(1942 – 2022)

Kanwal Muthu, whom we knew as Nanaji at home, was born as a pure soul, unruffled by the worldly concerns, unmindful of personal gain. As we were close in childhood, I saw to my amazement as well as to my concern, how he connected with people without fear and favor. At that time in his life I do not think he ever had a quarrel with anyone. I realize now that his fearlessness came from the purity of his soul, as reflected to him through his consciousness. See the picture above and look into his eyes, you will understand what I am talking about.

Lucky was Nanaji as he was born to special parents. His father, Dr. Dwarika Nath Muthu, was a noble man, who at times gave money to his patients to buy medicines and defray other expenditures, rather than take it from them as his rightful fees. For his compassion and generosity he was nicknamed Satyayogi Doctor. His mother, Roopawati, my father’s sister, dotted on her children the like of which I have never seen. The parents treated the two children they had like God-given gifts, which they must raise with infinite care. Sometimes I thought they were going beyond the reality of life and raising them as softies.

Kanwal spent his pre-college life in small towns like Sopore, Anantnag, etc. He had a protected and privileged childhood in company with his highly doting parents, a younger brother, who was very different than him, and the special treatment he got from the public surrounding him, being a town medical officer’s son.

I spent a lot of time with the Muthu family, as I was a functional orphan, having been sent by my parents to Kashmir to pursue my studies, while they lived in New Delhi, on the basis that education in Kashmir was superior to the one dispensed in New Delhi. Although I was not convinced of that evaluation, I ended up spending six years of my boyhood with my uncle and other relatives. I spent time with Muthus in Srinagar, Sopore, and Pahalgam. During the F.Sc exam preparation, which would be about 12ttth grade in the modern school system, I ended up spending about a month and a half with Muthu family at their Ganpatyar, Srinagar residence. Muthus liked me very much and so the extent of the time I spent with them.

Kanwal while riding a bicycle would shout greetings to his friends and neighbors, without shyness and decorum considerations, which was not considered good taste. But he did not care as his heart had given him the green light. In the third year of college, which was the first year of B.A., he went for the enrollment very early in the morning, so that he would get the roll number one, so that people at the college would remember him easily. At this time in Kanwal’s life he did not have much ambition in his education. He was not very fond of reading books, nor had any high interest in sports. His interest in girls was sharp and durable, which was augmented by their response to his overtures, propelled quite a bit by his Hollywood – looks. See the picture above to confirm this. He just wanted to have a good time in this period of his life.

Kanwal’s seriousness about his life started when after his finishing B.A. in Kashmir he joined Victoria Jubilee Technical Institute in Bombay for the studies in engineering. Away from the love of his parents and comforts of his home, he faced life in its raw and challenging state. He was disappointed with some of his performance at the Institute but he did not allow it to make a mark on him. Proverbially he hit the sack but then got up quickly, steadied himself, and strode the path in front of him determinedly. This was the birth of new Kanwal, the personality that would guide him through the rest of his life. He became a serious man and ambitions took root in him. That is why I have called him a man of nobility and perseverance. Nobility he was born with but perseverance he cultivated. After VJTI he taught at Reginal Engineering College in Srinagar for five years. Some of the people he taught and those who were his colleagues have told me that he was a very good teacher. They also told me that he was good also outside the classroom.

After the first tenure at Regional Engineering College, Kanwal decided to do M.Tech from IIT Delhi. He secured a first class in it, lashing at his VJTI performance. He re-joined Regional Engineering College for a couple of years. At this point he came to the realization that he was not an academician, as he confided to me a few years ago. So, henceforth he changed his tables and worked in manufacturing. He worked with several companies at high management levels. While doing that he maintained his interest in engineering societies, as he was fond of organizing events and meeting people. Ideally, he should have been in politics, but that would have been too risky an undertaking. After he stopped working for companies, he opened his own consulting company. So, Kanwal actually never retired. Below is a listing of his academic and professional careers.

But the glory of his life was to end, as it happens with most of the human lives. It was in early 2017 when Kanwal was attending the wedding of the daughter of his cousin in Delhi, he suffered a heart attack. Maybe, he could have come back fully after that, as he had lived a healthy life for the most part, but it was followed with two more heart attacks in the next year and a half. As if they were not enough burden on his health, he incurred a fracture of the femur bone and suffered prostate cancer. The multiplicity of his ailments produced a serious setback to his recovery. Then after some five years after his first illness, he passed away on Oct. 24, 2022, on Diwali day.

We see in Kanwal’s life there were two pivotal factors that gave it shape. One was his inborn nobility, the other his perseverance. Never did I see him harboring a grudge against someone who may have hurt him. He was naturally benign with people. Past did not weigh heavy in his life, present and future were his path. He was not an intellectual but a doer. That is why he was always doing something. In his mature years he had cut socializing, spending more time with his family. He loved his children very much, especially his daughter. He or his wife had given them cute nicknames: Minnah and Baya.

Like the string of lakes in my neighborhood which I frequently visit, Nanaji was a scintillating phenomenon of nature that I was connected with from childhood. Though he had become remote and uncommunicative with the passage of time, he was always there for me. But now he is in the company of stars: beyond reach but yet inspiring.

Academic and Professional Histories:

Full name: Kanwal Krishen Muthu
Actual date of birth: January 18, 1942
Official date of birth: January 20, 1942

Academic History:

I do not have information where Kanwal did his high schooling and F.Sc., but he joined Amar Singh College, Srinagar, in 1958, for B.A. I guess he completed it in 1960.

He joined Victoria Jubilee Technical Institute, Bombay, in 1960, and graduated B.Tech, Mechanical Engineering, in 1964.

Indian Institute of Technology, New Delhi, 1970-72. Graduated M. Tech., Industrial Engineering.

Professional History:

Regional Engineering College, Srinagar, Kashmir: 1965-70. Taught in Mechanical Engineering Dept.

Regional Engineering College, Srinagar, Kashmir: 1972-73. Taught in Mechanical Engineering Dept. again after M.Tech. from IIT Delhi.

Indian Institute of Technology, New Delhi: 1973-75. Taught in Mechanical Engineering Dept.

Kelvinator Of India: Joined in 1975.

Weston Electronics: Joined in 1988.

Hero Honda Motors: Joined in 1991. He moved from the position of G.M. Commercial to V.P. HR & TQM.

Lumax Industries: joined 1995 as VP.

Corporate Consultancy Services: Launched his own consulting firm in 1998. Provided management consulting services and conducted in-company training programs all over India.

Membership of Professional Organizations and Societies:

All India Management Association (AIMA)
Delhi Management Association (DMA). Served as president for one term.
Indian Institution of Industrial Engineering (IIIE)
Indian Society of Mechanical Engineers (ISME)
Operational Research Society of India (ORSI)

Picture of Kanwal taken in Pahalgam, Kashmir, May 1957:

Suffern, New York, Nov. 7, 2022; Rev. 5.14.24
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My father and uncle Papaji emerged as the towering personalities and gurus of our family after the untimely passing away of my grandfather. A pair of siblings could not have been more dissimilar. My father, called Babuji by family members younger than him, was a straight-from-the-gut person; he had little need for social hypocrisy, but at the same time he was warm, friendly, and gregarious. He was incorruptible but forgiving. He amassed a wide circle of friends as friendship was his lifeblood. He was self-conscious, as almost all Kashmiri Pandits were those days, but had a wide empathy for people. He was serious and responsible but did not have any large-scale ambitions or goals in his life.

From his job with All India Radio, New Delhi, where he was a newscaster among other things, he moved to Information Services of India in New Delhi. On behalf of the organization, he went on diplomatic assignments to many countries of the world. This experience enriched his life, enlarging his perspective on world and life. He could work hard only to the limits of its need but did not like programmatic hard work. That is one of the reasons why he did not often top as a student though he did well in exams. He maintained very good relationships with people, especially with his friends and relatives. People adored him for his simplicity, his easy straightforwardness, his generous warmth, his ample generosity, and his spontaneous humor and wit. When with his friends, he would be at the peak of his jollity and agreeability; but when with his core-family he would generally be serious and silent.

Money did not inspire him, it was only a survival tool for him. He did not aspire for property or other material possessions. One way he looked at life was to treat it as a duty that one must strive to perform well. He was against over-intellectualization of human life. He thought its basic elements were quite apparent; all that was needed was to respond to them adequately. He generally lived in forward direction and on short-time basis. He conducted himself very well at his job. He was quick in his work and extremely good with his colleagues, especially his subordinates. He spent some of his spare time in reading books on history, literature, public life, and in other fields. He also wrote many articles on politics. He was well-versed in Urdu poetry. He was a colorful man, full of fun. He was a very good talker and the spark of his conversation stayed on people’s mind for quite a while. His education prevented him to be religious, but he did not dismiss it as absurd, especially in his later years. He tried to live everyday as best as he could. He did not have metaphors for the marvel or mystery of life, neither did he condemn its painfulness and absurdity. Such detached and stoic approach to life, to some extent, could be traced to Hinduism, which surrounded him; though he did not practice it consciously. He could become nervous when confronted with an important but a difficult situation or in an emergency or at the start of a long travel.

My father provided reliable and effective intellectual and emotional support to his relatives and friends, when he was asked to do so, or the situation warranted so. He was always willing to go to any length to help and comfort his family. He would not have liked to think that his life had a message, but if we were to look for it, it was to maintain the dignity of one’s life at all the times, keep good relationships with people, follow the rules, and have fun. He passed away prematurely, at 65, on 16 August 1982, under unusual circumstances. That day in the morning he underwent a benign prostate surgery and passed away at midnight in the hospital. Circumstantial evidence strongly suggests he suffered pulmonary embolism, due to the mistakes in his surgery. His going away hurt his relatives and friends deeply, as they thought he was yet young and capable of a lot of goodness. No other person in our family, since and before his passing away, has equaled his perceived high human stature or his popularity, even though he had left Kashmir for good in 1948.

While bravely fighting his heartbreak over his younger son’s accident, Daddy passed away on 16 August 1982, at an unripe age of 65, after a benign prostate surgery. I was traveling in Europe when the news of his passing away reached me. Hurriedly, I reached India the following day, only to be able to see his ashes. A man who liked to laugh and joke had now passed on to eternity. Below is the response I sent to people’s condolence letters:

“It was quite some time ago that I received your letter about my father’s passing away. The reverberations of that event in the last August are still strong and I have been unable to bring myself to replying you.

The invisible forces that tie us all seem very visible when calamities strike us. A man’s life depends upon the sympathies and the smiles of other human beings.

Death is as final as anything can be. To understand and cope with it is challenging.

For your understanding and sympathy, I cannot find good enough thoughts to express my appreciation in. But this much I can say: by your letter you have reached out for the human heart and added to our bonds.”

My father, whose happiest moments were spent when he was in the company of people, would have been touched by such a moving response to his passing away, as has been generated by the people who knew him.”

His death seemed to mark the end of an era for me. He was like a big Chinar tree over me, whose presence sometimes I did not feel, but now by its absence, it has come to full life. All my life, during which Daddy was alive, he maintained, it appeared, a studied distance from me. Part of it was due to the cultural lag of Kashmiri fathers in relationship with their children and part of it was due to his innate shyness, well-hidden by his outwardly gregarious personality. But there were two more elements to it. My birth being the first in the family, when he was struggling to find a footing in the world, was reminiscent to him of his struggles. This experiential association, perhaps, made him cool toward me. Later, when I grew up, Daddy did not like my artistic disposition, as almost all his life he had wanted to be a practical man. Although he admired artists but living like one was too irresponsible and risky in his view. He wanted to take the world as it appears and man’s role in it to be like that of a captain in a ship. But I had forgiven his aloofness toward me a long time ago. I wrote a book about our relationship, Life With Father, whose introductory verse is:

He remained an aloof tower in my life,

When I was looking for a father.

But the flow of time has washed my wounds

And now I miss his unalloyed love, his fulsome compassion,

Sharpness of his wit, his unaffected manner.

His presence is imprinted in the recesses of my consciousness,

His incorruptible nobility a light forever shining in my firmament.

Suffern, N.Y., May 4, 2024

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maharaj.kaul@yahoo.com

Maharaj Kaul translates and discusses Mirza Ghalib’s (1797 – 1869)

most popular and famous shers:

Ghalib Sher 17:

 ham ko un se vafā kī hai ummīd
jo nahīñ jānte vafā kyā hai

 Translation:

 we have hope for faithfulness from the one

who doesn’t know what faithfulness is

 Discussion:

 Ghalib says that the irony is that we are expecting faithfulness from a beloved who does not know what faithfulness means. It could be that she is so young yet to know what it is, or that she is old enough to know what it is, but does not think it is required of her. That is faithfulness is not a requisite in love. On one hand the lover is going in the full fever of love with all its trappings, but on the other hand the beloved does not seem to care for faithfulness.

 Ghalib Sher 16:

 ishq mujh ko nahīñ vaḥshat hī sahī
merī vaḥshat tirī shuhrat hī sahī

 Translation:

 love it may not be let it be madness

my madness your fame let it be

Discussion:

 Ghalib tells his beloved that let it be his madness as she feels his love is. But his madness has imparted a fame of specialness on her. In other words, even though she thinks his passion for her is madness, but nevertheless it has cast her as a special person in society.

 Ghalib Sher 15:

yih nah thī hamārī qismat kih viṣāl-e yār hotā
agar aur jīte rahte yihī intiz̤ār hotā

Translation:

this was not our destiny that union with the beloved would take place

if we had kept on living there would have been the same waiting

Discussion:

 Ghalib laments that it has not been his luck to have had a union with his beloved. Also, he has come to the realization that had he and his beloved waited longer, the union between them would still not materialize. This is so because it is their destiny.

 Ghalib Sher 14:

ishq se t̤abīʿat ne zīst kā mazā pāyā
dard kī davā pāʾī dard-e be-davā pāyā

Translation:

through passion the being found the relish of life
found cure for a pain found an incurable pain

Discussion:

Ghalib says that by means of passion a human being can make life enjoyable, but that passion is not easy to cultivate and hold on to, because of the problems associated with it. So, while the enjoyment in life is cultivatable, but the fuel to support it is problematic.

 Ghalib Sher 13:

muḥabbat meñ nahīñ hai farq jīne aur marne kā
usī ko dekh kar jīte haiñ jis kāfir pah dam nikle

Translation:

in love there is no difference between living and dying

seeing her we live the infidel who would make us die

Discussion:

 Ghalib says that in love one lives as well as dies, as it is a challenging experience that involves a relationship with another person. Depending on her state of mind one’s feelings can swing from living to dying.

Ghalib Sher 12:

 baskih dushvār hai har kām kā āsāñ honā
ādmī ko bhī muyassar nahīñ insāñ honā

Translation:

it is difficult for every task to be easy

even for man it is not easy to be human

Discussion:

 It is difficult for every human task to be easy. For man also to be human is not easy. Man is the physical aspect of the human race, being human is his qualities of love, sacrifice, compassion, etc.

Ghalib Sher 11:

nah thā kuchh to ḳhudā thā kuchh nah hotā to ḳhudā hotā
ḍuboyā mujh ko hone ne nah hotā maiñ to kyā hotā

Translation:

when there was nothing there was God if nothing happened God would be created

I was drowned by my existence if I didn’t exist what would happen

 Discussion:

 It is a deeply philosophical sher by Ghalib. He says that when there was nothing in the universe, there still existed God; and if nothing was going on in the universe, the phenomenon of God would still be occurring. Ghalib says that his existence has ruined him. Because if he had not existed, he would be a part of God, a superior situation than his human situation.

 Ghalib Sher 10:

hazāroñ ḳhvāhisheñ aisī kih har ḳhvāhish pah dam nikle
bahut nikle mire armān lekin phir bhī kam nikle

 Translation:

all the thousands of longings are such that over every longing I would die

many of my wishes were fulfilled but still few were fulfilled

Discussion:

Ghalib says there are thousands of desires in life such that, for each of them one would sacrifice his life. Many of his desires were fulfilled, but still they turned out to be few.

 Ghalib Sher 9:

koʾī vīrānī-sī vīrānī hai
dasht ko dekh ke ghar yād āyā

Translation:

it is a desolation like desolation

seeing the desert home came to mind

Discussion:

This is a famous sher known for its vast ambiguity. Is Ghalib reminded of his home seeing the desolation of the desert? Or is he longing to be at his home, seeing the desolation of the desert? Or, is he in a state of the mood of desolation; then, seeing the desert he is reminded of his home, as a state of relief. We cannot understand what Ghalib had in his mind writing this couplet.

Ghalib Sher 8:

koʾī mere dil se pūchhe tire tīr-e nīm-kash ko

yih ḳhalish kahāñ se hotī jo jigar ke pār hotā

Translation:

let someone ask my heart about your half-drawn arrow

where would this romantic pain have been if it had gone through beyond the liver

Discussion:

The half-drawn arrow thrown by Ghalib’s beloved at him, whether by amateurishness or by design, has produced a beautiful pain in him. On the other hand, had it been thrown fully by her, he would have been dead, but without any pain. This pain is what produces the feeling of love. So, he is better off in pain than being dead.

Ghalib Sher 7:

ġham-e hastī kā asad kis se ho juz marg ʿilāj

shamʿa har rang meñ jaltī hai saḥar hote tak

Translation:

for the grief of life Asad what would be the cure except death

the candle in every color burns until the coming of dawn

Discussion:

Ghalib asks what is the cure of the unavoidable grief of life. He answers his question by saying it is death. He laments further that life is like a candle, which keeps on burning all night till dawn. Then when its wax runs out it extinguishes. When the flame of life is burning it can encompass everything imaginable. This is the inherent tragedy of human life. The second line of the sher is awesome, as it tells that while alive a man can be an element in all the possibilities. That is, the scope of human life is great; man’s consciousness can take him  anywhere.

Notes:

Asad is the middle name of Ghalib. His full name was Assad Ullah Khan Ghalib.

Ghalib Sher 6:

āh ko chāhiye ik ʿumr aṡar hote tak

kaun jītā hai tirī zulf ke sar hote tak

Translation:

a sigh needs a lifetime until the appearance of an effect

who lives until the subduing of your curls

Discussion:

It is among the most famous as well as popular shers of Ghalib. Most of its translations into English have been marred by the translation of the second line of the sher. They have been given to the effect: ” who will live until she deigns to pay attention to her lover.” The word “sar” means subduing or disentangling or softening. So, “zulf ke sar hote tak” means ” until the hair curls are disentangled, subdued, or softened.”

Ghalib says that his sighs for his beloved will need a lifetime to be effective, as it is the nature of human life. But while he is waiting miserably, his beloved does not pay any attention to him, as she is busy disentangling the curls of her hair. This is the utterly painful contrast between the two.

Ghalib Sher 5:

ham ko ma.alūm hai jannat kī haqīqat lekin

dil ke ḳhush rakhne ko ‘ġhālib’ ye ḳhayāl achchhā hai

Translation:

we know the reality of paradise but

to keep the heart happy Ghalib this idea is good

Discussion:

This is one of Ghalib’s famous shers. It says that we know what paradise is actually, an illusion; but to keep oneself happy and distracted this idea is good.

Ghalib Sher 4:

merī qismat meñ ġham gar itnā thā

dil bhī yā-rab ka.ī diye hote

Translation:

in my fate if so much sorrow was ordained

hearts Oh God many should I have been given

Ghalib Sher 3:

dil hī to hai na sañg-o-ḳhisht dard se bhar na aa.e kyuuñ

ro.eñge ham hazār baar koī hameñ satā.e kyuuñ

Translation:

 it’s just a heart no stony shard why shouldn’t it fill with pain

I will cry a thousand times why should someone complain

Ghalib Sher 2:

ishq par zor nahīñ hai ye vo ātish ‘ġhālib’

ki lagā.e na lage aur bujhā.e na bane

Translation:

love we do not have power over it is that flame Ghalib

it may not ignite when we ignite it nor it may extinguish when we try

Ghalib Sher 1:

ishrat-e-qatra hai dariyā meñ fanā ho jaanā

dard kā had se guzarnā hai davā ho jaanā

Translation:

the desire of a drop is to obliterate itself in a river

pain growing beyond limit becomes its own cure

Discussion:

Ghalib says that the ecstasy of a drop of water is to lose its little identity by merging with the much larger expanse of a river, thereby enriching its existence vastly. Let us say there is a man who lives in a small village, where he leads an ordinary life. Then he decides to migrate to a large metropolis as he feels he is not living fully. Though by moving to the metropolis he loses his identity but he vastly gains in the scope of his profession and culture. It is this expansion of mind what Ghalib is referring to.

The second line says that when a human being suffers very much due to something, the suffering elevates his fortitude to tolerate it. Great suffering challenges the human spirit, giving birth to a high threshold of forbearance in him.

Suffern, N.Y., April, 2024

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It was hard to believe when you left us,

A shock to our existences,

A joy-wrencher, a peace-snatcher.

For years you walked on earth with tough-feet,

And carried high-ambition,

But soft ways and words you used with the world.

Though in rough business,

Your concern for humanity never wavered,

Family was your prime focus.

You left a mark for us to look up to,

A way to emulate,

A memory to rekindle our souls.

Suffern, New York, February 23, 2024

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maharaj.kaul@yahoo.com

 I do not remember when I first heard about Kailash Mehra the singer the first time, but I remember thinking about her seriously in 1990’s when her musical CD Bal Maryo came out. It was a fabulous collection of Kashmiri songs, including the classic bedardi chani, which also is her favorite song of herself. I heard the CD dozens of times. It also introduced the singer Vijay Malla to me, whose singing I have cherished since.

In 2003 we heard that Kailash Mehra was touring U.S. for her musical concerts. My wife felt strongly that we should manage her New York concert. I supported her in her vision, and in that direction, we realized that we should invite her to stay with us. To our good fortune she accepted the invitation, and the date of her arrival from, I think, one of the Midwest cities, was set.

Kailash Mehra’s flight was coming at LaGuardia Airport in New York City. I started two hours before the flight arrival time from my home. I was lucky to find the parking for my car at the airport quickly. This put me in the arrival gate an hour before the flight arrival, a long time to kill comfortably. It was a busy arrival gate where several flights came. Every few minutes I would check my watch to see how much more time I will have to wait to meet Kailshji. Finally, it was announced that my guest’s flight had landed. I waited anxiously for her to come to the baggage arrival carousel, from which I was only twenty feet away. One by one the passengers from the city in Midwest flight came to the carousel and after some search picked their bags and left the arrival building. But I did not see Kailash Mehra. But wait a minute, I had never met her before. How was I then going to recognize her? Well, I had seen her photograph in the concert flyer used in one of the cities she had given a concert in. Arrival passengers around the baggage arrival carousel were thinning out, but where was my Kailashji? Now there were only four passengers looking for their baggage. But which of them was Kailashji? It remained a $64,000 question, as I was not able to match the passengers with the image of Kailash Mehra I had in my head. I started panicking, which is not normal for me. Finally, there was only one passenger left at the baggage arrival carousel. Logically it must be my Kailshji. I started focusing on her keenly. She had a lot gold ornaments on her. She was dressed in shilvar-kameez and chuni, Indian women’s clothing. My brain was shouting to me: that is her, that is her. We were both staring at each other for several minutes, as we were not sure if we were seeing the right person. Finally, I could not take it anymore. I jumped the rope separating the passenger receivers and the passengers. We were the only two people left, as every receiver had paired with his arriver. I rushed toward her in excitement and virtually hugged her, but did not do it out of the fear that an Indian woman would not allow a stranger to touch her. I braked my rushing feet just a few inches from her and folded my hands in the classic Indian hand gesture of namaste. I peered at her intensely and she looked at me with controlled inquisitiveness. Later in my relationship with her I learnt how a controlled personality she was. I wanted to ask her why she was wearing all that gold jewelry but did not dare to do that because of her Indian sensibility. Meanwhile, my brain was busy in figuring out the difference between the Kailash Mehra photo I had seen and the Kailsh Mehra I was seeing.

Once in the car we started to cast off our shyness, she faster than I. I had to keep myself in control lest she think I was a mental lightweight. Once home she relaxed considerably in the company of my wife.

On August 28, 2003, I organized a concert for her in Rockland County, New York. I introduced her to the audience in what turned out to be a very successful event. She sang some of her famous songs to the joy of the tri-State (New York, New Jersey, Connecticut) Kashmiri audience.

Later she and her husband Vijay Kumar Sadhu became very good friends of me and my wife Mohini. In the 2006 visit to U.S. she and Vijayji stayed with us, and I again organized a concert for her, but this time in New Jersey. It was even more successful than the earlier concert. I stayed with Kailashji and Vijayji at their residence in Jammu during one of my visits to India. Our relationship became deeper with time.

But with the passage of further time, she became formal with me. She now addresses me Respected Kaul Sahib in letters. But for me the magic of that first encounter and the subsequent meetings has never been dulled. Behind her present very formal and disciplined persona lies a simple girl who needs affection and attention. That is what I have captured in the photo at the top of this essay I took of her in 2009. But behind her controlled demeanor lies a long-suffering personality. She has seen a lot of hard times in her life but yet she has managed to become a very successful artist in a language she was not born in. I believe her being denied a Padma award is disgraceful on part of the government. Last year I tried to persuade the Jammu and Kashmir Governor to give her that award but it did not succeed.

Suffern, New York, July 24,2023

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maharaj.kaul@yahoo.com

A year has passed since you unexpectedly left us,

A year of intense suffering and slow-burning pain.

We searched for you in the corners of the world and heavens,

But only in the recesses of our hearts and contours of our minds

We saw your smiles and songs well anchored.

While on earth you were an enigma hidden in a charm,

Your pains and joys were carefully wrapped up,

Only clue to your soul was in your music.

Wherever you are give us a smile from time to time,

As your absence has changed our rhythm and colors,

We are searching for new anchors and new meanings.

But you left the world of music in a better shape than before,

You bought harmony and intensity in its pursuit,

Joy and freedom in its absorption.

Suffern, New York, July 17, 2023

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maharaj.kaul @yahoo.com

But for a moment I would burn our love and reclaim my freedom,

As in our times it is a convenience not a dedication.

It is a wonder that God still has faith in humans,

For they have mutilated the grand design,

And changed living to a process than a phenomenon it is.

The sunrise still reveals the wonder of nature,

But the world runs by a dollar,

Our best hopes are materialistic.

Why have we surrendered to physicality,

Where have we lost the spirit of grand ideas,

Why isn’t sacrifice the great bliss?

What was given to man and what he has done with it

Will remain forever a dagger in man’s heart,

Our loss immeasurable.

Suffern, New York, November 13,2022

www.kaulscorner.com

maharaj.kaul@yahoo.com