Essay from Dr. Jernail S. Anand

Neo-Heroism 

NEO-HEROISM OF POST-MODERN TIMES

Dr Jernail S. Anand

When people are suffering through a period of struggle, fighting for a higher ideal, you get leaders who can look back and forth, like Janus, and create a respectable space for themselves, and their people in the future. But, when the times are good, we get leaders who manoeuvre their victory, because people are busy in their luxuries, riding on whose mad dreams, they rise to power, and then squander the fruits of the labour of their predecessors. For a simple comparison, let us think of the sons and daughters of a poor household, who have to sweat it out in life, and they become doctors and lawyers, and bring laurels to the their family and even to the country they belong.  But, on other extreme, there are sons and daughters of a rich man, who sweat it out  squandering that wealth, finally ending up as ‘lost to society’. When you are born with a silver spoon, there is every possibility of your losing it by the end of your term. The sons and daughters of the rich, who live on luxury of their parents, play ducks and drakes with unearned wealth, and do not care for the society and its norms, do everything the society considers foul, and, no wonder, end up as murderers and smugglers. If the parents had used the principle of “artificial scarcity” for these ‘blessed’ kids, and forced them to earn their own living, rather than live on the luxury of their parents, they too would have joined the life stream as valuable men and women. Rich people, who do not bring up their offspring like this, deny the society, sometimes best people who could have emerged from their ranks.

Was Ravana the sole manifestation of Evil? He had ten heads. It is more symbolic than real. Ten heads means ten or twenty and even more, may be thousands, because, he was manifest evil, which lived in the minds of the people. Every person harbours evil, and when we put it together, we need some emblematic figure.Call it Ravana. So, was Kamsa, the manifestation of Evil. Was Duryodhana the only foul mind in the Kaurava camp? He was the head of a whole body of evil structured in the Kauravas. And, in this evil,the greatest part was played by the ‘Pratigya’ (Vow) of Bhishma. Guru Daron, and great men, who did not utter a word when Draupaudi was being molested, were all a part of the evil which manifested in Duryodhana and Dusashana, and even in Karna. In a way, Duryodhana was the face of this morally corrupt world.

If we look down the ages, in ninth or tenth centuries, we find the warriors who were regarded as the best of men. Odysseus, Hector, Achilles. The Romans have warriors like Caesar who represent the popular mind of those times. In the period of Enlightenment, followed by Victorian period, we come to see, a world which loved writing. And, we see the heroes of this world were Poets, Philosophers and Novelists, like Gorky and Tolstoy. They manifested the popular mindset. People loved their writings, because they epitomised their mental and moral aspirations. Today, we are confronting a world in which every man is drained ofidealism. Good has flowed out of our veins. Junk has made a permanent home in our blood vessels. And it is stinking with ambition, success, passion for wealth, and a blind wish to topple everything that is good in our society, including subversion of all that was good and lofty in the past.

The present times are the times of luxury and people have reaped the fruits of a long spell of suffering and hard work on ideas, ideologies and philosophy. Here we have a whole population which believes in wealth creation, and success, and they need   leaders who manifest this public passion. People who do not care for any moral considerations, for whom human life is a ‘deal’ and it is ‘energy’ which electrifies the internal wiring of the world, if these people elect leaders like Trump, they cannot be blamed for doing what they are doing. Leaders like Bibi are the manifestation of the people’s passion for commercial one upmanship, arrogance of power, and trampling all that is good under their feet. The fight of the mighties with countries like Ukraine and Iran sends a shivering message: The good is in steep minority. But it has the guts to stand up to the unified evil of the world, manifest in a few leaders.

THE NEO-HEROISM OF 21STCENTURY

Every age has its own heroes. The 20th century had Mahtama Gandhi, Jawahar Lal Nehru, and Rabindra Nath Tagore. The 21st century is entirely different from the  20th century. It  is the century of loss of values, loss of vision, and loss of idealism. It ist a chaotic society which needs someone who can give a face to its moral anarchy. It is futile to  look up to men, who could grow beyond their personal obsessions, and give a positive turn to human angst. If every age has its heroes, it has its villains too. The present century a suffers from the loss of language and meaning too. Education that is being served to the young students  has lost its moral anchoring. The world is dreaming of becoming Lanka, the City of Gold once again. Can a sane person become a part of this mad dream? There is one more bigger question: Is this dream really mad? Does goodness, values, integrity, honesty have any chance beyond their academic relevance as a good old past? I wonder.

Moreover, in 1975, when Amitabh came up as an odd mix of heroism tempered with villainy, in Deewar, over the times, the line diving heroism and villainy has dissolved. These are times when evil has acquired respectability, and men who are only good, and not evil when required, lose their security deposits. This is a strange world andthe people who lead this chaotic world, are only those who can manifest this odd mix of heroism and villainy. The truth of these times is in conflict with the truth of previous centuries. And anyone who wants to succeed, has to acquire the charismatic qualities of neo-heroism, which manifest the Indian tradition of ‘tam sam dand bhed’ [success at all costs].If morality and ethics are the warf and woof of Indian ethos, we should not forget that these ethos belong to the general run of society, who were impressed by the teachings of saints and sages down the ages. Kings had their moral guides, but how many listened  to the sane advice of the moral philosophers?

Even today, a king has to represent the general ethos of the society, which has lost faith in goodness, honesty, integrity, and even truth. Moral philosophers cannot epitomize their dreams of success and luxury. A king who manifests their new found values, (which is the truth of the present century) must manifest all that is good and bad in their dreams. Those who want Gandhi and Nehru and Tagore and their philosphies to guide the population of the 21st century, are perhaps too idealistic, or do not understand the dynamics of time. Time does not flow backwards. Evil has to be given its due simply because good is getting of currency. This is the essential lesson of Neo-Heroism which every one aspiring to lead the nation must absorb.




Dr. Jernail S. Anand, with 200 books to his credit [18 epics] is a Chandigarh-based top-ranking presence in the contemporary world literature, a 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, Czeck Rep] and Maxim Gorky [Russia] Soka Ikeda and Mahakavi Bharati (India) Awards, his name is inscribed on the Poets’ Rock in Serbia.

Poetry from Thi Lan Anh Tran and Musharraf Hussain

WHEN TWO HEARTS BECOME A BATTLEFIELD

By Thị Lan Anh Tran (Aschaffenburg, Germany) & Musharraf Hussain (Assam, India)

This poem employs the conflict between the United States and Iran as an extended metaphor for modern romantic relationships, where retaliation, infidelity, and cycles of emotional warfare leave behind only barren landscapes within the soul. Through the imagery of conflict and reconciliation, it suggests that forgiveness, healing, and the patient rebuilding of trust are the only foundations upon which enduring love can survive and flourish. Ultimately, the poem reflects on the human cost of both war and broken relationships, reminding us that true victory lies not in defeating one another, but in choosing understanding over vengeance and renewal over ruin.

I

You and I were like two nations,

Standing on opposite shores of pride,

Between us drifted the smoke of accusations

And the missiles of old wounds.

II

I launched a cold silence toward you,

You answered with words sharp as steel.

I built fortresses of wounded ego,

You sent armies of resentment across the border.

And somehow,

People still called it love.

III

Yet what kind of love survives

When every sunrise sounds like an air-raid siren?

The messages that once flew

Like swallows of summer

Turned into drones of suspicion,

Circling endlessly above our skies.

The midnight calls

Became alarms.

IV

Neither side would surrender.

I hid memories of another.

You sought comfort in another embrace.

One betrayal answered another,

One wound demanded repayment.

V

We mistook revenge for justice,

And pain for power.

But every scar carved into your heart

Appeared again upon my own.

For war has never known a victor.

VI

Like cities shattered by bombardment,

Roofs collapsed upon children’s dreams.

Old parents sat in silence

Before empty doorways.

Friends divided into camps.

Family tables lost their laughter.

VII

A broken love affair

Is never only the story of two people.

It echoes through generations.

It shakes the faith of children.

It teaches fearful hearts

To lock their doors against tenderness.

VIII

And beyond us,

Beyond our private ruins,

Every human war steals light from the world.

A city burns from ambition.

A nation weeps beneath hatred.

The earth grows heavier

With walls instead of bridges.

The future loses another hand

That might have reached for peace.

IX

Then came the day

When exhaustion conquered pride.

I stood among the wreckage I had created.

You wandered through gardens

Reduced to ash.

X

The new faces arrived,

And disappeared.

The forbidden passions faded

Like smoke in the wind.

For no lasting palace

Has ever been built

Upon the ruins of a burning home.

XI

Many doors opened.

Yet none carried

The familiar fragrance

Of the soul once called home.

XII

And so,

After countless seasons of conflict,

The flags of hostility were lowered.

Not because every wrong was forgotten,

But because love proved more precious

Than victory.

XIII

I learned the courage of apology.

You discovered the strength of forgiveness.

The final missiles were dismantled.

The final barricades came down.

XIV

We returned to one another

As a strait reopens after a storm,

Allowing ships to cross again.

No winners.

No losers.

Only two weathered hands

Patiently rebuilding what had been lost.

XV

And beneath the golden evening sky,

I held you

As one might hold a homeland

Returned at last from war.

XVI

For in the end,

The greatest triumph

Is not defeating one another.

It is standing amid the ruins of the world

And still choosing

To love again.

KHI HAI TRÁI TIM THÀNH CHIẾN TRƯỜNG

Tác giả: Thị Lan Anh Tran (Aschaffenburg, Germany) & Musharraf Hussain (Assam, India)

I

Em và anh giống hai quốc gia

Đứng ở hai bờ kiêu hãnh,

Giữa làn khói của những lời trách móc

Và những quả tên lửa mang tên tổn thương.

II

Anh ném sang em một câu nói lạnh lùng,

Em đáp trả bằng sự im lặng sắc như dao.

Anh dựng lên những hàng rào tự ái,

Em kéo quân của nỗi hờn ghen tiến vào.

Người ta gọi đó là yêu.

III

Nhưng tình yêu nào lại bình yên

Khi mỗi ngày đều là một cuộc không kích?

Những tin nhắn từng là cánh chim mùa hạ

Bỗng hóa UAV dò xét lẫn nhau.

Những cuộc gọi đêm khuya

Trở thành tiếng còi báo động.

IV

Không ai chịu thua.

Anh nhớ người cũ rồi giấu em.

Em tìm một bờ vai khác để trả đũa.

Ông ăn chả, bà ăn nem,

Hai trái tim cùng ký vào bản tuyên chiến.

V

Chúng ta tưởng mình chiến thắng

Mỗi khi làm người kia đau hơn một chút.

Nhưng nào biết đâu,

Mỗi vết thương của đối phương

Đều in dấu lên chính ngực mình.

Chiến tranh chưa bao giờ có người thắng.

VI

Như những thành phố sau bom đạn,

Mái nhà đổ xuống trên tiếng khóc trẻ thơ.

Cha mẹ già ngồi trước hiên nhà trống vắng.

Bạn bè chia phe.

Những bữa cơm mất đi tiếng cười.

VII

Một cuộc tình đổ vỡ

Chưa bao giờ chỉ là chuyện của hai người.

Nó làm tan nát một gia đình.

Làm niềm tin của con trẻ lung lay.

Làm những người từng tin vào tình yêu

Bỗng sợ phải mở lòng thêm lần nữa.

VIII

Và rộng hơn thế nữa,

Mỗi cuộc chiến của con người

Đều khiến thế giới mất đi một phần ánh sáng.

Một thành phố cháy lên từ lòng tham.

Một dân tộc khóc vì hận thù.

Một hành tinh nặng thêm những hàng rào.

Một tương lai bớt đi những cái nắm tay.

IX

Rồi đến ngày tất cả mệt mỏi.

Anh nhìn quanh những đổ nát mình gây ra.

Em nhìn lại khu vườn đầy tro bụi.

X

Người mới đến rồi đi.

Những cuộc vui ngoài luồng hóa thành hư ảnh.

Bởi chẳng có lâu đài nào được xây vững vàng

Trên nền móng của một mái nhà đang cháy.

XI

Những cánh cửa khác mở ra,

Nhưng chẳng nơi nào mang mùi quen thuộc

Của người đã từng thuộc về mình.

XII

Và thế là,

Sau bao mùa chiến sự,

Hai quốc gia trong tim hạ lá cờ thù địch.

Không phải vì quên hết lỗi lầm,

Mà vì nhận ra tình yêu quý hơn chiến thắng.

XIII

Anh học cách xin lỗi.

Em học cách tha thứ.

Những tên lửa cuối cùng được tháo ngòi.

Những hàng rào cuối cùng được dỡ bỏ.

XIV

Ta trở về bên nhau

Như eo biển sau bão tố lại mở đường cho tàu thuyền qua lại.

Không còn ai thắng.

Không còn ai thua.

Chỉ còn hai bàn tay chai sần

Lặng lẽ xây lại những gì đã mất.

XV

Và trong hoàng hôn của một ngày yên tiếng súng,

Anh ôm em

Như ôm cả quê hương

Vừa trở về sau chiến tranh.

XVI

Bởi cuối cùng,

Điều đẹp nhất không phải là đánh bại nhau,

Mà là sau tất cả những đổ nát của thế gian,

Ta vẫn chọn ở lại,

Để yêu nhau thêm một lần nữa.

© 2026 Thị Lan Anh Tran (Aschaffenburg, Germany) & Musharraf Hussain (Assam, India)

Mọi quyền được bảo lưu.

Poetry from Nurbek Norchayev

I am a spark of fortune, a flame of bliss,

A rare and singular find of destiny.

is it careless? The eyes don’t notice.

Bearing the weighty stones of time,

Human lives, testing the strength to endure.

The swift steed of time still never halts.

One wall divides the darkness and light,

One wall divides the two eternal worlds.

This world even does not resemble paradise.

The author of the poem is the poet Nurbek Norchayev from Kason District, Kashkadarya Region, Republic of Uzbekistan. Translator Nodira Ibrahimova is a laureate of the international award named after Muhammad Reza Ogahi

Poetry from Eva Lianou Petropoulou

Peace


A word
A value
A way of life
Why we are in the middle of a warzone
What makes people fight about

I wonder since my childhood
Why we are fighting eachother
We are same
We think same
We eat
We drink
We fall in love
Why a brother kill a brother?

EVA Petropoulou Lianou 🇬🇷

………………

Nature


A little piece of heaven
Colours
Perfume
Flowers
Trees
Animals
They are all living by God’s law
They are surviving
They get eaten
They are reproducing
But
They never take the home of the neighbours
Only humans are stealing
In all levels
We need to educate our children
We must respect
We need to re educate ourselves
Only then
Earth will be peaceful
EVA Petropoulou Lianou 🇬🇷

Greece

…….

Contact

I forgot what a kiss is The taste of an afternoon coffee.
So as the waves pulled from the land, I feel like a desert ship.

Contact I forgot what that word means, Shipwreck for months In books I look for a meaning to embrace me, to tell me everything will be fine ..
To go and leave those roses in my father’s memory, To light a candle to the Virgin Mary.

Contact, To be in your dream hug Let me see your eyes To smell your perfume I’m looking for that word in that old dictionary

©®Eva Petropoulou  Lianou 

…..

Freedom


A word
Who has all the meaning of…
This is happiness
This is harmony
This is respect

But what we do
Humans are killing humans
Humans are manipulating humans

Freedom ,
A game between two birds without wings

Freedom,
A hope inside two hungry stomachs …

Freedom,
Elefteria
A sun waiting to rise…..

In our days
In our century

We are in need of a second educational system
Re write new words
Or learn the meaning of the old one

EVA Petropoulou Lianou 🇬🇷

Poetry from Eva Lianou Petropoulou

A precious man

The nights and the days come and go without a smile

The days are so big without a smile

The nights are a waiting for a call or a message

It is so expensive this time away from your eyes.

You are my precious pearl..

A diamond hide in the mud..

Waiting the time to hug you and kiss you.

You are my treasure hidden from the sun

Waiting the day I meet you again..

Waiting your look..

Waiting your lips..

You are my precious pearl hidden in the oyster deep in the sea.

You are my precious man. 

……….

You

My poem

You,

That the face I did not see for years

You

U are the most amazing being

But cannot touch

You,

The beauty is hiding in  small pieces in your body and mind

You,

I can explain why

But i know my what

You

That one day u crossed my path

  Forces of love or passion touched me

Without reason

I am looking the east

U are looking the west

Miracles happens every day

You

A passion I can live in a privately moment

Love I give

Love will never be understood

You…

In another space of galaxy

You

My ideal

My secret

Garden

You

The moments I never had

You

The distance between 2 countries

A bridge i will try to build to reach you

Good night poem

What a caterpillar maybe calls the end

A butterfly call it the beginning of a beautiful journey…

The stars are so far but we can see the lights

And feel their heat

As i am thinking of you

Days and nights are together

No distance

Only sun

Only Moon

And for once they are together

In this beautiful sky

Thinking of you

The days

Think about you

My heart

My body

My soul

Wake up

And

Danse in a circle

Imagine u are here

Imagine u are close to me

Imagine our life starts

This is my wish

My prayer

As you are my hope

My inspiration

In those long years of loneliness…

Love poem

Your smile… 

I dream a future with you

I dream a blue sky

Sunset to a an island 

I dream a white house

And have a view to the sea 

I dream a future close to you.. 

And i get a bad dream

Sleeping alone

Feeling weak

But in my heart

i am not alone because i feel your heart beat

I feel your breath

EVA Petropoulou Lianou 

Poetry from Elaine Murray

River 

Flowing current against my warm body.

The river whispers to me, “Be strong and stand tall

let your womanhood become strong.

Sometimes sadness flows into my soul and beckons me 

to lay down.

And the river pounds on my body “Arise , Stand Tall 

Be Strong “.

Now my body is filled with the strength of the Old Strong river 

flowing into me.

It breathes the breath of life. 

Elaine Murray 

2001

Gentle Soul 

Lay down on the warm sandy beach.

Castles in the sand make believe I’m walking 

with you hand and hand.

You are the gentle soul that lights up my life.

Elaine Murray

May 20 2008

Walking Through The Mist 

Walking through the mist your hand touches mine.

Shadows of our bodies touch each other.

Oh! Stars Show me your brilliant light .

Stars light up my soul,

Walking through the mist with you  

Elaine Murray

May 20, 2008

Loneliness 

Tears  of sadness run down my face .

Loneiness is my passion.

Turn and turn you’re not there.

Open the earth so I may go down ,

Sea sends your waves to flood my grave .

Open deep so I will fall.

The Breath of life is gone.

Elaine Murray 

May 17, 2008

Environment 

Terrorism Hits Our Sea

Terrorism hits our sea with black goo

of concoctions with deadly elixir the demons 

drink venom.

Like the snake venom the sea dies a painful death.

Elaine Murray

July 2010