A Pinch of Salt: Foreword by M.A. Rathore
FOREWORD
‘A Pinch of
Salt’, by Rajni Chhabra is a hallmark of modern poetry. She writes in English
as well as Hindi, Rajasthani, Punjabi and Siraiki. Her books have been
translated widely into more than a dozen Indian dialects. She is also a
milestone in translation work and has translated more than 21 books from
Rajasthani, Hindi, Punjabi and Nepali. ‘A Pinch of Salt’, is her 22rd book in
the series. As a lecturer in the Department of Education, she has authored a
grammar book for the Board of Secondary Education.
‘A Pinch of Salt’,
is a bunch of flowers in the garden of Modern English poetry. A pinch of salt
when added to any vegetable increases the taste and flavour of the food. This
book multiplies the theme and thoughts in a wonderful way to entertain worthy
readers. She does not provide only the facts a modern poet usually presents,
but makes the readers think about the situation, imposing some questions in
front of readers and trying to find the perfect solution.
Rajni Chhabra’s
range of subject material reaches from the social aspects of day-to-day to
life’s most chaste sphere that surrounds a poet who has spent most of her time
conceiving its emotional touch rather than just expressing the event and
telling the facts of life. She just recounts not only the trends, but also the
gist of the thought that mostly attracts the attention of the readers abruptly.
Her diction suits
the thoughts and emotions which work together to create an impressive scenario
of the social threads knit superbly in which we find her dictating the work of
a genuine poet where she elaborates hue of life’s devastating sobs and sighs of
the common people. Sometimes her words are so pathetically expressed that the
hearts of the holders of heart and mind move instantly, not just imitating the
stories told by an idiot in some decorative court to make fun. She never goes
far and wide to get her poetic images rather than deduces them around her.
From the very
first poem entitled Poet, Rajni Chhabra describes the function of a poet who
sustains in him the sufferings, sentiments and sensations of others expressed
through strings in words.
Her poetry flows
like a murmuring river humming in her mood, aspiring to meet her celestial
domain where she finds sustenance, losing her attributes of sweetness, merging
into the calmness, and embracing the absolute as a whispering desire. In her
poem Murmuring River, she asks the river why she is in a hurry to meet the sea
and whether she has kept promises to someone. The poetess warns her not to
think about her merging into the sea. The river will lose its individuality and
sweetness as soon it merges into it.
But that
lovelorn river
Did not stop
flowing
Lost her
attribute of sweetness
Merged in
hard water
Embracing the
sea...
Her imagery finds
its way to reach the boundaries of unknown lands where the wind whispers
secrets and memories carry the scent of blooming flowers and stories of the
past bring peace and harmony to the ears of the poetess. The rustling leaves of
autumn remove the sorrows of the poetess in its gentle breeze and whisper
silence that reminds her of life’s choice to let go, flow, and be free. The
poetess finds herself at ease when she is in the company of the whispering
winds. She becomes nostalgic for the forgotten days when the wind blew and
carried the scents of the blooming flowers. She writes fantastically thus,
In its gentle
breeze, I find my peace
A sense of
calm, my worries release
Like autumn
leaves my fears rustle away
As the wind’s
soft whispers stay.
Her metaphor
attracts so poignantly that the readers cannot escape from the sting of the
satire. Butterfly, being the epithet of the life of a girl child reminds us of the
hard reality of the modern girl who moves in a lofty pride fearlessly, is an
easy prey of the defective eyes, will get confined in pages of books to
entertain someone.
Modern technology
though is a new way to explore unexpected secrets of life yet it deviates human
relations and confines man with self, guiding him in unfamiliar countries from
East to West and North to South. It removes the fear of losing anywhere. Now
Google Baba is something that old parents used to guide the later generations.
Now man is not dependent on man but the ultimate conjugation lies in the
relationship of man to man.
On an
unfamiliar path
In an unknown
city
There is no
fear of
Getting path
deviated
Google map
protects all
Showing way
to
Strayed
travellers.
A wall that is raised
between two families is not a wall to part with the relation of them. A
helpless mother, with heavy heart, sorrowfully consents to constructs a wall
between two brothers, yet feeling the pangs of separation, she is unable to
live far from the emotions she is bound to genetically. She ultimately wanders
on the wings of her mind and spends sleepless hours rendering support to her
baseless life. She draws our attention when she writes,
Squeals of
infants
On the other
end of the wall
She forcibly
Curtails her
eager steps...
And then she
questions whether she will stop the flight of her mind. She wanders across the
wall flying on wings of mind.
Leading a life
depends on the choice, whether the person wants to share his golden moments
with the public or make it a secret for himself. Life is colourful with its
variegated colours and shades. One should not worry about the dark and dings of
life rather he should believe in positivism because the sorrows and sufferings
of life are just the thick and thin of life. One should behave like a rose
crowned with glory only when it passes its life through a long journey of
thorns. One should not think negatively because there is always a silver line
flashing on the margins of the dark clouds when the mild Sun shines after the
cold nights. Its tender touch makes it bloom in every corner of the world. The
life of a man should be like that of a Bichhu- Buti, a herb that blooms afresh
with its colourful glory even if it is uprooted in any season and planted
anywhere.
In the poem New
Trends, the poet reminds us of the time when people got pure and cold water
from the river directly, after that, it was managed for the travellers by
providing it through the hut of pitchers. It was free of cost but these days it
is replaced by bottled water to be paid for and drunk.
The poem, Abode
of Happiness draws our attention especially when the poetess compares the life
of a sparrow with that of human life so superbly. A sparrow furnishes her nest
by fetching straws, a bit of cotton and some threads together. Then she manages
some grains to feed her darling young ones and thus enjoys the bliss of
motherhood. As soon as the birds can take flight their mother, though weak,
stays alone in the deserted nest. Now the work of feeding is done by the
abler birds.
With sunset
Birds return
to their nest
Holding
grains in beak
To feed their
mother
Such a
relationship flourishes
In the world
of empathy
Nest tinged
with love
Becomes an
abode of bliss.
In the poem
Connection with Roots, the poetess also compares life in the rural country with
that of the urban or city life. She reminds us of the reveries of the village
with its beautiful dwellings, cool rustling breeze, cuckooing of the
nightingale in grooves, and pure, cool water in rivers with murmuring flow in
which the heart of the poetess gets eager to revive these memories. She thinks
of a fluffy flatbread baked on burning firewood and lentils boiled on the low
fire of the earthen stove with a matchless aroma that reaches the nostrils thus
instigating appetite. She further expresses that we have been entangled in the
complications of urban life and exhausted with the fatigues of the entire day
that we have to take an appetizer to gulp two morsels of food, as far as the
children are concerned they are not enjoying their meals instead of thrusting
their eyes in TV. Now there no longer remains the pure and natural air, the
stories of fairyland are just nostalgic for the age.
The poetess
wishes God to let the goblet of her life remain half-fulfilled so that her
endeavour persists to fill it. She does not yearn for perfection, because
being perfect we forget our endeavour to achieve more heights in life. It
should not be filled like the goblet that does not make the sound of perfection
rather it should remain half-fulfilled so that our endeavour persists in
gathering more drops in it. She desires to be imperfect. She proclaims,
Let me
subsist
In a little
bit of imperfection
And let me
relish
From goblet
of life
Drop by drop
Let me live
persistently
Striving
life.
Wishing her all
the best!
-M.A. Rathore
Author, Poet & Critic
Hanumangarh (Raj.)
World Icon of Peace, Nigeria
Email:
marathore786@gmail.com
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