Ghazals Of A Pen E-Book

Anand Bose

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Well, the semen in the pen scattered itself in many pastures. Philosophy became an aesthetic idea making its way into the incongruity that exists between fiction and reality.  The book contains a seasoned flavor of many tropes or figures of speech. Language becomes a cubist-surreal painting. There is a dialogue with nature, where the author has ventured into extreme aestheticism. Autobiographical fables have been put into the tincture of existential epiphanies. There's a blend of poetry with prose that celebrates the life of the artist novelist. The book contains a fiction within fiction steeped in extreme irony and asking the existential questions about the meaning of life. The author becomes an unreliable self and becomes the voice of many narrators and sometimes darts into a fictional solipsism.  There are also attempts to fertilize fiction with the semen of inter-textuality. 

Leseprobe

Anand Bose

Ghazals Of A Pen

BookRix GmbH & Co. KG80331 Munich

Jakarta Memoir

I took a job as an English and Social Studies teacher in a very prominent school in Jakarta during the years 2005-2007. Moving from a village to a bustling city gave me the experience of something new as lights, colors, smells and sounds. I had to become a thoroughbred professional. Slowly as time went by I started doing my profession excellently well. Jakarta had many maids and I engaged a maid to sleep in flat to do the cooking and washing of clothes. The lady teachers there strictly warned me not to sleep with maids as this would lead to gossip and reach the headmaster’s ears. Though I wanted to sleep with a maid, I avoided it. My predecessor in the school lost his job because he slept with maids and gallivanted with them. So I took all precautions to avoid it. There in the school, I was introduced to drinking as the school gave lavish parties during festival seasons. Slowly I started drinking every day. One day during a party: I drank a lot and started weeping. Then the Principal came over and hugged me and said ‘son don’t worry’. I felt so grateful to him for that. Jakarta has a fair collection of malls and it is fun to be in them. Time flies so fast. Indonesian cuisine is unique with a dish of rice, chicken, and duck curry. There is also sambal a paste made by grinding shallot and chilies. The grilled fish of Indonesia is a sheer delicacy. Nightlife of Indonesia is so vivid. One can see prostitutes standing on both sides of the street waiting to be picked up. Cars slow down; doors are opened and this continues still the streets become empty. Sometimes I regret the fact that I did not sleep with prostitutes. I was all full of Christian virtue. Another thing I would like to mention is that when I came back from school, someone has slipped a notice through the underside of the door and it reads: ‘massages available at budget costs’. At that time I did not understand that in meant it was a professional calling for you-know-other-things. I feel sad that I did not visit the beautiful island Bali. I would like to say that though Indonesia is a Muslim country, it is very liberal and permissive.

Pulp Vs Literary Fiction

Pulp fiction is mass adored fiction. But writing pulp fiction is not an easy one. One may have to do a lot of research or one may have to read up history and one may have to visit art galleries and museums. All pulp fictions are who-done-it stories. Pulp fictions provide the reader with entertainment.

Roland Barthes has said there are two kinds of fictions: one a writerly one and the other a readerly one.  A writerly fiction is the one over which the reader constructs dialogues. It can be done through analysis and reviews.

The author of Literary Fiction is an artist-novelist.  Literary fiction is a pure work of art. It is like a surreal or cubist painting. Literary fiction is meta-fiction where the author alludes to the self. In other words: the author is self-reflexive. The author weaves the pen through a mass of inter-textuality. One author becomes many fictional selves. Literary fiction is creative, adventurist and futuristic. Literary fiction can have legends within legends.

The Pen A trope

The flourish of the pen—what a phantasmagoria. The pen is semen scattering the fields with fertility. It takes time for it to harvest and blossom. During times of difficulties, the pen is a stoic ornament, a virtuous shield masking the persona of the writer. The pen in meditation is a pen wanting to pounce on the prey. Pen is the architect of the universe of words. The pen is a ritual undertaking in art. Behind the pen lies the philosophical self. The pen crafts philosophical fiction. Ideas are a painting of words. The pen is shelter in the lonely, desert walk of life.  The pen has made me walk in green pastures. The pen is a Hellenic Beast. The pen symbolizes the tin drum of   Gunter Grass. The pen creates an ideal emotion and feeling.  The pen is a carpenter with a chisel who fine-tunes wood into furniture. The pen is loyal and obedient to God Jehovah Jesus. The pen has done the ritual of poetic music and has flowered the muse.  The pen is a lover of art. Everything the pen does begins with a line and ends in a circle. What is a circle asks the pen? Pen replies to itself: ‘it is a joy of art in writing’.  The pen has veil of feeling. The pen absorbs the past, lives in the present with an ode of praise for the future. The pen is a weighing balance whose weight the pen does not know. Pen loves the semen wetting the earth. The pen is a sheer voice of eloquent poetry. The pen is a prolific artist of passion. What is written once cannot be taken back. The pen is a joy, a surprise brought out from the musings of the unconscious. The pen is making a curve, a passage of peace and refuge. The pen extracts dialogues from an underground valley. The pen is a hill atop a valley. The pen is a pilgrim in the journey of the desert. The pen can only contemplate eternity but can never calculate it. The pen meditates on ecstasy. The pen has never spent a night in a brothel.  The pen is authorial and has got multiple selves.  The pen is a Grecian Urn an architecture of aestheticism.  The pen is green as grass and red as the sun.  The feelings of the pen give a joyous shout. The pen is a flowing brook. The pen woos the writer to become an acrobat.  The pen bears the charm of meaning. The pen has been through many disappointments but every time has woken up with the motto: ‘keep trying never give up’. The pen is wine drunk with joy. The pen is the feast of the eyes. The pen is a moody instrument of sorrow. The pen is a joy kindling the heart.  The pen is in love with the waltz of spring. The pen works wonder with the soul. The pen is an incantation praising God Jehovah Jesus. The pen adorns the paper with sweet memories.

A Day in the Life of Stephen Deed Locust

Stephen Deed Locust is an imaginary name coined from Joycean Ulyssean Character, Stephen Daedalus  

Dawn dawned –the sky all rosy-pink. Night hung in my body as yesterday’s hangover. I drink a low-cost budget rum called Karl Marx. It’s a drink of the proletariat. A cracked mirror reminded me of a fable from ancient Greece. I had two glasses of black coffee. I watched the mist hovering over the earth like a helicopter. Birds are chanting hymns. The sky turned into a goblin and the feast of the monsoon as the rain started. I remember how in my younger days I used to float paper boats.  A witch came home to give milk. Her cheeks are wrinkled due to old age. Now I am having breakfast with cereals and fresh milk. Soon I hurry to school where I am teaching.

How much I try to generate in students the love of literature. The lesson was an extract from the Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens. France is all feverish with the proletariat echoing the sounds of revolution. I asked the kids: ‘what is revolution?’ I got no answer. I replied to them: ‘a revolution is a major change occurring in a society. Revolution can be political and are also brought about by changes in Science.’ I gave them a briefing about the industrial revolution that occurred in England and the French Revolution that occurred in France.

The Bell rings for break. I hear the rushing of feet, an urgent scampering to go outside.

I wonder whether I am satisfied with a teaching job. ‘I am not’. I long to be a global vagabond with unsettled roots –a pilgrim of cultures. I want to visit many countries; I also want to visit the famous art galleries of the world. I want to do all this to awaken the aesthete within me.

The school bell rings and all the kids rush out. It’s an amazing psychological fact that when kids enter school, they are slow and when they leave school, it’s always in a hurry.

I reach home tired. Again I have a few cups of black coffee. I open Whatsapp to see if there are messages for me. There is nothing, and I feel disappointed.

I watch the sunset with the aroma of a poet. The colors of the sky are a dazzling fiesta. The sun is a globe glowing red. I watch the flight on tiny wings. Slowly the sun sets and the sky becomes a dark veil. Stars, the tiny buttons glimmer in the sky with the radiance of hope and love. I want to rest but I am reminded of Frost’s Words: ‘the woods are lovely dark and deep but I have many miles to go before I sleep.’

The Dusk an Epiphany

The sun seen on the horizon was orange-red; the sun resembled an eye; colors started spilling over; orange, red, and pink glowed in loving passion. The sky was a peace of prose. Eloquent angels danced in the sky. There in the sky, I saw a mermaid, then I saw a fire-belching dragon; then again I saw a gigantic salamander; the sky became a poem of efflorescence.

Pickwick Picnic

Pickwick Picnic

The Pickwick Picnic is an odd, jolly folk, and every day in the evening they have a meeting on the days’ proceedings.

 Mr. Bombast is the secretary of the Pickwick Picnic and the other members are Sheraton Jolly, Tom Grapes and Silly Alice.

Mr. Bombast: ‘Order, Order, let’s begin the meeting.’

Mr. Bombast asks Silly Alice: ‘Did you count the grass growing in your field?’

Silly Alice replies: ‘Yes I got the number 1 and the rest of the field is bald.’

Mr. Bombast: ‘Well done Silly Alice’.

Mr. Bombast to Sheraton Jolly: ‘Did you measure the length of your wife’s night gown’.

Sheraton Jolly replied: Yes Mr. Bombast, but dear me, I have forgotten it.’

Mr. Bombast: ‘For not remembering it, you will receive 5 beatings with a cane on your rump.’

Mr. Bombast is beating Sheraton Jolly.

Mr. Sheraton Jolly: ‘Ouch ouch it hurts’.

Mr. Bombast asks Tom Grapes: ‘What is the interesting thing that you did today?’

Tom Grapes: ‘I smooched Mrs. Robinson but I felt too shy when she invited me to her bed to do poetry.’

Mr. Bombast: ‘Why Tom Grapes, you should have gone for it’.

Mr. Bombast: ‘Today’s session is over. We will meet again at the same time tomorrow.

Animal Farm

Long ago there lived on Animal Farm a boar named Know-it-all. One day on his death-bed he told his dream to all the animals.

The boar named Know it all said: ‘Humans have been using us for their selfishness. We have to rebel and become a superpower.’

Thereafter he closed his eyes.

A boar named capitalism engaged all the animals and conducted a coup to throw the humans out.

At last they cried in Unison: ‘we are free; we are free;’

Another boar named Myth said to all the animals: ‘since we gave you the idea of throwing out the humans, we are taking power over Animal Nation. Amongst all the produce in the farm, half of it will go to us since we are rulers. We are creating a society where there will be equal opportunities for all and where everyone can have the dream of climbing the ladder of success.’

Chuckles the stallion replied: ‘This idea is interesting. I am loyal to the animal nation and I will work hard to bring it to success.’

Flip and Flop the hens grumbled and said: ‘your theory is so unjust and it generates inequality’.

Immediately Muscles the German shepherd pounced on them and gobbled them up.

The Sheep named Anglo-Saxon said: ‘are you entering into a treaty with neighboring nations called BREX.’?

The boar named capitalism said: we have to secure our interests and animal nation will not have its affiliation with anyone else’.

Then Chuckles the stallion asked: ‘What if the humans attack us out of spite?’

The boar named Capitalism said: ‘we have to make an arsenal of nukes. It’s up to you to do it.’

The Jackal named Crook said: ‘I have mastered the art of destabilizing nations with the art of biological warfare. I have unleashed a virus named Corona which will cause death and disease all over the world.

The Boar Named Capitalism said: ‘I must applaud you for it. Our revolution is spreading to neighboring farms like wildfire. Yes we hear: down with communism and up with capitalism.’

Peanut the hen delivered babies and Marigold the hen started laying eggs.

The boar named Capitalism and Myth took a larger percentage of all that the farm produced.

Chuckles the stallion said: ‘The society that has been created is an unjust one’.

All day long chuckles worked in the farm. He used to plough the fields and harvest the corn. When the harvesting was done, a large portion of the grain was taken over greedily by the boars Capitalism and Myth.

A prophet Raven named Solidarity visited the farm and said: ‘we could create a just society where there social justice and economic equality. Why do we have to make capitalism so abominable?’

The boar named Myth took a gun and shot the prophet Raven since he was doing espionage and subverting the ideology of Animal Nation.

The Boar named Capitalism spoke to all the animals and birds in the farm: ‘we are adherents of a capitalist society where individuals are rewarded for the quality of their work. We autocrats will get a major share and others a stifling minor share. Any mutiny by you folks will be severely put down.’

As time passed by, the humans rose up in revolt and sent an ICBMS Intercontinental Ballistic Missile to Animal Nation. The Animal Nation recharged and sent a missile Cruise to smash the missile launched by the humans.

As time passed by, Chuckles became and sickly and could hardly walk.

The boars named Capitalism and Myth ordered a vehicle for Chuckles to be taken to the hospital.

Little did the animals know that Chuckles was taken to the butchery.

Figures of Speech

Oh Lord Jehovah Jesus let this year be a harvest of green. The clouds lay like a beer belly. Morning woke up in streams of consciousness. Lights of the sky shattered in sound. Zeus rode his motorcycle in the sky. Sometimes words are forgotten as an evanescent dream. The woman symbolizes a valley and man symbolizes a hill. When will flowers blossom in my garden? The brook of the body is fond of making the poetry of love. She was a tender gazelle, a soul with a romantic heart. The Lord Jehovah Jesus said: I will give you the heaven’s dew and the earth’s bounty. I overflowed my spring in her tender orifice. Salvation you are the cross that was hung. Being is a totem of consciousness. Patience is a deaf ear. Dear Lord: ‘don’t remember my inequities and padlock me with curses. Beauty is a flowing river. Consciousness you’re the firmament of the mind. I long to live with a poetic heart. God is rich in mercy and abundant in love and passionate in grace to those who follow him. I have to live a life in extreme subjectivity with a mythopoetic heart. I can’t forget the scars that have wounded my life. Feelings, they bellow like volcanoes. A dream is the most beautiful thing you can have in life. I hope all my dreams become poems of being achieved. Beauty, you are the nobility of the soul. Life is not Camus: ‘Myth of the Sisyphus’…purposeless and burdensome; life with Christ is: in being with the heaven’s splendor and the earth’s well being.  Time, you are the river, an ode to joy. Loved ones of the family are like green grass that brings in a lot of joy. Forget the past, live the present in joy, and anticipate the future with greater joy. The foundation of life is a realization that you are precious in God’s sight and not negation as spoken my existential philosophies. Life is God’s gift and living is the grace and mercy given by God. God is there to provide a cornucopia and there is no need to worry about life. Let your life be a magic wand of passion. Literature is a passionate overflow of feeling, a surreal canvas, and a cubist art an incongruity between subjectivity and reality. Time is temporal as a bird in flight and time is eternal as the creator’s universe. Live on hope’s gates and then everything would be fine. The height of achievement should be an eagle strutting across the sky in highflying. If someone lets you down don’t get flurried: tame your ego to live with life’s inconstancies. Prejudice is the weakness of a shallow ego. Life has to swim with ups and downs. Don’t fight with guilt; release it as a bird in flight. Ego—you have to tame the beast within you. You can be repentant to the father just like the prodigal son. The soul is a depth of feeling. Poetry of life is the joy of existential living. Memory brings in all sorrows of the past ….ease them out of your mind just like conjuror doing a trick.  Live life to the fullest ….as God has said in the psalms 23: ‘my cup overflows; surely goodness and mercy will follow my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever’.      

Childhood Memoir

This happened to me when I was in the 10th standard. There was girl in the nearby girl school to whom I became emotionally attached. Every morning and evening I used to rush from my school to see her go. I did not have the courage to tell her that I love her. After finishing school we parted our ways and I know nothing of what happened to her.

Rain an Epiphany

Thunder growled ferociously like an angry dog. Pink flowers lit up the sky. The sky started chanting hymns. Rain is now pouring a cuisine of delicacy. The sky is serenading the earth in sheer ecstasy. Nature is an art of rhythmic music. Cymbals are clanging; base drum is pounding; tom-toms are echoing the music of beauty.

Alice in Wonder Land

Alice in Wonderland is an all too familiar story—a story of fantastic magic realism. Let me add on to her stories. There is a cellar in Alice’ house with a secret passage in it which enables Alice on mystic flight.

One day Alice prized upon this passage and she fell into s strange land of fairies and dwarfs

.

They asked her: ‘who are you’.

Alice replied: ‘I am Alice a School Girl’.

Then they said: ‘an important occasion s taking place in our country. We are electing a queen.’

Surprised Alice asked: ‘how’?

They replied: ‘we cast votes and the candidate who gets the least votes is elected’.

The fairy called: ‘You Know Other Things was elected as she got the lowest votes.’

Alice said: ‘This is a strange custom. In, my land it is the majority that gets voted.’

A dwarf replied: ‘It is the minority that is the least corrupt’.

Alice replied: ‘Fair enough, please let me go’.

The fairy cast her wand and lo Alice was transported from the cellar and back into her home.

The next day, Alice went down the cellar and she was transported into a land called Anarchy. King Anarchy Abacus was in rule there.

Alice asked them ‘who are you’?

Anarchy Abacus replied: ‘We are anarchists’.

Alice asked him: ‘What is anarchy’?

Anarchy Abacus replied: ‘Anarchy is as simple as tying our shoelaces. Anarchy is a lot of nonsense in language. Anarchists do not know the purpose and meaning of life. Any letter in our anarchy-language begins with I and ends in I.

Alice: ‘this is all very strange to me; I am going over to my house’.

Next day Alice went down the cellar. She was taken to strange land called: ‘philosophers of being’. King know-it-all greeted Alice warmly.

Alice asked King Know-it-all: ‘Sir what is your philosophy’?

King Know it all replied: ‘Ours is a philosophy of being.’

Alice asked him: ‘What is being?’

King- Know- it- all: ‘See Alice, we are confused about the meaning of being. Sometimes being is being. Sometimes being is non-being to being. Sometimes being is consciousness. Sometimes it is the chemicals triggered in the brain. Sometimes it is the soul.’

Alice: ‘This is even more complicated than the Algebra I learnt in school. Thanks for your revelations. I want to say bye bye now’.

The following day Alice slipped down through the cellar and came to a land of non-violence. She had a meeting with revolutionaries of the land.

Alice asked them: ‘What is the philosophy of non violence?’

A revolutionary named Do-it-right told: ‘we are a country yet to be freed from the yoke of colonial rule. We fight our oppressors with the weapons of truth and non violence. We are so passionate about non-violence that we don’t even hurt a fly.

Alice asked King Do-it-right: ‘When will your land get freedom’?

Do-it-right replied: ‘we are not sure: we are fighting for it.’

Then Alice departed from their land and climbed in cellar to reach her house.

Next day, Alice went down the cellar into another strange country called Mutiny. The King there Mutiny-Massacre glanced at her with the look of hatred.

Alice asked Mutiny-Massacre: ‘explain to me what Mutiny is.’  

King Mutiny-massacre replied: ‘Mutiny is rising against neighboring states and conquering them. Now our strategy is biological warfare.’

Alice asked Mutiny-Massacre: ‘what is biological warfare?’

King Mutiny Massacre replied: ‘We have created a virus called Corona which has spread the entire world and which is causing a great deal of sickness and death. Our plan is to destabilize nations.’

King Mutiny Massacre gave a cold, sarcastic, vicious, laugh.

Alice started Crying and said: ‘please get me out of here.

A fairy named –Do-good-to-all came to her rescue and transported her to the cellar and back to her home.

The next day, Alice slipped through the cellar and came to a Quixotic land where there were two political parties—the opposition and the ruling party. The ruling party was called the far-right and the opposition the far-left.

She met the leader of the Far-left and asked

him: ‘Sir what does your party stand for’?

The leader of the Far-left replied: ‘We stand for democracy and freedom. We believe in social justice and economic equality for all’.

Alice: ‘Sir that’s an interesting thought’.

Soon Alice met the leader of the Far-Right and asked him: ‘What are you ideals’?

The leader of the Far-right group replied: ‘We believe in Fascist rule or in other words a dictatorial rule. We rely on sound economic policies to protect our nation from debt. We believe in creating a society where the wages are judged according to the quantity and quality of work.’

Alice: ‘I can’t understand all your ISMS. Let me go back’.