Suresh Joshi: Ratochol Gyanangar under the black ashes of time!

- Even after years, the real test of true literature is that as time goes by, it does not become stale, its sensations feel fresh.

- Spectrometer-Jay Vasavada

- Today's youth in foreign countries are mad behind films like 'Fight Club' of rebellion. Suresh Joshi wrote a lot about it

A friend was showing his 'aquarium' with great enthusiasm. The sea sand, the oysters, the vegetation - the fish were also killing the cellar. After looking at all this enthusiastically he looked in front of me to know my response. I did not want to pour cold water on his enthusiasm. However, he did not stay without telling me: 'Not that you have used strange tactics. But there is not one thing of the sea here, and that is the tide. '

This. Yeh. This. This is just Su.Jo. This is Suresh Joshi. In his magazine 'Kshitij', he started the 'review' of 'Darshak''s famous work' Zer To Pidhan Jaani Jaani 'in this way in 191! This is how we started this sequel aka sequel of Sujogatha on the occasion of the centenary which started last Sunday. These tides are rooted in sensations, impulses and emotions. Which makes man real. Not a daunting robotic toy. Man is the one in whom the world does not have the same understanding, the one who has the slightest desire, the one who has the desire to call the world something connected to himself, and the one who burns inside and shines brightly, the one who grows taller and taller.

In Suresh Joshi, these three were hitting a sharp chord, as a creator. Originally, what is the weapon of the creator? Article? Brush? The camera? Mike? No. The main weapon of any creator, the main weapon is the eye. This is an observation. The world is the same for billions of people. But the Creator's eye sees it differently. It opens up something new, looks different. As powerful as it looks, its creation is wonderful in any art. A sample of how bright Sureshbhai's look was can be seen in his observation of a landmark film like Satyajit Ray's 'Pather Panchali'. Remember, it was not convenient to watch it on TV often when he saw it. Satyajit Ray did not even get an Oscar for Lifetime Achievement.

But the same lineage that belonged to Suresh Joshi was originally from Satyajit Ray's films. Both had a lot to do with the Indian world around them, but the whole framework and perspective was on modern Western trends. Whether it is the creation of Cubism or Absurd or from Neonialism to Magic Realism. The combination of the language of the East and the script of the West. But the way Bengalis pampered the creators, the atmosphere was not in Gujarat, not today for creativity. So Rai became international, but Suresh Joshi did not become as national as he could. So, here is a glimpse of how Suresh Joshi watches the film.

'The opening scene takes you straight into the heart of village life. Durga, who brings 'one or two fruits' from the landlord's farm, is seen dancing on the sun-shaded road of the village, following the rhythm of the joy of her attainment. The director is not in love with the ten or eleven year old girl, who is very ordinary. Durga’s joy, and the fluid rhythm of that joy is expressed in a powerful way with very simple music. This dancing and jumping and this melody of music with it has been skillfully applied in such a way that it becomes the pole of the poetry of daily village life. See you soon Indira Thakur! Indira Thakur, who is over ninety, is an unforgettable character of 'Pather Panchali'. I have really seen Jijivisha! Discussions about the stolen fruit between Durga and Indira Thakur - The zeal to take part in the children's conspiracies is shown in a very touching way in the life of an old man sitting on the edge. Then he pours water in the doshi rice, sits down to eat it by hand! The sheer reality of the scene reveals Jijivisha in a way that probably wouldn't have happened with any other scene, and such a poor family - they are dependent. The dog is sitting next to Doshi. When Doshi comes, he fills the pot with water from his daily routine and irrigates the plants. Mumurshu (dyeing) life thus helps to cultivate new life.

Thus the cart of this poor world moves forward. The storyline is very thin. But due to the skill of symbolism, such a short story has given voice to many complex and volatile values ​​of human life. The scheme of symbols sometimes goes awry: showing the lamp going out at the time of death, fixing the camera on the flower bud to indicate the development of love and showing the bud blossoming - all of these have lost their ability as symbols. Here in the broken-walled Khorda, the smile on the toothless mouth of the dilapidated Indira Thakur, so broken by the onslaught of time and poverty, the sparkle of childlike curiosity in her eyes, covered with wrinkled skin, and the dullness in her eyes. Gone are the fairy tales - how much does this plan contradict! This seems to be one of the uniqueness of the director: if there is no passion to make the beautiful beautiful, then what is ugly is shown as it is. It is not done to stimulate emotions. This art restraint is a really big thing. Things, characters, events - he has let himself know his heart here. Nowhere does the director interfere. '

You see, Anurag Kashyapo came too late to make a revolution, the dream of which was seen by Suresh Joshi sixty years ago. But the problem is that at that time I was writing in a language that seemed difficult to understand. So adding English in brackets here sounds easy in some words. The classical student of literature does not mind. But this language is useless for public communication. Today. If you write a sleepy eye, the reader still understands, but if you write sleepy, it will run away. That requires a compression to hold her finger. It should be locked to make a connection. It falls into such genius essence.

Well, it costs society dearly. Mediocrity spreads instead of quality. Then the collective expression as our people begins to be like milk without cream and finally like a solution of mamara. Today many have experienced a fever due to covid fresh. Now see how intoxicated Sureshbhai sees fever in Gujarati.

'I have had a slight fever since yesterday. Probably increased at night. Who knows why he remembers the line of Rilke: You are sleeping with your eyes closed, unknowingly your hand has fallen into my hand, like a rose! My world is as big as a feverish heat area. The eye is open not only to see the objects, but also to keep them away. The whole room is awake. Time follows the thief. The sun comes in from outside. The peace in the room seems to swallow it, I don't see it, I just see this warmth slowly spreading in the rug of the body. It seduces the blood, it burns the memory, the blazing summer mirage on my horizon. I see a thousand golden deer running in front of my eyes. Ball, do you want to have her skin corseted?

My silence wrapped in a fever is not able to swallow the open air outside after the fever is gone. Some arrangements have to be made for this from now on. How good it would have been if we had shared everything! So now your body would be with my body. Everything would have become temperate. But you are proud of your cold hand! He often holds my hand and says: How hot is your hand, it seems to have a fever.

You seem to be blaming me for this. The cold air bothers me with fever. I don't like flirting. The heart rate is increasing with the dose of fever. How much I need your cold hand today and if one of your tears falls on my forehead, I will die. Yet with my eyes closed - I am not afraid to close my eyes if you have - I like to experience your presence even with only an indirect touch.

Fever somehow kills the blood. This adds a little transparency. But we can't cultivate complete transparency, so the transparency that makes death real without any hindrance is not digested by us. But do you know the coolness I am protecting under this blanket of warmth? If you know, say so. '

Readers, there is Laveria. Romantic fever. It is not true that Sureshbhai wrote everything in a heavy way. So when his wife Ushabahen was worried about his growing belly in her old age, she laughed and said, 'I am developing this trap specially to play Poriao (Grandchildren)!' There was no such thing as a miserable communist life. Than lectures. Manbher used to call him the youth of that time and also record it in a tape recorder. Salman Rushdie also met him face to face. Even the erotic romantic sometimes writes Neruda as fiery as Rilke.

See the prayer of her: 'Sometimes words flow like a burning smell like my camphor ...' Aha! A new metaphor like Shama Parwana. In contact with air, camphor automatically dissolves and becomes fragrant. Ishq's contact must also come! Gradually the quality melts and the fragrant smell reaches the taste buds! Enjoy another pleasant feeling: 'I would have gone to bed comfortably in the shade of a lofty breast / I would have gone to bed like a village in the morning.' Oops! The arthouse creator doesn’t have to be dry. A poet who is not interested can read and live. From his translation of Buddhadeva Basu's poem, he tasted this: 'Wow! In the same book 'Parakia' there is a translation of St. John Peters 'translation of' Beloved ':' My dentures are clean under your tongue. (French Kiss!) You rule over my limbs by clinging to my heart. O my darling, like the captain of a ship, you are my lord. '

In the name of Suresh, a man named Mrinalzurape shows the eternal feminism in a sly way: 'How incomprehensible is the world of a woman's heart! A man can only love a mysterious woman. But often the root of this mystery is suffering. Since we do not have the courage to stand in the face of that pain, we continue to create quarrels to make a gap between us. But all of a sudden there is someone in our life who, at a glance, this conflict evaporates and then our suffering is realized. ' And in his different story called 'Two Kisses', a storm of impulse suddenly blows in a middle-aged and a young couple!

Sureshbhai is drowning in childishness: 'Child marriage seems to be more prevalent in the world of dolls. Or there is no such thing as age in their world or there is only one age, and that is the age of playing with them! The pain of being expelled from his world has never happened before. But every creation needs a special right to enter. How to get into the doll's creation? Going through the orange stem of Parijat and sitting in the chariot attached to the sun and moon? Climb the ladder of dripping water? It is said that if we listen to the mantra that the wind blows in the ears of the blossoming bud in the early morning, the tears of the disrespectful queen living in the palace of Ekdandia in the laughter of roses, the warm exhalation of the princess waiting for the prince to come riding on a flying horse. If we put it down and open it by chanting the same mantra with the help of Suraj Athamata, it will reach the universe. But how was that going to happen now?

So when I suddenly run out of money in the house, I have to go to the place where my childhood sleep was hidden, just like all the places where money is hidden should be emptied once again. Growing up a lot of sleep in childhood. Older people are sleeping with loads of fatigue, they feel a lot of time when they take off all the bags, but the baby is like a light flower. It starts to fly when the first wave of the bird strikes. He wakes up with a lot of sleep left. Today I am thinking, where did the sleep go? The octagon of the fort of Songadh hid it in the crevice of Vav, in the shadow of which he went to school every day, in the groove of his grandfather, in the eyes of the blind well in the barn. Who will bring it back today? '

That is why in his poem 'Pralay', when everything is destroyed, there is a longing to save the innocence of childhood: Moterans, we all turned to one day, speculation of the apocalypse of the universe all went up / this sun will set after a few years, ! / Grandpa laughed, Grandma laughed, the fun was overwhelming, all of a sudden I cried and cried! / 'What is it, son? What happened Why are you crying? ' Doomo climbs heavily as I ask. / The little one covers the doll with two hands, can't speak, can't speak. / 'What will happen to the doll?' Speaking of which, tears are flowing again. / In the heat of its breath, why didn't a million suns burn? '

The same Sujo Chetnavishade: 'Where is the time? Bicharo, whose name is as monstrous as time, is sitting in the radium-tipped forks of the wristwatch like a small group of Agya. One of the seven horses that escaped from the sun finds refuge in the cave of my blood by falling into error .... Adding change to one transformation after another, progress is achieved, summing up the efforts and losses, the truth will be found. Darwin's evolution also nurtured this optimism. In this article, a large number of human beings forgot about death. Adding the moment and the moment, death comes right there and falsifies the whole account. Time flies away from death. '

Yes, young people in foreign countries are crazy about films like 'Fight Club'. Suresh Joshi wrote a lot about hitting him, and death blew him away all of a sudden. It is still possible to talk about it, but in the end, today is an evergreen observation about his education

"If universities are opened in every city like milk cabins, then it is childish to be under the illusion that we are developing academically or culturally," he said. Now it is necessary to check how many useless inefficient institutions our society and our poor country, which is burdened with many kinds of burdens, are doing. Every university should have a distinctive posture. If that doesn't happen, it's time to dump her and move on.

Universities should take advantage of the knowledge of the scholars by finding them wherever they fall in the country. In order for the tool of his knowledge to continue uninterrupted, the burden of his yoga should be lifted ... Now in the name of economic crisis, grants for educational institutions are being cut. This poor country wastes crores in the name of elections, but the research activities in the universities and the necessary expenditure on state-of-the-art libraries are cut first. Universities run without palace-like buildings, but why run without a good library?

Students flock to the coaching classes in the city. It would be a mistake to assume that this coaching class is a complementary part of universities. The class focuses on the practical utility of making students successful in exams. It has nothing to do with the development or enrichment of knowledge ... There are heaps of literature that can be useful in exams. This literature does not allow students to go to the original source of knowledge. '

Suresh Joshi is the fire of the fuel of ideas, and it is still not extinguished after the primitive man lit it with flint!

Fast forward

Maybe I won't be tomorrow

If the sun rises tomorrow, say so

In my widened eye

A tear is left to dry

Tomorrow if the wind y say that

Of a girl in adolescence

The ripe fruit of a stolen smile

I have yet to get rid of it

If the sea overflows tomorrow, say so

Rocked in my heart

Time is left to shatter God

If the moon rises tomorrow, say so

To escape by filling it with numbers

A fish is still coming towards me

If a fire breaks out tomorrow, say so

The cheetah of my desolate shadow

Still to be revealed.

Maybe I won't be tomorrow.

(Suresh Joshi)