“You will top as always, isn’t it,” said my classmates, as it was the last day of school today, the last exam of English Language was over.
I gave them a faint smile, of course how else could I have reacted, and quickly slipped away, as I always avoided many of them. There were two close friends, and two or three more in forty with whom I ever talked. They were gone, so there was no point in staying here.
Once I was out of the school gate, I was confused where to go to, I wasn’t going home as I know I would be going nuts there because of the boredom. After three minutes of thinking, I headed to the bazaar, my usual spot if I can’t figure out where to kill time. I had anyway informed mother that I will have lunch somewhere outside, and who will say no to a son who except coming and going to school steps out of the house once or twice a month?
I ritually played a little with the two, pure white kitties who were always found outside my school. They were kids of the strangely two black cats who were always found sleeping in the shade of the big banyan tree opposite our school, I had seen them becoming parents from kittens and I swear I cried the day these two kittens were born, whoever may be the father. I sometimes salute the father of those kittens, that black cat didn’t throw up any drama. One film on my this brother’s life, the husbands of this entire nation will learn what it means to love.
I walked away further, took a left turn and saw a small stall of an old aunty selling lemonade. It was May’s usual humid heat, Bombay being Bombay.
“Aunty, one glass,” I said. She smiled; she knew this order from me would be the only thing she would hear from me the entire year. She took a glass, and quickly made me a fresh lemonade, with just the perfect amount of lemon juice, sugar and ice. It was simply refreshing.
I then headed straight ahead, crossed a road and there it was, the bazaar. It was a huge line of one storey-ed buildings, all the same colour and the same structure. The ground floor had toy shops, stationery stores, shops selling utensils, retail shops and fast food selling shops with huge crowds in front of them. The first floor had tailors stitching shirts and pants from cloth, local ladies boutiques and tailors, barbers, and two jewellery shops. Though the rents of the shops here were the cheapest in the city, the jewellery shops here attracted waves of rich and elite people, as they had some of the most trending designs of gold earrings and gave you the largest sum of money in the city if you sold gold here. The shops on the first floor had air conditioners, and only the shops requiring it opened on the first floor. There was a medium broad staircase in between two of these buildings for you to go up. When you walked along these buildings, some hundred meters away, on the opposite side of the road were numerous vegetable and fruit carts, selling cheap but fresh fruits. These stalls sold the cheapest vegetables and fruits after wholesale rates, hence the old people who lived two kilometres or under nearby walked here to buy cheap fruits and vegetables, and even got the compulsory walk the doctors treating their diabetes prescribed them to.
I went up to Suraj ji’s shop that sold the best vada pavs in the city. Ever since his son threw him out, he and his wife learned how to make authentic, Maharashtrian vada pavs. They settled here, in Bombay, and started their very own business by selling all the jewellery they wore. Now, they were fed up with counting the money that rained into their shop, as they were the most famous entrepreneurs of the city. Be it the locals or the foreign visitors, no one ever dared not to eat their delicacy.
“Beta,” shouted Suraj ji as he spotted me. I touched his feet, and he blessed me.
“Why have you come after such a long time, keep coming and see us, you are the only sunshine our old eyes ever see,” her wife exclaimed as she assembled for me a vada pav : she sliced open the pav into two flaps;applied the spicy green chutney of crushed and ground coriander, mint and green chillies; added the dry and spicy powder of red chillies and garlic, a tiny bit of the sweet jaggery and tamarind chutney, and put a big pav of spicy potato filling coated with chickpea flour and deep-fried, in between the two flaps of the bread she had just cut open. She made me two, and I sat there eating them, the only outside food I ever love. All thanks to the love in aunty’s hands that assemble them. I paid them the money after I finished feasting, and they waved back with big smiles as I went away.
I headed to a tiny supermarket next, and bought a chocolate bar for myself. I sat under the big banyan tree at the end of the line of vegetable stalls, and just before the fruit carts. Just as I was about to open the bar, I saw three beggar boys, and one tiny and dirty naked toddler who had just learned walking trying to chase them, falling and then getting back up again and again. They quickly peeped inside the big dustbin on opposite side of this small road which was hardly ever emptied, scanning to find anything new. A boy quickly picked up a wrapper of a big chocolate bar from the very bottom, it still had some chocolate on it. The other boys started licking the stale chocolate on the wrapper, they started dancing yelling “Chocolate…”. But soon this dance turned into bloodshed as one boy snatched it and wouldn’t share. Soon, there was pulling of hair, dragging each other, kicking each other, biting and scratching. I thought it would be thoughtful to leave my chocolate where I was under the tree, and I left. After walking a few yards away, I looked back to see another fight this time over who gets the biggest chunk. I checked my watch, and I thought I must leave now.
All the way home, I observed till I reached home the sky turning white to slight dull blue and then slightly orange, as home was a bit long walk from the bazaar here.
On the way home, I once again passed by my school. This epitome of noises in the afternoon was now dead silent, shut down as if it never functioned. I don’t know why I felt the chills, nobody from my school would ever care for such a small thing, but for me this wasn’t a small thing. I feel (I wrote this in my essay today), that the essence of being human is dreaming big while being surrounded by small, humble feelings and joys.
I turned my head to the tree in front. I was delighted to spot that black cat once again, now teaching his kittens to lick and clean their bodies. He showed them how to fold the paws and clean them, and how to turn the head backwards to clean the backs. If they weren’t able to do it, he showed them again how it’s done, but he didn’t groom them, and they must now do it themselves. While his kittens were practicing, their mother came and lovingly hugged him from behind.
I had seen enough jewels today, enough heartwarming moments, a day to remember and linger in my memories. The sky was now bright orange saying darkness would creep in soon. I headed for home then.
A RIDE INTO THE PALETTE OF MEMORIES After reading Ojo Olumide Emmanuel
Once upon a dream,
I journeyed through the history of me as a page.
Inside, there’s a whirlwind teaching a boy theories of hell.
There’s a naked hell glowing from bone-to-skin skin-to-ashes
& ashes into everything the fire named.
I bent down to morph the ashes into bowl of sand.
Suddenly, Dad’s picture emerged like dust on the pulpit of wind
With a broken image still blurring on the album.
In the album, his sins are mine,
the last duplicate of his sins winged through
my palms to sky. You see, this body
Has become a temple of forgiveness.
I forgive him. I do, I believe I do.
Outside the album, he’s vomiting all the apologies
Out of boredom.
Adamu Muhammad Ja’agi (AMJ D’POET) is a young Nigerian poet, debater, public speaker, and a spoken word artist from Minna, the center city of Niger state. Ja’agi is a young voice who is passionate about art and it’s magic at storytelling. He has represented the state including in a project presentation nationwide. Ja’agi is a student of father O’Connell Science college, Minna
Only then we can move on; matters not. Outside world what is going on.
Only we can choose the path
What is right for us,
When the veil of right and wrong
Collapse like a tower
Only can save us our inner power.
Eventually this power makes us strong
The pathos of life prolong,
Then life become a mellifluous song
We left behind the tune of melancholy song.
No one can judge us
Even we can’t judge anyone,
Someone who is imperfect
Become perfectly perfect to someone.
We have to overcome the
The hardles of life one by one,
Divine power only guide us…
When we become the stronger one.
Sumana Bhattacharjee
27/6/2026
Sumana Bhattacharjee is a bilingual poetry writer from India. She born and brought up in city Kolkata in a family of teachers. From her childhood she has had a keen interest in music, poetry and drama. She is a published poet and her poems have been published in more than twenty national and international anthologies. She is a regular contributor of ezines like Glomag Raven-Cage Ezines, Spillword. com, and Cultural Reverence. She founded two online literature group and she is working as an assistant executive editor at Global Nation Newspaper, Bangladesh. She is the peace ambassador of WHMP. She is passionate about poetry and she thinks this is the only way she can spread her thought around the world.
Egypt takes action to foster a cosmopolitan culture—a legacy of its millennia-old civilization.
Two significant updates have emerged from the Arab Republic of Egypt: one concerning the safeguarding of rights and freedoms within the country, and another regarding foreign policy, reaffirming Egypt’s full solidarity with the Kingdom of Bahrain in light of current regional developments.
A top priority for Egypt is the growth of a cosmopolitan culture and the continuous development of the arts—a beacon for all peoples. To this end, the government is deeply committed—both domestically and in its foreign policy—to initiatives that ensure justice, friendship, and maximum cooperation with nations considered to be staunch allies.
Tuesday, July 14, saw two major developments: Justice Minister Mahamoud El-Sherif offered his congratulations to the incoming President of the State Council, Mahamoud Abu El-Dahab, at the Princess Fawzia Palace; meanwhile, Presidential Spokesperson Ambassador Mohammed El-Shennawy announced that President Abdel Fattah El-Sisi would visit the King of Bahrain, His Majesty Hamad bin Isa Al Khalifa, following his visit to Qatar. During the meeting with His Majesty Hamad bin Isa, the President reiterated Egypt’s firm support for the security and stability of the Kingdom of Bahrain.
Meanwhile, in the Land of the Pharaohs, there is a surge in the number of tourists visiting the world’s largest archaeological museum dedicated to a single civilization: the Grand Egyptian Museum in Giza. Concurrently, a special reception is scheduled for July 30 in San Francisco to celebrate the de Young Museum’s highly anticipated exhibition, “Treasures of the Pharaohs,” curated by Renée Dreyfus (George and Judy Marcus Distinguished Curator in Charge of Ancient Art).
Be among the first to marvel at the 130 exquisite works that exemplify the grandeur of the world of the Egyptian pharaohs, ranging from monumental granite statues to intricate gold jewelry, each highlighting the wealth and complexity of ancient Egyptian civilization. Spanning 3,000 years of history, the exhibition features objects that beautifully and poignantly represent the daily life and views of those who served the pharaohs, offering insight into Egyptian society, its beliefs, and its artistic achievements.
POETRY IS AN ARGUMENT WITH THE SELF AND DISCOURSE WITH THE DIVINE –
DR JERNAIL S. ANAND IN CONVERSATION WITH DR. ANNIE JOHN
[Prof. Dr. Annie John, Head, Dept. of English, A. R. Burla Mahavidyalaya, Solapur, serves as Chairperson, Board of Studies and Member of Academic Council. A prolific writer, editor, and reviewer, she has authored 46 books, 60 research papers, 27 chapters, 40 articles on morals and ethics, guided 9 Ph.D scholars, and contributes as resource person at conferences.]
1. When and how did you first discover your passion for writing?
I was studying in B.A. when I came across a friend who had published a book of Hindi short stories. That was the stimulus for me to move ahead in the direction of writing. However, I was very young, in 9th standard, when I started writing in my mother tongue Punjabi. I wrote a short novelette about our migration from the village to the industrial city of Ludhiana. In our school times, in 9th and 10th standard, two teachers would inspire us to read Russian and Punjabi novelists, which propelled me towards writing. Lala Hardyal’s Hints for Self culture gave me the necessary impetus for loving English writing.
2. How does your personal and cultural background align with your writings?
I believe that all art is autobiographical. Objectivity has its limits. The personality of a poet or an artist makes interventions in his artistic pursuits. The text that a poet creates comes from several sources, and the most momentary of all is the personal circumstances which govern his mindset. Once this moment passes, he will create a different type of text, words will be different, arrangement will be different, and may be, the entire idea of writing may change, and it is also possible, he may decide not to write at all. This is how bio text works. The personal and the cultural lie embedded at the foundation of every writing, and they colour the thought process of the writer. The suffering that I have seen in my life has always coloured my world view, and I come from a humble background, I possess a particular world view about the subaltern sections of society. All the empathy that you can see saturating my works is the result of my personal and cultural bearing, a period of struggle and evolution.
3. What inspires you to write and how do you balance imagination with reality?
Writing is second nature to me. Most of the thoughts come to me while I am on a walk. As soon as I enter the fields, and get close to the grooves of trees, thoughts which have poetic potential strike my mind. So, it it is natural settings, birds, vegetation, the sky, animals – all these have the potential to set the poetic bells ringing. Thoughts actually come with a certain continuity. Sometimes it is not easy to connect back to that series of thoughts. So, I always make a small note of key words, from which I could rebuilt the poetic spectrum which made me think of a particular idea. As I get home, and when I get time, I write poetry directly on the mobile. Reality and imagination coalesce in a poetic text. Reality is the pitch and imagination is the flight. Everybody comes across ordinary events, but the poet has to impart these events a sense of urgency, some element of rhetoric, so that they become special, and for this, he needs imagination. Imagination is the mint where the words are sculpted.
4. How do you blend excellence and understanding in your writings?
Things come naturally and effortlessly when we are clear in our head about our priorities, which also gives us a sense of the fields forbidden to saunter in. Understanding is the base, the foundation, on which excellence can be built. Excellence is the pursuit of the finest in a particular field, and for achieving this state, it is essential that we understand what we are after. It also includes our understanding of our limitations and strengths, and what we should aspire for. What is best for us, perhaps it is too tall an order to know. But, it is a fact that we do not get beyond our capabilities. Excellence also embraces the idea of hard work and pursuit of a particular ambition. People who are habitual of hard work, excellence is a natural corollary of their actions. Understanding, as I said earlier, is the foundation and for this to be strong, we need proper education and training of our faculties.
5. What type of sensibility is required for excellence in poetry?
You are talking of a poetic sensibility. It is a unique endowment which cannot be acquired in training saloons. It is inborn. Poets are divinely endowed with a sensitive mind, which can discover the inevitable in every event, and perceive the invisible presence of a divine hand behind whatever happens. The highest poetry has been written by poets who were blessed by the Muse. Writing poetry for the sake of poeticising is also an art, in which we can compete with others for positions in contests, but for excellence in creativity, we need a sensibility rooted in a divine vision, of the oneness of creation, and man’s divinity. I find the poetry of sages and saints like Guru Nanak Dev from Punjab is the highest form of poetry. Nobody can excel Kabir and Rumi.
6. What goes into making a literary work truly excellent and immortal?
It is the subject matter of a work of literature which lends it immortality and it is its treatment and presentation, which make it excellent. Great literature deals with questions of existence, philosophy and spirituality. Excellence relates to the formal aspect of the writing. The treatment, the selection of language, the clarity of thought, and how the poet finally delivers his message, all these aspects add to the excellence of a work of art. Immortality simply means transcendence in matters of time and space. Art that deals with eternal values, finally transcends time. A work whom generations after generations find conversing with them, stands the test of time, and in such a work, the loftiness of thought is combined with its formal finesse in delivering a message of ultimate significance.
7. Has writing ever changed your own perspective on life?
Civilization is a ceaseless progression from past into the future. So are our lives. Whatever we face, and how we negotiate it, leaves its impact on our life and thinking. I feel as times have changed, and I have assimilated more and more of life and literature, I perceive a definite change in my perceptions. My thoughts on nature can be cited as an example. Previously, I thought that nature is secondary to mankind, and less intelligent too. But over the time, my perception has changed. Now, I believe that nature is the first empire of Godly creation, which possesses the highest level of intelligence. Human intelligence, in my opinon, is acquired intelligence, we can call it AI. To every new born child, God gives a natural intelligence. Nature also has this original intelligence. It is also called INNOCENCE. Innocence should not be confused with ignorance. Nature is not ignorant. They know their job better than men can perform. That is why there is comparative peace in the world of nature, whereas there is absolute chaos in the world of men, where we depend on artificial intelligence, which I dare described as ‘Artificial Wisdom’. These ideas have been dealt with in my epic ‘Revelations’, which was released recently.
8. How do you know when a piece of writing is complete?
It is not possible to say that a piece of writing is complete. We leave it half way. In India, when a man dies, it is said, “poora ho gaya’ which means, his journey has been completed. In the same way, a writing can be called complete, it seems impossible, because, just as a man continues to live even beyond his years through his sons and daughters, an author bears poetry which keeps evolving in time. So, the idea of a writing being complete is illusionary. An artist when he gives finishing touches to a work of art, is never sure of its completion. It is only his feeling that it is completed. Personally, I always feel there is so much to say on any topic on which I write poetry or prose. But it has to be rounded off with a temporary sense of conclusion.
9. Many people opine that there is magic missing in contemporary poetry. How do you react to this?
I find there is a lot of democratization of the poetic sensibility. It is not confined to literature benches only. People are writing poetry, getting it published, and books after books are being released by different poetry portals. You find so many competitions, so many awards. These days, senior scholars are holding workshops also to teach how to write poetry. In this connection, I feel that any person can write an article, or even a story, or a novel, because after all these genres are dependent on the thought stream of writers, in which mind plays a great role. But, these criteria do not apply to poetry. Poetry cannot be taught. It is a natural endowment and poets are inborn. They have a special sensibility and a keen view with which they look at life, and this keen vision is coupled with the power of versification, which again is innate. If the poetry comes from these natural sources, it carries a certain loftiness, and what you call ‘magic’. If it is forced, it is just versified prose which lacks poetic magic.
10. What tempts you to keep the pen rolling?
Poetic sensibility means a poet’s power to discern poetic moments in ordinary life. These moments cast a pull on our imagination, and then, while walking, I make a halt, take out my mobile phone, go to notes, and write down a word or two, so as to remind me of the entire spectrum of thought, when I start writing a bit later, when I feel comfortable. For me, it is the wish to share my experience with the cosmic audience, what I have felt about certain things, and whether I like them, or how I want them to be. Poetry is an argument with the self and the cosmic forces as well.It is a private conversation, which we make public so that it remains as a living document of the discourse with the divine.
11. How has modern technology changed writing and reading habits?
Modern technology has opened great vistas of knowledge which has been documented for future generations. Things are available at the click of a button. Scholars are simply required to sift the information and select from the information available in abundance. All this seems to be a rosy picture. It should have made more time available to the youngsters. But, no. Their reading habits have undergone a marked change. The question is why people develop reading habits? In the past, people had vacant time, and they wanted novels and short stories etc. for the sake of entertainment. Now, the youngsters are left with no time at all. Moreover, whatever entertainment they need is coming from the films and videos streamed nonstop of the OTT platforms. You tube is a great source of entertainment. So, should our youngsters go to books? Instruction, which came from books, is no longer required because the kids grow mature quite faster, and overtake the wisdom of their parents. In a way, reading has become out of place. That is why, libraries are becoming cold stores of knowledge, which have no takers. AI has further brought people to the brink of thinking that book reading is a wastage of time. Make reels and make money from you tube and google. I don’t think any serious book readers are left in our vicinity, except those who rush to books written in lighter vein, comics, or books which tell ten ways to make money, and these days books about astrology are becoming acraze with young ones. Interest in books dealing with serious literature are accessed by students only if these books are prescribed in their course of study.
12. Looking back is there anything you would like to change in your literary journey?
We cannot go back, nor can we edit what has taken place in the past. Moreover, I am a strong believer that we are performing to the best of our abilities, yet, there are forces which don’t allow us to do things neither better nor worse. I have a positive faith in invisible forces. I have always looked forward, and did whatever I thought better in those circumstances. Some decisions were rash also. But, we cannot go back, nor edit what we have done. So, I think it is better to focus on the future.
13. How would you like to be remembered as a writer?
Here lies the man who was his own worst critic because he was his own greatest lover.
14. What advice would you give young aspiring writers?
If you look at my life, I have always believed in hard work, and a passionate engagement with my ambition. I never deviated from my mission to be a Lecturer in English, and then, to be an author. What makes you better is the struggle that we have to face while wading through life. In this struggle, we should not play smart for the sake of success. It is better to remain rooted, and have faith in the power of our faith. One should aspire for the impossible and work for its achievement, there is nothing wrong in it, but, while working for our own wellbeing and uplift, we must not bring any harm to anyone else, may be from our family, or society, or the larger cosmic society. In other words, our actions should be in harmony with the cosmic forces. By way of advice to upcoming generations of poets and writers, I would like to say: try to be original and creative, and don’t keep looking towards the past. Future has a different composition, and it requires an innovative treatment. Evolution is the law of nature. Spiritually and philosophically, we need to grow and confront the emerging realities, so that our writing reflects contemporary conflicts and possible resolutions.
Dr. Jernail S. Anand, with 200 books to his credit [20 epics] is a Chandigarh-based polymath, and a vital architect of the 21st century ethical literature whose seminal work ‘Lustus: The Prince of Darkness’ challenges the moral complacency of our era. Founding President of the International Academy of Ethics, and Laureate of Charter of Morava [Serbia], Seneca [Italy], Franz Kafka [Germany, Ukraine, Czech Rep] and Maxim Gorky [Russia], his name is inscribed on the Poets’ Rock in Serbia. He is an Honorary Member of the Serbian Writers Association, Belgrade. Anand has built a poetics that unites ethics, Vedic spirituality, social critique, and the philosophy of meaning. Anand presents an articulated perspective on poetry as an instrument of planetary consciousness. A moral philosopher, professor, and international speaker, Anand has devoted much of his research to the ethical dimension of language, to the responsibility of the individual within a globalised society, and to the relationship between matter, consciousness, and transcendence. Email: anandjs55@yahoo.com.
