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"Angel?" by Atul Kaushal is a captivating poem that delves into the theme of loneliness and the intervention of divine beings in human lives. The poem narrates the poignant story of a lonely sailor who encounters an angel in the form of a mermaid. This transformation of the angel into a mermaid serves as a metaphor for the complexities of human emotions and the fluctuating nature of spiritual encounters.

Kaushal expertly weaves together imagery of the sea, the sky, and the ethereal presence of the angel to evoke a sense of mystery and wonder in the reader. The juxtaposition of the vast, unforgiving sea with the fragile, otherworldly angel creates a powerful contrast that underscores the sailor's feelings of isolation and longing for connection.

The poet skillfully employs symbolism throughout the poem, using the mermaid as a symbol of transformation and the sailor as a symbol of human vulnerability. The interaction between the sailor and the angel highlights the universal themes of yearning for companionship, redemption, and a sense of purpose in a seemingly indifferent world.

Furthermore, the structure of the poem, with its rhythmic cadence and carefully chosen words, enhances the emotional impact of the narrative. The poet's use of concise language and evocative imagery draws the reader into the sailor's inner world, allowing them to experience his solitude and eventual salvation through the angel's ethereal presence.

In conclusion, "Angel?" by Atul Kaushal is a thought-provoking exploration of loneliness, transcendence, and the transformative power of divine intervention. Through its masterful use of symbolism, imagery, and structure, the poem offers a profound reflection on the human condition and the enduring search for connection and meaning in a vast and often indifferent universe.

On May 7, 2010, I had had met with a life-threatening road accident that put me in a 23-day comatose state and a minimally conscious vegetative state for 3 months thereafter.
A former friend led me to this beautiful platform created by our Eliot York, the computer engineer from England.
I had written a grand poem about how I felt about the ethos and pathos of romance in my spiritual account.
Born as an only child to my parents in our nuclear family, I developed high affinity towards any kind of love, affection and attention sent my way. Consequently, I tried to collate with an ideal lover, but she was always an illusion.

Unfortunately over the years, I kept breaking up with consecutive girlfriends due to miscellaneous reasons. But having written the poem that I call ‘Angel?’ has helped me receive such admiration for it such that I have realized that the love I seek outside has actually been always housed in my heart.

In the accident, I lost all my friends as all of them moved on. I can't blame them. Everyone has an own life to live. And why would anybody wait for a man who is academically and physically challenged?

Although now I'm a successful professional in the public sector and I'll soon transit to government sector.

I feel grateful to everyone here who I have read or who has expressed liking for my poetry.

Thank you everyone for teaching me one thing or the other.

My father can't read 7 of my most proud creations... Can you please check if the link is alive for you?

My poems, novels, and original music might be discovered by some alien civilization someday. Why do I express faith in aliens? My real-world people and other inhabitants of the planet are too self-absorbed.

I don't blame anyone. I can’t blame anyone. Who would I spare if I begin judging?

Strangers seem apathetic, but what have my people done for me? My former friends, colleagues and distant relatives all refuse to even read my free poems.

I have stopped expecting. What good would be a mechanical marriage be? If you can't admire my art and validate my efforts in life, why should I marry you?

If I were a rich kid to start with, I'd have hired a public relations manager. I'd pump millions to build my image. I'd have everyone read even my premium novels.

And then you'd have seen, I'd probably have been happy.

They have seen me smile a lot. I have a smiling face like my father. But is happiness all about smiling? Is it about killing my desire for validation and acceptance, for admiration and appreciation?

Why do I expect validation? Because they have invalidated my existence. They collectively considered me an inconsequential fool after I endured brain-damaging injuries in that coma-inducing, high-speed bike accident on May 7, 2010.

People are sadists. They are happy presuming negatives about me just because I survived that accident. I expected acceptance from her, but she was too self-absorbed for imparting such healing effects.

I shouldn't have agreed to get married to her. Why? She started avoiding me next day onwards. It's not like her work kept her busy. She had all the time for Instagram Reels. When I objected, she misbehaved further.

She called my art outdated. The injuries have healed almost completely. However, I can’t heal from the misgivings. And not just because of her. Even my colleagues, friends and relatives have invalidated my efforts to rise from the depths of depression.

They cited their busyness whenever I requested them to read my premium novels, or even experience my free poetry, or listen to my free music.

From her I expected validation and empathy, understanding and acceptance. But all she gave me was indifference and apathy. She should've understood my situation after more than a decade of social boycott I have faced due to my temporarily disabled state. And she's doing her course in special education, where teachers ought to inculcate the virtues of empathy and kindness. She didn't have any of it. She just reminded me of the apathetic society.

The society had suggested my parents to help me establish a roadside candy stall because they thought (or rather hoped) that I may never get back to normal life after such a major road accident. Their small minds made them presume that similar to Bollywood movies, I'd never completely return to a normal life. They even gave me the nickname of Ghajini after figuring out that I have the diagnosis of short-term memory loss.

I not only completed my pending B.Tech., but I also attained a postgraduate M.Tech. in Animal Biotechnology. They still judged me negatively. During the PhD course, they set up impediments. The obstacles they presented me with were both moral and systemic. I understood that they were not educated enough to help such special cases as me.

I'm professionally successful, and I have ample investments too. But I dearly required the world to read my novels and poems, and even listen to my free music back at that time. It'd validate my existence. However, now I figure out that I’m not ever going to be validated by anyone.

Now I feel hopeless about the future of the human society. For more than 15 years, I've been experiencing such ignorance. They didn't read even the novels I gifted to them, the thankless people.

I'm sorry to say, the society has disappointed me. They refused to give me an opportunity to prove that my worth is beyond the physical limitations after the cataclysmic accident.

Now I'm creating a dystopian future by writing predictive fiction. In my 2021-novel titled "Swansong: A Tribute?" I had accurately predicted the ongoing hostilities between Bhaarat and Pakistan.

Next, in the same novel, I predicted a China-centric World War in near future. They don't pay attention to my words. But I have a knack for predicting things.

Why should anyone pay attention to my words? Who am I?
I'm just a lucky survivor.