Dear Dr. Stephen Gill, I received your article on how Bishop Dr. Nasir has been struggling against the avataars of inhumanity to establish the brilliance of man as man. We see that in human history more blood has been shed in the name of religion. Man is more alien to man, and hence an outsider, than ever he was. The more we have become conscious of the sanctity of human rights, the more blatant violations are there. Sometimes we wonder if it is itself a weapon of global terror. However, it is certain that this deconsciencised validated activity has jeopardized not only our splendid civilization and its glamorous attainments but also the very survival of humanity. This was never the dream or vision of the founders and prophets of our religions. Shaw’s poignant cry in Saint Joan is heard with louder poignancy today. Perhaps God doesn’t want His world to be ready to welcome the noble and the pious. More perhaps intellectual and spiritual brilliance shines more brightly in these darker regions. And the people with higher levels of sensitivity give vent to their ire and anguish with the tears that irrigate the heart and soul of the future generations. Dr. Gill, I composed a poem on such a sorry mess recently and am sending it to you . I hope that it will have some appeal to a celebrated poet like you. The poem is under the title- Theatre of the Absurd. I will look forward to your impressions. With best regards, RKBhushan THEATRE OF THE ABSURD I have experienced The theatre of the absurd, Ever in my daily life. It was so even when I knew not its literary stress. How could there be Something in nothing? And I looked for that- Always hoping and hopeful. Irrational is rational To clear the fogs of confusion. All scrambling For oats, carrots and cabbages From morning through sleep; Smells of drinks nauseate And make them giddy. They delight in Beheading sense and sanity. Belonging remained a longing, Though the illusion persisted. Deconsciencised- Estranged and disenchanted, Defamed, disgraced and dreaded- It was identity for wisdom And wisdom for identity, Both let loose in all ferocity; Shameless frankness In declarations- They have learnt nothing, They learn nothing And will learn nothing And have nothing to do with it. "Do wot u ‘ill" is the challenge. Talibans also directed their guns And fought a pitched battle Against the Bamian Buddha; So was the leather merchant of Socrates; Lincoln was murdered only for fame; Martin Luther was shattered with shots, Not his dream; The last Moghul King’s life Was drenched in tears of love And the blood of fury. If profession be the parent, They delight in filial ingratitude. And their incurable psychic impotence Is their sole comfort and conscience. Gautama and Jesus are Buddha and Christ, Thanks to their own! Heaven may be at peace After the war; It is dehumanizing strife Guided by the lost archangel To reach back the seat of joy. Who am I? What am I? Why should the world endure Any stare or invasion of the IDEAL? Idea and Ideal have an identity And must struggle for triumph In the battle of existence- Both the actor and the spectator? RKBhushan