JERNAIL S. ANAND: THE MASTER OF MYTH CREATION

“Craza, a bold evolution from Lustus”

Dr Maja Herman Sekulic

Dr. Jernail Singh Anand is a towering literary figure whose work [an opus of 180 books] embodies a rare fusion of creativity, intellect, and moral vision. Anand won the Seneca Award [Italy], Charter of Morava [Serbia], Franz Kafka [Germany, Ukraine and Chek Rep.] and Maxim Gorky [Russia]. His name adorns the Poets’ Rock in Serbia and stands tall as the greatest philosopher among poets, and the greatest poet among philosophers.  Dr. Anand’s grandiose work ‘Epicasia’ [June 2025], includes twelve epic narratives, which was dedicated to “the Land of Serbia and its brilliant daughter Dr Maja Herman Sekulic” [the author].  

The creation of neo-mythological characters like Lustus and now Craza in The Alternate Universe establishes Dr. Anand  as a master of myth creation, blending traditional epic forms with modern existential, philosophical, and socio-political concerns, and resonates with both Eastern and Western literary traditions.  Traditional mythology served to explain natural phenomena through divine or heroic figures. But Anand’s Neo-mythology brings up new archetypes to address contemporary concerns such as moral erosion, the rise of artificial intelligence and corporate evil.

According to Grok, Dr. Anand’s The Alternate Universe is an audacious and thought-provoking epic that masterfully intertwines science fiction, technology, and spirituality to explore the existential crises facing humanity in an AI-driven era. As his 13th epic, this work showcases Anand’s ability to weave a complex narrative that challenges conventional boundaries between the divine, the human, and the technological. The epic is both a speculative vision of a re-engineered humanity and a philosophical critique of mankind’s moral and spiritual decay, making it a significant contribution to contemporary literature. It is intriguing to enter into Anand’s mind through his epics. The entire space is occupied by ethereal personages like God, Brahma, Indra, Vishnu, Lord Krishna, Satan, Mephistopheles, Faustus etc. And, the atmosphere is marked by high seriousness, and a sense of the sublime.

Dr. Anand was reluctant to cast Satan as the villain in ‘Lustus: the Prince of Darkness’ the first book of his Mahakaal Trilogy,  as Satan was a gentleman villain, who was afraid of God’s power. He tempted Eve by deception. Anand, on the other hand,  needed a thorough-bred villain of modern world, who could sustain interest for generations. Therefore, in Lustus,  Anand created a villain before whom even Satan appears a monk. Anand also creates Greda, the goddess of Greed. The grandeur of Lustus lies in two fierce battles he fought and lost against gods in the first two books of the Trilogy, Lustus and the Dominion of the Netherworld.  Dr. Anand’s quest for the sublime continues through The Ultronic Age, where political power is handed over to Queen Ultronia,   because  Gods had realized that it was due to the patriarchal superiority of men that the previous epochs saw bloody battles and manslaughter as we come across in the Ramayana in Treta, the Mahabharata in Dwapra and the War of Troy in Kaliyuga.

In The Alternate Universe, Craza proposes an AI-driven Alternate Universe where humans are digitally enhanced.  Craza’s concepts of removing the past of man, womb labs, and keeping humanity morally upright with AI intervention, and the provision for ‘Edit’ etc.  are daringly forward looking, investing technology with a spiritual responsibility and making Craza a Neo-Prophet of the Digital Age.

Dr. Anand’s latest work grapples with the intersection of technology, spirituality, and human existence. Craza, represents a bold evolution from Lustus, who was an embodiment of corporate  evil. “Anand’s work reflects a profound engagement with the ethical and spiritual challenges posed by artificial intelligence (AI) and modernity, making him a modern counterpart to epic poets like Milton or Vyasa, but with a distinctly futuristic lens.” [Grok]

Craza’s proposal for an “Overlap” facility, replacing the traditional divisions of heaven and hell, can be seen as a nuanced view of morality where ambiguity is acknowledged rather than punished because this world of overlapping morality is closer to the reality of the modern world of technology. Through Lustus, he critiques the corporate and moral decay of the modern world, while Craza in The Alternate Universe  extends this exploration into speculative or chaotic realms. By merging Eastern and Western traditions, Anand creates a universal narrative offers an ethical and spiritual landscape for a contrivance like AI to seek man’s salvation, rather than work for his destruction. Craza’s entry as a potential mouthpiece of the AI is a welcome departure from usual condemnation of the AI. His work not only revives the epic form but also establishes him as a global literary figure, walking in the footsteps of Milton, Goethe and Tagore.  

AUTHOR’S BIO 

Maja Herman-Sekulić  (Serbia/USA) (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Maja_Herman_Sekulić)

is an internationally published Serbian-American author of 30 books in Serbian, English German and French; her poems were translated in 27 languages. Of her poetry, Nobel laureate Joseph Brodsky said: “her poetry is of the rarest talent and beauty as she is herself”. Maja is an acclaimed and multi awarded poet, novelist, essayist, a bilingual scholar, a Princeton Ph.D.and a major translator. She is a vice president of International Ethics Academy from India,and has been nominated by the IAE for the Nobel Prize in Literature. She is a member of the American and Serbian PEN, American Academy of Poets, Association of writers of Serbia and Serbian Literary Society. She was schooled and lived all over the world from Europe and USA to the Far East, and as a triple ambassador of good will, culture and literature has been building bridges between cultures for over 30 yrs. She now shares her time between New York and Belgrade. 

They have banned GMOs in some places and are feeding me pesticides in the corpses of fruits

They came to my home and said that war is my homeland

Who are they? They are trying to bring me to death with the agony of despair

They won’t let me die in peace

They don’t even let me have sex get AIDS and hang myself

According to journalists, freedom is the destiny of those who fight

According to politicians I can’t be free to choose sex and parties

Throat cut by pink triangle with stars of David

The corpses of black migrants constantly float up in the clouds

The impotent importance of my house swells and will not burst

Europe falls asleep drunk on cheap alcohol with cocaine tears stuck to a torn cheek

No one wanted to fuck the hairy ass

The apartment is soaked with lonely sperm

He moved like a snake that saw a cute bunny

But everything around me was lonely

His long hair stuck to his sweaty shoulders

He stroked his buttock and looked out the window

You could see the whole yard through the glass

For example lovers were blatantly kissing near the entrance

Meanwhile the lights in the apartment went out

Out forever

I want to get burned by your hot dick and have everything around burn in the dark

every time I take my breath away at the sight of your lips and as before I want to kiss your cloud of body

the stars are spying on us but we are still at a distance from each other

the metal of your eyelashes hides your eyes and I’m trying to understand what’s hidden in your gaze

I’m waiting for a call I’m waiting for a look I’m waiting for a text message I’m waiting for a dick pic

meanwhile the years pass and I grow my roots into the grave soil

the house turns into a stomach that digest me

the burger blood of my body spreads across the parquet of time

I’m waiting for your arrival to me and your sweet words (I don’t even wait for intimacy or love anymore)

I sacrifice the silence of my home to you but you are silent

The river stays constant

Ophelia isn’t here anymore

There is no more poetry

I give you silence but you scream

the blade is in my hands for sure but you are very confused

I’m cutting your throat like bread

I need to feed on something other than hate

the sky above is blue like no one died

1

Meghadutam

On ashadhasya prathama divase,

with the onset of monsoon,

I evoke Kalidasa to recall

the big data of my memories.

In the duta kavyas the clouds

become sky messengers between

two estranged lovers of legends,

sending data at lightning pace.

Tonight from Shantiniketan

I send on blockchain of clouds

multimodal information

to the land of revolutions.

Amidst the din of liberty

and equality and fraternity,

you receive encrypted input

in quantum cloud computing.

At night you do data mining

of clouds transcending barriers

to decipher the sentiments

and render the output as amour.

2

Dim-moon Midnight

Under the light-polluted moon

the AI gives me stats

of the number of human deaths

since the beginning of this earth.

On a night train to Bolpur

I message you, 109 billions

have died, 8 billions still alive.

From a cloudy afternoon

in Barcelona you reply that

this world is a graveyard then.

Whether from dry Bolpur

or from rainy Barca,

it is not difficult to see,

this world is of ghosts, if they be.

But, you say, ghosts don’t exist,

else all terrorists and murderers,

conquerors and warmongers,

will have had a tough time

to survive the haunting

by the souls of the dead innocents.

I agree and wish some ghosts

do exist on this earth –

ghosts of dead children or parents,

who may come to manifest

in a dim-moon midnight,

so that early in the morning

this earth will not have to

bear the tragic rain of grief.

Both of us ask the ghosts to rise.

Statistics say this world is yours.

3

Sorcery

When the Sorcerer left I could

not find anything I disliked

him for, so I wrote about him

as an exemplary father.

Death erases all the faults and

makes you long for them once again.

Until every loss is replaced

by a different love, a new one,

as a safety net to forget

the pain of loss, just like a tree

that mourns not for the flowers shed

but loves the growing buds instead.

4

Magpie Life

At night I tell someone details

of something secret in my life.

In the morning I think, should I

now be tense, nervous and regret.

The clouds sit heavy on the roads,

some rain seems imminent again.

Some birds on a pole though remain

so happy in love transient.

I’m oblivious to their mirth,

they’re oblivious to my pain.

Some drops start to fall on the ground;

the hoardings watch in fading paint.

One bird alone comes in the shade

reminding me what you had said.

Living with no remorse, regrets,

while keeping faith in the unknown.

ICE AGE

Once LA streets were bustling with dense crowds—

people browsing, buying, meeting friends,

hanging out in restaurants and bars

not far from where they live and feel at home.

Then unmarked cars swoop in. Terrorist-types

in street clothes jump out. Masked, and waving guns—

Sig Sauer P320Cs. Storm troopers.

They choose a brown face. Slam him to the ground,

Call him illegal. Cuff him. Drag him off.

Your classic snatch-and-grab. Who are these men?

ICE, they say. Who knows? Guns serve as warrants.

The President’s tax-funded bounty hunters

treat deporting immigrants like sport.

A “No Kings” protest challenges ICE rights.

The uncrowned King sends back-up—National Guard

and tough Marines. Armed soldiers roam the streets

just like in the countries many fled.

Now LA streets are empty. People hide.

Some are legal. Some aren’t. All are prey.

The Mayor calls it overkill. No need

for U.S. troops to threaten LA people.

But #47 wants revenge.

If he can’t conquer Canada or Greenland,

he’ll checkmate California, punish voters.

Liberate the Blue States’ biggest cities–

drain labor from LA, New York, Chicago…

So ICE now raids Home Depot parking lots,

flea markets, Walmart, Immigration Courts.

In one Milwaukee Immigration Court,

ICE barges in; and, when their prey escapes,

roughs up the judge who questions ICE’s tactics.

In Newark, a Congressional delegation

checks out an immigrant detention tank.

The Newark Mayor tries to join the group,

but ICE strong-arms him with a strangle-hold.

Arrests the city’s mayor for trespassing.

A congresswoman, shocked, moves to his aid.

ICE goons grab her, too, say she’s a threat.

Both VIPs are Democrats. Both black.

One Senator meets ICE while on the job–

Homeland Security’s Press Conference.

The Senator moves in to ask a question.

ICE tackles him, and drags him out the door.

Resisting arrest is the purported charge.

His real crime? First, he’s from California.

Second, he’s a Democrat. And third—

the Senator’s Hispanic. ICE’s bane.

On the books, there are protective laws.

But ICE has open mandate to deport

all threats—and every immigrant’s a threat

to keeping gene pools unpolluted white.

So raids lump brown-toned faces all together–

though some have valid visas, some are even

citizens. Courts order a jailed student

released. Demand another be let out

of prison in El Salvador. But law

is not an issue when the real goal

is ethnic cleansing. If you dare protest,

you’re now the enemy. The President

can call out the militia, stamp you down.

Dictators always take this path to power.

Copyright 6/2025               Patricia Doyne

* Milwaukee judge- Hannah Dugan; Newark Mayor– Ras Baraka; Dem. Congresswoman– La Monica McIver; CA Senator- Alex Padilla; Released– Mahmoud Khalil (student) & Abrego Garcia

POETRY 

I can write thousands of poems after your poem

I can write thousands of poems after your poem

Access to a wooden box

A little box without a key

Answer to the question

We never ask

Do we have the key pass part out?

We all leave in matrix

Consuming

Wishing

Wanting more

But no access to our inner soul

The Paradox of Expectation: When Letting Go Brings the Best Results

We are all dreamers, aren’t we? We set goals, envision our future, make plans, and wait. We wait for love, for success, for recognition. We wait for things to fall into place. But what if I told you that waiting too much—or expecting too little—can both lead to unexpected, life-altering outcomes? What if the very act of letting go is the secret to finding exactly what we’ve been searching for?

This article is not based on abstract theories or philosophical ideas written in books. It’s personal. These are thoughts born from my own life experiences—moments of deep disappointment, surprising joy, and the realization that expectation can be both a guiding light and a heavy burden.

Two Extremes of Expectation

Over the years, I’ve found myself swinging between two emotional extremes when it comes to expectation.

First, there are times I wait and wait. I put all my heart into something—a project, a person, a dream. I imagine it fully. I dress it in hope, decorate it with possibilities, and rehearse the joy I will feel when it finally comes true. But life often walks in wearing a different face. The results don’t match my script. It feels like I’ve been holding a beautifully wrapped box, only to open it and find it empty. Disappointment whispers, “This isn’t what you hoped for.”

Second, after experiencing repeated heartbreak or failures, I reach a point where I expect nothing. I say things like, “Let it all fall apart. I don’t care anymore.” I adopt an attitude of emotional self-defense, a wall to protect myself from being hurt again. And then, quite unexpectedly, life knocks on my door with a smile. It offers me something better than what I had hoped for. I whisper a quiet “Alhamdulillah” in awe. It’s as if the moment I stop chasing, life starts giving.

The Burden of Waiting

There is a danger in waiting too long. Waiting can slowly become a form of passive suffering. We wait for things to happen, but forget to move. We hold on so tightly to our expectations that we paralyze ourselves. We stop taking risks. We stop exploring new paths. We stop living in the moment.

I’ve seen people—myself included—who waited for someone to recognize their efforts, for a “perfect” opportunity to arrive, or for happiness to knock on the door. But while we wait, life keeps moving. Time keeps ticking. The world keeps spinning. And often, the doors we were staring at remain closed, while other doors pass by unnoticed.

It’s important to remember that hope is not the same as waiting, and faith is not the same as clinging. Hope says, “I believe something good can happen,” but waiting sometimes says, “I won’t move until it happens.”

The Overachievement Trap

On the other side of the coin, some people pour their entire energy into achieving their dreams. They work tirelessly, sacrifice rest, push through failure after failure. They don’t wait—they run. And yet, even after all this, they sometimes find that the outcome still doesn’t satisfy them. Why?

Because even though the effort was there, their hearts were deeply attached to a very specific result. And when the result didn’t match their inner picture, they felt like they failed. They were so focused on the destination that they forgot to enjoy the journey.

This has happened to me more than once. I worked hard, did everything “right,” and still felt unfulfilled. But then—when I least expected it—something completely different arrived. Something I never even asked for. A surprise. A blessing in disguise. A “BOOM” moment that made me say, “This is what I needed all along.”

Letting Go Is Not Giving Up

Many people mistake letting go for giving up. They think if they stop expecting, they’re admitting defeat. But that’s not true. Letting go is not the same as losing hope. It’s about trusting that the universe, or God, or life itself, knows better than we do.

Letting go means this:

You still work hard.

You still love deeply.

You still dream boldly.

But you release the idea that things must happen in a certain way or at a certain time. You stop trying to control the outcome. You stop tying your self-worth to the result.

In fact, letting go is an act of courage. It says, “I am doing my part, and I trust the rest to unfold as it should.”

Why the Best Things Happen When We Least Expect Them

Psychologists call this the “expectancy paradox.” When we expect something too much, we put pressure on it. We become emotionally dependent on its success. This anxiety can actually block the flow of creativity, joy, and spontaneous opportunity.

But when we are relaxed, open, and detached from the result, we are more likely to notice the quiet, unexpected doors opening. We are more receptive to surprise. We become magnetically attractive to good things—not because we chase them, but because we are not chained to them.

Think about it: How many times have people found love when they stopped looking? Or discovered a new path when they gave up on an old dream?

That’s because sometimes, the best gifts come when your hands are not clenched in desperation—but open in surrender.

Action Without Attachment

So what do we do? Should we stop dreaming? Should we stop making plans?

Absolutely not.

Dream. Plan. Act. Push forward.

But don’t attach your peace to the result. Don’t say, “I’ll only be happy if this happens.” Instead, say, “I’ll do my best, and whatever happens, I will grow from it.”

That shift in mindset changes everything.

You can still apply to that scholarship, write that book, pursue that relationship, or fight for your goals—with full heart. But know that life may have better plans. It may reroute you. And when it does, don’t resist. Follow it. You might just find something far greater than you imagined.

A Real-Life Example

Let me share a real example.

There was a competition I deeply wanted to win. I prepared, practiced, visualized the victory. I imagined the applause, the recognition, the pride I’d feel. I gave everything.

The day arrived. I didn’t win.

I felt crushed. Not because I wasn’t proud of my work, but because I had expected the outcome so vividly that I couldn’t separate my effort from the result.

But weeks later, something strange happened. A different opportunity—completely unrelated—came into my life. It turned out to be a doorway to a bigger stage, better connections, and deeper fulfillment. It was a bigger blessing than the one I had hoped for. I wouldn’t have found it if I hadn’t lost the first one.

That’s when I learned: sometimes, your loss is a diversion, not a defeat.

Final Thoughts: Let Results Find You

The truth is: life is full of surprises, some painful and some breathtakingly beautiful. We are not meant to control everything. We are meant to participate, contribute, love, grow—and then trust.

Don’t stop dreaming. Don’t stop trying. But release the pressure to know how everything will unfold.

Let go of the timelines.

Let go of the fixed outcomes.

Let go of the fear that if it doesn’t happen your way, it won’t happen at all.

Sometimes, the very thing you’re chasing is just waiting for you to stop running—so it can find you where you are.

So here’s my final advice, drawn from experience:

Do your part. Work hard, give your best.

Stay open. Be flexible to life’s surprises.

Detach from the outcome. Trust that what’s meant for you will come.

Celebrate every step. Even the failures lead somewhere.

Let life surprise you.

Because when you stop waiting so desperately, life may just show up at your door with a gift you never expected—but always needed.

Surayyo Nosirova Elyor qizi was born on May 13, 2006, in the Narpay district of the Samarkand region, Uzbekistan. From an early age, she showed a deep interest in literature, languages, and creative expression. Her passion for learning and writing became evident during her school years, where she actively participated in various academic, literary, and cultural activities.

Currently, Surayyo is a first-year student at the Uzbekistan State University World Languages university, specializing in English Philology and Teaching. She is known for her strong academic performance and her dedication to mastering the English language. Her commitment to education extends beyond the classroom—she is the author of three published books: Heartfelt Thoughts, Voices in Writing, and Beyond Words: Mastering English. Each of these works reflects her insights into language learning, writing skills, and the emotional depth of student life.