The Blue Studio
By Koushik Krishnan
The Blue StudioSep 18, 2022
On His Blindness - a recital
John Milton ranks as one the greatest English poets. He stands alongside Shakespeare in impact and fame. He is famous for composing the epic poem “Paradise Lost” in which he dramatizes the original sin – man’s first act of disobedience. But Paradise lost is about 10,000 lines long, and that is not what I’ll present now.
Instead, I would like to present a lovely sonnet called “On his blindness”. At the age of 48, while still in his prime, Milton lost his eyesight. For a wordsmith this was akin to death. He was angry, upset and greatly frustrated. His faith in God was severely tested. “How can I serve God, if he takes away my light”, he lamented. He had only run half the race. How could he go about the other half when he most needed his sight? But in the space of the fourteen lines of the sonnet, he reaches realization and acceptance. He understands God does not need his service. But he also realizes, his destiny is to serve God.
On his blindness
When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide,
"Does God exact day-labour, light denied?"
I fondly ask. But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies: "God does not need
Either man's work or his own gifts: who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait."
The sublime Saki - a discussion on his short stories
In this episode, Kavya and Koushik discuss the writers works, what makes him special and a few passages from some of his famous stories.
Human and virus
This 2 min poem is my attempt to connect the twin horrors of racism and a rampant epidemic
Many a man was hit by the virus,
Many a black was hurt in the US.
Poison spread like smokey wreath
Many a man gasped, “I can’t breathe”!
Here’s a story of a woman infected,
Rushed to a hospital much affected
She was convinced, it was a sin,
For a black to administer vaccine!
Refusing a hand that offered cure
She went in search of someone pure
Poison spread like smokey wreath,
Her family gasped, “We can’t breathe” !
The arc of justice can be long,
It takes a while to right a wrong,
For the deadly virus there is cure
But a bigoted heart is seldom never pure
- Koushik Krishnan
To a mouse - Robert Burns
In this poem, Burns describes a situation where he accidentally destroys the nest of a farm mouse while ploughing his land. He is greatly saddened by this act and feels repentant. He realizes the mouse had built the nest to survive the harsh winter. He then muses “the best laid schemes of mice and men often go awry”. The poem is rich with moral philosophy, metaphysics and contemplation.
Bazaars of Hyderabad - a poem recital
The Owl and the Pussycat - poem recited by Kanishk
Consecration on the birth of India.
But in the city of Calcutta, the air was heavy with dread. The community was on edge. It was the 1st anniversary of Direct -action-Day, one of the bloodiest communal clashes in the country which left more than 5,000 people dead. And this is where Mahatma Gandhi was to be found, cooling down tempers between Hindus and Muslims.
When asked why he wasn’t at the ramparts of the red fort in Delhi, he responded with this verse from John Masefield.
Not the ruler for me, but the ranker, the tramp of the road,
The slave with the sack on his shoulders pricked on with the goad,
The man with too weighty a burden, too weary a load.
The sailor, the stoker of steamers, the man with the clout,
The chantyman bent at the halliards putting a tune to the shout,
The drowsy man at the wheel and the tired lookout.
Others may sing of the wine and the wealth and the mirth,
The portly presence of potentates goodly in girth; –
Mine be the dirt and the dross, the dust and scum of the earth!
Theirs be the music, the colour, the glory, the gold;
Mine be a handful of ashes, a mouthful of mould.
Of the maimed, of the halt and the blind in the rain and the cold –
Of these shall my songs be fashioned, my tales be told.
Poetry - a discussion
“All the worlds a stage!”.
“All the world’s a stage” was a concept that predated Shakespeare by a comfortable 1,700 years. It was first popularised by the Roman poet Juvenal. Since then many people have made the reference. In fact, Shakespeare himself used this allegory in his earlier play “Merchant of Venice”.
Similarly, the different ages of man aren’t novel. Aristotle, the great Greek philosopher and scientist, spoke about it. Closer home, the four ages of man are described in the Indian vedas.
So, should we think less of Shakespeare because he wasn’t original? Not really. His genius lay in attracting and holding the attention of a live audience with popular and pithy themes. He used devices like rhyme and personification to engage the audience. And that is why his works are still in currency, or at least they should be.
The Road not Taken - a narration
Robert Frost, the celebrated American poet talked about the very same dilemma in his wonderful poem, “The road not taken”.
The last para is most enigmatic. We don’t know if the poet is happy with his choice or not. It has been endlessly analysed and argued over the decades. Frost himself was bemused with all the attention it received. Be that as it may, I’d like to recite the poem for you, and let you think of the major crossroads in your life and what you feel about them now.