The Power Of The Written Word: A Note On The Poetry

Of Stephen Gill

 

P.RAJA

 

 

Once a visitor from a far off country walked into the durbar hall of Bahaudin Shah and said: “Allow me to sit in your

durbar and let me listen to your lecture. Reading can never be a substitute for hearing.”

       “Alas!” said Bahaudin, “If you are not deaf, it is sad that I should have had to wait so long to welcome you here. You see, I never give any lectures nowadays.”

      The visitor expressed his curiosity to know why.

      Bhaudin said: “Ever since a group of partially deaf people came to see me I have stopped giving lectures. You want to know why! I said ‘Do not be like a dog or a swine…’

     After they left me they fell out disputing as to whether I had said ‘Be a dog…’ or even ‘Eat swine’s flesh…’ With the written word this is not possible. If you are blind, someone can always read out to you.”

      This anecdote illustrates the power of the written word. There can be no substitute for writing. May be this is the reason why Sir Francis Bacon, the Elizabethan essayist remarked thus: “Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man…”

       Down the history of the world, we have come across orators, poets and writers. It is always the poets who ruled the roost. We have heard of court poets. We have heard of poet laureates. But have we heard of court writers or orators? Such was the coveted honour given to poets for it is the genuine poets who speak from the heart and every poem they write is a tête-à-tête to his reader. But it is the reader who out of love for the genuine poets spreads the glory of the poets.

       Plato might have been envious of the creativity of poets when he spoke for the dismissal of poets from his Republic. Cinna, the poet, might have been chased by the unruly mob in Shakespeare’s play Julius Caesar all the time. shouting ‘Kill him for his bad verses’. Yet any number of instances can be quoted from the classic Tamil literature regarding the affinity of the royalty and nobility with the poets. The best example would be the hospitality and affection Mosi Keeranar, the poet, enjoyed in the court of a Tamil king. The poet after a tedious journey was made to wait in the court of the king when the latter was returning home after a victorious battle. The tired poet found an unoccupied cot and slept on it. But he didn’t in the least know that the cot was the seat of a huge war drum. The king came home with fun and fanfare. But he was shocked to see someone sleeping on the cot meant for the royal war drum. Without any second thought he pulled out his sword and rushed towards the sleeper. The glow on the sleeping poet’s face stopped him and he exclaimed: “Oh! It is our Mosi Keeranar, the poet.” He pushed his sword back into the scabbard and asked for a handfan. The king began to fan the poet so that the latter could sleep in peace. Such was the love the kings had for the poets. They blessed the poets with honours and made them live an undisturbed life so that they could write their verses undisturbed.

       What is it that makes the government shower encomiums and honours on poets? It is the poets’ social concern, their love for their country, their affection for their fellow brethren and their sincerity to the work they do. His duty is to look for many different kinds of meanings than the ones a man finds relevant in his day to day life. He has to explore imaginatively forbidden areas and question the codes which govern our day to day lives. He has to accept that fantasies and dreams, which are denied reality in ordinary life. He has to be prepared in his world of imagination to wallow in self-pity, commit all kinds of sins, and constantly try to be somebody who he is not. It is this dual personality in every poet that immortalizes the man who writes poetry.

       Every poet is a creator. Every creator is akin to God, the Great Creator. And it is this creativity that carves him a niche in the mind and heart of the readers. Stephen Gill is a poet with as distinct and personal a rhythm as theirs.

       When Stephen Gill was honoured with the Laurel Leaf, inscribed Laureate Man of Letters, at the 13th World Congress of Poets, held at the Pointe in Phoenix, Arizona, USA, in August 1992, the President of the United Poets Laureate International, Dr. Benjamin Yuzon, commended Gill for his books, over twenty, connected with world peace in one way or the other and also for his work with many organizations for global harmony. And in his cceptance speech Stephen Gill declared that he does not write for medals and diplomas. He writes to share his feelings and experience with others. His best reward is when he succeeds in imparting his message and sharing his self with others.

       It is this “sharing his self with others”, that forms truly the hallmark of a poet. In his admirable poem titled “Song of a New Canadian”, Stephen Gill writes:

 

My Canada

in thy lap

lie all nations;

humans and beasts

melt into one shape

in thy lap.

Thy land and life

and springs,

thy summer and fall

and skies

and joyful birds –

delight-giving sights –

breathe a new life in me.

A nation so great

diverse and brave

thy rivers and lakes

wide and long highways

reveal thy riches to me.

My Canada!

Thy soul

a unique temple

for every creed

for every breed.

My heart will sing

always for thee;

my lips will chant

night and day for thee.

 

O Canada!

My well of love

full for thee.

a peace-adoring dove!

never my love

shall cease for thee.

 

       Even a cursory reading of this poem written to commemorate the 125th birthday of Canada is bound to catapult us to a quiver of questions that goad us to explore the historical background of the poet. All such questions get answered in what Stephen Gill wrote as “Preface” to his poems of social concern titled Shrine (1999). The Preface reads like a thriller and every gruesome incident narrated therein refuses to wriggle out of our memory. Stephen Gill, a teenager from Karol Bagh, New Delhi had had to find a way out of that loveable place turned murderous after the partition in 1947. It was Ethiopia that gave him the comfort and the safety he needed. “But I wanted to be a writer and for that I planned to settle in an English speaking country. I felt I needed further education.” And so he applied for admission to a doctoral programme. Canada seemed to be the ideal place because the University of Ottawa offered him a part-time job and hope for a fellowship after a year.

        “In Canada,” writes Stephen Gill, “there are opportunities for everyone. Here, the government has given and is still giving financial help to Moslems to build their mosques; to Hindus to build their temples; and to Sikhs to build their Gurduwaras. That is what the countries of India, Pakistan and Bangladesh and other nations should be doing for minorities. Happy minorities will contribute towards the building of the nation. If minorities feel secure, they will do everything to feel proud of their heritage. Absence of security and harmony leads to econo/political disaster that endangers the stability of the majority. Protection of minorities is in the interest of the majority and whole nation even the world…Canada is the best example of co-existence of a society of diverse cultures and faiths.”

       While continuing to glorify Canada in fitting terms, Stephen Gill writes: “Canada is a United Nation in microcosm. It is a country where it is illegal to propagate hatred against other beliefs. It is a country where the government legally upports multi-culturalism to foster tolerance. The experience of violence, the multicultural aspect of Canada, my travels, the life of Jesus, and world federalism, in addition to George Bernard Shaw and H. G. Wells, must have nourished the plant of my outlook and the literature I am producing. I find the environment of Canada stimulating for the further nourishment of this plant.”

       And now one can re-read the poem quoted above in full. The background information may enhance one’s appreciation and enjoyment of the poem. It was only in Canada Stephen Gill found hope in the truth that revenge does not help anyone and that violence has never solved problems in human history. Since he found out that the sharks of discrimination are everywhere, he began to write and give talks to tear the mask of ignorance and to promote non-violence. The thought of cruelty of humans always remained in his mind like his own shadow. The more he thought of it, the more he became obsessed to write about it. It is this obsession that served as midwife for the birth of his poems.

       In fact, it was Canada, the country he loves and adores, that was responsible in realizing himself. There was absolutely no pressure from outside to cow down as in India and no sleepless nights when he had dreams of being chased and shot at as in Ethiopia. In Canada, Stephen Gill is a different “ME”:

 

Today

I want to be me;

I wish to sing my own song!

I want to say

something about myself.

Let me live

some of my own life—

the life of silent pains.

I want to ask

how I am.

Let me find me –

my smiles

my own hurts.

Today

Let me emerge alone

and look into me.

In the fire of self

let me radiate.

Other lyrics are also good,

but today

I want to hear me…

 

     It is this freedom to be himself that gives the poet in Stephen Gill a free mind and thereby a free expression. He being an apostle, wants his poetry to be understood. Like the eminent Tamil bard Mahakavi Subramania Bharati, Dr.Stephen Gill too writes in a simple language so that he could drive his thoughts home. Simple, sensuous, appealing and alluring are some of the adjectives one can use in the appreciation of his poetry.

       Stephen Gill believes in unconditional love and global peace through a democratically elected world government. He is certainly a citizen of the world, a trait that is obvious from his poems.

        To wind up one can do no better than quote in full the very first poem titled “Poet’s Prayer” from his lovely collection Songs for Harmony (1993) that sums up in a few lines his poetic credo:

 

O Master:

Raise the crops of my pen

into nutrients.

Water them from the sacred font

to sustain their freshness

and vitality; the combination

of all heavenly hues.

Let them be food for thought

for every reader.

Refine them in Your smithy

To turn into

distinguished objects

for the cultured court of critics.

Display in them

Your will;

fuse them with Your beauty.

Strengthen them with manna;

array them like the rainbow.

 

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P.RAJA is in the Department of English, Tagore Arts College, Pondicherry. He has authored 21

books in English and 7 books in Tamil. One of his books A Concise History of Pondicherry is still in the

best seller list. He is presently working on a five volume Encyclopedia of Pondicherry