Hasya Kavi Sammelan

Hasya Kavi Sammelan

Was looking for some interesting videos to watch on Youtube today, and landed up on a Hasya Kavi Sammelan video conducted in IIT KGP. That got me started into a journey into the past. My father has always been a great fan of Kavi Sammelan’s (literally, a congregation of poets), and as a kid we used to go for many performances during the festival seasons of Holi and Diwali.

Great thing about these are – unlike the idiot boxes of today – the poets would mix humour with social messages, the humour would be very clean and simple, weaved together using perfect verse and recited eloquently. Those days are now over – what we enjoy today is Big Boss, and stand up comedy where in most cases men dress up as women and act stupid (don’t get me wrong — that’s also fun and enjoyable, but these lack the depth).

So, here’s a peep into the past and a few verses I discovered today. I’ll start with Ashok Chakradhar in his brilliant Buddhe Bacche aka Galiyaan:

Moving next, the brilliant poet who creates humour with a straight face, Surendra Sharma:

Continuing the Haryanvi Streak of Humour, Arun Jemini:

No kavi sammelan is complete without a poem of the veer ras (war poetry), and presenting Hari Om Panwar:

Next up, is the grand old man, Shail Chaturvedi:

And thus, we come to the end of the ceremony with Shailesh Lodha, a young poet but worth a watch:

Thank you guys! And hope you enjoyed the show :)

A Song of Despair

Found this brilliant piece of writing by Pablo Neruda, and thought I’d share it here:

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.”

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don’t have her. To feel that I’ve lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn’t keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That’s all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else’s. She will be someone else’s. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short and forgetting so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.

Found it on PoemHunter

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