A lifetime too late

There is no peace

for my restless soul,

And this endless recurrence

Of day and night,

Takes me nearer to nowhere

Except death,

That deliverance to come,

A lifetime too late 


==============================

From a letter written on  August  01,  1959

Moments

My Love, I know thou art waiting at my door, flowers in hand. You are singing, soft and low, still the sweet melody seems to pervade the endless firmament, appearing sometimes in the hues of the evening clouds, sometimes in the frozen snow over a lofty mountain peak.

Recollections of my Childhood Ans: I Tears overflow my eyes, whenever those sweet, happy days, pictured on the screen of memory, arise from some lonely corner of the heart, with their majestic glory. They are gone, and for ever, never to come back again. But their sweet memory shall ever remain with me, even after my death.

I remember the house, where I spent my childhood, surrounded by hillocks and forest, standing lonely by a running brook. I knew no companions, except for the rabbits, pigeons and dears, that

made the place lively and cheerful. I played, sang and danced with them. Mute as they were, they were my neverfailing friends. I used to wander with them in the forest and then lay under some tree on green turf, forgetful of the world. Far on the north of my house, high mountains pierced through sky. Their snow-covered summits glittered in the sunshine and present- ed a heavenly aspect. I used to row over the blue water of the brook, that made a gurgling sound, in my little canoe. For hours together

I looked at bright little fishes, thinking what they came from. At night I would look to the vast firmament, fascinated with the beauty of the twinkling stars, and go to sleep, roaming in fairylands of dream. That dream is no more.

Library – Storage of Knowledge. Ans: 5 A public library should contain necessary books in all branches of knowledge, such as books of reference and encyclopaedias, that help us to know the useful things, and avoid useless researches. It should contain history, that teaches us, profitable things, and influence of past on present, and autobiographies that instruct the student of human nature.

18 April, 1960 Shivaji Park.

Oh! lest the soul succumb, Be weary led, To treacherous path Of Mephistophilean mind. This mighty, dwarfing walls, Of all-engulfing vortex, The sliding, winding, ever-narrowing visions To the centre Of this well of extinction; Lest that be the fate Of this, Some-day soaring soul of high heavens. To be steeped low With this gutter's stench, To be drenched In murky, filthy waters Of rotten thoughts, infernal schemes, Of vulturous appetite, of devilish mirth, Oh! be this not, This self's Beginning of the End.

Friday, Sept. 11, 1959. Bombay.

There is much noise around and a great confusion within. All of a sudden, I seem to have lost all sense of direction. May be I was losing it all along, gradually, and pretending all the while not to know. But a man cannot deceive himself, not for long. When the truth dawns, its effect is paralyzing. How do you steer when you cannot see? And yet you like to hang on to the wheel. May be the clouds will clear, the dark night be over, the sight restored. May be. May be not. There is an even chance. What has made me lose interest in life?

Hemen C. Parekh M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

19th May, '59. Bombay.

How much more complicated will this life get? Man worries mostly about future, some about the present. But as tomorrow becomes to-day and to-day is no more, yet another and another to-morrows await with fresh problems, some unsolved from yesterday. There is no end; there is no escaping. "Keep fighting, accept the future with resignation"; but the slogans don't help. Man is alone and the odds are against him.

This is my complicated mind. These lines are thoughts leading nowhere. Is there a mental block? I lack maturity, I think. A part of my personality developed too fast. Another part was too slow. And so there is a disequilibrium. May be I did not get a "balanced" education. Then I could have been "normal" with an "even" development of mind. But what is the necessity of being "normal"? And what is "normal"? Is it "simple"? Less- sensitive? I like myself as I am, abnormal and all that. I think I am tired. This was too much strain on mind.

Hemen C. Parekh M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

13th May, 1959. Bombay.

Today is the last day of the first year of my stay in India, after I returned from the states. One important, personal event took place during the past year and that was my engagement to Bhavāti on 20th of last month. We have been engaged three weeks, during which period I have been with her for less than 48 hours. To give further statistics, I have received 3 letters from her; I have wrote her four or five. Statistics end here; beyond, it is all emotions, delicate sentiments and young love.

I have not been able to realize what I had set out for, a year ago. When I left Lawrence, I had decided to plunge into politics and make a name for myself. I did not want to leave America, but I couldn't get a job and I had to come. So I argued with myself and convinced (it was easy.) myself that my field of action was India. This was the land of opportunity and challenge. She needed me; I needed her. My mediocre achievements were many. My ego was not satisfied. Only one more success; but it had to be great. Was I fooling myself? A little may be. Then what has changed? I am far from doing anything great! Ego cannot be completely destroyed. In my case, has it been suppressed? or has it been transformed into love? I will try to answer when I am not as sleepy as I feel right now. I need to think clearly.

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

March 29, ’59.

Sunday. 12:15 p.m.

Why is it a crime to dream? for dreams

always seem to bring such punishment of

pain and misery to a meek heart. It does

not seem wrong to desire, then why they

hurt us so? Where have I failed? Or

have I failed at all? Or is there or was

ever, a man without failure? Is it possible

for anyone to have all his desires granted?

How many desires can be granted? And is

there an end to them?

These and many other questions

I ask myself. I have found few answers,

my reason being clouded by such violent

emotions. How desperately we are in need

of reason and yet how do we hate it

sometime for prevailing over our emotions!

Reason, the greatest benefactor and the

vilest malefactor.

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

April, 1, 1959.

Wednesday.

8:45 p.m.

This feels really funny. This is

the first time I feel drunk. There is

sufficient evidence. My breath smells of

country rum. I have almost completely

lost my control over my limbs. When

I tried to pick up my pen, my hand

strayed far away. I don't think I can

even walk straight. And just now the

bell-boy told me, two guests have been

waiting for me when I was with the

dancing-girl or rather the girl who

teaches me how to dance. I hope the

two guests do not drop in right now.

But it is surprising that although I

have lost control over my limbs, (which

will be apparent from this handwriting

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

and the few grammatical mistakes

I am likely to have made ), my

control over my thoughts seems to

be perfect. More or less, I am writing

exactly what I want to. It is really

funny. I am having the same feeling

as I had a few months back when

I was riding in a merry-go-round

with the seats moving perpendicular

to the central shaft. A certain

giddyness. (Is the spelling right?)

But anyway, I am amazed the

way I can write. I am putting

down on this paper, almost every

thought that comes to my mind.

Now writing this certainly takes a

long time. Does it then mean

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

that I am thinking very slowly?

The room-attendant just knocked

at the door and reminded me that

the dinner is ready. It is almost 9:00

p.m. I told him I am coming down

in a few minutes. But am I in a

position to go down to the dining hall?

I don't think so. Because dinner

involves some physical movements. And

can I afford to make a fool of myself

by trying to 'drink' the mutton chops?

If I cannot, I must go without

food to-night. Do I wish I had

not taken that drink this evening?

I don't know. I at least wish I had

taken it some Saturday evening, when

I do not have to bother to get up

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

early next morning. Then I can have

a 'hang-over' with safety. I have

seen some drunk men before and

I have laughed at them. Even pitied

them. Do I want others to think

of me in the same light? Certainly

not. For above all, a man hates to

admit that he has been defeated.

What a flight? If I am to miss

my dinner, can't I at least write

a poem?

The room-attendant was back

just now. He says the dinner-time

is almost over. It is only 9:07 p.m.

and the dinner is supposedly served

till 9:30. But I am hardly in a position

to argue with him. So I just told him

to get me some bread-butter, coffee and

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

pudding in the room. Well, in case, I

will be saved the humiliation of looking

silly. And then black coffee might do

me some good.

That country-brew must have been

really strong. One full bottle of 5%

beer in America never seemed to

affect me this much. Unless I go to

bed right now, I am afraid I will

not be able to wake up at 6:30 a.m.

tomorrow morning. Then I will have

to find some excuse for being late

at work to-morrow.

The room attendant has brought

something to eat. I was talking something

about water. I hope I was not

talking any nonsense. As soon as he

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

brings the water, I will lock up the

door and have a cup of black coffee.

That might help.

I was just reading Alva's letter.

She is eager to know about my

wedding plans. Tom and Alva. They

were so good to me when I was in

Detroit. And they are the only people

in the states, I have been writing

to regularly.

I had my "dinner", with two

cups of black coffee. It does not seem

to help. Now I am going to bed. If I can

remember all the things that I did to-night,

I will write about them tomorrow. Until

then Good-Night. To-day -

April-fool Day, 1959.

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

sorry but I am apprehensive. One of my

own qualities was laid bare to me. I have,

for long, known my escapist tendency. During

these last two days I saw it working. After

my first talk with Bharati, I wanted to turn

around and run. I argued she was much

too fragile and very very shy, to the extent

of being orthodox. Would she be able to fall

in line with my tempo, I wondered. I have

been given to dreams, flights of fancies. She

seemed earthbound. I have not been able to

completely satisfy myself. But then I was

myself at the dead end of the alley. There

was no room for further retreat. It was

now or never. I reasoned, my arguments did

not justify "never". So it had to be now, and

I accepted her. This is simply told. Actually

I was at my wit's end, and I am still

worried about future. But I sing,

Che Será, Será,

Whatever will be, will be,

The Future's not our's to see.

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

Bombay.

April, 20, 1959.

Monday. — 9: P.M.

I record these words for posterity, for

my own future reference. To-day I got

engaged to Bharati. Before very long, we

will be married. In all, I have been

with her now for about three hours. Two hours

before the engagement, when I did most of

the talking and one hour after the engagement

when she responded, at first shyly, then

with gaining confidence. I came to like her

before the announcement but there was hardly

time enough to fall in love and I have

told her so. I am sure she feels the same

about me. This is going to be a case of

'delayed response'. There is this pause before the

reaction is felt.

As far as I am concerned, the event has

been mostly confusing, slightly pleasing. I

have been taken by surprise. I am not

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

8th May, 59.

11. p.m.

To-day I had been to Himatbhai's place

and I came home (!) just about half

an hour ago and I found your letter

waiting for me, Bharati. I have read it

twice over in this half-an-hour and kissed

it more than a dozen times. I also kept your

photo in front of me and bestowed it with

equal number of kisses. My once lost soul,

I have found you but how long will it

be before you take your right place? My

one and only Love, I am awaiting your

arrival with open arms. Come thou dearest,

let me take you in a most intimate

embrace. Open the gates of Heaven and lead

me, my Angel, to that land of eternal

happiness.

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

Feb. 12, 1959.

To-day is that great man Abraham

Lincoln's 150th birth anniversary. It is a

happy coincidence that to-day is also

the day of an agreement between the

Greek and the Turkish Governments

regarding a peaceful settlement of

the Cyprus problem. Archbishop Makarios

has welcomed this and Britain will

be only too happy to accept any

workable solution, after a four-year

reign of terror in the island. Also

after a four-year savage strife, rebel

leader Fidel Castro has got rid of

Batista's military dictatorship in Cuba.

Rev. Martin Luther King is in New Delhi,

on an Indian pilgrimage. About two

years back, when I was in the States,

he successfully employed Gandhiji's

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

দূর দূর পাহাড়ী কী বচ্ছে এক সরোবর হ্যে, মনোহর

అనే રહિયામણું. સરોવર નું નામ તો ખબર નથી પરંતુ

તેનાં અથાહ નીલા જળ છે કે તેને નીલસરોવર કહેશું તો

મળશે. સ્વચ્છ જળમાં રંગબેરંગી માછલીઓ છે.

લિલિનાં ફૂંટી પણ એક એક દેખાય. સરોવરમાંથી

એક નહી નીકળીને পাহাড়ী কী চ্ছানৌ পর ফুল-ঝুল

মারী নিচো ময়ানো মে অপর যায়. पण तोয়

સરોવર નું પાણી ઓછું ના થાય કારણ કે ઊંચા ઊંચા

પહાડોમાંથી નાનાનાના ઝરણાં બારેમાસ સરોવર માં

પાણી ઠલવ્યા કરે.

આ તળાવને કિનારે એક ભરવાડ બકરાં

ચરાવવા આવે. કિનારે કિનારે કુમળા લીલા ઘાસ માં

બકરાં ચરે. ભરવાડ એક ઝાડનાં ધડને ટેકો દઈને

બેસે અને વાંસળી વગાડે. એની વાંસળીમાંથી લાલ-

લલાનાં સૂરો નીકળે. ત્યારે રાસ્યનાં, મસ્તીનાં,

આનંદનાં, અને પ્રકૃતિ જાણે નૃત્ય કરી ઉઠે જેવા લાગે.

પણ ત્યારે ભરવાડ ઉદાસ થઈ જાઓ કારણ કે અસેકો

થયો. તેની સાથે વક્ત દેખાવાનું સહી નહીં. ત્યારે પછી

તેની વાંસળીમાંથી ગંભીર, ઘેરાં, દર્દનાં સૂરો નીકળે,

જાણે આંસુઓ ની ધાર ચપટી. જાન, આસપાન અને

સરોવરનાં જળ પણ એ અલાપ થી સ્તબ્ધ થઈ

જાય. માછલીઓ પણ કૂદાકૂદ કરવાનું છોડી શાંત

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

થઈ જતી. આખી સૃષ્ટિ જાણે રુદન કરવા લાગતી,

પરંતુ ભરવાડ ની આંખ માંથી એક પણ આંસુ ન પડે,

માયા કે તે પુરુષ થાઓ અને તેની આંખમાં અપાર જ

આંસુઓ વહાઈ થઈ ને ઉડી જ્ઞા. તેની બધી વેદના

તો વાંસળી માં સ્થિર જ થતી. પછી વહાણ જ એ

વાંસળી ને કશે,

તું મને પ્રાણ થી પણ વ્હાલી છે,

મરણ તું ના હોત તો મારા પ્રાણ પાછા હોત.

તું નિર્દય નથી,

તારા સૂર માં મારો અપ્પા છે,

અને તું મારી પ્રિયા છે

જો તું નહિ વાદિ છોડું,

તું મારા ગીતો ગાજે

મારી અબોલ વેદના ને જે ના સમજે

તે તારા દિરદને સમજાશે,

તારા દેત થા દૂર રહેનાર,

મારા ધ્વારને ઓળખશે.

30 માર્ચ, ૫૯.

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

March 7, 1959.

This has been, by far, the severest

test of my life, and it is not through

with me yet, although it is 10 months

old now. From this I would emerge,

either a new man or a no-man. I

am not giving up, for I have seen

some fierce struggles in my time. True,

I have, in past, tried to run away

from realities. But whenever my retreat

was blocked, I have turned around

and faced the foe with dignity and

come out victorious. I have done it before,

and I will do it now.

But deep down, I am not satisfied

with my own attitude. Quite often I ask

myself, "What price glory?" Not particularly

with this matter of marriage, but in

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

general, with this whole business of life. Why

all this struggle? Where does it lead to?

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

March 14, '59

Saturday. 11 PM.

Life is not worth for what you could

possibly get out of it, it is worth for

what you really do get out of it. I am

not able to give an account for most

of my life. Only when I think objectively,

I realize what trivial stuff this life

makes. Life without a purpose. Then why

have it at all? Life for a love of life

or for fear of death? What is it that

makes us hold on to this story, the end

of which we already know? May be it

is because we don't know how it will

develop. Here again, only the particulars

are unknown. We can make a good guess

of the general lines it will follow.

A hope, a faith for a better tomorrow.

That's what makes us live. Or may be

we live because we do not know

the purpose and we must for ever try

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

to find it out. Amazing is Man's tenacity,

his capacity to suffer, to love, to hate.

He creates beautiful things, some of which

he destroys ruthlessly, without mercy. To create

or to destroy? That is the question.

That which is known must,

Into the Unknown disappear;

From Unknown must,

Come every form.

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

16 March, 1959.

Monday. 11 PM.

ખ્વાબ મે મિલતે રહો,

સનમ,

દુનિયા કે બાગ મે જો ના મિલ સકો

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

March, 22, 1959.

This is Sunday afternoon. It is already

1:25 p.m. and I have nothing else to do

but look at the yonder blue sky thru

the door to veraundaoh. Of course I could

go down and have my dinner although I

am not too hungry, but nowadays I accept

my meals as necessary evils. Rather than

spend my time writing this monologue, I

could write letters to so many people, who

would be glad to hear from me. I have

also started hating to write letters. Sometimes

it is so bad, I hate to do almost anything.

Yesterday I saw this movie "The 7th Voyage of

Sinbad" and I desperately wish I had the

magic lamp. Then I would rub the lamps and

invoke the help of the Genie, thus,

"From the land beyond beyond,

From a life past hope and fear,

I bade you Genie now appear." A smoke will rise from the lamp

and the little fellow would take shape.

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

"The Genie of the lamp is yours to

command, My Master", he would say.

"Do you see this girl's picture on the

calendar? Bring her to life and turn

this room into a palace of equal beauty".

"I will try, Sire, I will try", says Genie and

the next moment he is gone. I close my eyes

hoping to find you when I open them again

moments later.

---and nothing is changed. The room

is the same, the fan is squeaking and whistling

above, and you are still there, on the

calendar, very much dead, with that mysterious

smile on your face and your gaze transfixed

upon the eternity.

Good-bye, Most Beloved, my other self,

Soul of my soul, Life within my heart, Good-bye.

If we cannot meet here, we will certainly meet

in the world beyond, for I have set upon a

journey, that will someday bring me to you,

wherever you may be.

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

technique of non-violent non-cooperation

in Montgomery, Alabama. He will certainly

learn a lot more about it while he is

here but I hope he realizes the

traditional temperamental difference

between the Indian masses and the

17 million American Negroes. He may have

a hard time campaigning for de-segre-

gation on a nation-wide scale as Gandhi

did in India against a foreign rule.

The social and political injustice has

different degrees of severity for

different sections of negroes. Economi-

cally, northern negroes are far better

off than the southern ones. In some

of the big cities of north, they even

outnumber the whites. Thus the migration

is towards the north and the crisis will

come in places like Chicago & Detroit. Let

all americans remember Ab. Lincoln.

Hemen C. Parekh

M. S. (Mech Eng., U. S. A.)

Feb. 12, 1959.

To-day is that great man Abraham

Lincoln's 150th birth anniversary. It is a

happy coincidence that to-day is also

the day of an agreement between the

Greek and the Turkish Governments

regarding a peaceful settlement of

the Cyprus problem. Archbishop Makarios

has welcomed this and Britain will

be only too happy to accept any

workable solution, after a four-year

reign of terror in the island. Also

after a four-year savage strife, rebel

leader Fidel Castro has got rid of

Batista's military dictatorship in Cuba.

Rev. Martin Luther King is in New Delhi,

on an Indian pilgrimage. About two

years back, when I was in the States,

he successfully employed Gandhiji's

1st May. 1954.

Let me not seek religion

in sacred books. That

which springs from the

inmost of my soul is

the true religion. For

soul is immortal and

values of life are

ever-changing.

Truth! What is

truth? I can not explain.

For seen it I have not.

Yet all the while I feel

its mighty presence.

It is the one, who

pervades, the vast

firmament above and

the bosom of mother

Earth below.

It is eternal, un-

changeable - It is man

who changes at every

instant - (moment) - hence

he feels that truth

is changing. This is the

truth behind the

ever-changing

values of life.

Poor creature, old

man! He is not at fault.

From morn to night

he struggles for existence

against the devils of

starvation. At dusk,

he gives up the fight

and dies. Next morning

brings life to him and

with it fresh hope and

vigour. Poor wretch

continues the fight.

And this repeats every-

day.

Hemendra C. Parekh

B. E. (Mech)

ઓક્ટોબર ૧૧, ૧૯૫૭.

લોરેંસ.

• change to kilom. -

  સ્થળ : પૃથ્વી થી ૨૩૬,૦૦૦ માઇલ દૂર આવેલ

  ઉપગ્રહ ચંદ્ર

સમય : ઓક્ટો. ૭, ૧૯૫૭ ની સાંંજ.

ચંદ્રની ધરતી પર પૃથ્વીની સુધા વરસી રહી છે.

ચંદ્રનો ચહેરો ઊંચા પહાડો અને ઊંડી ખીલો થી છવાયેલો

છે. નલિન ઠંડી માં પહાડો નાં બિરામણા પડછાયા પણ

રંોમાતા હોય તેવુ લાગે છે.

વર્ષો લાખો વર્ષ થી શાંત બનેલો સોઈ

જ્વાળામુખી નાં મુખ માં ચંદ્રાદિપતિ શશિ નો આવાસ

છે. શ્વેત આરસ-પરો ની અગાશી પર, પોતાધ પર ખાટુ

રેનાવી શશિ એ સુઝાસન પર બેઠો છે. અગાશી

પર બીજું કઈ નથી. શશિ ગંભીર વિચાર માં

ડૂબેલો હોય તેમ જણાય છે. કેટલો સમય આમ જ

ચાલે છે. છેવટે શશિ ચમકદાર ઉઠે છે અને

આજુબાજુ નજર કરે છે પછી ઉભો થઈ અગાશી

માં આંટા મારવા લાગે છે, પહેલાં ધીમે, પછી ઉતાવળે, ખૂબ

ઉતાવળે પછી ઓચિંતો અગાશીનાં ખૂણે જઈ ઉભો રહે છે.

Hemendra C. Parekh

B. E. (Mech)

શશિ (સ્વગત) :

બાપ, બાપ, બાપ ...... બાપ, બાપ, બાપ... એ ભયાનક

અવાજ મારા મનામાંથી ખેંચાઈ રહેલો નથી. હજુ તો

ચાર દિવસ થયાં પરંતુ ક્યાં ચાર દિવસ ! ક્યારે એવું

થાય છે કે હું ગાંડો થઈ જઈશ. બાપ, બાપ ....

ચાર દિવસ પહેલાં કેચી શાંતિ હતી! અને એ

અનશ્રીય ઘડી એ આ પોલાદી ગોળો આપ માં

ઘૂમવા લાગ્યો. હે છે ને રશિયાએ આફ્ માં ચડાવ્યો.

... આહ .. શું ફેર છે, રશિયા એ ચડાવ્યો કે અમેરિકાએ

ચડાવ્યો? મૂડીવાદી પોલાદ કે સામ્યવાદી પોલાદ,

બંને માંથી તલવાર અને તોપ તો સરખાં જ બને છે.

હું પણ ખરો કલ્પવાણી છું. તલવાર-તોપનાં ખ્યાલો

તો દુનિયા પર થી ગયાં. એ તો - શું રે છે પહેલું -

આંતરરાષ્ટ્રીય --- -- ની બોલબાલા છે. બાપ, બાપ, બાપ.

બંધ કર એ અર્થિન ઘોંઘાટ! કૃત્રિમ ભાઈ!

મનુષ્યકૃત મંત્ર ! રા રા ! પેલું બેંગાણું

પશુ 'માનવી' બહુ મહત્વાકાંક્ષી છે. અને મારા ઉપગ્રહ પર

આપવું છે - મારા આ સામ્રાજ્ય વિષે બધું જાણવા. અરે

ભાઈ, શું નામનાની માથાકૂટ કરે છે. આટે કંઇ જાણવા

Hemendra C. Parekh

B. E. (Mech)

જેવું નથી. નથઈને નિરર્થક હવાં લવાં ને ભલાવું શું ખોટું?

અને ખરેખર આ વેરાન ભૂમિ, દૂરબીનમાં આ દેખાય છે

તેટલી સુંદર નથી. અરે, હું ભાગ્યો. પશુ મનુષ્યે

કુદરતી ઉત્કૃષ્ટ સૌંદર્ય ને તો દેશવટો જ દીધો છે.

FEVRIER — FEBRUARY 1957 — FEBRUAR

SUNDAY

DIMANCHE

SONNTAG

રાત્રે ૧૦:૩૦ અત્યારે બાસ્કેટ-બોલ ગેમ જોઈને આવ્યા ત્યારે

MONDAY ટેબલ પર આ ડાયરી મળી. આભાર ! હસમુખભાઈ આત્મ-

LUNDI ધર્ષણ તો મહાપુરુષો ની હોય પણ રોજનિશ તો સૌ

MONTAG રાખી શકે, પણ આપણા માં ચાર લીટી લખવાની

તે પણ આપણી સગવડ હોય તો થઈ સકે છે....

TUESDAY

MARDI

DIENSTAG

રાત્રે ૧૦:૩૦ થઈ ગણે ડાયરી યાદ જ ન આવી, આજે સાંજે

WEDNESDAY TV પર પ્રોફ્ર. આપ્ટી નું ભાષણ થયું - ઇંગ્લેન્ડમાં

MERCREDI પોતાનું શ્ફ્ટર પડતું મૂકી સેવાની છોડરાયતળી 'ના'

MITTWOCH માટે સખ્ત વિરોધ વ્યક્ત કર્યો. આજે સવારે રાજકોટ,

ભવિષ્યનાં Plans વિષે, વિગતવાર પત્ર લખ્યો - વરેશ કેળવણીકાર છે,

THURSDAY

JEUDI

DONNERSTAG

FRIDAY

VENDREDI

FREITAG

SATURDAY

SAMEDI

SAMSTAG

Ambar Charka

Le Rouet à filer Ambar

Ambar Spinnrad

As I closed my eyes, I passed

into a dream.

The sun was setting over the

distant horizon with an ethereal

grandeur - the fiery wheel of heavenly

chariot. The sky was hern with majestic

colors, one melting into another. The clouds

floated still, holding their breath and

bathing into the panorama of colors;

some hung like gigantic veils from

heavens above, same in a caravan

plodding its weary way on the

endless sands of a desseret and

still others stretched from the

horizon to the firmament above

in the form of a winding staircase.

Someone kissed his lips, - a soft,

gentle kiss. He thought he was dreaming; for

certainly his eyes were closed. But

he was not asleep, he reasoned; it

was a late summer afternoon and

as was his habit, he was lying

on the green lawn of the public

garden. It was quiet and peaceful

here, away from the noises of the

city. He loved this place. Again

he knew no one in the city whom

he may visit. He was a foreigner

and a stranger in the town.

So, over the weekends, he

used to come to the park, which

never attracted more than a few

people. And to-day there was no one

around. There was a small pool,

with a water-fountain in the center. The fountain, he thought, was artistic. It was in the form of two nude

girls male and a female figure,

facing away from each other, one

hand above their heads, clasping

that of other and the other hand

covering the eyes. There were some

water-lilies in the pool and golden

colored fishes swam around. There

were neatly trimmed hedges and a

few pine trees arrayed in a

beautiful pattern. Sun-rays filtered thru the branches and the leaves and made patterns that reminds him of Picasso. He liked this place. He came here every week. Lying on the green grass, he watched the deep-blue summer sky above, some- times cloudless, sometimes a few white clouds vainly trying to cover the vast expanse. When it offered nothing new, he closed his eyes and asked himself, 'Why did he come to this land in the first place? He was a student here but never cared enough for study. Yes, he was

always fascinated by strange lands and their peoples and always cherished the dream of exploring the foreign lands, ever since he was a child.

Hemendra C. Parekh

B. E. (Mech)

Dec. 15, '56.

If Bhagvada-gita is "the Song of God," there must be a "Song of Man" too. What is it? When I ask this question to myself, the picture of the primitive man fighting those gigantic prehistoric animals, arises before my eyes. When the total history unfolds before my eyes, the

Aug. 15th 56.

The God is, as much in search of me, as I am in search of Him, and therefore I have everlasting faith that we shall someday meet. In all possible places and odd times, I have felt His call

Hemendra C. Parekh

B. E. (Mech)

Aug. 8 '56

Det.

When a boy grows into a man, sex is the first thing that makes him want a woman. But there are many other things that he seeks in the fair sex when he is emotionally matured; for example he needs a companion to share his pains and pleasures, his ups & downs, a person in whom he can confide every little detail of life. He finds in her, a mother, a brother, a father, a friend and so forth. No other person than a deeply loving wife can boast of such a combination and hence can take her place.

Hemendra C. Parekh

B. E. (Mech)

Aug. 9, '56.

Numerous thoughts are floating in my mind but I can not find words to express them. I wait in the silence of the night and become desperate. Even the night speaks thru the tick-tock of the clock; what makes me a speechless statue?

O Sáráswáti,

Fair Goddess of Learning,

Open my inner eyes,

To behold the wonders

Of His creation,

• The Singing Sky, The Roaring Ocean And for ever twinkling stars,

  To come to know,

  That they are but the shadow,

  Of that form Divine.

  Oh, you, Sharda,

Hemendra C. Parekh

B. E. (Mech)

who are lighter than the petals of a Lotus-white!

Give me wings, To take me thru the web, Of Life and Death, To merge into the Eternal Bráhmánan, Which alone IS, And pervades the cosmos, without being seen.

Hemendra C. Parekh

B. E. (Mech)

Aug. 2, '56.

Detroit.

At present I am reading a book on world Religions — and therein is explained Taoism - the way of Nature. It says 'act naturally - do not take decisions in advance - act as your conscience guides you when presented with a problem and you can do nothing wrong. Taoism scoffs at Rules, Principles, Morals, everything artificial.

True, Very True! I discovered it out myself, a couple of years back, when I was nearer to a perfect Human being than I am right now; because I was thinking naturally. Now I am influenced by evil forces - though far less than to the extent most people are, — and that is why Taoism is not practicable in the present-day unnatural world. It can become a success only when all people, in a given area or a community or the world think alike - naturally; which is

Hemendra C. Parekh

B. E. (Mech)

far from possible.

Most of the time people do not respond to their conscience when faced with a problem. They hardly hear, a tiny, inner voice. The first thing to respond, and hence to guide his judgement, is the flesh - his body, his mortal self, which suffers pain and enjoys pleasure.

When a man steals money, kills another man or rapes a woman, he is merely submitting to an irresistible inner urge, which according to Taoism, is comes natural to him at that time, but even Taoism would not concede of such an action; for it maintains, "a man can do no wrong, when he acts naturally."

This apparent contradiction

Hemendra C. Parekh

B. E. (Mech)

can be explained in only one way - that a man seldom hears the voice of his conscience - his real self. Most of the time, he just acts as a medium, transmitting the evil and the good, generated thru the ages. He too, adds his share to the sum-total; adding evil when responding to his flesh, adding good, when guided by his conscience.

If this is the case, it can be argued then, that eventually the evil would pile up in such huge amounts that the good will be no- where in sight.

May be this is true. Only time can prove.

And that is why moral and ethical codes are required,

Hemendra C. Parekh

B. E. (Mech)

principles have to be established

and maintained and regulations to

be followed, until humanity starts

thinking naturally and act according

to conscience's counsel.

સવારે ૭ વાગે ઉઠ્યો. ટપાલમાં ટપાલ શરૂ

થઈ છે. વાર્ષિક સ્વાગતના કાર્યક્રમ જોયા

પછી, આપણાંવર્ષનાં champion બનતી

પ્રતિજ્ઞા મનમાં પલ્લવિત છે. મોઢું ન ફેરવો

નહીં! વાત પલકવાર છે. ગઈકાલે રાત્રે

સ્વપ્નામાં જાણે હું, વર્ષની champion-

ship નો કપ ઝાલીને Victory

stand ઉપર ઊભો છું! $\approx$ Announcer

શ્રી. વકરદાર પ્રેક્ષકોને, તાલીઓના ગડગડાટ

બંધ રાખી શાંત રહેવા વિનંતી કરે છે. અને

એક champion તરીકે જાહેર કરે છે.

ત્યારે પ્રત્યક્ષ કેમેરાની સાંચો દબાઈ રહી છે.

અને Miss. B.V.M. (મોઢું ન ફેરવવું કેમ

તે તો પૃથ્વીથી રહ્યું પણ પથ્થર બતાનાર

છે.) મારા ગળામાં વિજયમાળા

પહેરાવવામાં આવે છે. અને વિદ્યાનગરની

જન્નારીઓ - ભૂલ્યો સજ્જનો મારા

શરીરનો પડાંદ બંધો જોઈને

શરમલઈ રહ્યાં છે!

જોકે આવું સ્વપ્નું તો મને

ગયે વર્ષે પણ આવેલું. પણ સાચું

થયું શું? સ્વપ્ન એ દરવખતે સાચું

થોડું જ પડે છે., પણ આ વખતે તો

મને શ્રદ્ધા છે જ - કે સરસ્વતીદેવી

ને બદલે બજરંગબલિની

ઉપાસના ફળશેજ. બીજું કારણ એ

પણ છે કે સરસ્વતીદેવીની ઉપાસના

માટે ફક્ત ૮ જ મહિના રહ્યાં

છે. અને એ તો ગયે વર્ષે fluke ની

માફક થઈ ગયો. દરવર્ષે એવું થોડું

બને છે?

આ પ્રોફેસરો સોપનાં નાની

શું રાખતાં હશે? આજે ક્લાસમાં

પંડ્યા સાહેબ બે - મશીન ડ્રોઈંગ

નું જર્નલ આજે જ સબમીટ કરવું પડશે.

જાણે એમનું એકનું જ જર્નલ તૈયાર

કરવાનું રહેશે. અને પેલી હોંશભી

આણંદ અય્યર જેવા જર્નલો સાપન

તૈયાર કર્યો હતો? એ માટે તો

ટ્યુટોરિયલ માંથી ફિઝર નીકળવું

એ પણ નથી કરી રાખ્યું હજુ!

ત્યાં આ પંડ્યા આટલે દૂધપાક માં

હડ્ડો માર્યો!

બપોરે અશ્વિનભાઈ નો પત્ર આવ્યો

લખે છે. શનિવારે ટ્રસ્ટ માં મુંબઈ

જવાના છે - હેમલ સાથે. અશ્વિન

ભાઈ જૂના પાડોશી છે. પિતાશ્રી

સાથે એમને સારી મિત્રતા. મારી

પર પણ એમને ઘણો પ્રેમ છે -

એમનો હું પણ ત્યાં એમને

ઓછો સારું છું - ખરું પૂછો તો

એમની પુત્રી સરજુને. અરે ભઈ,

બાઇબલમાં પણ કહ્યું છે કે

love thy neighbours-

especially when he has

a beautiful daughter.

લોકો કહે છે કે પાછળનું અઘૂરું

વાક્ય ઇસુ ભગવાન નું નથી. તે શું

રૂદન પડતું છે? એટલા બધા

મહાન પુરુષો એ બધી સ્પષ્ટતા

આપીને જ ગયે? તો પછી

આપણે સમજ્યા જેવું શું બાકી

રહે?

એ તો વાત સાચી છે કે આ

સરજુ ને હું ચાહું છું. મારી ને

એની વચ્ચે પ્રેમ છે. જોકે કેટલાક

વિદ્વાન સંંતોષીઓ લોકોમાં એમ

વાતો કરતાં ફરે છે કે આ તો

દુંવલઈ મંડ્યો છું. અને વાર

તહેવારે સારી સારી ભેટ-સોગાતો

મોકલી મારા પિતાશ્રી ની

મિલકત નું ને સારી બુદ્ધિનું

દેદાળું ફૂંટી રહ્યો છું. બાકી

સરજુ ને તો એ મનુ નાં

પ્રેમપત્રો ને દિવાસળી ચાંપતી

એમણે એમની સગી આંખે જોઈ

છે. અપ્વાસો ને શું કહેવું? ખેર!

જવાબદ્યો. એ તો ગધેડાની

પાછળ કૂતરા ભસ્યા કરે.

એક વાત સાચી છે!

સરજુ તરફથી મારા એ

પ્રેમપત્રોનો જવાબ વધી

આવ્યો. અરે ભઈ તેનું શું

થઈ ગયું? પ્રેમ સંંઈ પત્રો

ખૂબ જ થોડો વ્યક્ત કરી શકાય

છે. એવા મારા અલૌકિક પ્રેમને

શબ્દો દ્વારા વ્યક્ત કરવો

એજ ફોનો અને વગેરે સૂરજનું

હોય અને મંગાળી રહેશે.

અને આ સહાય મને એ

૬

ન ચાલી હોય તો પણ મારા

પ્રેમ બધ્ધ પ્રેમપત્રો ની મેં એક

એક નકલ સાચવી જ છે. ભવિષ્ય

માં એસાહ પુસ્તક સત્ય

ઘટનાત્મક પુસ્તક તરીકે જરૂર

છપાવી વાચીશ તો Royalty

નાં પૈસા તો મળ્યાં જ કરશે.

અને ભવિષ્યમાં સેયલા-મહનું

એ જો તો પ્રેમપત્રો લખવાની

પ્રેરણા મેળવવા ક્યાંય જવું

નહીં પડે. અને સ્વર્ગમાં

બેઠેલા અને દુખ્યા થશે.

(મારું સ્થળ તો ત્યાંજ હોય

ને, ભલા માણસ!)

સાંજે આપણા રસિદ

શ્રીયુત રાજેન્દ્રકુમાર પટ્ટધ્યાય

૭.

રૂમ પર આવ્યા. મને તે

આ વક્તૃત્વ સ્પર્ધામાં ત્યારે

ભાગ લેવો જ પડશે. વગેરે તો

પછી પહેલું ઇનામ અમે કોને

આપશું? સાચા માણસને જ

આપવી રામ્ય છે ને? પરાણે

નામલખી ગયાં. આ શ્ર

રાજેન્દ્રકુમાર ને મેં વસોયણો

આપ્યા. શ્રી રસિદભાઈ પટેલો.

પણ એમને જાંગલામ બાજુ

પડે છે કે બંગાળી-ભાષાનો

બહુ મોટો છે. જોકે મારી

પાસે અનેક બંગાળીમાં

સારા લેખો લખાવી થઈ પોતાના

નામે પ્રસિદ્ધ કરે છે. મેં અહીં

મિત્રોને એવું એટલું

મલતો શી કહેવું જોઈ એને?

પણ એ ભાષાનાં મોહનાં

એટલે પોતાનું નામ પણ

કેવળ વાજવું છે. અને

એ પણ કેું રાજેન્દ્રકુમાર

પટ્ટધ્યાય

એવે છેલ્લે એ વાત ટૂંકી.

આ ચરિશાઈ કે પ્રણયવાય

તો મોજે મળવાનું છે

એમ હું ઓફિસર્સ પણ પાચું છું.

પણ બનવાજોગ છે કે

ન્યાયાધીશો ને ખલગીમાં

હૈ રાખવત દેવામાં આવતું.

રોય. આજકાલ તો ધંધે

ધંધામાં ઇજારાનનું

interior બહુ વધી ગયું છે.

તો પણ આતો આવેલા-

અનંદૂ ન્યાયાધીશો છે!

એ પણ શક્ય છે કે આવતી

કાલે મેલક્યનો રેટ કરી

હરાવને બદલે લોટો કરી

મને બેસી જવાની ફરજ

પાડે. છતાંય બહાદુર એ

ઇનામ તો પાછું થઈ ગયું જ છે.

જેવું આવતીકાલની વક્તૃત્વ

સ્પર્ધામાં બોલપશુ તો પાર્ટનર

ફિલ બતાવવાનું વચન સાચું

છે.

તારીખ ૨૧-૯-૪૬

શનિવાર

જીવન સ્થિર નથી. તે હંમેશાં પરિવર્તિત છે. સ્થિરતા

પ્રાપ્ત કરવા માટે મનુષ્ય હંમેશાં ચારે બાજુ જાંવા નાખતો હોય છે,

છતાં કુદરતી નાં નિયમ ને આધીન તે, હંમેશાં અસ્થિર જ છે.

વિધિ ની વિચિત્રતા કેવી અજબ છે? મારું અમૂલ્ય વિદ્યાર્થી જીવન

અનેક વિભાગો માં વહેમાઈ ગયું. ભાવનગર, મુંબઈ, અને આજે

હું અમરેલી માં? કદાચ ભાવનગર માં હું સંસ્કારો પ્રાપ્ત કરી શકત

મારી અંદર રહેલી શક્તિ ઓને બહાર લાવી શકત પણ મારી શક્તિઓ

હું પોતે ન જાણી શક્યો અને ત્યાં વિદ્યાર્થીજીવન ની શરૂઆત કરી

ત્યાં જ દૈવાધિન હું મુંબઈ થઈ પડ્યો. મુંબઈ માં હું રહીયો શું?

મુંબઈ એ અને તેનાં સાડાત્રણ વર્ષનાં અનુભવ માં એક

આદર્શનું અને સોપીન વિદ્યાર્થી બનાવી દીધો હવે

અમરેલી માં મારું ઘડતર કેવું થશે? . . . . .

તારીખ : ૧૮-૭-૪૭

"એક મનુષ્ય નાં દોષને માટે

સારી જાતિ નું નિકુંદન કરવું એ

શું યોગ્ય છે?

સહસ્ત્રાર્જુન નાં દોષને માટે

પરશુરામે પૃથ્વી ને એકેવીસ

વખત ક્ષત્રિયરહિત બનાવી એ શું

યોગ્ય હતું?"

— $\infty$ Thought for to-day $\infty$ —

માનવી નાં દિલમાં ઝેરનાં બીજ એકવાર

રોપાયાં પછી તેનો જડમૂળથી નાશ કરવો એ અને મુશ્કેલ

વસ્તુ છે. માનવી નાં દિલનું વૈમનસ્ય હંમેશાં વધતું જ જાય

છે અને એ બે દિલ વચ્ચે ફરીને પ્રેમનો તાંતણો બાંધવો

એ લગભગ અશક્ય છે. એ બે દિલ વચ્ચેની જુદાઈની

ખીણ પૂરવી આ ઘણું મુશ્કેલ છે અને તેજશ શરૂઆત

માં જ એ ખીણને વધતાં પહેલાં જ પૂરી દેવી જોઈએ. એ ખીણ

ને વધવા દઈ સેતુબંધન કરવું તો એ નઘાય ક્ષણિક જ

નિવડશે.

— ચિંતન

My Wife:

I wonder if you understand

well, when I say, "I am as

old as my thoughts." This makes

me at once a child and a

very old man — some ten thousand

years old! A child that seeks

strength from the mothers' breasts

(here you play the mother's role),

protection when he buries his

head in his mother's bossom.

I am the young lover when I

seek to caress you tenderly.

I am an old man, a very

old man, when I try to control

myself when we disagree.

My cave-man instinct wants

me to revolt, to dominate,

to triumph over all opposition,

to tell you to shut-up and

do as I say — but alas!

I am some ten thousand years

old, I have long since

ceased to be a cave-dweller —

wisdom of all the bygone

ages is controlling my thoughts,

my all impulsive actions.

What a pity! Oh, what

inconsiderate manner of

appeasing "considerate"! I

am sinking, slowly but

surely, under the burden of

my 'sense of fairness'.

If I am meek, I am also

blessed, for I shall "inherit the

earth" — in fact I shall abound!

Perhaps I love you

true — at least I have stopped

getting excited about pretty girls!

Or may be I am getting

old! truly old — and I

mean o-o-old! almost

cold!

But I miss you and

I sometimes wonder why I

let you go on such long

vacations, all by yourself. But

then I realize that if I

have only a few years left

to spend with you, your parents

have still fewer. They too, love

you — and again my sense

of fairness triumphs — over me!

I have almost come to

hate being so "human". The

only reason, I have no

capacity, to be 'harsh' with

you, is your own 'sacrifice',

which, in every dimension,

transcends my own.

So much for today. Now I

must sleep — dreaming about a

different tomorrow.

26/5/66

11 p.m.

The manner, in which

this life is ebbing away, is

disgusting — so much so that

all desires seem to have left

me. By now, I have ceased

to pity myself. If all pleasures

are gone, the pains aren't

here, either.

This has not brought

the tranquility though. Perhaps

there is no agitation on

the surface — the volcanic

ashes seem to have hardened

into a crust, which is, if

anything, deceptive. There is

fore down below — there has

to be. That is the only

hope. I very much wish to

feel the pain again and

all the sinful pleasures of

the mind and the body.

This night is

oppressively dull, like all

other nights. And like all

other nights, it won't return.

For that matter, I won't

return either. No Tomorrows

to worry about. How Wonderful!

12/5/66

I may not be so useless

afterall, to cannibals, but

somehow I seem to have

lost all use for me.

It is a strange world

I percieve, but the world within

is more weird. I have ceased

to differentiate between thoughts

and hellucinations and if

such numbness can be

life, all the substance of

existance must be surely lost.

If make-believe seems true,

could it be that all truth

is transient make-believe?

Oh, what hopelessly antiquated

machine, has this human

body become!

There is a butterfly in my window, but what use can a blindman have for a butterfly? A blindman's world is made of images. My world is full of such images, such dreams of adventure, of beauty, of sublime love, of such gay abandon, of pure joy that carefree singing brings.

I am in love with love. Can it be that I don't love beautiful women? (I certainly don't love ugly women)

Can it be, that in some obscure corner of my heart I despise them all? It does not seem probable. Am I a fickle-hearted chick who dare not say, "I don't love you, my sweetheart"?

But I seem to like them all. May be I love them too. Who knows? Anyway, who cares?

I will reach there somehow, but I seem to have lost the track for some years now. And for me, it was not just "half the fun", but

"all the fun" in getting these. So you have lost your fun? So what?

Why aren't you thankful to be alive?

Your limbs can move and you can breathe and make a sound,

And sometimes share, with your friends and even your sweetheart, an illusion of happiness.

What more can you hope, when you can propagate a breed your kind, your name, made of the

eternal alphabet; Oh, stop being an ingrate Oh, stop worrying me Oh, oh, oh, won't you stop being such prude. And if you cannot bear, the burden of your soul, please do me a favour, go jump in the river and stop stop breathing - full stop.

22/5/66

Perhaps, it would not matter, if you knew not, my wife, what men are made of. But what a pity, that you should not know what I am made of! By now I have no hope that you shall ever know - and alas, for you, my true self was stillborn! My feet are already cold and I feel the lead solidifying in my head. It is but a short while, before the blood starts freezing in my veins and soon, the milk of your soft breasts

shall fail to warm my intestines. Oh, what splendid, magnificient torso of flesh and bones, your man will come to be!

Won't I ever know how and when I started down the hill? Or were we ever on the top of the hill? It seems such a long while, that there is more of legend than memory in our past. It does not suffice to find out how it all began and who was at fault. In fact, it isn't even significant anymore.

Like a prehistoric behemoth, what looms large across the sky, is the shadow of our failure - the failure to find have found our true selves - the failure to have found a meaning to our existance. What greater failure can these be? Perhaps to suffer quietly is our destiny. And we can only pray the Gods to be merciful and give us the strength to be able to endure what the fate has decreed.

22/5/66