About CC

Dr D C Chambial (b. 1950) is a trilingual (English, Hindi and Pahari of Himachal Pradesh) poet, critic, and translator. He served HP Education Department for about 38 years in various capacities and retired as Associate Professor of English. He guided about 15 M. Phil and 5 Ph.D. scholars. He has published 11 books of his poems in English, one in Hindi, and edited one on the Poetry of Himachal Pradesh. He edits Poetcrit (since 1988), an international journal devoted to literary criticism and contemporary poetry. He resides at Maranda (HP), Pin: 176102; and can also be contacted at editorpoetcrit@gmail.com.

1. What a Justice!

The fire test for purity.¹

The test for virtuosity.²

The test for piety.³

The test for chastity.⁴

How many tests?

How’s it

every time

a woman

in the witness box?

Men, in society, go scot free;

though they perpetrate,

perpetuate misdemeanour

with her. On her.

Human sanctity,

if ever, violated,

is violated together.

She’s to suffer consistently.

She’s made a scapegoat.

Every time.

Always.

Why?

What a justice!

Here the allusions are to:

¹Sita – the wife of Lord Rama in the Ramayana;

²Draupadi – the consort of Pandvas from the Mahabharata;

³Ahilya - the wife of Gautama Maharishi.

⁴Anusuya – the wife of sage Atari, one of the saptarishis.

2. In Silence

I write your name

on the sands of the shore

a wave came and left the shore clean

helplessly I saw it so gone.

I write your name atop

the highest mountain, where waves

could not reach. it snowed there.

the name was buried and gone.

I wrote your name on the slopes

of the mountain. it rained

so heavily. the name here too

was washed with the water away.

I wrote your name on sand

of the desert. the wind in rage

in the white heat of the sun

the sand-dunes erased the name.

I tried to write it on the slush

of the marshes; it came over

before I could finish my oeuvre

I failed to make it stay there too.

Exhausted, I sat in silence

etched your name on the canvas

of my heart. there it

stays clear and bright till the end.

3. Capture The Fugitives

While sitting behind the window

I see some words stealthily show up

and tread tip-toe in a row

and array themselves

into a format they pleased, I think I know.

There they performed all the acrobatics

grouping and regrouping tactics

as in a show to the public

front and rear, up and own full of tricks

slowly and slowly, the canvas they pricked.

As they made their way into the mind

they of every sort and kind.

They filled the room. stayed there bind.

Laughed and laughed to see them so aligned.

And hastened them to tame kernel and rind.

Suddenly there was a storm strong

all the players, there in the ground

they rushed away from the shaking tree aground

the furious lightning and thunder abound

felt stirred from sleep chased by a hound.

All the players and the storm gone

before i could my hoe and sickle hone

and capture the fugitives so flown

and wished them well in their life to go down

and saw the stage yellow, so lively grown.

4. Wall-Hanging

Whenever

past

interferes with present

creates tsunamis.

Build a wall,

a dam,

to contain the tsunami.

Let the water of hope

flow in cascades

reflecting the sunlight

in dreams.

Make an attempt.

See through the opacity

form and transform,

mould and remould

the waves emerging

in the sea yet to be born.

Weave a wall-hanging

of myriad patterns:

rainbow shades.

5. A New Heaven

The old year’s passed into the annals of history.

The new year after peeping from over the yonder hill

carries a bag full and well strapped:

it’s full of its myriad gifts:

they may be guffaws of boisterous laughter

borrowed from the abysmal deeps of the sky and space;

they may be tears soaked in blood of the starved.

I don’t have any wishes wishes …

I’ve only some entreaties to the One who looks over the cosmos

and to my brethren around the vast world

to allay/alleviate the tears and change them to the laughter.

The world is too good a place

where all of us—the human beings

should live as His Happy and sanguine souls

removing the thorns on the ways,

make them play with rivers of their tears.

Let’s join hands in a chain

in the world to scatter and pollens of chagrin

and usher for all into a new Heaven of happiness.