Garden of Bliss

Dedicated to My Parents

Let’s find a place
Where there is no
Imaginary tales of woes,
Of cries of battle;
Or of joys of victory
Or of tiresome journeys
Or of lore’s of by gone times
Or of created fiction or myths.

Let’s find a place
Full of fragrance of roses
Blossoming lilies, daffodils
Where imagination sours
And rests on the wings of skylark.

Let’s find love in twinkling hearts
In rhythmic bear of drums
And in the twinkling eyes of stars.

Preface

Here I am presenting my twelfth collection of poems “Eternal Quest”.

I am dedicating this humble work to my beloved parents. I am grateful to Dr. (Prof.) N. P. Singh for penning a profound introduction to this humble work and  I am grateful to Sri M. S. Venkataramaiah for publishing this work

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Foreword to Garden of Bliss by Dr. N P Singh (excerpt)

There is a new development of realistic self assessment and personal stamp in the latest anthology of S.L. Peeran. “Long Tiring Journey” (p.58) is a candid confession of the protagonist’s journey of life. The metaphor of “train” has been beautifully used in order to convey the ups and downs of the life of the protagonist – “Sometimes the aged train chugging/shunting up and down,/Sometimes it would get derailed./Breaking the lovely dreams.” (p.58) The protagonists’ vision at the end of the poem is, however, not devoid of hope – “Now at last we have reached the end, /The weary destination, to rest, /To recoup, to look up for fresh dreams.” (p.58). It has to be noted that the poem was written on the eve of the poet’s seeking voluntary retirement. In other words, the protagonist voices the dilemma of the poet on the eve of his voluntary retirement.

While the poems in Garden of Bliss do raise awkward and disturbing questions (and there are no easy answers), the Quatrain and Haiku do suggest bliss in a grossly imperfect world:

What nature leaves imperfect, the art perfects 
 Man, a second creator of the world, a perfect 
 Giving to the world its objective existence. 
 Consciousness removing all the defects (p.97)

Life is a riddle
     A most ugly situation
     Brings storms, tsunamis

Ring in and ring out
     To bring cosmic harmony
     All march hand in hand (p. 98)

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