Being in Writers Capital Foundation, where we communicate with hundreds of writers from across the world, I have an opportunity to read a number of works on a daily basis. Though never try to judge a person or his/her work, some works do make a great impression within. Amar Pratap Singh, a poet from India’s Bihar is the rarest of gems I have ever found.
A person who voluntarily retired from a nationalised bank in India, Amar Pratap Singh is one who has dedicated his entire life to educating children from financially and educationally deprived sect in a small hamlet in Bihar. Leading a modest life, his life must be a lesson for everyone, meanwhile, his works are as profound as the works of poet-seers of the bygone such as Tagore. If someone asks me who is the most inspiring poet I have seen in recent times, without a tinge of doubt I would say it is this legendary man. Like many other great personalities, he lives aloof, silently scribbling words for eternity.
They say social media like Facebook is a miniature of the entire world. We see a number of people, the poor and the rich, the successful and the unsuccessful, the virtuous and the wicked etc. Though I do understand the politics/gimmicks of living a beautiful life, an experience terribly shattered my conscience today. Under a beautifully crafted poem that could be elaborated into a huge book, there was a single ‘like’! As a matter of people, the dignity/greatness of a person in our society is often measured with the ‘likes’ under a social media post!
This is not the first time I notice this, however, every time I used to conveniently redirect the mind to other activities so that that wouldn’t interrupt the serenity that I behold. Meera Vineeth Kodakkadath, another Indian poet who beautifully crafts timeless poetry, whom I believe is one among the greatest promises for contemporary English poetry, must be another victim of the same. However, the most beautiful truth is that we cant see them bothered about all these dramas meanwhile the writers who don’t even know the meaning of what they are writing celebrate their absurdity!
All I know is that the final triumph is for truth, only poetry that evolves out of the profound inner silence an individual alone would remain here, rest will be taken away by the mad winds! Fortunately or unfortunately, a writer’s life begins only when he/she is liberated from the bondage of the mortal body!