On reading V.S.Naipul

by I V Rama Raju
(Saudi Arabia)

‘On A hug of GANGA’s son V.S.NAIPUL
With a drug of some spiritual pull’

(On reading his literary and lively occasions)

(Criticism upon criticism, yet a newly criticism,
Ism, no ism, unto a crystal clear lively prism.)

All others say, ‘change and improve my broken little language’,
To express well, one must pass through a special lit-gauge(literary gauge),
But indirectly round the earth, and should it touch ‘silent truth,’
Fiction is far better with all its glittering glamourful youth,
Hence started to read great books with all my senses ever opened,
Wondering just, and lured toward a shining gem of labors’ those indentured,
With a polish of mix metals- sharp knife: Pankaj mishra-a literary great,
That is with books by V S NAIPUL- the Noble laureate,
The best by all, no doubt, opened as if freely, his lit- gate (literary gate).
V.S.NAIPUL :: Vidhya-Dhara: All literary knowledge as his radiant crown,
Suraj Prasad: The Sun’ gift, given only to ‘Hanuman’ with knowledge ever blown.
(Hanuman: A wonderful God from epic RAMAYANA)
So proud of his/our Indian- eras’ glowing rays, even in those thrown away lands,
His flowers lit there and, To his Ma- ‘the Ganges’ bid proud garlands,
She, just feeling her son’ success, and about to bow her river’ head,
A knock from Anglo- Amba: hey! His silent mate still never shared her lovely bed?
( Amba: a rejected princess by the great warrior Bhishma from Maha Bharata)
Unconditional her love as his very creation with Mr.BISWAS: Mr. TRUST (Viswas means trust),
But, all her decades’ nuptial bond with her every waking moment’ burst,
That is the horrible married-ever mating life of our very ‘Gayatri-gifted NAIPUL’
O! His Ma- the GANGES vanished, into tears, with her eyes brimful.
‘Vowed’ he only as her earlier son- ‘Maha Bharat Bhishma’,
With a witness of lotus born like ‘Pankaj mishra’,
His lit-words are his life and, as ever reflect as radiant truth rays,
To enable his Coming blood feel the same warm ways,
His is very great and, after all given the noble like trays.
As masses unfit, his talents ‘we’ can never understand,
But how, ‘we’, the same red as his blood can stand,
While victor scale range-out, facts thundered, with a jerk sudden!,
Here in hot Desert,
All my inner eyes hurt,
But wondered toward ‘holy Koran’,
As blind with all sand, blown from his lit-barn (literary-barn),
Newly searching again, some glow as if fresh, this and, His-ISLAM,
Even truthfully might feel his SITA our male covered innovative RAM,
Even RAVAN be a RAM by hiding pure SITA with a black veil,
(Ram, Ravan & Sita: Hero, villain & Heroine from epic RAMAYANA)
‘Truth’ was, is, will ever be a taste-unknown drops’ moving wheel,
Not be hold, on our own at all times, its new beauty may we feel.
Sorry, it is not to hurt or insult our literary giants,
Just ‘they’ our oases, no more mirages, but those images of holy saints.
May not be ‘all’ as pure as those ‘Mary-virgins’,
But, must ‘we’ have ‘some’ as our original origins,
As we must preserve all natural resources for our future genes,
‘Deserve also their tongues’ to bloom further with our inherited floral- Enes (mental-genes).
No fear, if mine these feelings burnt like flies in their dazzling lit-flames,
‘We’ working class, just very light, not as people-elite, and no need those fames.
So sure, ‘we’, humans share and their feelings in all eras ever flow,
Even Everest’ born-pure Ganges must mingle salty sea by her obedient flow.
With love
I V RAMA RAJU. ivyramaraju@gmail.com

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