C L Khatri born in 1965 is a bilingual poet writing in English and Hindi, editor of Cyber Literature A Bi-annual Journal of English Studies, The Indian Journal of English Studies and college magazine " Sanket" and several anthologies of criticism. He is a well-known critic, reviewer, author and translator. Currently working as a Professor, T P S College, Patna, Bihar, INDIA.
Life
C L Khatri was born on 11 December,1965 at a village Lakhawar in Jehanabad, Bihar, had his early education there and graduation from College of Commerce, Arts and Science, Patna. He did his M.A. and Ph.D from Patna University, Patna. He joined as a Lecturer in English, Magadh University, Bodhgaya, and then was posted at S S College, Jehanabad before moving to T P S College, Patna in 2001. He delivered several guest lectures to M.Phil students at Indian School of Mines, Dhanbad, Jharkhand. He also served as Dean Students' Welfare and Inspector of Colleges at Patliputra University, Patna from July,2018 to September,2019.
Works
Besides academics, he has been pursuing his literary career. As an editor of Cyber Literature he has edited the journal regularly since 1997 and has been editing the college magazine " Sanket" for more than a decade and was elected as Editor-in-Chief of The Indian Journal of English Studies in the All India English Teachers' Conference held at Osmania University, Hyderabad 2017. Dr Khatri is the author of twenty six books including three books of translation in collaboration with Prof Ram Bhagwan Singh, and 34 research papers, around 40 book-reviews, and four poetry collections in English and one in Hindi.
His poems are widely published in India and abroad, anthologised and translated into Chinese, Oriya, Bangala, Urdu and Hindi languages.
Jogi ji wah Jogi ji
Someone is looking for emerald,
Someone is looking for diamond, I'm looking for my Joginia (beloved)
Jogi ji wah1 Jogi ji.....2
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Once Again
Once again weather is getting worked up
drunk with the drink of pre-monsoon shower,
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The drops of first shower of the season
perched on her lips like dew drops on leaves
hanging from her sharp pointed nose
dripping from her short hairs in soft tumult
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As I am growing old
I am losing hold
On my desires bold
Like leaves falling in cold.
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I KISSED A FISH
Yester-night I met with a bizarre accident
gurgling Ganga was flowing over me
water as transparent as that of Rhine.
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