CREATING AN ESTATE OF HAPPINESS FOR YOURSELF
-Dr. Jernail S. Anand
Those who love silver and crave for gold
Will say one day, we have committed suicide.
- Kaifi Azmi
The men of business in olden times would write on their 'Gullaks' (chests) would write ‘Shubh Labh’ (Just Profit). Those times when people were not so ambitious for personal growth, were better times, because the general tone of society was that of goodness, kindness, and an all pervading sense of mutual understanding and love for humanity.
PROFIT JUST OR UNJUST
Profit is fine, but how can it be ‘Shubh’ [Just]? Who knows the difference between Shubh and Ashubh [Just and Unjust]? If the business is carried out with just practices, it gives joy. But when we resort to unjust practices to maximize profits, it spreads pain. As most of the people are after unjust profits, as widespread is the incidence of pain. Pain is symptomatic of some abnormality in the body. And when it remains untreated over years, it gives rise to chronic ailments. We are all afflicted with a malaise: psycho-spiritual sickness. We are running after wealth and in the pursuit, lose the joy of living. At the same time, we push thousands below the poverty line with our indiscrete actions aimed at self-promotion.
FAIR IS FOUL: THE ZONE OF THE UNDESIRABLE
Fair is foul, foul is fair,
hover through fog and filthy air".
Macbeth's witches make a great statement. The civilization represents the ‘fair’ which the witches declare as ‘foul’. For ordinary intelligence, it is difficult to distinguish between Right and Not Right. People doing ordinary jobs and living somehow, don’t even realize when they have stepped into the Zone of the Undesirable. But the essential question is: Even if they know, will they stop? The entire populace is busy in making fast buck. Some lose their scruples when life is too hard on them. And some, on whom luck has smiled, think why we should look back?
LOVE AND WAR
Love is a sacred emotion, yet people believe that everything is fair in love and war. ‘Tam sam dand bhed’ are the words oft repeated by men who have no scruples. Men, in general, are bound by a sense of the moral and the immoral, but we take the first opportunity to override these considerations. It has to be noted that men in general hold on to principles. But there is only one variety of people who lack all scruples. It is the politicians. For whom, every day is an undeclared war, which must be won. So, principles are a suicidal passion for a politician. Those who use uneven methods to win their love, too are never forgiven by gods who are closely monitoring our conduct. Have we seen any politician dying an enviable death, except in case of a few, who acted as statesmen, and upheld their principles? In love too, if we miss the moral mark, all unions fizzle out leaving behind a family on the rocks.
THE RIGHT CONDUCT
Friends who are well endowed often ask: what is bad in making money? One of them deals in shares. If they rise, what is wrong in it? Some have invested their money in real estate from where they get interest on their wealth. The question is: what is unethical about it. Further on, if you start an industry, and if gods are kind and it starts prospering, what is wrong in it? Is ambition an unethical passion? Can we stop people from growing up?
These are scorching questions. We cannot stop people from starting their business, and everyone wants that the business should prosper. In the same way, the man of the stock market too cannot be faulted if he gets a fortune by a rise in the value of his shares.
The basic issue here is: Do you want happiness? Or you simply want Wealth?
If your preference is for Wealth, then all your pursuits are justified. But don’t blame gods if your son develops some problem, or your daughter elopes with someone. Your wife can have asthma. And you too can have blood pressure. You may have to visit a heart surgeon, to get a stent. Wealth brings in its train all these unceremonious things. If you have too much of it, one of your sons may decide to get rid of you and grab the entire wealth you have created. Anything can be expected from jealous gods. You are entirely innocent. There is nothing wrong in making fast buck. Millions have been making millions. And you can hear the high voices of celebrations from across the continents. Men of success, enjoying the fruits of their labour.
However, if Happiness is your passion, then, it all depends on how you use your wealth. If you are a man of business, let me take you back to the beginning of this article. Remember ‘Shubh Labh’. Every penny that you earn should be through ‘just’ means. If gods are kind and bless you with wealth, you can share it with those who need it. It will make the cosmic forces happy. And this happiness will reflect in your eyes, on your forehead, and in your body language. Look at the body language of those who died for the country. S. Bhagat Singh, Lala Hardyal. And look at the body language of our great money makers who have their wealth in Swiss banks. It is all a matter of choice. Happiness or Wealth- both cannot be put together, unless you have a mind trained in cosmic sympathy, and you possess the power to part with your wealth so that you can create an estate of happiness for yourself.
The final word is: Think of your happiness, and create as much wealth as much as you can, but make sure, it does not make anyone poor. If it can uplift others also, it is an act of goodness, and loved by gods.
Dr Jernail Singh Anand, President of the International Academy of Ethics, is author of 161 books in English poetry, fiction, non-fiction, philosophy and spirituality. He was awarded Charter of Morava, the great Award by Serbian Writers Association, Belgrade and his name was engraved on the Poets’ Rock in Serbia. The Academy of Arts and philosophical Sciences of Bari [Italy] honoured him with the award of an Honourable Academic. Recently, he was awarded Doctor of Philosophy [Honoris Causa] by the University of Engg and Management, Jaipur. Recently, he organized an International Conference on Contemporary Ethics at Chandigarh. His most phenomenal book is Lustus:The Prince of Darkness [first epic of the Mahkaal Trilogy]. [Email: anandjs55@yahoo.com Mobile: 919876652401[Whatsapp]
Link Bibliography:
https://atunispoetry.com/2023/12/08/indian-author-dr-jernail-s-anand-honoured-at-the-60th-belgrade-international-meeting-of-writers/
Maid Corbic from Tuzla, 24 years old. In his spare time he writes poetry that repeatedly praised as well as rewarded. He also selflessly helps others around him, and he is moderator of the World Literature Forum WLFPH (World Literature Forum Peace and Humanity) for humanity and peace in the world. He is world 44. poet in the world and five in the Balkan. He has over the 10.000 successes on Facebook.
I am Helena LeClerc Reformed Solemniac
Hah so there you are. Hah so there you are whichwise won’t now nor never believe in this comfybed—this comfybed you believe on in one of two ways depending on depending of, as; 1, that it is no rest at all ‘cause no sleep’s allowed, or 2. It is rest time please leave me alone I am sleeping don’t tug me up out over to you whomever you are, which doesn’t matter, on cause which that you need your sleep and can’t function without it so don’t ruin the morning to come by making it another stumbling sand pit of low exhaustion inability to know hear understand speak or or or whatever, so.
No mind my nameplate that back at Grundig’s read Helena LeClerc Reformed Solemniac and that now again reads what eh? Oh, pitiful one claiming it is too far out for one such asleep as you are not so okay so okay here it is flat in your face my name’s Helena LeClerc Reformed Solemniac see this Helena yas first name then LeClerc yas nextname then Reformed yup yup yup that’s me too all over and the last be; Solemniac; off punch you’ gut wit’ Helena—then wit’ LeClerc Reformed—then last wit’ Solemniac—hey! Helena LeClerc Reformed Solemniac—ho! There! You woke now? Wakened out up and in now eh?
So! Sonboy!
Listen to me I am Helena LeClerc Reformed Solemniac Helena LeClerc Reformed Solemniac, and again and forever Helena LeClerc Reformed Solemniac so!
Be awake!
Now and immediately!
Ah oh stand back blanket flung four by four splintering sheet rent gold flecks shattered torn shreds flying shot from the ground and unseen in the dark, signboard first in two and, unseen in the dark, then in five, is eh then in fifty eh one hundred eh all rubble eh grown down into grassweeds time and pressure pressure and time too hot much too hot much hot too much too hot no up get go up get go danger hey—
Sonboy up awake and unseen in the dark shouting.
The light! Give me light!
What is the where is this?
Give me light!
Snap-on; all a’beaming—
Sonboy, good morning.
Ah—who are you—I—
I am, for the last time, Helena LeClerc Reformed Solemniac.
Oh—
But, as previously stated, you may call me Dwight.
Sonboy’s fists came up twisting the sleep from his eyes. The black pebble swirl from within soothed and soothed and he kept at it until the pressure turned unpleasant lowering his fists, and, blinking, he beheld things at last clearly.
Sonboy! Sonboy.
At last and for once clearly.
Mom, he stated.
The word licked in his mouth as she said, Come on Sonboy. I’ll whip you up some breakfast. Come on.
Jim Meirose's short work is widely published, and his novels include "Sunday Dinner with Father Dwyer"(Optional Books), "Le Overgivers au Club de la Résurrection" (Mannequin Haus), "No and Maybe - Maybe and No"(Pski's Porch), "Audio Bookies" (LJMcD Communications), "Et Tu" (C22 press), and "Game 5" (Soros Books). info: www.jimmeirose.com, X id @jwmeirose
My mother’s name is Mst. Roksana Yesmin. She is 35 years old. She is a M.A. She teaches in a primary school in Dinajpur. After school hours she works at home. She cooks our food. She also looks after my old grandmother and my little sister. She takes care of our health and studies. On holiday, she cooks special dishes for us. She washes the clothes. She keeps the house clean. Sometimes she goes to the market. She also visits relatives. She helps the sick people. In the evening, she watches TV. She spends her free time with us. She remains busy the whole week. No person in the world is like my mother.
So, I love my mother very much.
MD. Rizwan Islam (Talha) is a student of grade six in Harimohan Government High School, Chapainawabganj, Bangladesh.
If the body told stories
A scar is an anthology
inscribed on my body
in delicate pieces, with
life’s treacherous ink.
My skin, once in its glories,
white as the sea’s frothy lip kissing the shore.
It glistened, for it had never been branded
by a brush or stained with paint. Until life raided,
made a conquest on every inch, each territory a different memory.
After Jay Kophy’s: “If the body could speak.”Sadiya Abdulaziz is a writer and voice-over artist from Nigeria who has been fascinated with stories from a young age. She loves conversational poetry. Her poems have been published or are forthcoming in Nantygreens, Spillwords, and other publications. Currently, she is a Poetry Fellow of the Sprinng Writing Fellowship.
IF I WERE A TREE
If I were a tree
the tree, hidden inside me.
Perhaps a large Mango tree,
all the bird's nests, all the beehives
built inside me;
Bees are flying flowers to flowers
to collect bud nectar.
Birds sing and dance in the branches of flowers.
If I would be a tree
The tree, hidden inside me.
My branches and leaves are umbrellas
that shelter from summer dust and heat.
People sit under the trees
in hot waves of air and humidity.
Like an air cooler, but in a safe way
trees reduce climate misery.
I wish I would be a tree
the tree, hidden inside me.
The rain drops on my leaves
the insect hides below to flee.
The sparrows are bathing feathers are falling
like a paratrooper swinging in the air.
In the beehive, the queen came out from her chamber
Her Majesty bath in the tender;
the rainwater flashing through the root
The ants are climbing to reach the bark
Beneath the bark, there are colonies of troops.
I wish I could be a tree
the tree, hidden inside me.
My fruits are sweet and sour
with green, golden and red cores.
Flavour and freshness,
mind-blowing fragrance.
It's beauty and happiness
It's courage and kindness!
I wish I would be a tree
the tree, hidden inside me.
THE BLUE MIMOSA
I had seen,
the blue Mimosa trees in blossoms
and was overwhelmed by its beauty
but I don’t know its name.
You’re talking about it,
when the season of flower is gone.
And; when you come to my life
I noticed in your eyes,
the season has gone again.
This time, the season of love.
Because-
you were in enormous pain
for your past.
ANOTHER TRY
Sometimes,
I am not afraid of life
nor afraid of death.
But I think,
what will happen
after our death.
Will there someone waiting for you
someone else will be mine
or will we become dust
or a molecule with an endless life.
How far we will travel
how many galaxies
how many stars
will you read my poems
when I will be the universal traveler.
Shall I feel this loneliness while
traveling star after star.
I want this human life back
with another try.
You will sit with me
I will sit beside.
And that will be time for our divine love
without endless cry.
THE SUNSET IN NAGARKOT HILLS
I am standing with a friend
yet I am alone
and thinking about you.
The sun is setting in the west
of Nagarkot hills.
Twilight is visible at skyline
clouds kiss the forest greens.
Birds and insects are making noisy sounds
evening temperature is getting chilled.
fogs and clouds are flying like soft cottons
and I am alone
with many people.
Most tourist couple have already left,
how unlucky they are
those did not kiss each other
in this foggy mountain evening.
IF YOU CALL ME
Distance creates disappearance
time kills memories.
The world is a small village
but we are from two countries.
Two different races, religion
and ethnicity.
If you call me,
I will fly like an eagle
if you call me
I will try like an ant.
if you call me
I will love you like a human
giving up the obsession.
If you call me
I will build a home;
our two bodies
will become one
with the love of the divine.
so, please call me
please call me back
let’s be you are mine
I am yours
let’s fulfill this human life.
SOLITUDE
Here,
I have no family
no country
no beloved
yet, I hold the entire
universe in my heart.
-alone and lonely.
THOSE TWO EYES
I have fought
in so many difficulties
yet, I lost
in front of those two eyes.
Tareq Samin is an Author, Human Rights Activist and Social Entrepreneur. He is the editor of the bilingual literary journal Sahitto. He has authored ten books. His poems have been translated in more than 25 languages of which English, Spanish, Chinese, German, French, Italian are few to mention. His poems, short stories and articles have also published in more than 40 countries.
Tareq Samin received the ‘International Best Poets Award-2020’ from The International Poetry Translation And Research Centre (IPTRC), China and the Greek Academy of Arts and Writing. He has been awarded ‘Honorable Mention’ in Foreign Language Authors category for his poem ‘Another Try’ in ‘The prize il Meleto di Guido Gozzano Agliè’ poetry competition held on 12 September 2020 in Turin, Italy. In July 2021 he won Naji Naaman Literary Prize 2021.
Tareq Samin is a former fellow of Martin-Roth-Initiative Scholarship. The Martin Roth-Initiative is a joint program of ifa (Institut für Auslandsbeziehungen) and the Goethe-Institut. As a Martin-Roth-Initiative Scholarship fellow he was a guest writer in Goethe-Institut, Kolkata, India, and Kathmandu, Nepal.
In 2021, he was an International guest writer in Château de Lavigny International writers-in-residence, Switzerland.
In 2023, he has been selected for Hungarian writers-in-residence. Also he has been nominated for the Oak Institute for Human Rights.
Christopher Bernard is an award-winning poet and novelist. He is the author of two children’s books, If You Ride A Crooked Trolley . . . and The Judgment Of Biestia – the first in the “Otherwise” series.
