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REMEMBERING A FEW OF MY FACE TO FACE INTERACTIONS WITH SH PRANAB MUKHER JEE. The death of late Sh. Pranab Mukherjee rang the curtain down of an era of politicians and the techniques of politics. Pranab Da, as popularly known, was a seasoned politician, a political strategist, an educationist, a talented trouble shooter and above all the former President of India. He called it a day at the age of 84 on 31st August’ 2020 in the Army R & R (Research & Referral) Hospital, Delhi Cant. 

Like to share a few of my broad face to face interactions with him. It may be worthwhile to mention the background, specific to these interactions: If I correctly recollect, it was in Oct’ 1996 when Sh. Deve Gowda was the Prime Minister of India, that the Deptt of Science & Technology of Govt of India (DST), was under appreciable pressure, mainly from the states of Tamil Nadu and the then Andra Pradesh, to conduct a scientific investigation on the so called ‘Herbal Fuel’ claimed by Ramar Pillai of Tamil Nadu. Consequently GOI formulated a Parliamentary Committee comprising of pretty senior MPs which included S/Sh Pranab Mukherjee, Kamal Nath and another six to seven MPs from Congress, BJP and various other political parties. 

The committee was chaired by an elderly and senior respectable MP, who hailed from south - I don’t recollect his name. DST rightly decided to send the Parliamentary Committee members to Dehradun where the Indian Institute of Petroleum (IIP) is located. Ramar Pillai was also instructed to proceed to Dehradun to demonstrate his claim to the committee in the presence of the scientists of IIP. There was an instruction to keep the whole matter confidential as a result the media, both print and TV, were not in knowledge of this specific event for reasons best known to the then Govt. DST gave full responsibility to one of its departments, Survey of India, to organize the whole event right from receiving the team of the MPs to their departure/send off.

 The Surveyor General of India detailed his team of officers as Liaison Officer (LO), one officer to each MP. There were about half a dozen of LOs to manage the event and I was detailed as Chief Liaison Officer (CLO) with the responsibility to be LO to the Chairman and overview the overall administrative control of the event which lasted for about 3 days. We booked their stay in Madhuban, the best star hotel in the town. I instructed the LOs to inspect rooms of their concerned MPs before leaving for the railway station, early in the morning. I along with the team of LOs received the MPs in the morning at Dehradun Railway Station and proceeded to the hotel. 

The hotel staff entertained the team of MPs in the common area of the hotel. At that stage I requested the Committee Chairman, clothed in a typical south Indian attire, to proceed to his room. What followed was a great surprise and, if I may say, a piece of great education for me. Though being the eldest in his team, both in age and protocol, the chairman silently said to me, “Sh. Pranab Mukherjee jee is a respectable MP and I would like to personally see his room before anything else follows”. Hearing from the elderly chairman of the committee about an MP, that too who was not from his political party, was eye opening and, if I may say, a piece of great education for me. He accompanied me upstairs and carefully inspected the room, even the attached wash room, meant for Sh Pranab Mukherjee. After his full satisfaction we went down stairs and I requested all MPs that they may proceed to their rooms.

 I accompanied the Chairman to his room and he told me that generally all of us, irrespective of the political parties we belong to, possess a lot of regard for Pranab Sahib. He told me to take care of all members, Mr Mukherjee in particular. During  that day the committee had substantial deliberation amongst themselves in confidence where LOs stayed out. The committee chalked out the programme for the remaining two days and instructed Director Forest Research Institute (FRI) and Indian Institute of Petroleum (IIP) to be ready as per the schedule.  

The next day, pretty early in the morning, the committee visited FRI and the Director made them to sit in the common room in one of the buildings and the grilled gates were closed. In the mean time the security supervisor came and contacted me saying that representatives of some TV channel wanted to come in. I went out and talked to them. They were lead by a lady who told me that she was from ZEE TV Channel and had just landed from Delhi.  I observed that they had been equipped with cameras and other related peripherals. They wanted to know if any Parliamentary Committee members were inside and added that they would like to talk to them. Without replying, I went inside and informed the chairman and asked him if I shall reply to them in negative. But he advised me not to do so and call their representative inside. The lady came in and the chairman was very courteous and told her not to disturb the committee for another one and a half day. He told her to be patient and the channel would be given appointment the next day in the evening. The lady was convinced and left along with her team.

The day was completely spent in FRI punctuated with the lunch and tea breaks. It was a typical Dehradun sunny day. During the tea break the committee came out for tea in the lush green lawn. I saw Pranab Mukherjee standing, dressed in a black Achkan and a tight fitting pyjama, with a black pipe in his mouth. He looked magnificent in the articulated attire. We were already introduced. I took the chance of interacting with him. I asked him why there was not any smoke coming out of his pipe. He told me that he was not smoking. I respectfully asked him but the pipe … He replied that he had given up smoking the pipe but was still carrying the pipe in a smoking style because this would help him in giving up the habit in due course. At that stage I also asked him about his early days We interacted a little more and in the meantime the committee resumed its work.

 The next day the committee reached Indian Institute of Petroleum (IIP) where Ramar Pillai had already arrived. The demonstration of herbal fuel was conducted in confidence with only the committee members and the scientists in attendance. All LOs were instructed to be out. Raman Pillai’s demo lasted for major part of the day and then he was asked to leave. The conclusions were drawn after deliberations between the Parliamentary Committee and the scientists and the meeting was called off. The committee members, accompanied by their respective LOs left for Madhuban Hotel where we found not only the ZEE Channel but representatives of other TV and the print media. The committee members went straight to the huge conference room 

The next eye opening surprise for me was when the chairman rather than taking the press conference questions requested Sh.Pranab Mekherjee to do so. At that stage I was asked to inform the media to be seated in the conferences room. The press conference lasted for a long duration and Pranab Ji handled the questions in an exemplary manner ensuring that the conclusion drawn by the committee related to the herbal fuel, whether true or hoax, was not revealed at that stage in spite of a lot of pressure from the media.

 I also remember that the next issue of ‘India Today’ had a cover page photo of the Parliamentary Committee along with some of the LOs. The next interaction was after about 11 years, in the year 2007, on my return from Rawalpindi after my second visit to Pakistan when I was deputed as Director International Boundary Directorate and dealt with the International boundaries related to our country. India and Pakistan had successfully conducted the joint survey of SIR CREEK area as a matter of confidence building measure when Sh. Manmohan Sing was the PM of India and Gen Musharraf The President of Pakistan. Sh. Menon was The foreign Secretary of India and Sh. Pranab Mukherjee was the Minister of External Affairs. 

While in GHQ Headquarters (Rawalindi) I had the privilege of signing the joint survey map on behalf of India, along with my Pakistani counterpart, in the capacity of Director International Directorate and the maps were exchanged between the two countries. Quoting an excerpt from my book (‘The Silence Speaks’) in this regard:“ Back at the office we were summoned by Mr. Shiv Shankar Menon, the Foreign Secretary, Govt. of India. During our meeting he saw the ‘Joint Survey Maps’, that we had exchanged, with utmost attention and appeared fully satisfied. I told him that nothing much had happened, as the issue could not be fully resolved. He on the other hand emphasised that something very good has happened adding that so far, discussions were merely token in nature quoting various records, which did not make much sense. However, this time round there was an authenticated, jointly surveyed map exchanged which now enabled both the sides to objectively state areas of difference. He went on to say that it was a job very well done. 

He asked the Surveyor General to be ready to give a presentation to the then Foreign Minister, Honorable Sh. Pranab Mukherjee, who then went on to become the President of India. After a few days, we went to the main conference hall of the MEA and awaited the arrival of the Foreign Minister. After a brief introduction, the Surveyor General of India and the Chief Hydrographer made their presentations. The Foreign Secretary told us to show the jointly surveyed maps, to the Honorable Minister, which were exchanged between the two countries. Sh. Pranab Mukherjee was very happy and applauded the Surveyor General and the Chief Hydrographer for an excellent job”.Pranab Mukherjee encouraged each one of us and left the conference room with smiling lips.

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This is in continuation with my previous post, posted today (14 Jul’2021 regarding my second book ‘Resonating Ripples’.

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Finally, my second book, ‘Resonating Ripples’, has seen the light of the day though its publication got delayed because of multiple reasons.

Firstly, while I was at the stage of completion of the book, a soldier friend of mine casually described a true incident narrated by his colleague who had led a ‘Search Party’ in a village in Kashmir. To say that I was deeply shaken by the incident would be an understatement. Rather it struck a chord deep within me to the extent that I weaved the incident into a short story - ‘An Earthen Cup of Homemade Curd’. I strongly feel that the people at large need to be acquainted with such facts amidst the prevailing turmoil in Kashmir. 

Secondly, due to the intermittent closure of the publishing house, located in Delhi, on account of lockdowns, from time to time, which no one could help. 

Thirdly, I lost my rev mother when the book was at the penultimate stage of publication. I longed that she should be part of the book in one way or the other. To do this I was left with no option but to pull back the book from the typographical designer when she had given the book her final finish. This is generally not encouraged by the publisher and it added to the delay.‘ 

Resonating Ripples’ is an abridgement of a true story with the banquet of poems. It may be pertinent to warn the readers that I have deviated from the normal way of book writing, prose or poetry, by attempting to introduce a ‘Connecting Chord ‘ rather, if I may say, a seamless abridgement of a true incident titled, ‘An Earthen Cup of Homemade curd’, with the bouquet of my poems. I am, however, not pretty sure to what extent I have succeeded in conducting the so-called intercommunity marriage between the two - though personally, I am happy with the quality of seamless continuity. 

It was on 30th June’ 21 that the publishers tinkled me that the book is published. By the time I received the author's copy, the publishers had already declared the book on Google, Play Books, Amazon, Flipkart, BlueRose Publishers and many readers had already ordered their copies.

Happy reading!

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THE     INNER     VOICE

We witness a stream of seamless tragedies on the TV channels and other media these days which squeeze our hearts but then maybe, with day after day reiterations, we have started getting used to such incidents.

However, in the recent past I was completely shaken to witness a scene on a TV channel where an old mother of a soldier was crying her lungs out - for they had brought home her son dead. On the same day, on some other channel I witnessed another scene where another old mother, of a militant, too cried her lungs out for, they had brought home her son dead.

The intensity and the language of crying of the two mothers were synonymous. Both mothers were bleeding blood from their eyes in the form of tears that streamed down their wrinkled faces; needless to say that the color of their tears would have been the same. The religion of mother hood must have been brutally hurt in both the cases. One wonders - when will the humanity rise over the man made issues so that such scenes don’t become a daily routine for the humanity to witness – may be the religion of motherhood can help – I wish it could! Some activist mothers need to stand up under one umbrella, come on the stage for, no mother in the world will like her son/daughter dead.

I happened to witness a similar tragedy in the past, of course in flesh and blood, that led me to quill a poem, ‘One More Wrinkle on Her Face’. The poem was commented by a few poets on an international poetry site – posting the poem down below, along with a few comments:

ONE MORE WRINKLE ON HER FACE

Under the silver strands of her grey hair, Her eyes – more half-shut than half-open. She wore a wrinkled face, With furrows dug deep and deeper within. Her face one could read like the text, Every wrinkle had a story to tell, Every furrow a tragedy to share, Some hidden, some buried deep within.

She peeped through the window of her top floor, Overlooking her garden, Spread out like a silken carpet, With colourful flowers woven all around. The garden with lush green trees, Many thick, many thin, with roots dug deep, Nay deeper into the ground, Stood very firm - apparently very sound.

Far away, in their evening dresses, With smiles on their pretty faces, The girls gathered for the folks, They filled the air all around with sweet songs. The soothing wind blew across, Freshened up whatever it came across, The lovely stream streamed across, It swayed in tune with the lovely songs.

In the flash of a moment, The burning winds came across the barbed wire, Denuded the trees, Swept off the flowers, one could smell the paws of death. The cruel winds blew across, Turned the garden into a sheet of coffin, Pushed the stream nearer to its death, It now gasped for its last breath.

She heard feeble cries and was called down, They had broken her crown, In a pool of blood, she saw her son lying down, They had brought him dead. The thick silver strand of her hair hovered, Like a cobra, it guarded her wrinkled face, But she didn’t weep nor did she cry, While wiping off the blood from his head.

One more wrinkle on a mother’s face, Another furrow chiseled deep within, Thunders echoed within her chest, That could devastate any strongest fence. But she neither made any oomph nor any cry, The poor mother didn’t even sigh, Tears hustled down her wrinkled face, Perhaps the only sound that she made in her silence.

© Pran Koul

A FEW COMMENTS

Atlanie: This is deep and dark. I like it a lot and hope to see more from you, keep writing.

David Abraham: well written, descriptive ...sad though!

Shir Hanochi: Sad and heartfelt, great poem!

Maria Shaw: So sad, beautifully written as always Pran, this touched my heart and soul.

Emma Court: Loneliness and loss! The description of despair and nature

sympathizing with loss is quite forceful and I found it to be emotionally evocative.

Diksha Panwar: Excellent poem, heart touching!

Rahul Raina: Wonderfully done Sir! Thank you

[generalmentions]

FATHERS’ DAY - EXTRACTS FROM MY BOOK ‘THE SILENCE SPEAKS’

(#TheSilenceSpeaks)

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FATHERS’ DAY - EXTRACTS FROM MY BOOK ‘THE SILENCE SPEAKS’

(#TheSilenceSpeaks)

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HOPE  -  A  GREAT  ASSET

       I have been apprehending whether the future generations in India will keep up the values of life that we Indians are otherwise known for. These values include, but are not limited to - respect towards elders/senior citizens, love/affection towards youngsters, help towards needy on the roadside and many more things.

        Even in the prevailing dark moments, I have seen some youngsters offering their seats in metros to senior citizens/ ladies though majority looks another side. I have observed some youngsters helping children and old men/women to cross roads at some critical junctures though a majority of people look another side. I have seen youngsters extending their valuable help to some accident victims at road side though a majority of people look another side.

        A few days back I had a valuable experience which I feel like sharing with you. I was caught in ferocious rains while driving at night, along with my family, from Gurgaon (Haryana, India) to Rajasthan. I had to make my car swim at many places where the rainwater had accumulated and turned roads into streams nay rivulets.

        I had to keep on driving in the dark till at one juncture there was a huge accumulation of rain water which had practically turned the so-called road into a lake. But some people ahead of me kept on driving through deep water, however, I didn’t notice them taking a detour - probably they knew the danger ahead. Unfortunately, I kept on driving ahead and was shaken to find that more than half of my vehicle had got immersed in deep water. I had probably run into a ditch. We were completely stuck up in the vehicle and didn’t dare to come out because the water had already found its entry into the vehicle.

        Having got stuck up in the lonely vehicle in dark, I couldn’t expect any help but to our good luck two young children of about (10-12) years of age walked through the knee deep water and wanted to push the vehicle but it was caught in deep water that too in a ditch. They caught hold of an adult who mentioned that no recovery vehicle was possible in that god forsaken place and at that odd hour.

        The two kids had an out of box solution and used their hands right up to their shoulders and legs to estimate the depth of water at various points. They thus guided me to maneuver through lesser depths till we finally hit the road.

        When we departed, I found smiles dancing on their innocent faces. In the heat of the moment, I forgot to ask them their names/whereabouts. Those two kids, supported by an adult, might have forgotten about the valuable help which they extended at a crucial point and in a crucial situation but the incident has left a permanent mark on my mind. God bless the kids! May they continue with their values of life! They made me see some light at the end of the tunnel.

        Yeah, hope is a great asset!

@Pran Koul

[generalmentions]

INSENSITIVE REMARK ON #OROP BY #ARUNJAITLEY

What a surprise? #ArunJaitley(FM) commented on #OROP, on TV yesterday, as if he was responding to  #RahulGhandi’s comment in the Parliament on #‘Soot Boot Ki Sarkar’! Never expected the Minister to be so casual in his remark which was impregnated with some sparks, suggestive of drawing a wedge between the officers and PBORs (Personnel Below Officer’s Ranks). It can be a dangerous political game.

Mr. Minister, please refrain from breaking the delicate threads that weave the soldiers of the Indian Armed Forces together as a team in serving our motherland both in war and peace.

You may be lucky to govern our country after losing your battle at the political front and will go off some day, from the scene, but the soldiers will always be there to win at all the fronts and at all costs. They are always expected to keep our Indian Flag flying high and higher and shall deliver both in war and peace and at all costs. I would invite you to read the article on #OROP, by our former Naval Chief that figured in #‘TheTimesofIndia’ dated 01 September, 2015.

Doesn’t matter if you cannot do good to the veterans of ‘Indian Armed Forces’ but at the same time don’t attempt to play political games with the veterans rather indirectly with the men in uniform – that probably would be your greatest service to the nation.

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From: Major General Pran Koul (Retd), Greater Noida (UP)

Rev. Amit Ji,

At the very outset please accept my greetings on the eve of your rev . mother’s birthday. On going through your blog I remembered my rev. mother because during major part of my life so far, I had been away from her mainly because of being in defence forces. Recently I authored a book, #TheSilenceSpeaks, which was releases by a serving Supreme Court Judge, on my  mother’s birthday - a great satisfaction for we both,  mother and the son.

I have dedicated a poem to her and feel it appropriate to include it here thinking that some motions may be common between us (the two sons):

The Symbol of Love

The silver strands of her curls, Hover across her crests n troughs, Spread all over her wrinkled face. Her face is an open record,  Every wrinkle adds to her beauty, Every furrow adds to her grace. Under the thin veil of her smile, Lies a treasure of untold stories, That she holds close to her chest. You need the craft to chisel softly, To dig in those wrinkles n furrows, For, at camouflaging, she is the best. The fabled beauty of her face, Like the moonlit sky, Radiates bliss all around. It rejuvenates my heart, My wandering mind, It secures my feet on solid ground. She taught me the tonality of life, From the rhythm of her heartbeats, When she pressed my head against her chest. The kisses she posts with her flowery lips,  Spread bonds of aroma, the mystic essence, That weaves me eternally to her nest. She is a symbol of ultimate love, An icon of selfless sacrifice, A beacon of hope in rough weather. Thus runs my standing ovation, To the religion of motherhood, From a son to his revered mother.

(PRAN KOUL)

With warm regards,

Major General Pran Koul (Retd)

Ni�m�%

DAY 2679

Jalsa, Mumbai                Aug 11/12,  2015              Tue/Wed  1:29 am

Before all else .. we have slipped into the next day August 12,  2015 and an auspicious day for me - my Mother’s birthday .. 

For long, in my early years I addressed her her as Amma ji, then it became Amma, then Maa .. and now Maa ji, if I need to have reference to her in conversation .. but honestly I loved Amma ji .. there was a bit of the ground the earth where I was born, Allahabad, in that address ..

But the reverence remained the same even if the number of letters in her calling diminished .. that never changes .. with all .. in all .. in various different regions of the world .. ‘Ma’ is the very first utterance from the child mouth .. the sound that we all that have had the experience of children know .. 

Many question me on why I never say much about my Mother .. always talking only about my Father .. 

How does one answer that .. can anyone have a justifiable answer to describe Mother .. or what she means to us all .. improbable, absolutely improbable to put in words in whatever language it be, to express MOTHER ..

And so one changes track to be with other words and expressions for the DAY… a day of promise and appointment .. a day of resetting the personal environ .. of books ignored being given pride of place and stature .. stature by constructing their home space, their shelves coloured, structured and painted in the style that symbolises elegance and intellectual property .. it is important .. important to position their presence and resting in a decoration that signifies quality and integrity .. somehow an environ where the individual is surrounded by library, by authors, by different subjects and titles, lends us to believe in the existence of ‘letters’ .. letters words that perhaps were given birth hundreds of years ago .. the element that facilitated conversation .. conversation that became the most important tool for communication .. a communication that has outlived all modern technological substitutes .. that has held us enthralled through the ages .. BUT only now in recent times, lending itself to a fear that it may all be lost and converted to visual communication ..

Not understanding ..?

Let me explain .. 

We spoke to each other, to convey what we wanted to say .. we matured into language and its writing ; another valuable addition to the art of communication .. we read and we wrote .. !!

BUT now we write not on paper .. we write on digital screens, we send messages commonly jargonned as ‘sms’ … when we want to convey we need not be in the presence of the other, a condition which was taken away from us when telephony took over as a remarkable discovery .. now we communicate through videos .. we record our conversation and speak to each other by conveying through a visual .. be it Skype or FaceTime, the technology has done away with certain basics that remained with us for a much much longer period than what it configures today .. today configurations change within weeks and days ..

I think we as a population of the world, speak a lot lesser now, than what we did 50 years ago .. verbal .. through the sound boxes of our body systems .. how we shall be communicating 50 years from now is a science fiction probability, unheard or thought of .. 

We live in a fascinating world .. but we shall leave behind a greater world for our next ..

But there is more for the day .. 

They make me the Brand Ambassador for Tiger for the State of Maharashtra .. the State that has the largest number of tigers in the country .. I believe 199 .. from a total of 2200+ .. I feel honoured and privileged and shall do my utmost for the preservation and growth of this very special cat .. 

The image of the Tiger in the pictures is a hand made replica and has been presented to me today by the Hon Minister .. those that shall visit me next shall be witness to this art work at Janak ..

There is the International Youth Day too .. to inspire motivate and give them, who now in our country India, form the largest percentage of youth in the world, a recognition of their importance and hence their responsibilities towards the Nation ..

And then there is ‘Aarakshan’ .. the film that marks 4 years of its presence .. a topic that has been debated and expressed by different parties in different ways and reactions .. one that brought up sensitive issues prevailing ..

And finally there is me .. with you and along with you each and every day ..

With love and admiration ..

Amitabh Bachchan

[generalmentions]

THE SYMBOL OF LOVE

After completion of my routine morning walk, followed by some mild indulgence in the gym, I returned home and pulled a garden chair to the edge of our lawn – fully convinced that I had earned a hot cup of tea and two light biscuits which my wife awaits to offer me at that juncture. This well earned cup of tea, punctuated by the perusal of the news paper headlines, rejuvenated and set me rolling for the day!

Amidst the sips of hot tea, I observed that our ailing gardener was toiling selflessly, as usual, irrespective of whether someone observed him or not. However, the green attire that our lawns wear, that too during this harsh summer, speaks volumes about the love that he possesses for his job – a bright example of selfless devotion to duty (#PMModi may take notice of such common men).  

Suddenly I remembered the gardener who has been maintaining the garden of my life; in spite of occasional weather storms which creep up from time to time and some of them have been pretty rough. The feeling became so intense that I couldn’t avoid penning down to record my honest feelings about her, who at least for me, is the symbol of selfless love.

The Symbol of Love by Pran Koul

The silver strands of her curls, Hover across her crests n troughs, Spread all over her wrinkled face. Her face is an open record,  Every wrinkle adds to her beauty, Every furrow adds to her grace. Under the thin veil of her smile, Lies a treasure of untold stories, That she holds close to her chest. You need the craft to chisel softly, To dig in those wrinkles n furrows, For, at camouflaging, she is the best. The fabled beauty of her face, Like the moonlit sky, Radiates bliss all around. It rejuvenates my heart, My wandering mind, It secures my feet on solid ground. She taught me the tonality of life, From the rhythm of her heartbeats, When she pressed my head against her chest. The kisses she posts with her flowery lips,  Spread bonds of aroma, the mystic essence, That weaves me eternally to her nest.

She is the symbol of ultimate love, An icon of selfless sacrifice, A beacon of hope in rough weather. Thus runs my standing ovation, To the religion of motherhood, From a son to her revered mother.

© Pran Koul

 Comments copied from Allpoetry.com 

Neha Chaudhry - Wow! An exquisite ode to a mother.  You crafted it with amazing imagery and creativity. Thinking of silver locks, face with wrinkles.. An epitome of pure white serenity in her winter.  The last stanza is mesmerizing. Indeed, a mother is an icon of selfless sacrifice. Beautiful work! 

4 days ago   reply

Pran Koul - Thanks Neha for the appreciation. If I may tell you that you have crafted your review with chosen words in such a way that the review is a treat to peruse - may be under the shadow of a mother many mesmerizing things happen.

4 days ago

Neha Chaudhry - It was my pleasure, sir. Well, thanks. 

4 days ago

William Rout - This is the most endearing tribute to any mother that I've read so far Pran, it holds such a reverence in its lines, I don't think I've ever read of wrinkles being expressed so lovingly, just so well done... Blessings... Will

4 days ago   reply

Pran Koul - Thanks William for your review and it makes me happier that the poem, in a way, helps the flag of motherhood to fly high and higher. Long live all mothers!

4 days ago

CherryOnTop - ← Pran, this is such a heart enduring write. Full of reverence and beauty. There are far to many beautiful lines to try and pick a favorite. Your words reach deep in the soul of the reader. Truly a pleasure to read.

This is a group contest and we are glad you entered. Make sure that you join our group Speak To Me for future contest.

7 days ago   reply

Pran Koul - ← Thanks Cherry. You have been very liberal in your comments - a lot of oxygen for me to keep me focused on poetry. Please tell me how I join YOUR GROUP and also how to be in touch with you and your group.