Q — If you had a magic wand to change anything about your present or past—events, situations, people, views, words—what would they be and why?
Practically, it is impossible to retrieve even a moment that has slipped through our fingers. Yet, if we imagine possessing a magic wand capable of editing our past—our ideas, actions, and circumstances—I would change a few situations that proved deeply disturbing in my life. The first was the extreme poverty of my early years. It was dehumanising and filled me with a quiet dislike for the village I came from. I have very few happy memories, and those are tied only to my mother, my sister, and my father, who was helpless to provide for us because circumstances had forced him out of business. I certainly wish this had not been so.
We often believe that life has something in store for us and that we must abide by fate. Yet there was no wisdom in leaving Chandigarh and joining a post 250 km away in Mandi Dabwali. I also wish I had not accepted the Principal’s job at DAV College, Bathinda. I wanted to be a lecturer, and I became one. I wanted to be a poet, and I became that too. The overall drift of my life does not disappoint me. The end result is nearly satisfying. Happiness is an idea; satisfaction is another. I continue my pursuit of self‑exploration and feel content with the journey.
Q — What would today’s Dr. Anand advise the child, youth, or adult Jernail Singh?
If you are born in poverty, the only option is struggle—single‑minded devotion to your objectives, never looking sideways, always moving forward, and taking misfortunes in your stride. Scarcity taught me to fight for my ideals, and honest labour became my foundation. I would advise young Jernail to confront circumstances and achieve his goals. There is no shortcut to immortality; that lies in God’s hands. We must work within our powers and let God witness our honest efforts—efforts that harm no one, not even the cosmos. That is what I want my younger self to learn: stay focused, grateful, and responsible.
Q — If you were not a writer, what might you have pursued?
Had I not become a writer, I would have continued as a Lecturer in the Department of English and likely ended my career as a Principal, perhaps even a Vice‑Chancellor. Writing made me disinterested in administrative roles, which felt like a drag. A VC has no time for himself or his family. Even as Principal, I was pressed for time and could not write much. My literary career gained momentum only after my retirement in 2015. In 2016, I visited Italy and Nigeria, and thereafter my work expanded rapidly, now crossing 200 books.
Q — What do you enjoy pursuing other than writing?
I enjoy walking in nature. I am a regular morning walker and often go to the fields and a small forest near my home. It is a joy to begin the day with the fresh smell of greenery, trees, and sometimes peacocks flying overhead. Occasionally, other wild animals appear, including serpents. Birds of many species accompany my walks. Earlier, before urbanisation overtook both sides of the slender road, there were birds of many feathers. Now, with bus horns, cars, and growing population, many have withdrawn. Still, squirrels, nightingales, and cuckoos remain and enliven my mornings and evenings.
Beyond this, I enjoy Urdu serials and browsing YouTube for news. I have organised around seven world poetry conferences and remain in constant touch with friends across the globe, inspiring young poets toward better work.
Q — What mishaps or mistakes guided you toward your destiny?
I recall one mistake that helped me move forward: forgetfulness—what I call memory leaps. Romantic people often suffer from it. I am reminded of Robert Lynd’s essay Forgetting, where he says players are the most forgetful people, and we are most casual with posting letters.
When I worked at Punjab Agricultural University, Ludhiana, I typed a letter and sent it to the Head for signatures. He rang a long bell meant for me. When I entered, he asked the date. I answered correctly. Then the month—I hesitated but got it right. Then the year—1976. He showed me the letter where all three were wrong. I apologised, but he issued an explanation letter. I replied that I was sorry and added that stenos are allowed ten percent marks during selection. This infuriated him, and he wrote in my Confidential Report that I was “forgetful.”
Looking at the reverse side of this incident, it is clear I was not meant to retire as a stenographer. And indeed, by March 1977, I joined Panjab University, Chandigarh, in the office of the Dean Student Welfare, located in the most vibrant part of the campus—the Students’ Centre.
Q — What are you most proud of—personally or professionally.
Many moments have made me proud, though I believe in humility. The greatest was seeing my name inscribed on the Poets’ Rock in Serbia. The Charter of Morava, Honorary Membership of the Serbian Writers Association, the Seneca Award (Italy), and the Franz Kafka and Maxim Gorky Awards—all were achievements anyone would cherish. The honour grew manifold when I realised Rabindranath Tagore too had been conferred Honorary Membership of the Serbian Writers Association.
Another proud moment was receiving the Honoris Causa Doctoral Degree from the University of Engineering and Management, Jaipur, at its 9th Convocation.
Yet the moment that truly changed my life was learning I had secured 55% in M.A. English, enabling me to join Lectureship—the dream I had pursued with passion.
Q — What would you like people to remember most about you?
Only that I believed in cosmic wisdom and tried to accomplish the tasks assigned to me by the Muse. Poetry is an inborn passion; it cannot be acquired through training. I revived the epic tradition in a postmodern world. I am not a critic of science and technology; I welcome change. Just as we mine the earth for its secrets, we must mine the human mind with the help of science. But science and technology have no mind of their own; they are driven by those who wield them. I wish humanity to cultivate moral clarity and train future generations to remain focused. Science is a tool, not a replacement for human consciousness. The greatest possibilities lie not in machines but in the human mind—and in knowing its limits.
DR JERNAIL S. ANAND
Dr. Jernail S. Anand, with 200 books to his credit—including 20 epics—is a Chandigarh‑based polymath and a leading architect of 21st‑century ethical literature. His seminal work Lustus: The Prince of Darkness challenges the moral complacency of our era.
Founding President of the International Academy of Ethics and Laureate of the Charter of Morava (Serbia), Seneca (Italy), Franz Kafka (Germany, Ukraine, Czech Republic), and Maxim Gorky (Russia), his name is inscribed on the Poets’ Rock in Serbia. He is an Honorary Member of the Serbian Writers Association, Belgrade. Anand’s poetics unite ethics, Vedic spirituality, social critique, and the philosophy of meaning. A moral philosopher, professor, and international speaker, he has devoted his research to the ethical dimension of language, the responsibility of the individual in a globalised society, and the relationship between matter, consciousness, and transcendence.
RUPA RAO
An army child, Rupa Rao is a biographer, poet, writer, editor, and curator who holds an MBA and a Law degree. She serves as an admin at LWG and is Chief Coordinator for the International Academy of Ethics. Featured in multiple global anthologies, magazines, and literary platforms, she enjoys hosting poetry sessions, author interactions, nature walks, and yoga. She has curated and authored anthologies—poetry, short stories, and interviews—and penned Dr. Anand’s biography. She has also edited a fantasy novella and three poetry collections for fellow writers.
