A poet friend from Italy wrote to me, “I am in pain, but am still writing poetry….” I felt sad that he was distressed, but the next moment I thought, -- if he did not experience pain, how could he write good poems? Ayyappa Paniker used to tell me-- “See pain and poetry as two faces of the same coin, do not run away from pains …. Bring that out in poetry.” I want to give the same advice to my friend in Italy.

But before that I wish to find out - how does one handle pain? Should we ignore it? Or invite it in, make it sit on one’s lap and allow it to lick our neck? Or let it sit in a corner of our room and write poetry? There is another important thing to consider. That is, poetry bubbles forth not only when we are in pain, but also when we are in a joyous mood. But poetry of celebration or joy displays another aspect of pain. When I see the full moon and its wonderful moonlight, I cry (I do not know why); when I see a patriotic film, again I cry. My friends say - these are the tears of happiness. Maybe, I say; but when I cry, I feel as if a bunch of pigeons want to come out from my heart but their wings are not allowing them to fly.

I remember my first poem, which was written for pain in laughter. I am always defamed for my loud laughter (girls from good family do not laugh loudly!!) but deep within my heart my laughter is most often a shower of pain. For me celebration and pain are the same. I think most of the artists have these very same sentiments.

Artists might belong to different religions and follow different spiritual teachings. They pray to be relieved of pain, but Art asks the artist to feel pain, the pain of every creature... whether they be ants, lizards or snakes; to experience the pain of every living or non-living being: the pain of the dew drops, the grass, the pain of everything under this sky and above it... of the wind, cloud or sunlight ….

Pain is not only black, it is sometimes red as the rose, blue as the sky, green as the grass..; a poet is Neel Kantha - Shiva (according to Hindu Mythology Shiva, the God of Destruction, dons snakes around his neck and has a bluish neck due to consuming deadly poison). I feel that every artist, especially a poet, is drinking poison in all his/her living moments. He /she might inhabit a balloon of his/her own world, but should also learn to live in the whole Brahmand (Universe), he/she should feel his own pain but at the same time sense the pain of the entire world - pain in love, pain in sorrow, pain in realization, pain in failure, pain in everything.

Friends, this issue of Kritya is dedicated to pain.


Rati Saxena