Creation and Criticism

Dr Abnish Singh Chauhan/ अवनीश सिंह चौहान (b. 1979) is a bilingual poet, short story writer, critic, translator and editor of Poorvabhas and Creation and Criticism. He has authored/edited 15 books, including two collections of poetry and a book on poetry translation, and contributed over 100 articles, book reviews, and research papers to prominent journals, magazines, and newspapers in Hindi and English. Currently, he is a Professor and Founding Head, Department of English, as well as Founding Principal of BIU College of Humanities and Journalism at Bareilly International University, Bareilly, Uttar Pradesh, India. He can be reached at abnishsinghchauhan@gmail.com.

Received on Nov 20, 2023; Accepted on Dec 25, 2023. Available online: April 10, 2024. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License

1. Poetry

Poetry,

you are—

the atoms of the cosmic yajna,¹

from which

the world is born.

You are—

the drops of water,

flowing

through the rivers

and streams.

You are—

the puffs of wind,

thrumming

in the hearts

and veins.

You are everything,

or everything exists within you—

the samskar²of humanity,

etched on the earth

till date.

2. Weaving Words

From the day

his journey begins

on the earth,

the poet recalls

everything

and realizes—

he could not create

even a beautiful poem

that would inspire

his readers.

And yet,

he continues,

gathering words,

knowing well

he is unskilled

at weaving them

into an inspiring poem.

3. The Treasure

The pages

of some poets,

carrying

timeless messages,

lie scattered

across the garden

of my heart.

I try

to gather them,

to arrange them

in order,

but some of them slip

through my fingers.

Still,

I compile

what I can,

though haphazardly,

and a new book

is formed,

titled—

‘The Golden Treasure.’

4. May I Know?

Hello, I am your poem,

and you are my poet!

May I ask you something,

my dear poet?

I know—

I am neither Nachiketa¹

nor Arjuna,²

yet a question

stirs within me:

‘why did you create me?’

Will you not answer,

knowing

how deeply

I long to know?

Will you not offer

even a fragment of truth,

or whatever remains

in the wake of post-truth?

I know—

to explain,

you must speak,

sending your message

to one who listens.

May I know,

my dear poet—

why do you refuse

to speak to me?

Am I not worthy

to learn, unlearn, and relearn?

5. Time

Time is a gambler,

playing a game

on his table.

He plays each card,

moves each step

with precision and care,

keeping a close eye

on all who partake

in the game.

He knows

when to place the bet,

how to time each move,

and how to claim victory

as the final step.

He never pauses,

never tires,

and never strays

from his course.

He simply plays—

steadfast,

impassive—

for he is a gambler,

doing his eternal job.