Sun Salute

 International Yoga Day – Sun Salute!

21 June 2017  –First day of Summer is an International Yoga Day.  Sun Salute to all.

 

Yoga Mat

 

 

 

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More Snow

January and February 2017

 

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2017

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Seven is a number having many shades

Seven are the colours of a rainbow

Seven stars form milky-way in the sky

 

Noble Silence

  • Noble Silence

Seasons come and go
life goes on.

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July23

Visiting a Historic Site of Komagata Maru

surjeetkalsey-2006-2

On the day – 23 July when the ship Komagata Maru with its 376 passengers was turned away by the Canadian government after 2 months it stood still in the West Coast Harbour waters in Vancouver in 1914, because it is said that it did not meet the immigration requirement of the clause of  ‘continuous journey’ from India to Canada.

     Komagata Maru, a full length play written in Punjabi by Ajmer Rode during 1976-1977  and  translated into English by  Surjeet Kalsey  in early eighties. The first Punjabi play on Canadain justice system and racism was staged in the year 1979 in Vancouver and introduced the incident of Komagata Maru as a part of our history in Canada.

.KomagataMaru Cast 1979Komagata Maru Hopkinson & Jean.

 

 

 

 

After this isolated performance to bring awareness about the historic incident of Komagata Maru,  efforts are seen sparingly for about three decades to bring awareness about the issue nor people talked much about it. The very first research about this historic incident was still credited to Hugh Johnston’s research book on the issue, ” The Journey of Komagata Maru”, published in early seventies. During the early years of twenty-first century, the topic became in the forefront again and was highlighted as a political issue by many politicians and the South Asian communities especially Punjabi community became very emotional about the issue because most of the passengers on the Komagata Maru ship were Sikh Punjabis.

.KGM passangers.

The community celebrated Year 2014 as 100th anniversary of Komagata Maru incident and kept demanding an apology from the Canadian government for the then done wrong, to make it right within the justice.

Therefore, finally this important issue was brought in the Parliament for an official apology on 18 May 2016, after 102 years.

I happened to visit the Komagata Maru memorial site in Vancouver at the spot of where 102 years ago the ship was made to stand there and the passengers were not allowed to put their foot on the land of Canada. The monument comprises this historic photo about 4’X 6′ size is displayed on a glass board mounted on the ground, is dimmed with weather, rain and sun; and rusted iron fence/walls with holes presumed bullet holes and about  two feet high grass grown all around these iron boards. Is this the essence of preservation of the memory of this incident?

“ਸੁਨਤੇ ਥੇ ਬਹੁਤ ਸ਼ੋਰ ਦਿਲ ਕੇ ਪਹਿਲੂ ਮੇਂ, ਕਾਟਾ ਤੋ ਏਕ ਕਤਰਾ ਖੂਨ ਕਾ ਭੀ ਨਾ ਨਿਕਲਾ”

I heard that South Asian community, community leaders and different cultural and religious groups who were/are working to commemorate and preserve the memory of this painful historic incident displayed a lack of unified and dignified vision of preserving the history as well as to bring awareness of the historic incident.

On a positive note: The Simon Fraser University, Burnaby has included in their library On-line version of Kamagata Maru, full length play in Punjabi by Ajmer Rode and English Translation of Komagata Maru done by Surjeet Kalsey. Full script in English translation can be read, click:  http://lib-drupal2.lib.sfu.ca/kmj/node/764

Poetry Month

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P1100665Poem walks in the Deserted Streets at Night.

P1100444P1100442Fragrance of Spring Blooms Camellia smiles through my window the soft pink petals bloom the paths are covered with lilac lavender.

Two eyes look through the window
amazed at the benedictions of the nature.
I smell the fragrance of poetry blooming in April
as always and everyday a new poem
is being written on the petals of the flowers
and  on the fresh green leaves.

The two naked eyes of a woman can still see
through the parted curtains
through the iron bars of the traditions.

In this poetry season so many things
hang around on the tip of my pen

pulsating to form a poem:                                                                                                                       A woman is still being stoned somewhere                                                                           a woman is still being raped somewhere
a woman is being beaten to death somewhere

People are seeking freedom of thought
freedom of speech freedom to live                                                                                               seeking safety, respect and dignity                                                                                                   running for their lives                                                                                                                           disowning their countries                                                                                                                 seeking asylum from other lands                                                                                              drowning in the ocean on the way to freedom                                                                                   and dying instead.

Poetry month will go on and                                                                                                          many hearts wailing would go on                                                                                                       under the dark skies                                                                                                                                 a poem walks through the deserted places                                                                                         on the blood drenched streets of the city                                                                                             where every night shooting happens like fire crackers
and every night a number of young boys are injured                                                                    and one or two lost their lives….

I want to pen all the sadness and pain.                                                                                                 I want to tell the lamenting and crying mother                                                                                        whose heart bleeds with her young son                                                                                                             caught in between the cross-firing of madness                       if my words can stop her heart bleeding….

A new poem is being written                                                                                                          about all the centuries old issues                                                                                                  while thinking poetry in the moment                                                                                         frozen in the dead of the night
walking on the concrete sidewalk
I just stumbled on a big pothole                                                                                                        and fell backward landed on my right wrist.

And after… …                                                                                                                                               I could not even hold a pen in my hand                                                                                                   not even the mouse neither could I click                                                                                     with my fingers those letters                                                                                                               on the keyboard  to form a poem!

And the poetry month would be gone by                                                                                           leaving me with this incomplete poem and pain.

And the poem continues.

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