Kahur

 ...The flickering form of the fireflies shining on the road... the kingdom of the cursed moon in the clear sky, the empire of the sun had set, as if the one and a half-moon 'ya', who dominated the palace of King Chandoba, was skillfully watching over the earth... While all this was happening, I, a poet...how could I write a relevant poem on all this? I really wanted to suggest poems about the romantic period on the youth blooming in youth, but a strange feeling was stirring in my heart. Seeing these moons in the clear sky, I have never been tempted to write love poems, but today... today I had reached the point of calling them cursed.  Without hesitation, I decided to take a walk to get rid of all these thoughts. Who else would I meet at this hour other than the patrollers? It was almost midnight, "Bagulbuva will come! I don't want to sneak out at all" and I was old enough to believe this and even beyond that, I was old enough to exercise my right to vote. To get rid of these thoughts, I had kept my diary and pen at home, but it is equally true that the intellect of a talented poet can never put his talent aside!

 I sat down near the statue of Tilak in the village, seeking solitude. In fact, I was sitting there, seeking solitude, but the thought beetles in my head had called for rebellion. I sat quietly with my eyes closed, fighting on the ideological battlefield like a warrior with these thoughts, but the demands for which this thought beetle had called for rebellion were many times more powerful than my weapons. I felt that my strength was running out, but if I had to fight this battle... I would have to fight alone. 

At that moment... I felt as if someone had placed a hand on my shoulder from behind. I looked back, but in the darkness I could only see a vague image, wearing a turban on my head and a white saree on my body. They also asked my name, at that time I had noticed the harshness in the voice of the image I was seeing.  But, I was still unaware of the ideological strength and decisive diplomacy of that clear replica. Who could this person be? I was curious, so without a moment's hesitation, I asked him, "Baba, who are you? And what are you doing here so late at night?" At that moment, the replica replied ..."Child, I live here, this generation that has just come, this generation's thoughts! I could not understand anything that was said in such a riddle; but later I came to know that this must be some wise man. The radiance of this Baba's knowledge was shining in his eyes. I moved forward with curiosity to find out more information, "How long have you been here? I have never seen you before!" On that, he preached to me and said... "Oh crazy child, my existence is in thought, cover it in a book and you will have an ideological vision of my existence, examine the history of independence and you will have a vision of my determination;  But I am deeply saddened that this generation, this new generation of youth, is not seeing all this. I believe that change is necessary according to the times, but when I see such behavior that it is embarrassing for change, why is the sacrifice of my colleagues so powerful? This question arises in my mind. The youth who should have performed brilliantly with flowing blood, are today sitting in the throes of intoxication. The youth in whom I saw the future of post-independence India, are observing Western culture without due consideration. Why was the claim I had made about Swadeshi for this reason? When I see the unbridled behavior of today's young girls who have no social awareness, it seems that Savitri did indeed open the doors of education to them, but they failed to open the 'doors of cultured education'.  Birth, job, business, marriage, children, old age, grandchildren, happiness and death, this is life today! There is not even a hint of national happiness in this. Superstition and Sanatangiri have indeed decreased, but this generation has not understood the difference between superstition, hypocrisy and culture. The poems of saints have lagged behind many miles in this mobile age. Eknath's Bharud, Tukaram's Gatha, Samarth's Dasbodh have never been handled by this generation. It is true that spirituality comes in old age, but should we spend old age by chanting verses of the mind? The current lust-blind generation, which is running towards physical happiness, may read Dasbodh in old age, but the importance of national happiness is far greater than personal happiness. Even if we understand this teaching of Samarth, time will have passed.  While running with a torch on Shiv Jayanti, even if the gratitude and devotion towards Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj is true....does the love and respect towards a woman as a mother touch the heart when looking at another woman? While expressing loyalty to Savarkar in various ways, no one understands the importance of the freedom we enjoy today after his birth anniversary and death anniversary. If this generation knows the sacrifice for the country, then whether they come to the battlefield or to jail...only then will the power of the sacrifice of the martyrs be awakened in India.

"Swaraj is my birthright and I will achieve it" was the kind of sermon that the replica was preaching to me. Now the rebellion that had arisen in my head was calmed by this sermon of his. There was no other thought in my mind except bowing down to that great man. I gratefully bowed my head at his feet and went to say a few words of gratitude to him, but just then...'that' great replica had disappeared into the darkness...

-Bhakti Chandrakant Pansare