emotions; Nothing in the world is single, All things by a law devine In one another's being mingle- Why not I with thine?
See the mountain's kiss high heaven And the waves clasp one another; No sister-flower would be forgiven If it disdain'd its brother: And the sunlight clasp the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea- What are all these kissings worth, If thou kiss not me?
-Percy Bysshye Shelley
*
HOW DO I LOVE THEE?
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everyday's Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to loose With my lost saints-I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life! -and if God choose, I shall love thee better after death.
Lekhni proudly presents Wendy Cope as poetess of the month;
Flowers
Some men never think of it. You did. You'd come along And say you'd nearly brought me flowers But something had gone wrong.
The shop was closed. Or you had doubts- The sort that mind like ours Dream up incessantly. You thought I might not want your flowers.
It made me smile and hug you then. Now I can only smile. But, Look, the flowers you nearly brought Have lasted all this while.
Bloody Men
Bloody men are like bloody buses- You wait for about a year And as soon as one approaches you stop Two or three other appear.
You look at them flashing their indicators, Offering you a ride. You're trying to read the destinations You haven't much time to decide.
If You make a mistake, there is no turning back. Jump off, and you'll stand there and gaze While the cars and the taxis and lorries go by And the minutes, the hours, the days.
Valentine
My heart has made its mind up And I'm afraid it's You. Whatever you've got lined up,
My heart has made its mind up This year, next year will do, My heart has made its mind up And I'm afraid it's you.
Poet ,philosopher and artist kahlil Gibran's poetry is translated into more than twenty languages. The Prophet and his others books of prose and poetry, illustrated with his mystical drawings, are known and loved by people all over the world. George Rusell wrote about this deep thinker's immortal work:
" I do not think the East has spoken so beautiful a voice since the Gitanjali of RavindraNath Tagore as in The Prophet of Kahlil Gibran, who is artist as well as poet. I have not seen for years a book more beautiful in its thought, and when reading it I understand better than ever before what Socrates meant in the Banquet when he spoke of the beauty of thought which exercises a deeper enchantment than the beauty of form...I could quote from every page, and from every page I could find some beautiful and liberating thought."
Here is an extract from his book 'The Prophet' Kahlil Gibran on love:
" Then said Almitra, Speak to us of love.
And he raised his head and looked upon the people, and there fell a stillness upon them. And with a great voice he said:
When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him.
Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.
For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun.
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God' sacred feast.
All these things love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life's heart.
But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor.
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love pssesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.
When you love you should not say, " God is in my heart," but rather, " I am in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your deires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstacy;
To return home at eventude with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise on your lips.
True!-Nervous--very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am! but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses--not destroyed--not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily--how calmly I can tell you the whole story.
It is impossible to tell how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! Yes, it was this! One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture--a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees--very gradually--I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.
Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded--with what caution--with what foresight--with what dissimulation I went to work!
I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it--oh, so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, so that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly--very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha!--would a madman have been so wise as this? And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously--oh, so cautiously--cautiously (for the hinges creaked)--I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights--every night just at midnight--but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he had passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.
Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers--of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back--but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers), and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.
I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed, crying out: "Who's there?"
I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening;--just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.
Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or grief--oh no!--it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself: "It is nothing but the wind in the chimney--it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "it is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions; but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him. had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel--although he neither saw nor heard--to feel the presence of my head within the room.
When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little--a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it--you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily--until, at length, a single dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and full upon the vulture eye.
It was open--wide, wide open--and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness--all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person: for I had directed the ray, as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.
And now--have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the senses?--now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier.But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. Iheld the lantern motionless. I tried how steadly I could maintain the ray upon the eye. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew louder, I say , louder every moment!---do you mark me well? I have told you that I am nervous; so I am. And now at the dead hour of night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me ---the sound would be heard by a neighbor! The old man's hour had come! With a lou yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once---once only. In an intant I dragge him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then miled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased.The old man was dead.I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand on the heart and held it there many minutes. there was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eyes would trouble me no more.
If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.
I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye--not even his--could have detected anything wrong. There was nothing to wash out--no stain of any kind--no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all--ha! ha!
When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o'clock--still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart--for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbor during the night: suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.
I smiled--for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search--search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.
The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct:--it continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness--until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.
No doubt I now grew very pale,--but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased--and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound--much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath--and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly--more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observation of the men--but the noise steadily increased. Oh, God; what could I do? I foamed--I raved--I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder--louder --louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God!--no, no! They heard!--they suspected--they knew!--they were making a mockery of my horror!--this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die!--and now--again!--hark! louder! louder! louder!
"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed!--tear up the planks!--here, here!--it is the beating of his hideous heart!"
*Love is something eternal, the aspect may change, but not the essence.
~Vincent Van Gogh
*Neither a lofty degree of intelligence nor imagination nor both together go to the making of genius. Love, love, love, that is the soul of genius.
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
*Surrender your ego so you can surrender to love.
~ Osho
*It is not how much we do, but how much love we put in the doing. It is not how much we give, but how much love we put in the giving.
~Mother Teresa
*We are all born for love... it is the principle existence and it's the only end.
~Benjamin Disraeli
*You come to love not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly.
~Sam Keen
*Love is always bestowed as a gift- freely, willingly, and without expectation- We don't love to be loved; we love to love.
~Leo Buscaglia
*Absence sharpens love, presence strengthens it.
~Thomas Fuller
*Love is the emblem of eternity; it confounds all notion of time; effaces all memory of a beginning, all fear of an end.
~Madame De Stael
Love should be a reality in your life, not just a poem, not just a dream. It has to be actualized. It is never too late to experience love for the first time.
Date: Mon, 7 Jan 2008 15:48:48 +0000 From: kksrivastava2002@yahoo.co.uk Subject: Sydney Testt-Disgrace to Cricket
Sydney encounter between India and Australia will be remembered for a long time but for all wrong reasons.A number of unsavoury,ugly and unpalatable facts about cricket administration in general and Australian cricket in particular surfaced during this match.Australian cricketers were brutally exposed as bullies, intimidators, liars and cheats and that a victory was so important to them that no level was low enough for them to stoop to.They play mindgame not cricket.The Sportsmanship and the spirit of the game were conspicuous by their absence in Australian camp.It seems that this mentality is in their blood as upto the time of writing there has been no comment or criticism from the Australian press, public or cricket administrators .regarding the behaviour of their players on the field. I am sure that Indian players would have been taken to task by the Board and the public alike if they had behaved like their counterparts and rightly so.The fall in the standard of umpiring in this game was beyond imagination and for want of better term was racially motivated.The way Mr Steve Bucknor gave his decisions could not be fully explained by just sheer incompetance. I can not believe that he heard the snick of Dravid,s bat in the second innings and not from Symmonds bat in the first unless he had his ears syringed in between the innings!!!.It is not the first time that he has given such appalling decisions against India.Tendulkar,Dravid ,Laxman and Ganguly have all suffered at his hands during the tour of England last year.ICC did not take any notice. It never does particularly when the teams from the Indian subcontinent are involved. Darrell Hair would have got away with it as well if he hadn't dug his own grave. How one wrong decision can change the whole complexion of the game has never been more obvious.Symmonds scored 132 more runs after he was wrongly given not out by Mr Bucknor. India lost the match by 114 runs. A six year old can work it out!! The other umpire went even further!! Not sure about Ganguly's catch he went to ask Ponting and Clarke and believed them!!. He gave Ganguly out on the word of Ponting who did not walk after snicking a catch behind the wicket and Clarke who stood at the wicket after clearly giving a catch to Dravid in the slips hoping that Bucknor will bail him out like he bailed Symmonds!! Why could he not refer it to the third umpire? At this point I would like know about the role of third umpire and the match referee .A great deal of money is spent on them. They should be made to work for it.Is the match referee there only to admonish and punish the players for misbehaving on the field even when there is no evidence?On what grounds did Mike Procter ban Harbhajan Singh for 3 Tests and what was he doing when Darrell Hair was playing havoc in the Oval tast against Pakistan? Why doesn't the third umpire intervene when a blatantly wrong decision has been made by the two umpires.Mind you not much can be expected from him after the kind of decisions he made during this Test. It goes on to show that the modern technology is no good until it is interpreted properly.Mike procter has shown same disregard for fairness that was shown by Mike Denness during India's tour of South Africa by banning Tendulkar Jadeja and Sehwag for the false allegations of ball tampering.This kind of unjust treatment and double standards by the ICC of our players can not be tolerated any more. The Australians and the ICC have got away with too much for too long.Now the time has come that like everyone else they have to be accountable for their actions.In a drastic move if still no lessons are learnt.the Asian teams should pull out of the control of the ICC.If they want it in Black and White let them have it Once all that money that has flown into their coiffers due to our teams' popularity across the World dries up they will come to their senses.We are not going to be patronised by the likes of the Australians and the ICC anymore.If BCCI wants to stay healthy it better do something about it.
(Extract from a reader's letter from Sunday Times, penned by Sir Paul macartney: the iconic singer from one of the biggest pop group of the sixties' Beatles')
A recent United Nations report, Livestock’s Long Shadow, contains one clear message: the single most effective act that any individual can do to lessen the effects of global warming is to become vegetarian. That this message comes from the UN (whose member states, it should be remembered are not generally considered vegetarian) rather than an organisation committed to vegetarianism, is significant.
For more than 30 years I have been interested in the promotion of vegetarianism and my own feelings were sparked by a simple compassion for animals. What I think is specially compelling is that this report should now encourage everybody to “do their bit” for the planet. The evidence it gives points directly to the detrimental effects of excessive livestock farming on the environment, such as:
Seventy percent of former forests in the Amazon have been turned over to grazing.
Livestock uses 30% of the entire world’s land surface and cattle-rearing is a major source of land and water degradation.
When emissions from land use and use changes are included (ie deforestation), the livestock sector accounts for 9% of CO, deriving from human related activities, but generates 65% of human related nitrous oxide, which has 2.96 times the global warming potential (GWP) of CO2.
Okay, this may sound like me banging on about vegetarianism again but these facts come straight from the UN and are significant enough to be taken seriously.
अंतर्राष्ट्रीय काव्य गोष्ठी अत्यन्त हर्ष का विषय है कि 12 जनवरी 2008 दिन शनिवार, को मुम्बई मे हिंदयुग्म के सहयोग से आयोजित एक अंतर्राष्टीय कवि गोष्ठी का आयोजन कुलवंत सिंह, अवनीश तिवारी और आर. पी. हंस के संयुक्त प्रयासों से अणुशक्तिनगर में स्कूल 1 के प्रांगण में सफलतापूर्वक संपन्न हुआ | इस संपन्न हुए समारोह के साथ आईये एक सुहावना सफर करते है ...
समय सुबह - 10.45 बजे लगभग 40 महानुभावों की उपस्थिति मे "माँ शारदा" की दीप जलाकर, माल्यार्पण कर कवि कुलवंत सिंह जी की रचना 'वंदना' से देवी माँ की वंदना गौरी एवं सिमरन ने गाकर की |समय सुबह - 10.50 बजे कार्यक्रम की मुख्य अतिथि एवं विशिष्ट अतिथियों का सम्मान ।प्रसिद्ध गजलकार एवं कवयित्री "देवी नागरानी" जी, जो कि न्य़ू जर्सी, अमेरिका से हैं, ने काव्य गोष्ठी की अध्यक्षता के कार्यभार के लिए अपनी अनुमति सहर्ष प्रदान की । कवि कुलवंत ने मंच संचालन की डोर थामी | इस कार्यक्रम में अनेक प्रसिद्ध हस्तियों ने हिस्सा लिया एवं कार्यक्रम का मान बढ़ाया । कार्यक्रम में आने वाले प्रमुख कवि थे - मरियम गजाला समीरलाल - कनाडा सेडा. हरिहर झा - आस्ट्रेलिया सेराजीव सारस्वत अरविंद राही भरत शब्द वर्माहरनाम सिंह यादवप्रमिला शर्माऋषि कुमार मिश्ररवि दत्त गौड़शकुंतला शर्मामधुपेश मुंतजिर इंदौरीडा. वफात्रिलोचन अरोड़ाशीतल नागपुरीमंजू गुप्तानंदलाल थापरशैलीशारदा गोस्वामीशुभकीर्ति माहेश्वरीरमेश श्री वास्तवविजय कुमार भटनागरसुरिंदर रत्तीनीरज गोस्वामीवी डी तिवारीरवि यादवसमय सुबह - 11 बजे कवि और कवयित्रियों का सम्मान, परिचय और उनके द्वारा रचना पाठन | कुछ यादगार लम्हें ...
शैली ने कार्यक्रम की शुरुआत में ही सबको अपनी रचना से मत्रमुग्ध कर दिया। श्रीमती गोस्वामी ने अपनी ग़ज़ल "तमाम रातें" से सबकी वाह वाही लूटी | आस्ट्रलिया से आए हरिहर झा ने अपनी रचना से सबके मन को भिगो दिया |मरियम आपा ने अपने मूल्यवान अशआर से सबको सम्मोहित कर दिया | नीरज गोस्वामी ने दिल को छूने वाले शेर और ग़ज़ल सुनाई |राजीव सारस्वत एवं अरविंद राही के गीतों ने तो समां ही बांध दिया ।कार्यक्रम के अन्य मुख्य आकर्षक थे -त्रिलोचन अरोड़ा, डा. वफा, शुभकीर्ति माहेश्वरी, रमेश श्रीवास्तव, शिप्रा वर्मा, विजय भटनागर, इंदौरी, प्रमिला। जिनकी रचनाओं पर खूब तालियां पड़ीं । रवि दत्त गौड़ जी की रचना इंसान की यात्रा के रहस्यवाद से लिपटी हुई थी ।
इस कार्यक्रम का एक और मुख्य हिस्सा थे, पहली बार कविता पाठ के लिए आने वाले नई पीढ़ी के नए तेवरो के साथ - शैली, शिप्रा वर्मा, अवनीश तिवारी, सत्यप्रकाश दुबे, महिमा बोकडिया, और साकेत चौधरी | कोई नही कह सकता था कि यह मंच पर पहली बार कविता पाठ कर रहे हैं। बिलकुल मंजे हुए खिलाड़ियों की तरह अपनी अपनी बात कह रहे थे यह। एक और दिल को छू लेने वाली बात थी कि शिप्रा वर्मा और महिमा तो इंटरनेट से कार्यक्रम के बारे में जान कर सीधे ही कार्यक्रम में पहुंची थीं । वाह क्या बात है.. । कनाडा से आए समीर लाल जी हालांकि थोड़ा विलंब से पहुंचे लेकिन अपनी बातों और रचनाओं से उन्होने सबका दिल जीता | समीर जी मंच संचालन मे भी सक्रिय रहे | कुलवंत सिंह ने अपने देश भक्ति की रचना से सबका मन मोह लिया । हंस जी की गज़ल ने सबके दिलों को छुआ। अंत मे देवी नांगरानी ने अपनी मनमोहक ग़ज़लों को गाकर मंच की सफलता को पूर्णता प्रदान की | इस कार्यक्रम की एक विशेष बात यह भी रही कि बहुत से कवियों ने देश के विभिन्न हिस्सों से ही नही अपितु विदेशों से भी कार्यक्रम के सफल आयोजन के लिए शुभकामनाएं ही नही भेजीं अपितु गोष्ठी से जुड़ने के प्रयास भी किए - अपने संदेश भेजकर, रचनाएं भेजकर, और कार्यक्रम के दौरान फोन कर अपनी उपस्थिति दर्ज करा कर । बहुत ही दिल छू लेने वाले अंदाज में । इनमें प्रमुख थे - अमेरिका से प्रसिद्ध गीतकार एवं कवि द्वय श्री राकेश खंडेलवाल एवं अभिनव शुक्ल, दुबई से पूर्णिमा वर्मन (अभिव्यक्ति) ,कोयंबतूर से राजश्री, आंध्र प्रदेश से रमा द्विवेदी, औरंगाबाद से सुनीता यादव, मध्य प्रदेश से गिरीश बिलौरी, पाकिस्तान से गुल देहलवी ।
कार्यक्रम का समापन लगभग पौने तीन बजे राष्ट्रगान के साथ हुआ। तत्पश्चात भोजन एवं स्नेहपूर्ण विदाई |
Awards on World Hindi Day by HCI, London From: rakesh dubey (rakeshbdubey@gmail.com) Sent: 30 January 2008 16:06:48
भारतीय उच्चायोग, लन्दन द्वारा विश्व हिन्दी दिवस पर सम्मानों की घोषणा
नागपुर में 10 जनवरी, 1975 को प्रथम विश्व हिन्दी सम्मेलन का आयोजन अपने आप में एक ऐतिहासिक घटना थी और विदेश मंत्रालय द्वारा इस दिन को भारत एवं भारत से बाहर विश्व हिन्दी दिवस के रुप मनाने का निर्णय भी दूरदर्शितापूर्ण रहा । यूं तो भारत से अधिक भारत से बाहर विश्व हिन्दी दिवस के प्रति उत्सुकता रही है लेकिन ब्रिटेन में इसके लिए कुछ विशेष उमंग दिखी। इसीलिए जब पहली बार जब 2006 में लन्दन के भारतीय उच्चायोग में विश्व हिन्दी दिवस मनाया जाने लगा तो यह सोचा गया कि इसे अविस्मरणीय कैसे बनाया जाए और तभी योजना बनी कि ब्रिटेन में हिन्दी की सेवा कर रहे व्यक्तियों एवं संस्थाओं को उच्चायोग की ओर से सम्मानित किया जाए । महामहिम उच्चायुक्त श्री कमलेश शर्मा, तत्कालीन उप उच्चायुक्त श्री रंजन मथाई और मंत्री (समन्वय) श्री रजत बागची ने इस संकल्प को अपना समर्थन एवं आशीर्वाद दिया । फिर क्या था भारत से बाहर, संभवत: सरकारी स्तर पर एक अनूठी एवं उत्साहवर्धक पहल के रुप में शुरु किए गए चार हिन्दी सेवा सम्मान । यह भी तय किया गया कि ये सम्मान प्रति वर्ष विश्व हिन्दी दिवस के अवसर पर दिए जाते रहेंगे ।
जिन चार श्रेणियों के अन्तर्गत ये सम्मान दिए जाते हैं वे हैं : हिन्दी शिक्षक, हिन्दी लेखक, हिन्दी मीडिया और हिन्दी की स्वयंसेवी संस्थाएं । भारत और ब्रिटेन के लगभग चार शताब्दी पुराने संबंधों को नई मजबूती देने के लिए और यह देखते हुए कि ब्रिटेन के अनेकों विद्वानों ने भी हिन्दी की महती सेवा की है, चार में से दो सम्मानों के नाम ब्रिटेन के हिन्दी सेवियों और शेष दो सम्मानों के नाम भारत के हिन्दी साहित्यकारों के नाम पर रखे गए । वर्ष 2007 में जब पहली बार ये सम्मान दिए गए तो वह वर्ष जनप्रिय कवि श्री हरिवंशराय बच्चन का जन्म शताब्दी वर्ष भी था इसलिए हिन्दी लेखन सम्मान उनके नाम पर; कालजयी पत्रिका सरस्वती के सम्पादक के रुप में भारत में हिन्दी को एक निश्चित स्वरुप प्रदान करने वाले आचार्य महावीर प्रसाद द्विवेदी के नाम पर हिन्दी पत्रकारिता सम्मान, कोलकाता में रॉयल एशियाटिक सोसाइटी के माध्यम से हिन्दी शिक्षण को नयी राह दिखाने वाले श्री जॉन गिलक्रिस्ट के नाम पर हिन्दी शिक्षण सम्मान और जीवन भर ब्रिटेन में हिन्दी के लिए लड़ने वाले और अंत में लखनऊ में अंतिम सांस लेने वाले श्री फ्रैडरिक पिन्कॉट के नाम पर हिन्दी प्रचार प्रसार सम्मान का नामकरण किया गया ।
विदेश मंत्रालय से अपेक्षित सहयोग लगातार मिलता रहा और समय समय पर मार्गदर्शन भी । इसी से कुछ और नए कार्यक्रम हाथ में लिए गए हैं जिनकी सूचना समय समय पर आपको मिलती रहेगी । वर्ष 2007 के लिए निम्नलिखित व्यक्तियों/संस्थाओं को सम्मान देने का निर्णय लिया गया है:
1. जॉन गिलक्रिस्ट यू के हिन्दी शिक्षण सम्मान : इस सम्मान के लिए पेशे से सिविल इंजीनियर,कई बाल पुस्तकों एवं हिन्दी पाठ्यपुस्तकों के रचयिता और महालक्ष्मी विद्या भवन, लन्दन में हिन्दी के शिक्षक श्री वेद मित्र मोहला को चुना गया है ।
2. डॉ.हरिवंश राय बच्चन यू के हिन्दी लेखन सम्मान : इस श्रेणी के अन्तर्गत ब्रिटेन के ख्याति प्राप्त लेखक श्री तेजेन्द्र शर्मा को सम्मानित करने का निर्णय लिया गया ।
3. आचार्य महावीर प्रसाद द्विवेदी यू के हिन्दी पत्रकारिता सम्मान : ऑडियो/वीडिओ मीडिया में 05 नवम्बर, 1989 से अपने हिन्दी प्रसारण के माध्यम से दक्षिण एशियाई श्रोताओं में अति लोकप्रियता प्राप्त करने वाले सनराइज रेडियो को यह सम्मान दिए जाने का निर्णय लिया गया है।
4. फ्रेडरिक पिन्काट यू के हिन्दी प्रचार प्रसार सम्मान : हिन्दी के प्रचार प्रसार में लगी स्वयंसेवी संस्थाओं की श्रेणी में वर्ष 2007 के लिए लन्दन की यू के हिन्दी समिति का चयन किया गया है ।
लन्दन के भारत भवन में16 फरवरी, 2008 को आयोजित किए जाने वाले एक समारोह में उपर्युक्त व्यक्तियों/संस्थाओं को सम्मान स्वरुप प्रशस्ति पत्र और स्मृति चिह्न भेंट किये जाएंगे।
Ramayan From: TEJMANI@aol.com Sent: 30 January 2008 00:46:04 Namaste All,
April6th to June 15 KBRE 2008 Kaun Banega Ramayan Expert [KBRE 2008] with seeking some inputs from all of you; we got good responses and based on that we are moving forward with following decisions on KBRE.
We will retain the name of KBRE and we are continuing the name of the project this year. Time line for the event is going to be April6th [Yugadi Pratipada] to June 15; April 6th: Website is going to be open for public and students can go and register on line and start taking the practice exam. On April 13th [Ram Navami day], On line exam will be open for every one Online examination will be available until June 15th and local team can take the decision on coming up with their own time for next level competition; It is recommended that the final winner list can be decided by June 15th and can be awarded during the next local Utsav by shakhas [June 16th is Hindu Sanghatan Diwas] Age range for the KBRE competition [date range is as of the age on 04/01/08]
In the end a priseworthy scheme and hats off to all the volunteers carrying it out; India needs loads of schemes like this in every city town and village (but with strict quality control and an appeal to the common sense)
Dear All
If you have a function/party at your home and if ther is excess food available at the end, don't hesitate to call 1098 (only in India ) - child helpline. They will come and collect the food.
Please circulate this message which can help feed many children ..
'Helping hands are better than Praying Lips'. - Mother Teresa
Love is an all encompassing feeling, difficult to fathom... a complex yet a very gentle and moving moment in one's life. It has got that 'Midas touch' which can turn ordinary into special. But there are no half ways or shortcuts in its path. It demands total surrender of one's ego...complete unity of heart ...So for a feeble or a doubting mind it can be quite an empowering and suffocating experience; yet it manages to exist everywhere, pervades all and everyone. 
Poet ,philosopher and artist kahlil Gibran's poetry is translated into more than twenty languages. The Prophet and his others books of prose and poetry, illustrated with his mystical drawings, are known and loved by people all over the world. George Rusell wrote about this deep thinker's immortal work:
True!-Nervous--very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am! but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses--not destroyed--not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily--how calmly I can tell you the whole story.
"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed!--tear up the planks!--here, here!--it is the beating of his hideous heart!" 
Dear All 
