Epic Great War Oils New World Battle in Diaspora High Seas
Dr Kris Rampersad 
New World EPIC War for Peace battles Gita Ceebrating revelation of Bhagavad Gita Dr Kris Rampersad EPIC Landscapes & Mindscapes of Heritage & History
Did someone say war? So what’s a War without an EPIC, or an EPIC without a War, eh.? See sneak peak video above and subscribe also to my You channel!
Offering a sneak peak at my EPIC WAR for Peace from the unfolding MultiMedia MicroEpic Landsapes & Mindscapes of Heritage & History as we commemorate the 5000th anniversary of the revelation of the Bhagavad Gita, one of the world’s most enduring epics. Observed globally as Gita Mahotsav, Gita Jayanti, or the birth of the Bhagavad Gita, it is the period when Lord Krishna delivered his timeless teachings to Arjuna on the battlefield of Kurukshetra.
Here is a preview of my creation of a New World extension of the Gita as expressed through the world’s newest creative genre, the Multimedia MicroEpic of the Anthropocene. This segment of my EPIC, Divine Dialogue on the Battlefield of Diaspora, adapts and extends the Gita’s eighteen chapters into a contemporary, globalised frame, encompassing the lived experiences of the world’s largest diasporas and the unfolding Divine Dialogue in the War for Peace and Sovereignty in the digital age within the crises feeding this fraught culmination of the Anthropocene.
This new rendering draws on revelations encountered during my journeys through Kurukshetra and other epic districts, forming part of the evolving EPIC Landscapes & Mindscapes of Heritage and History.
Composed over 5,000 years ago at the dissolution of an epoch, the Bhagavad Gita survived through oral transmission. Krishna’s counsel, delivered on Shukla Ekadashi, the eleventh day of the waxing moon in the month of Margashirsha continues to resonate each year when the lunar calendar shifts the celebration between December and January. Today, the Gita’s teachings are invoked globally, informing corporate leadership, community guidance, personal introspection, and the moral confrontations demanded by modern life.
I dedicate this work to my first Guru in Gita, my nonagenarian cousin Pariag, one of the diaspora’s most eminent scholars of the Gita, albeit under-recognised. My earliest immersion in its verses predates formal schooling, nourished through nine-night Bhagavat Gita renderings within our community. In the mandir Pariag established on lands founded by our great-grandfather, guided by profound appreciation of its value by Pariag, I engaged in close readings of the Gita, savouring its poesy, philosophy, and paradoxes, well before I was of legal school age.
This was part of community-based education, ‘Sunday School’. It was akin to an unacknowledged Gurukul system that was transplanted by our painfully persevering ancestors despite ridicule and institutional resistance as I detail in the groundbreaking dissertation, since published a Finding A Place (which has also become one of our suppressed legacy). It provides significant evidence of how such informal education was rooted into our communities to function as a social bridge for adaptation and society-formation as well as a counterforce to colonial education and cultural erasure. These suppressed legacies now feed into my multimedia epic, as re-visioning the Gita, embedded within my unfolding EPIC Landscapes and Mindscapes of Heritage and History from a lifetime of journeys that animate the Multimedia MicroEpic, the creative genre that absorbs and adapts eastern and western Epic forms delivered as lyrical prose, poetic and philosophy amalgamating Epic heoric and mock heroic styles over the ages for new age multimedia which I continue to evolve for a world in transformation.
This diaspora element encompasses the social evolution that Finding a Place, now out of print details as it delves into the indentured immigrants first hundred and fifty years of efforts for intellectual and other inclusion alongside other groups in the society which is now being expanded for multimedia rendering. To support development or explore collaborations and integrations with your corporate, community or global outreach initiatives, make contact.
Excerpts from EPIC Landscapes & Mindscapes of Heritage & History – MultiMedia MicroEpic of the Anthropocene
Prologue to New Age Epic War for Peace (Sneak Peak)
At Jyotisar, On the Battlefield of Kurukshetra
The sun is nearing high noon on the battle fields of Kurukshetra, now known as Jyotisar, the place where Krishna delivered the Bhagavad Gita to the world through Arjuna.
It blazes ancestral fire, searing the soles of my bare feet as I tread ground trampled by warriors of another epoch.
War Drums
As I bow to roots, of the 5000-year old Banyan at Jyotisar, the clang of chariots echo from the bearded banyan, drum a war cry that might be eons removed, but hauntingly familiar in the confusion of a world perpetually at war with itself heralded by today’s news criers, trumpeting war.
‘Hardly different now, from then,’ the voice that lilts in the air has the timbre of leaves chitter-chattering, semi-amused.
‘Five Thousand Years ago …’
In this place where Lord Krishna guided Arjuna to face the battle of life, immortalized as the Bhagavad Gita, the air reverberates EPIC history layered in the storms of contemporary chaos that brings me here to process.
‘Stand and fight or withdraw and retreat.’ The leaves mutter as if in mockery that I knew the discourse so the decision and course of action should not be that difficult!
My journey to India this time seemed the latter, having, for too long, stood to fight, the flight seemed pre-ordained, as this, the final days of my near four-month retreat which impelled my feet to these fields.
Rerouting, Rerooting and Replanting Culture
The day earlier, I was thumbing through 15,000 year-old Panda records of lineages passed through generations I traced in Finding A Place who replanted Gurukul traditions into families and community to contest conversion, much the same as they planted sugarcane in painstaking steps on western soil. Parents, Pundits, Imams led the counterforce to conversion taught the ancient epics as Bhagavad Gitaand its Mahabharata and Ramayan, as Sadhu Siewdass had planted his Temple in the Caribbean Sea, stone by resisting stone, affirming ancient interconnections of previous crossings.
Minutes earlier circumnavigating the temple, I recited such Gita verses on its walls. They bring back sharply the time spent as a child, absorbing Gita, sometime the only one at the village ‘Sunday School’ my cousin, Pariag – who remains one of the diaspora’s preeminent Gita scholars now in his 90s – conducted. He had just returned from India and his manner of dress – a loose cloth hung like a skirt, rathern than dhoti, over his waist – and intense commitment to intellectual pursuits stood out as an oddity in our village evolving into Western culture. My journey’s into our ancestral districts in fact unearth the deep-seated intellectual traditions distorted with attempted erasue and ridicule in the colonial processes.
From Kurukshetra walls, Gita’s now familiar verses popped our larger than life: discussions on Life, Death, Duty, Dharma, Courage, Conviction and the nature of Self and Soul.
Eons Consumed In Fire, Dissolved in Water
A month earlier I was lighting a symbolic pyre to consume the demoness Holika in a remote village and with it burning off accumulated grime that settled on our generations, as I had washed off millennia of generational Karma in the sacred flow of the Ganges in the City of Infinity following a dive with divinity at the Sacred Sangam where the universe converged for the Maha Kumbh Mela.
Propelled onto the Battlefield
As I was preparing my return home, I am propelled here to the battle that fielded the fight that dissolved the world eons ago.
Between alternative universes of then, and this now, where a battle rages anew of similar proportions over my piece of earth I stand on the threshold of worlds. What is now an epilogue to these journeys, has become the prelude and prologue to a new War in the World Wide West.
Converging Streams of Interconnections
Barefoot on the dusty fields, my shadow stretches far longer than my actual height, augmented in proportion to the fourth and fifth generations of my ancestry who crossed forbidden oceans to our dark continents carrying with them the illuminating stories of gods, goddesses, deities, demons and devtars in enduring battles for survival embedded in these soils.
My lineage, as a river, wind through time intersects at the sangam of traditional migrant streams where pre-Columbian first peoples, merge with Ganga-Yamuna-Yangtse Asian descendants and Nile-Niger heritage of Africa in a continental-Caribbean isles brewed from cane stalks that made a similar crossing.
Self-sustaining economies
The cane arrows I passed enroute from Pandas of Haridwar to Kurukshetra waved me to stop at the smoking chimney emitting nostalgic scents of the now defunct Usine Ste Madeline sugar cane factory of childhood.
Its fragrance fill the air into full stature of self-assertion, flagrantly defing the gnawing global diabetic menace industrialization and capitalist colonial processes made it, to sucked independence, identity and autonomy out of generations.
Witnessing at its root, I had seen enterprises as these, rising now as the Grand Mother land emerges from colonial oppression, as self-sustaining cottage or district factories, industries of sectors that support families and communities as candy-makers from sugar syrup. (More on that in AuthenTHINK sustainability engagements, book now!)
Primeval Innocence Denied Place
Before partitioned borders, these communities, transplanted to our world’s ends, were still holding on to primeval innocence as one, undivided, indivisible, the ethic of the communal intercultural society-forming, I unearthed in tracing their journeys for my dissertation, that morphed into Finding a Place. Denied its place in reshaping the education ethos and ethics by officials purporting to be gatekeepers of education who also denied development decades of progress out of colonial shackles for which our region still reaches. Yes, Finding a Place was banned in places of hire lorning because it doesn’t conform to the prevailing preconditioned neo-massa narrative of Westernisation! Lol!
So fleeing that place that denies me my equal place for temporary reprieve in the bosom of the Grandmother-land, toting Rama’s exiled bow to deliver to the global gathering of returned Pravasi on ancient Odissa.
In its ancient city of Bhubaneshwar now a beacon boasting of the western world’s major chain brands, blossoms as the frontier from which one eon transferred its experience to the New World, I reconnect to lost linkages. Clues, hidden in plain sight in the clear light of day, embedded in ancient temple walls, speak of interconnections that predate colonisation by millennia. (More on that in the unfolding EPIC – Landscapes and Mindscapes of Heritage & History – to support development, make contact!)
New Age War of Peace
Such entrepreneurship, innovation and self-reliance were Dhanush/bow, arrow and shield our migrating ancestors took from these soils to bolster their resilience and secure their dignity of being. Now firmly rooted in distant diaspora parts, it feeds the flames that will guide this New Age War for Peace and restore development on a path to righteous equality and equity.
As great grand Daughter of Diaspora, rupture and passage, named for the God with the ethereal Flute which sounds lured Ma back to her ancestral lands in her transition between bodies, luring me too, to bring full circle to millennia of cycles of journeying and discovering…
Homecoming Ancestral Music
Her songs I heard, carried in the Bhojpuri wind as homecoming to Bihar atop the shrine of Ma Mundeshwari, in the ancestral language on which my tongue falters, as an alien vocabulary and diction never fully reclaimed, just as the incongruous hang of the traditional ancestral attire in which I am garbed, my frame and gait made for styles and fashion of an alternative path.
Barefoot sun sears feet as head
Now, as barefooted, I touch the soil of Kurukshetra at Jyotisar, the sun seeping through feet as head in this pre-Moonsoon midmorn, the forever CEIBA-banyan sporting its millennia-old ole-man’s beard and multiple arms beacon me to shelter in its shade, lilting basuri welcome from its musical Leaves of Life, ‘Oh returned exiled Daughter of Diaspora, Wanderer of Worlds….’
It is far from the school and other corridors of presumed Peace where accents are mocked, paper wrapped rotis scoffed at; cultural beliefs and practices forced into defense mode sometimes even with fists and in tones of matching violence. Far from the border checkpoints where travel documents are doubted: ‘Is Trinidad a real place?’ The India immigration officer had asked his colleague, looking doubtfully my Passport in a citizen label he does not recognise.
One-on-One Stage Set for Divine Dialogue
Guided here on this rare day with none of the multitudes that usually flood Indian sacred sites, I am virtually alone, on the Epic Battlefield as I was at times in the Gita Sunday School, exccept for teacher! That’s when the sacred tree opens its Leaves of Life, – incidentally the name of the NGO for knowledge retrieval that officials have tried to deny from existence for well over a decade!)
The CEIBA-Banyan Tree of Life, not mythical, real to the touch, speaks through these Leaves of Life, its wisdom, to the remaining elusive answers to my lifelong Epic quest: To Find the Place Where Knowledge Lives… even if we all cease to be!
My head against its aged trunk, Kurukshetra seemingly sheaths its swords and downs its shields (little did I know). CEIBA-Banyan leaves call out my name as Ma at my birthing, truncated through life’s byline as Kris and now, here, reclaiming full form in an eternal ethereal echo of Krishna’s basuri.
With this preamble, here are some excerpts from this evolving new world Epic, a Bhagavad Gita of Diaspora, of the successor new age Mahabharata War, the modern day Maharani of All Battles, abrewing in my corner of the world, at the cornerstone where our continents separated, and now reconverge for the birth a New Age Civilisation in A New World Order….
(Excerpted from developing EPIC – Prolongue and Preliminary Sections of the MultiMedia MicroEpic On the Battlefield of Kurukshetra
Divine Dialogues of Diaspora: Bonus Sneak Peak
Divine Dialogue on the Battlefield of Diaspora Between Kris & Krishna, Pravasi in Kurukshetra conveyed through the CEIBA-Banyan basuri lilting Leaves of Life to a Grand Daughter of Diaspora
Excerpts from EPIC Landscapes & Mindscapes of Heritage and History:
Kris: Pravasi, Daughter of Diaspora
Upon this field where silence veils the fight,
How shall I pierce the fog that shrouds the light?
Krishna: CEIBA-Banyan Basuri lilting Leaves of Life
The false may glitter, loud with borrowed flame,
Yet truth endures, untouched by fads’ fleeting fame.
Kris: Aare Bhagwan! Media’s chariot twists each tale awry,
Its wheels of bias crush the seeker’s cry.
Krishna: Judge not by noise, but by the heart’s clear tone,
Experience is the lamp that guides your own.
Kris: Entrenched in blindness, men refuse to see,
Their chains of habit mock reality.
Krishna: Blindness dissolves not by the sword’s demand,
But by the patient touch of Dharma’s hand.
Kris: Then what is duty when the world deceives,
And fakedom thrives on what the crowd believes?
Krishna: Your task is not to force the blind to sight,
But live the truth until it shines as light.
Kris: Pravasi, Daughter of Diaspora (musing)
Aarey Baap Ray! So wisdom flows beneath this banyan’s shade,
A timeless counsel that shall never fade…
Krishna: CEIBA-Banyan Basuri lilting Leaves of Life
Stand firm, Pravasi, Wanderer of Worlds, let your spirit be,
A root of truth within eternity.
Kris: Diaspora hearts are torn by exile’s pain,
Heritage dismissed as loss, fossil, social stain.
Krishna: Yet roots unseen still nourish this ancient tree family,
Rooted in far places, resilience blooms through shared identity.
Kris: Pravasi, Daughter of Diaspora
Faiths divided, walls of creed arise,
Siblings turn from sister’s pleading eyes.
Krishna: CEIBA-Banyan Basuri lilting Leaves of Life
Let your Multicultural Faiths’ compassion be your art,
For love alone heals any fractured heart.
Kris: Pravasi, Daughter of Diaspora
Our voices on margins, cry out to be heard,
Yet bias drowns the truth in every word.
Krishna: CEIBA-Banyan Basuri lilting Leaves of Life
Sing boldly still, for silence is defeat,
Your song of struggle shapes bitter struggle to sweet.
Kris: Pravasi, Daughter of Diaspora
But how to stand when storms of slander rage,
And fakedom rewrites heritage as myth on history’s page?
Krishna: CEIBA-Banyan Basuri lilting Leaves of Life
Stand firm in Dharma, let your spirit Rise, Rise, Rise
Truth’s CEIBA-Banyan wisdom outlasts data cloud’s shape-shifting skies. (Sneak peak of 108 verses of Divine Dialogues on Diaspora)
Up Next in the War for Peace Sneak Peak
Melissa’s Raging Storm for Peace: Sermon from the Blue Mount’s All-Seeing Ancient Eye of Wisdom
When the Smoke Clears: Globe’s Zones of Peace in Pieces
Resolution and Dissolution: Ode to the Anthropocene
Who is Dr Kris Rampersad
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