People are lost in the mathematics of profit and gain

Adarsh Ajit
It is wrong to be myopic on the poetry of Rajinder Aagosh, a simple rustic who has his own characteristic traditional gait. Out of the four books authored by him Aagosh has three poetic anthologies to his credit. A good number of his couplets are highly thought- provoking.
Normally his creative outflow is within the mould of literary ethics and poetic norms. This focussed and toiling poet has good standing among the exiled Kashmiri poets. His poetic anthology shaorach baavath is a collage of nostalgia, pain, loss of belonging, hope, love, romance, devotion and the struggle of life. The poet is on an unknown cumbersome journey. The desolated pathways multiply his problems but he does not lose heart. His aspirations of autumn and hope of light stand finished by someone. It is like sowing seeds in the sandy land. People are lost in the mathematics of profit and gain:
bas vaavas ti daav moshmut ta kaavas ti taav/be-asar aah-o-fugaan yina sapdi mushkil
A moment of separation is a dark ocean for the poet and a second of love is a big and colourful gift to him. The poet stands for love for all. He stresses on kindling the revolution in the hearts. He teaches to bury hatred and distribute the wine of affection though it is difficult to assemble the beads of pearls in one rosary. However, on seeing the changed winds the doubts detract him. People hide their images and the mirrors too. Talks are moulded differently. The nods reflect different meanings. There is ‘yes’ in the eyes and ‘no’ on the lips:
novui tchaanen kathan izhaar baasaan tchhum/doll dilas tavai aitbaar baasaan tchum.
There are tears in the eyes of all but they are lost in their fast lives. Even the two eyes are not in unison to shed the tears together. Some of the couplets of Aagsoh are full of resolution, determination, encouragement and warmth of blood though he sees the dark acidic roads all around. The air in Kashmir is emitting fire. Under these circumstances, the poet wants to rewrite on Kashmir. He urges the people to pen down the future with their own hands and wants air to be changed. The poet wants new prospect, new pens and new ink, new terminology, new lexicon and new milestones. He burns heart like that of a candle. The poet is obsessed with goblets, pubs, and wine. He does not want hypocrisy. He appeals to unfold the fire in front of all. He believes in openness that gives taste even before drinking. Aagosh has many options in his armoury. Nevertheless, no one is ready to materialise them. He has many questions to ask like anybody having interest in collecting the burnt moths after lighting the candle. But hope never eludes him:
aagosh kochhi lalavaan aash/naala ratith kande khaaren az
Let us assemble. Let us talk of the new spring. Let us hold the sulked. Let us believe in reunion. Let us share love and talk of Aharbal and Shalimar. Let us hope for the flowers to bloom again. Childhood should come again.
Friend/beloved should be in front. The moon, the spring air, the shade of the chinar, that saintly Kashmir should be revisited. The poet refers the exiles to the flowers plucked from the branches. They hide pain in alien land but behave as the happy lot with unspoken tragedy in their hearts:
tchhu lanji petthh tsatanuk gham timan magar/laachaar gull, aswaen roode guldaanan manz
A few ghazals of Aagosh are of higher echelons. One or two nazams are full of devotion towards Shiva and Shakti. He is talking of God, finite and infinity. The fire of Namrood is astonished on seeing the cruelty of darkness. For him boundaries have no boundaries. The limits are surprised to see limitless. The form is surprised on seeing the formless. A few other couplets like madanwaar vola boz and khaar thovun vaar mai are rhythmic and musical.
Materialism has penetrated deep into social structure. Selfishness has fogged relationship. The poet is saddened on seeing typhoons. Chameleons have crept into the morality. Silence has encouraged the immorality. No one reads the book of love in present turmoil. No one analyses the reason behind the bleeding wounds. Falsehood is the new identity. Degraded Philosophies work under veil of morality. Swords are visible. Pens are silent. He puts everybody to test and finds even his close ones leaving him:
parade keho pnaen azmaai mae/kama aashi gul mansaave mae
The nazam dawaan zindagi mentions moving life. Sometimes the clothes are entangled in the eddy but even then the struggle continues. The flowing waters advance to mingle with the ocean without knowing the actual destination. kuner is a sad feeling. Poet prays like an infant in a parental fondling. Despite all depressive outpourings like ‘vonukh lootas ti inqquilaab aakhar’ the nazam su ti aasi wakh gives hope of reclaiming springs. The wanton roses would play again in the gardens. The greenery will attract the nightingales again. Paddy fields will re-flourish.