About the Poet
The underlying concept of the poet as creator is not uncommon
Bhanubhai Vyas the author of gujarati story. He was born in Rajkot, India on November 13th 1913 Swapnastha (Bhanubhai Vyas) was an Indian author, translator, publisher & editor. His father’s name was Ranchod Dutt Vyas and mother’s name was Triveni Vyas. He was the great grandson of the famous musician “Adityaram Vyas” There is Adityaram Gharana (group) still active in Jamnagar and surrounding towns.
Swapnastha’s mother Triveni passed away at a very young age leaving 2 young children behind. As was the custom in India at that time Swapnastha and his young sister Vidya Vyas grew up in their maternal uncle’s home. He grew up without love and nurturing from his parents. His teen years were spent with his Dad who was a doctor and who provided free medical care for his small town. We believe watching his father helping the underserved community influenced his future endeavors.
Swapnastha started writing at a very young age. His writing was very sensitive, full of emotions with deep meaning giving insight into the political movements in India. He was a romantic visionary with idealistic hopes of equality and a better life for all Indians- a challenge for India while under British rule. Swapnastha was hoping to make an impact. We believe he was successful. He was a prolific writer and poet who was admired by his peers and looked up to by many generations.
Swapnastha also wrote a poem about Dr. Martin Luther King which he delivered to Mrs. King when she visited Mumbai, India. As six degrees of separation would have it…wapnastha’s son Chand met Dr. King years later when Chand migrated to America and wrote a thesis about Dr. King.
As Swapnastha’s children we were fortunate and honored to study our father’s poetry in school. He was clearly considered a poet with something important to say and his works were worth studying. Now, decades later his works remain relevant and are still studied. To us this has made him immortal. On a more intimate family level we each cherish the indelible memory of our father playing the flute & harmonica and singing his own poetry for us.