કૃષ્ણલાલ શ્રીધરાણી પર્વના ૭ મા દિવસે એક નહિં, ત્રણ ગીતો એક સાથે…. અને તો યે આ પર્વની પૂર્ણાહૂતી નથી, એક વધુ – બોનસ પોસ્ટ.. બસ થોડી જ વારમાં..!!
ત્યાં સુધી સાંભળો કવિ શ્રી નું સૌથી પહેલું ગીત – અભિલાષા – અને બીજા બે એવા જ મઝાના ગીતો..!!
કૃષ્ણલાલ શ્રીધરાણી પર્વની ઉજવણી ફરી ચાલુ કરીએ… ભાદરવા વદ બારસ (રેંટિયા બારસ)ની વાત આની આગળની પોસ્ટમાં કરી – એ જ સંદર્ભમાં આજે સાંભળીએ કવિશ્રી એ આપણને આપેલું સરસ મઝાનું ઝંડાગીત.. આટલા વર્ષો સુધી શાળામાં ‘ઝંડા ઉંચા રહે હમારા’ ગીત લલકાર્યે રાખ્યું હતું, ત્યારે આ ઝંડાગીત મળ્યું હોત તો? સાચું કહું તો – ગુજરાતી ભાષામાં બીજું એક જ ‘ઝંડાગીત’ મને યાદ છે – જા રે ઝંડા જા… – શ્રધ્ધા એ આ ગીત મોકલ્યું, અને પ્રથમતો વાંચવાની જ મઝા આવી, પણ શ્રધ્ધાએ એનું સ્વરાંકન પણ એવું મસ્ત જુસ્સાસભર કર્યું છે કે આપ મેળે એની સાથે જોડાઇને લલકારવાનું મન થઇ જાય.
આ પર્વમાં અત્યાર સુધી પ્રસ્તુત કરેલા બધા જ ગીતો ને સ્વરાંકન આપવા માટે, સ્વર આપીને રેકોર્ડ કરવા માટે, અને આ બધી જ માહિતી આપણા સુધી પહોંચાડવા માટે શ્રધ્ધાનો આપણા સૌ તરફથી ખૂબ ખૂબ આભાર માનું છું.
આ ગીત વિષે થોડી માહિતી ડો. કનકભાઇ રવિશંકર રાવળ તરફથી મળી છે – “This song was a part of a stage play KS had written.
It was staged at BVN in 1943. It was first published in KUMAR in its 100th issue. British Raj confiscated the issue and fined the editors during 1930s.”
Some people are like an iceberg; only one-tenth of their personality would be visible. Krishnalal Shridharani, who would have been only two years short now of centenary, had he been alive, is a prime example.
Known to Gujarat mostly as a very sensitive poet of the freedom struggle vintage, he is also vaguely recalled as having been a journalist. Even in the city of Bhavnagar that boasts of him as one of its own, most think of him as Kavi Shridharani, a poet in Gujarati. Yet, this was only one part of his warm, vibrant, radiant and multifaceted totality.
Though little remembered today, Krishnalal’s lasting contribution in the world beyond the boundaries of Gujarat, was in his pioneering efforts at explaining Gandhi and his tactics of fighting the British Empire, to the world at large in English, through writing and books. He was a follower of the Mahatma in strangely contrary ways. He did not believe in aping the Mahatma in his outward appearance and style; he loved pipe-smoking, was always nattily dressed and could easily pass off as a pucca Brown Sahib. But he was not. At heart, he was an Indian, who understood Gandhi and opted to tell the world about the Mahatma through words, rather than through clothes. In the process, he acquired the Western idiom, but remained a staunch Indian in values.
It is perhaps ironical, as also symbolic of his home state, Gujarat, hardly anyone seemed to think of Shridharani, the youngest participant in the epoch-making Dandi March in 1930, save in Bhavnagar.
The city Bhavnagar appears to particularly revel in nostalgia in a general way, and in remembering those who made a name for themselves in arts, literature and culture. It boldly takes pride, pleasure and initiative in reminding itself and others of the greats it had produced.Shridharani’s alma mater, Dakshinamurti, the Bhavnagar Sahitya Sabha, his friends and admirers unfailingly think of the man, with gratitude and affection, on his birthday in September, something the rest of the State too ought to do, at least to erase the stigma that it is a land of the forgetful and the ungrateful.
Although he studied at Dakshinamurti and Gujarat Vidyapeeth,Shridharani was apparently not cut out to be a conventional khadi-clad.He struck his own path and went to Shantiniketan.Rabindranath Tagore was highly impressed by the sensitive Gujarati and urged him to travel to the West. It was to be a momentous journey; it changed the course of his life.Gujarati literature was perhaps the only loser.
Late Harindra Dave, another sensitive soul, poet and journalist, once introduced Shridharani as a man who would swim against not just the current but also the flood. Anybody can make speed with the current, but only those with a rare force of soul could do so against the flow. At Karadi, just before reaching Dandi for the salt satyagrah, Krishnalal wrote a piece, Saput, and earned Gandhiji’s affectionate rebuke for spinning yarn instead of the wheel.
His lifelong passion was writing. He was a journalist par excellence and an equally perceptive radio commentator, and in those days one of the rare breed of those who would wield their pens with facility both in Gujarati and English.
His books in English, including his auto-biography, My India My America, became best-sellers in the early 1940s.Long before he went abroad and began writing in English; Shridharani had won recognition as a poet and dramatist in Gujarati.
Born on September 16, 1911, at Umrala, Krishnalal’s childhood passed mostly in Umrala, Bhavnagar and Junagadh. He lost his father, Jethalal, a lawyer with a roaring practice, when Shridharani was barely eight. The man that grew up did not remember much about his father, but a lot about his mother, Laheriben.
Krishnalal wrote about his mother in a poem, Maari Baa
Aradhanaman smarun roop Baanu,
Ne Baane smarine Prabhuroop pamun.
In 1957,in the revised edition of Kodiyan, Krishnalal noted that the first thing he would see while doing dhyan, just before getting up and when retiring for the day, was that instead of Om,his mind will show him the image of his mother.
His early days carried vivid memories of Girnar, the Gir, its flora and fauna. He joined an innovative educational institution, Dakshinamurti in Bhavnagar. The schooling, full of experiments, proved beneficial for Krishnalal. He would not only take interest in poetry, but also took a hand at painting. When he was hardly 12,he wrote a raasdo, a folk song ,Halya Talakchand Sasare Lo.He penned innumerable such things while in school, but his critical faculty was so sharp that he never included many of these in his collections published later, rejecting them as containing little of poetic elements. But some were really brilliant, such as when he wrote about Gandhi, Daahbhari aankhon Matani,tenu tun aansu tapakyun. His love for painting reflected in his poems too.
Way back in 1941, Balwantray Thakore thought that Krishnalal’s poetry was markedly different from that of either Umashankar Joshi or Sundaram, both tall poets. How and in what specific way,Thakore could not pinpoint but he underlined the language and art as having achieved a fusion in Krishnalal’s poems.His diction, other critics judged , was superb and the sensuousness of his poetry reminded a reader of Keats.
Poetry was not all. Shridharani also did considerable work in drama.
He joined Gujarat Vidyapeeth and was with Mahatma Gandhi during the Dandi March. For his part in the freedom struggle, Krishnalal served a term in jail. He also spent a couple of years at Shantiniketan and was one of the Gurudev’s favourite pupils. He then went to the U.S. for studies ,and during his 12 years there took PhD in Sociology and Political Theory at Columbia University.
He continued writing at a breakneck speed in America, and the outcome was spectacular. In 1939, he gave a book in English, War Without Violence, explaining to the materialist West,the spiritual onslaught of the satyagrah, a non-violent and yet deadly weapon against repression and injustice. In 1946, he returned to India and made Delhi his home, joined the External Affairs Ministry, then under Jawahar Lal Nehru as an officer on special duty. But the poet did not fit in with the Babu culture of government and left the job to become a journalist, writing for the Amrita Bazar Patrika, travelling all over the country and world. In those days Delhi was not as crowded as it is today, and certainly not the madhouse of busybodies that it has become in the past three decades. He used to pen a column for the Gujarati daily, Sandesh too.
He married Sundari, artist daughter of noted Sindhi writer,philosopher and nationalist,Dayaram Didumal,in March,1950.He had wide ranging contacts and was very friendly with a lot of leaders including Nehru, Mrs Indira Gandhi, her husband, Phiroze Gandhi,and Dr S.Radhakrishnan,as also a host of foreign dignitaries.
When in Delhi and not doing anything else, he would potter around his flower-beds and lilly-ponds and read stories to children.
His contribution to the Gujarati literature was immense, mainly as a poet and dramatist. Yet, he was recognised rather belatedly only. Even Gujarat did nothing. It was only in 1958, Krishnalal was suddenly discovered by the literary establishment. He was named for the Ranjitram gold medal for services to literature.
Krihsnalal died unexpectedly on July 23,1960,when he was hardly 49. It was not an age to go and considering what he had already written, much more was yet to come. That was not to be.
Among the noteworthy literary creations of Krishnalal, besides Kodiyan, are Punarpi, Vadlo, Sonapari and three plays, Piyo Gori, Morna Inda and Padmini. His English books include My India,My America, War Without Violence, Warning to the West, The Big Four of India, The Adventures of the Upside-Down, The Journalist in India, Smiles From Kashmir and the Mahatma and the World.
All his works in both languages have a common thread; all reveal him to be a highly sensitive and equally perceptive person. My India,My America won Shridharani ecstatic reviews in the American Press. Thomas Sigrue writing in the New York Herald Tribune hailed it as a “fascinating mixture of autobiography, biography, political analysis,philosophical exposition and fine writing.” The 646-page book’s writer was described by others as a young man who has the wisdom of the ages of his people.
On his return to India, he kept on writing. His four portraits in words of Nehru,Rajendra Prasad,Rajaji and Sardar Patel,as also his monograph on journalism show him as a journalist far ahead of his time,in his style of wrting, his assessment of people and events and his perception of the future.He wrote of India’s first prime minister,Nehru , as a man who seldom had intimate friends who was most of the time,”mangificently and dangerously aloof.The passing away of the Mahatma and Patel had removed from the Indian scene the last men who could admonish Nehu.”Every individual,in order to keep his sanity, must have some people who can tell him when the occasion arises that ‘ you are making a fool of yourself’. The man who occupies too high a pedestal for anybody to stand on equal level with him,runs the risk of losing his sense of proportion”, Krishnalal observed.Of Sardar Patel whom he called a practical man,Krishnalal said: “The death of Patel marked a sharper turning point in the infant career of independent India than did the martyrdom of Mahatma Gandhi….Gandhi left a universal void; the void created by Patel’s passing away is purely national, and so it is felt more intensely…Patel was a strong man, and now India is without a strong man.The passing away of a strong man always creates a serious situation.For,when a strong man dies, he not only creates a void,but he also removes the lid. Pent-up, seething forces begin to find expression.” These portraits were illustrated by caricatures drawn by late cartoonist, Shankar, who later started the celebrated, and now defunct Shankar’s Weekly, a world class cartoon journal.
Most of Shridharani’s English books are not available now. Those few copies that are there are the possessions of pride for their owners.That Krishnalal Shridharani should have passed away so early in his life was a tragic loss not only to literature but also to journalism.The best way to commemorate his memory would be to republish some of his unavailable literature and scan the family archives to see if there was anything unpublished left behind.
And Wikipedia Biography:
(16 September 1911 – 23 July 1960)
Was the world famous Indian poet,Author,playwright,and journalist from India and USA.
Dr.Krishnalal Shridharani (16 September 1911 – 23 July 1960) was an Indian poet, playwright and journalist. He studied sociology, economics and journalism at various institutions in India and the US. He participated in the Indian independence movement and was imprisoned, during which time he started writing plays and poetry. He also wrote many non-fiction books in English.
Shridharani was born in Umrala near Bhavnagar on 16 September 1911. He spent his childhood in Junagadh. He completed his primary education in Umrala and secondary education from Dakshinamurti Vinay Mandir, Bhavnagar. He joined Gujarat Vidyapith in 1929 and participated as a young man in the Dandi March of 1930. He was arrested near Karadi when he was going for Dharasana Satyagraha. He spent some time in Sabarmati and Nasik jails. He joined Shantiniketan in 1931 and completed his graduation in 1933. In 1934, he went to US for further studies on the advice of James Pratt and Rabindranath Tagore, which made a lasting impression on his attitude. He completed Masters in Sociology and Economics from New York University in 1935. He completed MS in 1936 and PhD in 1940 from Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism.
He started writing for Amrita Bazar Patrika in 1945 and returned to India in 1946. He worked with the Ministry of External Affairs for some time. He married Sundari, a dancer and performing artist. He presided over the history and economics department of Gujarati Sahitya Parishad in 1946. He died following heart attack in Delhi on 23 July 1960.
His book which analyses Gandhian philosophy and tactics of nonviolence, War Without Violence (1939) influenced the members and strategies of Congress of Racial Equality, and was widely circulated by African-American leaders during the Civil Rights Movement in the US. It was studied by Martin Luther King, Jr. during the Montgomery bus boycott.
He wrote total sixteen plays. He wrote Vadlo (1931), a children’s play, during his imprisonment during Dandi March. Peela Palash (1934), Piya Gori, Dusku, Dungali no Dado, Sonpari, Vijali, Vrushal, Mor na Inda are his other plays. Padmini is a historical play.
In 1934, his first poetry collection Kodiya was published, followed by Punarapi in 1961. Insan Mita Doonga is a short story based on his experiences with inmates during imprisonment.
His original works in English include My India, My America (1941) which is about his experiences during his life in the US. His book War without Violence had a great impact on the American civil rights movement. Others are Warning to the West (1943), The Big Four of India (1941), The Adventures of the Upside-Down Tree (1959), Story of The Indian Telegraph (1953), The Journalist in India (1956), Smiles From Kashmir (1959) and The Mahatma and the World ( 1946). He contributed in several journals and newspapers including The New York Times and Vogue.
સલામ, સખી ! આજથી નવ વદું તને હું કદી,
હવે હૃદયમાં નહિ જ અભિમાન તું રાખતી;
ભૂલ્યો, ગણી ગણી તને હૃદયની અને માહરી,
ગુલાબ નહિ તું કરેણ, મુજ આંખડી ઊઘડી.
ખુશામત ગણી ? કરું ન પ્રભુ પાસ, ને તાહરી?
કદીક અભિમાનથી મલકી જાય વિભાવરી-
ખુશામત તણી ગણી, અલખની જ એ ગર્જના,
ગમે અગર રાતને, કદી ન, સિંધુને શી પડી ?
સલામ, સખી ! છો પડે અગર આંસુડાં આંખથી,
નહીં જ મુજ હાથથી કદીય તેમ લ્હોવાં નથી;
નિશામુખ પરે પણે ચળકતા નહિ તારકો,
તનેય, સખી ! રાતનેય અભિમાનનાં આંસુડાં !
- કૃષ્ણલાલ શ્રીધરાણી
સત્તર વરસની લબરમૂછિયા ઉંમર એટલે માણસની પ્રેમમાં મુગ્ધ થવાની અવસ્થા. આ કાચી ઉંમરે કવિ પ્રણયભ્રમનિરસન નિમિત્તે પ્રિયતમાને ઉપાલંભ આપવાની વાત જે પ્રગલ્ભતાથી કરી શકે છે એને સલામ !
કવિ સખીને સલામ કરીને વાત શરૂ કરી કહે છે કે હું તારા પ્રેમમાં મરી ફીટ્યો છું એવું અભિમાન હવે ન રાખીશ. હું સમજ્યો હતો કે તું ગુલાબ છે જે સાથે રહી ખુશબૂ ફેલાવશે પણ તું તો માત્ર ઊંચે ને ઊંચે વધવા માંગતી કરેણ છે. દરિયાના મોજાં એકધારું ગર્જન કર્યાં કરે છે એને પોતાની ખુશામત માનીને રાત જેમ હરખાય કે ન હરખાય એનાથી દરિયાને કશો ફરક નથી પડતો તેમ તેંય મારા પ્રેમને ખુશામત ગણી લીધી હોય તો એ તારી ભૂલ છે, મારી નહીં… રાત્રિના મુખ પર ચળકતાં તારાઓ એ રાત્રિના અભિમાનના આંસુ છે. તારા ચહેરા પર પણ જે આંસુ ઉપસી આવ્યાં છે એ અભિમાનનાં છે અને હું મારા હાથથી એ કદી નહીં લૂંછું…
બાર પંક્તિના અંતે ચોટ આપી વિરમી જતું આ કાવ્ય કવિની કાવ્યનિષ્ઠાનું પણ દ્યોતક છે. આજે જેમ ગઝલ એમ જે જમાનામાં સોનેટનો સુવર્ણયુગ હતો એ જમાનામાં આવું મજાનું કાવ્ય રચીને માત્ર બે નવી પંક્તિઓ ઉમેરીને એને સૉનેટાકાર આપવાનો મોહ જતો કરવો એ પણ એક મોટી વાત હતી…