In this poem, the poet Dr. Prabhakar Machwe, analyzes the source of genius, and where it comes from.
The poet wants to know where genius is born. In palaces? On carpets? On a bed of roses? In the anxiety of the elderly? In the shouting or the excited cry of ****? The poet wants to know where genius lives.
Then the poet himself says about genius, that she is the queen of day-dreams. The artist points towards a lump of clay and says that that is genius, and the painter gathers his instruments to produce something artistic implying that genius is in it. The singer says that genius **** in the divine voice.
Does only imagination qualify as a genius? Is genius the delicate ***** of braided thought? Can only novel astonishment be called genius? Or is it a productive technique? Is genius the language of the tantriks? Or is genius the verses of the theoreticians? Is genius the chemistry of perception? Or is it the quivering fish in deep waters?
Then, the poet receives an answer from genius itself. Genius herself says that she lives in unending difficulty and suffering. She lives in the tireless believer who constantly battles to move ahead in life, and she lives in people who undertake such difficult tasks as standing on the sharp edge of a sword.
