MY MUSE

Conflict and Education: Education is the panacea for all the evils in the society. Mr. Nayeem Ahmad Shah         Aristotle defined education as, "The creation of sound mind in sound body" and to achieve both the aims, three things are inevitable-Teacher, taught and the milieu. The milieu is the social setup in which a child grows .It plays a very vital role for the all-round development of personality of the child. There are numerous instances where people have obtained knowledge without the formal schooling. For instance the famous Nobel Laureate Rabinder Nath Tagore never went for formal schooling in his career. But he gave to the education the concept of Shantinekatan: that the serene, calm and tranquil atmosphere is must for teaching learning process. The children were allowed to grow at their own pace and to do whatever they wanted to the best of their level. To facilitate effective learning, Education was provided under the shade of mango trees. It was done

By not communicating in Kashmiri, we deprive our children of the real joy        How ironic it is to support our mother tongue by writing in the English language. We are made puppets by the modern age. As Shakespeare says: `As flies to wanton boys, are we to God’s, they kill us for their sport’ (originally used in a different context). To this problem, there seems to be no remedy in the hands of ‘Gen. Next’. There is no harm in writing in English but there is great harm in ignoring our cultural identity and our mother tongue. Making it a scapegoat may have innumerable repercussions in the near future.        Mother-tongue plays a very vital role in the social, ethical and psychological development of the child. A child feels more at ease when he is addressed in the vernacular by his family members. But Alas! at present in Kashmir, the situation is quite contrary. Common people in general and the privileged class, in particular, feel proud when their child starts to lisp eithe

Ideas get frozen in the mind With no breakthrough at all Icicles hang like piercing arrows And the veiled sun plays truant A ray of sun emanated from somewhere, Cleared the frosty the stuff of my imagination And illuminated my murky thoughts- Out came the lifeless images Of the yesteryear’s killed youth And Hibba, deprived of the vision, Pallets hit her eye, was she the culprit? What harm had she done to anyone? I saw a Hawk quivering badly Losing its squeaky little creatures Death waved its arms frantically Callous and merciless, devouring lives Nature runs its course howsoever harsh But leaves some work for the oppressor- Who is bold enough to face the Nature Or to render the oppressor impotent? Nayeem Ahmad Shah nayeem.eng.ku@gmail.com

I love Nature.        ‘Thanks for taking my bag on the bus’, I told her. She on her part blushed a little.’ It's OK’ she said. “You know people are becoming touchy these days. One of the women fastened her bag into the straps of my bag and was pulling at it as if a mad dog was tearing a piece of meat. Overloading in the buses has become so prevalent that it has become hard for a common man even to breathe”. She laughed at my running commentary. I was speaking partly excited that it was a girl, not a boy who was responding to me. My joy knew no bounds. ‘I am here searching for the department of education of the University of Kashmir. My examination centre is there. I opted to try my luck in biotechnology. She finally broke the ice. ‘I appreciate you because only a few students opt for such a challenging subject’ I said hastily wondering whether she was feeling bored with my prosaic comments. But it was beyond my expectations. She started to smile which made me feel good at

Tap not on the instrument of pain tonight The days of dejection have concluded And who knows about tomorrow? The boundaries of past and present have ended Will it dawn or not, who knows? Life is worthless, but tonight Anguish is possible tonight Tap not on the instrument of pain tonight Don’t repeat the fantasy of sorrow now Don’t be aggrieved at your own fate Give up the care of the future from the heart Don’t shed tears on the life of abidance Don’t ask the tales of melancholic times Don’t ask, as all the complaints have ended Tap not on the instrument of pain tonight A translation of Faiz Ahmad Faiz’s poem “Aaj Ki Raat” by Nayeem Ahmad Shah

April is the loveliest month The caressing breeze and The recurrent rains… The aroma of tulips and hyacinths The wet earth and the rustling grass Kindle the thoughts of everyone Tiny drops fall undulating from the sky Like little diamonds, rejuvenating lives Children soak themselves in gaiety Run in streets, bathe themselves Such grace from Providence Could accept the salvation of sinners The children play, unafraid of elders They rush in doors, drenching With their fists clenching Hugs and kisses and dry clothes to wear Parents not always perpetuate terror They wait with a placatory look They wish to be young again To treasure those drops of April rain