मेरी उँगलियों से होकर
शर्माती हुई जो गुज़रती है
रेशम सी ये पानी की डोर ,
ये पानी ही है या बर्फ का वो टुकड़ा
जिसे एक जेवर की तरह
पहन रखा था बूढ़े पहाड़ ने बरसों ।
और आसमान को चिढ़ता था -
देख मेरे पास भी हैं, और ये
तारों की तरह दिन में धोका भी नहीं देते ।
या ये पानी वो भाप है जिसे दूर साहिल पे
समुन्दर से मिलते - मिलते
सूरज हवा का जादुई जाल बिछा कर चुरा लेता है ।
मुझे तो लगता है , एक ही है यह
बूढ़े पहाड़ से लेकर, समुन्दर की गोदी तक
हर जगह, एक साथ, बस यही यह है ।
न कहीं से चली,
न कहीं पर जाना है इसे,
यहाँ - वहां , अब - तब का
वक़्त का माया जाल टूट गया
देखो वक़्त शाम के सायों की तरह
मुंह छिपा कर कैसे भाग रहा है ।
Wednesday, 30 December 2009
तेरा मेरा रिश्ता
तू या तो मोहब्बत करेगा
या नफरत
या फिर बेरुखी ही करेगा ?
पर जो भी करेगा
ए खुदा मुझसे ही तो करेगा !
या नफरत
या फिर बेरुखी ही करेगा ?
पर जो भी करेगा
ए खुदा मुझसे ही तो करेगा !
Wednesday, 23 December 2009
wednesday
i am the 'now' between future and past,
the fulcrum between the first and the last.
the difference in that should and could be
between what was and would be.
the blank spaces between words, i am
hues that the painter intended not, i am.
find me in the pause between notes,
and exactly at the half for the numbers.
i am the face among the crowd you missed,
i am the stranger you always knew exists.
i am the joy that blessed you without reason
i am the pain that you realised was uncommon
i am what you think i am and i am not
i am written on a wednesday not to be forgot!!
please guesss what i am??
the fulcrum between the first and the last.
the difference in that should and could be
between what was and would be.
the blank spaces between words, i am
hues that the painter intended not, i am.
find me in the pause between notes,
and exactly at the half for the numbers.
i am the face among the crowd you missed,
i am the stranger you always knew exists.
i am the joy that blessed you without reason
i am the pain that you realised was uncommon
i am what you think i am and i am not
i am written on a wednesday not to be forgot!!
please guesss what i am??
Tuesday, 22 December 2009
Memoir
Change is the only constant they say,
only, 'only' is a mistake here we make;
what about 'memory' - i ask?
it changes as much or as less as change.
Like time: even though it changes everytime
it is there - now and always.
You may hate or love or be indiffirent;
the fact is that you know it Is.
You ingore, you avoid or you try to replace it.
Alas! here, there is no Shift+Delete.
only, 'only' is a mistake here we make;
what about 'memory' - i ask?
it changes as much or as less as change.
Like time: even though it changes everytime
it is there - now and always.
You may hate or love or be indiffirent;
the fact is that you know it Is.
You ingore, you avoid or you try to replace it.
Alas! here, there is no Shift+Delete.
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
hopespair
different; or one with two faces you are
shall i call you 'hope' or shall i say 'despair' ?
do you guys realise the oppositeness of yourselves,
the absoluteness of your difference?
don't you see the effects you have on us
and on not just thoughts or actions, but all about us?
if one is all answers to all questions,
other: baseless, needless - doubts and questions.
one makes the sky and universe as near as backyard
the other roots one's feet to ground-real and hard.
so transitory both of you are at times
a mere word, a passing moment it takes for the needle to swing otherwise.
are you rather the limits of each other,
extreme of one leading to the another?
or are you the begining, the alpha or cipher
one needs and takes birth, in the womb of the other?
i realise, alone you will alaways be incomplete
you need the other to get meaning and give it.
again suggestions invited for title
Why is it that i look over my left shoulder even i am walking alone, and order two cups of ginger honey tea to the suprise of the good waiter ?
Why do i check both the seat belts when i am only driving to work,
why do i open the door in a shop and wait for someone to pass ?
Why can't i see my reflection even in still water,
and every unseen face lights up a hope that it will be You.
Why can't i finish the tunes i start humming,
why can't i name my poems myself anymore ?
Why can't i think and not think about you,
why can't i sleep and not dream about you?
Why can't i do any else, but love?
Sunday, 13 December 2009
green love
phans of the bard-of-avon
pleze hold on
it iz nat about the green eyed manstar
rather it iz about the ebhent @ Copenhagan.
climate-change they say or something like that
tired of listening on India TV, Aaj Tak or something like that
what i waz thinking is what will happan
if the concept of go-Green is applied to 'LOVE' ?
well to begin with - 'boy meets garl or vice-versa'
how? that iz the moot queschan - car, bus, metro or cycle-rickshaw??
wizer ppl pleze consider the uze of public transport only
ebhen if u are in gurgaon, lucknow or delhi
be bhery-bhery careful about letter-wetter
only when there iz no alternative, please use paper
dry leaves,old hankie, used papers or ur body shade(tattoo),
but when u use paper,it better be recyclable or hand made.
also be cautious about gifts and tokens
no plastic to begin with, never gift cigarettes
wrapping - with old papers and use tissue papers as cards finally
and for gifts that suck! - pleaze throw them in dusst-bin only
and only u can appreciate the rare greenery in a buzy city
how valuable is the privacy, silence, shade and axygen in vicinity
u know it bhery well, so plant as many trees together as u can
so that your baton-holders can also walk and sit in parks.
guyz - don't forget to tun off lights in hurry to be punctual for date
garls - you need not see yourself in the mirror while talking on phone
and can't love make up for the extremes of heat and cold?
can't the three magic words create comforts that an A.C. or room heater does?
if willy-nilly things go ahead and u decide to tie the knat and marry
and if ur parents are hung up on stars calling the shots
send and exchange only soft-copies of the horoscope and
please consider environment:print if absolutely necessary !!
pleze hold on
it iz nat about the green eyed manstar
rather it iz about the ebhent @ Copenhagan.
climate-change they say or something like that
tired of listening on India TV, Aaj Tak or something like that
what i waz thinking is what will happan
if the concept of go-Green is applied to 'LOVE' ?
well to begin with - 'boy meets garl or vice-versa'
how? that iz the moot queschan - car, bus, metro or cycle-rickshaw??
wizer ppl pleze consider the uze of public transport only
ebhen if u are in gurgaon, lucknow or delhi
be bhery-bhery careful about letter-wetter
only when there iz no alternative, please use paper
dry leaves,old hankie, used papers or ur body shade(tattoo),
but when u use paper,it better be recyclable or hand made.
also be cautious about gifts and tokens
no plastic to begin with, never gift cigarettes
wrapping - with old papers and use tissue papers as cards finally
and for gifts that suck! - pleaze throw them in dusst-bin only
and only u can appreciate the rare greenery in a buzy city
how valuable is the privacy, silence, shade and axygen in vicinity
u know it bhery well, so plant as many trees together as u can
so that your baton-holders can also walk and sit in parks.
guyz - don't forget to tun off lights in hurry to be punctual for date
garls - you need not see yourself in the mirror while talking on phone
and can't love make up for the extremes of heat and cold?
can't the three magic words create comforts that an A.C. or room heater does?
if willy-nilly things go ahead and u decide to tie the knat and marry
and if ur parents are hung up on stars calling the shots
send and exchange only soft-copies of the horoscope and
please consider environment:print if absolutely necessary !!
Monday, 7 December 2009
lancedowne 5
नज़्म तो बन गयी है,
पर अभी दो लाइने बाकि है ।
वो सबसे ऊपर जहाँ टाइटल की जगह होती है,
और एकदम नीचे जहाँ शायर का नाम होता है ।
अब कैसे एक टाइटल दूँ इसे ?
कौन से नाम से पुकारूँ ?
ये तो ख़ुद चलके आई थी मेरे पास
सहमी-सी, आखों में मेरे लिए प्यार लिए,
ख्यालों की पालकी में बैठ कर ।
उन ख्यालों के ही नाम दे दूँ ?
पर एक होता तो न , कितने ही हैं,
किस -किस का नाम दूँ ?
न जाने अपने जिगर के टुकड़ों को
माँ-बाप कैसे एक ही नाम दे देते हैं ?
हर दिन , हर पर, हर हरकत पे
एक नया नाम देने का मन नहीं करता ?
शायर कौन है अब ? नाम क्या है उसका ?
सारे ही हैं यहाँ, जिसको देखता हूँ वही हकदार लगता है ।
किसी पेड़ की डाली से मैंने
यादों के पीले पत्तों को टटोला है ।
आसमान ने अपने कितने ही रंग
भरे हैं मेरे स्याही में ।
रात भर सुलगती हुई लकड़ी ने
मुझे टाटा है , जिंदा रखा है ।
पत्थरों को उठा कर पुराने
ज़ख्म खारोचे हैं ।
सपनो को बादलों की कश्ती में
बिठा कर सैर कराया है ।
इतने नाम तो नहीं लिख सकता ,
अपना ही लिख देता हूँ ।
पर क्या नाम है मेरा और
क्यों कोई नाम हो मेरा ?
शायर बेनाम होता तो अच्छा होता
न कभी नाम होता,
न ही कभी बदनाम ।
शायर का अपना भी तो कुछ नहीं
नाम भी नहीं ।
अब, ऐसे ही छोड़ देता हूँ - खाली,
किसी का तो नाम हो , उसका ही सही ।
पर अभी दो लाइने बाकि है ।
वो सबसे ऊपर जहाँ टाइटल की जगह होती है,
और एकदम नीचे जहाँ शायर का नाम होता है ।
अब कैसे एक टाइटल दूँ इसे ?
कौन से नाम से पुकारूँ ?
ये तो ख़ुद चलके आई थी मेरे पास
सहमी-सी, आखों में मेरे लिए प्यार लिए,
ख्यालों की पालकी में बैठ कर ।
उन ख्यालों के ही नाम दे दूँ ?
पर एक होता तो न , कितने ही हैं,
किस -किस का नाम दूँ ?
न जाने अपने जिगर के टुकड़ों को
माँ-बाप कैसे एक ही नाम दे देते हैं ?
हर दिन , हर पर, हर हरकत पे
एक नया नाम देने का मन नहीं करता ?
शायर कौन है अब ? नाम क्या है उसका ?
सारे ही हैं यहाँ, जिसको देखता हूँ वही हकदार लगता है ।
किसी पेड़ की डाली से मैंने
यादों के पीले पत्तों को टटोला है ।
आसमान ने अपने कितने ही रंग
भरे हैं मेरे स्याही में ।
रात भर सुलगती हुई लकड़ी ने
मुझे टाटा है , जिंदा रखा है ।
पत्थरों को उठा कर पुराने
ज़ख्म खारोचे हैं ।
सपनो को बादलों की कश्ती में
बिठा कर सैर कराया है ।
इतने नाम तो नहीं लिख सकता ,
अपना ही लिख देता हूँ ।
पर क्या नाम है मेरा और
क्यों कोई नाम हो मेरा ?
शायर बेनाम होता तो अच्छा होता
न कभी नाम होता,
न ही कभी बदनाम ।
शायर का अपना भी तो कुछ नहीं
नाम भी नहीं ।
अब, ऐसे ही छोड़ देता हूँ - खाली,
किसी का तो नाम हो , उसका ही सही ।
तेरी मांग
ये जो सीधा, साफ़-सा रास्ता
काले जंगल के बीच से उसकी
गहराई को चीरता हुआ निकलता है
कितना वीरान है देखो ।
मायूस, अब इंतज़ार भी नहीं
किसी के क़दमों के चोट की
औंधे मुह आए एक आंधी ने
सारे चिन्ह मिटा दिए कल के ।
कभी इसपे भी उम्मीदों के दूब उठ जाते थे
भोर की अलसाई किरणों को
छूने को अपने नन्हे हाथ भी बढ़ाते थे
आज आँसूओं से धुला बस सफ़ेद धुल बिखरा है ।
एक सैलाब ही भर सकता है
इस वीरान से रास्ते का सीना,
किसी के वजूद का निचोड़ा हुआ
सुंदर, पाक, लाल अब्र का सैलाब ।
काले जंगल के बीच से उसकी
गहराई को चीरता हुआ निकलता है
कितना वीरान है देखो ।
मायूस, अब इंतज़ार भी नहीं
किसी के क़दमों के चोट की
औंधे मुह आए एक आंधी ने
सारे चिन्ह मिटा दिए कल के ।
कभी इसपे भी उम्मीदों के दूब उठ जाते थे
भोर की अलसाई किरणों को
छूने को अपने नन्हे हाथ भी बढ़ाते थे
आज आँसूओं से धुला बस सफ़ेद धुल बिखरा है ।
एक सैलाब ही भर सकता है
इस वीरान से रास्ते का सीना,
किसी के वजूद का निचोड़ा हुआ
सुंदर, पाक, लाल अब्र का सैलाब ।
musaafir - suggestions?
अच्छा था मुसाफिर था,
शाख से टूटे पत्ते,
हाथ से छूते लम्हे,
धुप से सूखे बादल,
और दिलजली सी लू
इनका कोई घर नहीं होता ।
रात के किए गए वादे
भोर तक बिछौने में कहीं खो जाते,
उतआर के रखे मोज़े की तरह
बेफिक्र और बेतरतीब ।
जब चादर ही एक रात की हो
तो न मैला होने का डर
न फ़िर से इस्तेमाल करने की फ़िक्र ,
पलकों के बंद करने और
फिर से खोलने के बीच का ही तो वक्त है
जैसे-तैसे गुज़र जाएगा ।
अच्छा था मुसाफिर था ।
अब अजनबी शहर में बदनाम होने का डर कैसा ?
परछाईयां जनि-पहचानी सी पर
चेहरे अलग-अलग से
न बिखरे बालों का फ़िक्र है
न फटे कपड़ों का, न चेचक के दागों का ।
न कोई दुलारने वाला है,
न ही पागल कह कर पत्थर मारने वाले ।
दिन-राअत के धुंधलके में शीशे के डब्बों से
हर किसी को आप और आप को हर कोई
कुछ - कुछ एक-से लगते हैं ।
अच्छा था मुसाफिर था ।
छलनी-सी काया से होकर गुज़र जाती है चीज़ें
जो मांगे बिना मिल गया, वो पूछे बिना चला गया ।
हाँ, पल भर को लगाव हो जाता है कभी-कभी ।
न कुछ चोरी होने का डर है,
न आग-पानी में जल-गल जाने का ।
ताले-चाबी रखने से क्या?
तकिये के नीचे छुपाना कैसा ?
जो कुछ था , है और होगा - सब उसका
मैं तो ऐसे ही चला था,
ऐसा ही था ।
अच्छा था मुसाफिर था,
वैसे देखो तो अब भी मुसाफिर ही हूँ ।
I read this poem on the 'Human Face' Programme of AIR-Rainbow, FM channel in the month of August 2009 as a part of a 15 minute interview. The interview is available with me and also in acrhives of AIR website.
शाख से टूटे पत्ते,
हाथ से छूते लम्हे,
धुप से सूखे बादल,
और दिलजली सी लू
इनका कोई घर नहीं होता ।
रात के किए गए वादे
भोर तक बिछौने में कहीं खो जाते,
उतआर के रखे मोज़े की तरह
बेफिक्र और बेतरतीब ।
जब चादर ही एक रात की हो
तो न मैला होने का डर
न फ़िर से इस्तेमाल करने की फ़िक्र ,
पलकों के बंद करने और
फिर से खोलने के बीच का ही तो वक्त है
जैसे-तैसे गुज़र जाएगा ।
अच्छा था मुसाफिर था ।
अब अजनबी शहर में बदनाम होने का डर कैसा ?
परछाईयां जनि-पहचानी सी पर
चेहरे अलग-अलग से
न बिखरे बालों का फ़िक्र है
न फटे कपड़ों का, न चेचक के दागों का ।
न कोई दुलारने वाला है,
न ही पागल कह कर पत्थर मारने वाले ।
दिन-राअत के धुंधलके में शीशे के डब्बों से
हर किसी को आप और आप को हर कोई
कुछ - कुछ एक-से लगते हैं ।
अच्छा था मुसाफिर था ।
छलनी-सी काया से होकर गुज़र जाती है चीज़ें
जो मांगे बिना मिल गया, वो पूछे बिना चला गया ।
हाँ, पल भर को लगाव हो जाता है कभी-कभी ।
न कुछ चोरी होने का डर है,
न आग-पानी में जल-गल जाने का ।
ताले-चाबी रखने से क्या?
तकिये के नीचे छुपाना कैसा ?
जो कुछ था , है और होगा - सब उसका
मैं तो ऐसे ही चला था,
ऐसा ही था ।
अच्छा था मुसाफिर था,
वैसे देखो तो अब भी मुसाफिर ही हूँ ।
I read this poem on the 'Human Face' Programme of AIR-Rainbow, FM channel in the month of August 2009 as a part of a 15 minute interview. The interview is available with me and also in acrhives of AIR website.
Thursday, 3 December 2009
mother:to you
when you are so good,
wont you raise me up from the worst?
see my outstreched arm mother
and my eager eyes.
would you turn away from the stench that surrounds me
and leave me here to endure?
will you too brand me as a hopeless
and helpless prey to thoughts and actions?
who will forgive me, than you other?
who will trust me when can none?
love me when others can only despise
and hold my hand that all have forsaken?
infinite kindness and idol of love!
will you leave my forehead waiting and dry?
see my outstreched arm mother
and my eager eyes.
wont you raise me up from the worst?
see my outstreched arm mother
and my eager eyes.
would you turn away from the stench that surrounds me
and leave me here to endure?
will you too brand me as a hopeless
and helpless prey to thoughts and actions?
who will forgive me, than you other?
who will trust me when can none?
love me when others can only despise
and hold my hand that all have forsaken?
infinite kindness and idol of love!
will you leave my forehead waiting and dry?
see my outstreched arm mother
and my eager eyes.
Saturday, 28 November 2009
please suggest a title
you are the turn i can not miss
you are the line i can not bend
you are the height i can not rise
you are the destiny i can not mend
you are the doubt i can not clear
you are the puzzle i can not solve
you are the question i can not answer
you are the 'love' that i can only love!!
you are the line i can not bend
you are the height i can not rise
you are the destiny i can not mend
you are the doubt i can not clear
you are the puzzle i can not solve
you are the question i can not answer
you are the 'love' that i can only love!!
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
the mirror within
i love, that we are so eager to meet
though there is no reason to;
i love, that we talk on and on
though we understand even the silence between;
i love, that we clarify and justify
we both but know its not needed;
i love, to be grumpy and irritated
as i know you will get me out.
i love to aruge, shout and even fight
though i hurt myself more;
i love, to act insensitive
because i want you to repeat what moved me;
i love, to think again and again
dissect and analyse you
as i am sure of the result;
i love to tease you, bug actually
as even then, i know you love me;
i love to be impatient and wait
as i know that you will come;
i love to ask you even the little things
as i know you will answer;
i love, to go round and round
as i know you are at the centre of it all;
i love, to be helpless without you
as i know that you are with me;
i dont know, if i love or i love you
or i simply love everything about you.
note:
i just realised that i have crossed 100 posts. I never realised how close was I to it. No nervous ninties for me. One moment to explain why the name maybemay. Read the very first post you will understand. If not read on - I was not sure that I would continue to be sincere in writing and posting them as well. So, in May 2007, when I started this, I hoped that I may continue writing/blogging. Hence, may be this May! I think 100 is not too bad a start. Thanks to all the guests who visited this e-aangan of mine. You are welcome again and again and hopefully I would keep placing dew-fresh and true-sincere flowers for you to observe every time.
The number 100 has a very fuilfilling, interesting connotation, which is not unknown to many. Namely that it is full, complete and perfect in itself.Anything less would not do. It may be close, very close but 100 is 100 percent. It has a different meaning also if you consider that 50 + 50 make 100. There were some doubts about being 50+49 or 49+50 (not 100 per cent) but I am chuckling at the thought that this is the 102(two more than 100)nd post.
though there is no reason to;
i love, that we talk on and on
though we understand even the silence between;
i love, that we clarify and justify
we both but know its not needed;
i love, to be grumpy and irritated
as i know you will get me out.
i love to aruge, shout and even fight
though i hurt myself more;
i love, to act insensitive
because i want you to repeat what moved me;
i love, to think again and again
dissect and analyse you
as i am sure of the result;
i love to tease you, bug actually
as even then, i know you love me;
i love to be impatient and wait
as i know that you will come;
i love to ask you even the little things
as i know you will answer;
i love, to go round and round
as i know you are at the centre of it all;
i love, to be helpless without you
as i know that you are with me;
i dont know, if i love or i love you
or i simply love everything about you.
note:
i just realised that i have crossed 100 posts. I never realised how close was I to it. No nervous ninties for me. One moment to explain why the name maybemay. Read the very first post you will understand. If not read on - I was not sure that I would continue to be sincere in writing and posting them as well. So, in May 2007, when I started this, I hoped that I may continue writing/blogging. Hence, may be this May! I think 100 is not too bad a start. Thanks to all the guests who visited this e-aangan of mine. You are welcome again and again and hopefully I would keep placing dew-fresh and true-sincere flowers for you to observe every time.
The number 100 has a very fuilfilling, interesting connotation, which is not unknown to many. Namely that it is full, complete and perfect in itself.Anything less would not do. It may be close, very close but 100 is 100 percent. It has a different meaning also if you consider that 50 + 50 make 100. There were some doubts about being 50+49 or 49+50 (not 100 per cent) but I am chuckling at the thought that this is the 102(two more than 100)nd post.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
drive
i think you already know it,
but i could breathe again if i write.
have trust in you enough,
to put you at the wheel.
the control, the balance,
all in your firm hands.
the shifting of gears,
the pace and flow of life as well.
have relied,
upon your sight
for maneuvering the twists and turns.
your care to avoid bumpers
and caution to brake and speed when needed.
will you also trust Me?
to know the BIG map by heart
to know all the right directions to take
to follow the right traffic and people
to be guided in this maze till the end
will you have faith on Me?
to show you the by-lanes that are useful
to take the highways that must not be missed
to take U-turns when I say to
to drive-on, even when no road is obvious
simply to take you home!
know it for sure,
without doubt, now or after
that i am not here to show you the way
but, for you I am the WAY!!
but i could breathe again if i write.
have trust in you enough,
to put you at the wheel.
the control, the balance,
all in your firm hands.
the shifting of gears,
the pace and flow of life as well.
have relied,
upon your sight
for maneuvering the twists and turns.
your care to avoid bumpers
and caution to brake and speed when needed.
will you also trust Me?
to know the BIG map by heart
to know all the right directions to take
to follow the right traffic and people
to be guided in this maze till the end
will you have faith on Me?
to show you the by-lanes that are useful
to take the highways that must not be missed
to take U-turns when I say to
to drive-on, even when no road is obvious
simply to take you home!
know it for sure,
without doubt, now or after
that i am not here to show you the way
but, for you I am the WAY!!
Sunday, 15 November 2009
i can't name my poems anymore
english is back again...
but there is 'un petit problem'
i cant name my poems anymore...the reason ?
well i have written it in one poem of mine as well..and yeah you might have guessed that doesnt have a name as well!! okay enough of bhumika..here is the poem..
don't ever presume
even less assume
about what i think
or what i think about
when we have given ourselves-
body, mind, intellect, thoughts
dreams, hope, souls also,
to each other in love
when there is faith, equal or more
when there is trust, equal or more
when there is certainty that
one would do as much or even more
where have these seeds of boudt
(i dont want to even say it)
found ground to sprout upon
lets not have anything to do with them
pick the sickle of love, weed out them.
but there is 'un petit problem'
i cant name my poems anymore...the reason ?
well i have written it in one poem of mine as well..and yeah you might have guessed that doesnt have a name as well!! okay enough of bhumika..here is the poem..
don't ever presume
even less assume
about what i think
or what i think about
when we have given ourselves-
body, mind, intellect, thoughts
dreams, hope, souls also,
to each other in love
when there is faith, equal or more
when there is trust, equal or more
when there is certainty that
one would do as much or even more
where have these seeds of boudt
(i dont want to even say it)
found ground to sprout upon
lets not have anything to do with them
pick the sickle of love, weed out them.
Thursday, 12 November 2009
lancedowne 4
सब कुछ अच्छा था , पर झगडों के बिना इतना अच्छा न होता।
दो ऐसी ही नज्में ।
10
कल की तरह आज भी उठकर
मैं चल पड़ा उसका इशारा समझ कर
सोचा धुप सेक आऊं
सुबह-सुबह बोन-फिरे करलूं ।
सब कुछ तो था वही पर
कुछ तो अजीब ज़रूर था ।
उसने एक-एक करके
सबको अपनी तरफ़ कर लिया था ।
दूर की बर्फीली चट्टानों से कहा था
मैं तुम्हारे माथे पे चमकीला टीका मल दूँगा ।
वादी में फैला था घना कोहरा,
कल रात चूल्हा जलाके बुझाना भूल गया होगा कोई,
कोहरे को उसके हाल से
निजात दिलाने का वडा भी कर चुका था ।
पत्तों से कहा 'बदन गीले हैं, ठण्ड होगी,
अपनी धुप से आओ पौंछ दूँ, सुखा दूँ '
तारों को सोने के लिए तकिये दे दिए थे
वो सब सो चुके थे ।
पुराने गिरजा-घर से कहा 'मैं खिड़की-दरवाजों
से अन्दर आकर, फर्श पर नए पैटर्न बना दूंगा
मरियम बड़ी खुश होगी'।
शबनम की बूंदों को तो मोती बनाने का
झूठा वादा भी कर लिया था उसने ।
पत्थरों के माथे भी धीरे-धीरे सहला रहा था
जैसे औज़ार तैयार करता है कोई।
मुझे देख गुस्से से घूर रहा है,
दिन भर अब मुझे सताएगा
मेरी नंगे कन्धों पे बरसायेगा
जाने कितने ही तीर किरणों के ।
बहुत नाराज़ है मुझसे ये
रात, सारी रात जो मेरे साथ थी !
____________
9
अपने बिस्तर पे लेटे,
तन्हाई की चादर ओढे,
एक सुबह को लिखा मैंने
बासी शब् की बात ।
आंखों का कैमरा लेकर
बहार जाने से लेकिन डर लगता है
यह सोच कर की कैसे छुपुंगा
और कैसे मिलूँगा उन सब से ।
बाहर आते ही हवा घेर लेगी,
कहीं जाने न देगी, काटेगी चेहरे को ।
और वादी के पथरीले रास्ते भी अपना कहर ढहाएंगे
पहले से परेशां और थके मेरे पैरों पर ।
घना कोहरा भी मारेगा ठोकर
पता नहीं कहाँ-कहाँ से आकर ।
ये बड़े-बड़े चीड के पेड़
बार-बार मुझपर गिरने की धमकी देंगे।
और इन सब का सरदार वो लाल-पीला सूरज
मुझे सीधी-आँख धरेगा और पूछेगा -
'फिर से एक नज़्म चुरा लिया है तुने,
अब यहाँ क्या चुराने आया है ?
दो ऐसी ही नज्में ।
10
कल की तरह आज भी उठकर
मैं चल पड़ा उसका इशारा समझ कर
सोचा धुप सेक आऊं
सुबह-सुबह बोन-फिरे करलूं ।
सब कुछ तो था वही पर
कुछ तो अजीब ज़रूर था ।
उसने एक-एक करके
सबको अपनी तरफ़ कर लिया था ।
दूर की बर्फीली चट्टानों से कहा था
मैं तुम्हारे माथे पे चमकीला टीका मल दूँगा ।
वादी में फैला था घना कोहरा,
कल रात चूल्हा जलाके बुझाना भूल गया होगा कोई,
कोहरे को उसके हाल से
निजात दिलाने का वडा भी कर चुका था ।
पत्तों से कहा 'बदन गीले हैं, ठण्ड होगी,
अपनी धुप से आओ पौंछ दूँ, सुखा दूँ '
तारों को सोने के लिए तकिये दे दिए थे
वो सब सो चुके थे ।
पुराने गिरजा-घर से कहा 'मैं खिड़की-दरवाजों
से अन्दर आकर, फर्श पर नए पैटर्न बना दूंगा
मरियम बड़ी खुश होगी'।
शबनम की बूंदों को तो मोती बनाने का
झूठा वादा भी कर लिया था उसने ।
पत्थरों के माथे भी धीरे-धीरे सहला रहा था
जैसे औज़ार तैयार करता है कोई।
मुझे देख गुस्से से घूर रहा है,
दिन भर अब मुझे सताएगा
मेरी नंगे कन्धों पे बरसायेगा
जाने कितने ही तीर किरणों के ।
बहुत नाराज़ है मुझसे ये
रात, सारी रात जो मेरे साथ थी !
____________
9
अपने बिस्तर पे लेटे,
तन्हाई की चादर ओढे,
एक सुबह को लिखा मैंने
बासी शब् की बात ।
आंखों का कैमरा लेकर
बहार जाने से लेकिन डर लगता है
यह सोच कर की कैसे छुपुंगा
और कैसे मिलूँगा उन सब से ।
बाहर आते ही हवा घेर लेगी,
कहीं जाने न देगी, काटेगी चेहरे को ।
और वादी के पथरीले रास्ते भी अपना कहर ढहाएंगे
पहले से परेशां और थके मेरे पैरों पर ।
घना कोहरा भी मारेगा ठोकर
पता नहीं कहाँ-कहाँ से आकर ।
ये बड़े-बड़े चीड के पेड़
बार-बार मुझपर गिरने की धमकी देंगे।
और इन सब का सरदार वो लाल-पीला सूरज
मुझे सीधी-आँख धरेगा और पूछेगा -
'फिर से एक नज़्म चुरा लिया है तुने,
अब यहाँ क्या चुराने आया है ?
Monday, 9 November 2009
emotions-reason
well, i have thought about it so many times,
emotions (your heart, gut feel, sixth or seventh sense etc. etc. you get the point right?)
and
reason (judgement, rational, maturity, understanding, analysis etc. etc. again you get the point rt?)
I have experienced the simultaneous existance of both of them,
how one drags the other's hand and how one hold backs the other,
how both are present in the same person but at different locations,
how both think (and with what conviction) that one is right and the other is wrong,
how sometimes both think both are absolutely right only to be proven wrong,
how both thought at times, everything has gone wrong, lost hope, only to regain it miracle-like,
how sometimes emotion goes ahead like an unstoppable tornado or flood and decides something for me, reasons follows up with its slow judicious, careful, spreading fog-like approach and decides on its own and tells it plainly,
how sometimes reason decides something for once and all and then emotions slowly wets the ground with tears, dreams and wishes; impregnates it with seeds of doubt and asks reason to judge again; think again; please.
how both in face of tremendous opposition from the whole of this world give enough courage to man and say - "don't worry, we two are there with you, that should be enough, go ahead"
how both come together, how both nurture each other, how they give absolute conviction to a man and raise him to a level so high..as GOD
for GOD is absolute reason and absolute emotion at the same time...
emotions (your heart, gut feel, sixth or seventh sense etc. etc. you get the point right?)
and
reason (judgement, rational, maturity, understanding, analysis etc. etc. again you get the point rt?)
I have experienced the simultaneous existance of both of them,
how one drags the other's hand and how one hold backs the other,
how both are present in the same person but at different locations,
how both think (and with what conviction) that one is right and the other is wrong,
how sometimes both think both are absolutely right only to be proven wrong,
how both thought at times, everything has gone wrong, lost hope, only to regain it miracle-like,
how sometimes emotion goes ahead like an unstoppable tornado or flood and decides something for me, reasons follows up with its slow judicious, careful, spreading fog-like approach and decides on its own and tells it plainly,
how sometimes reason decides something for once and all and then emotions slowly wets the ground with tears, dreams and wishes; impregnates it with seeds of doubt and asks reason to judge again; think again; please.
how both in face of tremendous opposition from the whole of this world give enough courage to man and say - "don't worry, we two are there with you, that should be enough, go ahead"
how both come together, how both nurture each other, how they give absolute conviction to a man and raise him to a level so high..as GOD
for GOD is absolute reason and absolute emotion at the same time...
Friday, 6 November 2009
lancedowne 3
८
सुना है दिवाली को पहनते है लोग नए कपड़े
पुराना ही कोई रिवाज़ होगा नए कपड़े पहनने का ।
अब यहाँ इस वीरान वादी में
खामोशियों की बाली के सिवा क्या है ?
तुम्हारे हाथों का बुना हुआ स्वेटर है
पुराना था, अब तो बहुत पुराना हो गया है ।
नज्में नई ज़रूर हैं, पर वो मुझसे दूर ही रहती हैं,
बेहया! हाथों से रुखसत होते ही लिपट जाती हैं कागज़ के साथ ।
ख़ुद के जिस्म से उसका जिस्म ओढ़ देती हैं,
जैसे तुम भी कभी मुझे ओढ़ देतीं थी ।
आसमान का शाल था कला-सा, शीशे जड़े थे, आइना भी था
उसे कोई ले गया कल रात, ये नीला-वाला मुझे नहीं भाता ।
धुंध बहुत है यहाँ, पहाड़ भी अपना लिबास बांटने को तैयार हैं
पर यह बड़ा है, काट के मेरे लायक बना दे, दर्जी भी तो नहीं है ।
पटाखों की गूँज अब हलकी हो गयी है, दिए मद्धम
ये दिवाली भी ऐसे ही गुज़र जायेगी, वक्त के दाने बचे हैं चंद ।
उससे जाकर कहता हूँ, वो तो यहीं है ,
वो ही कुछ आ़राम करे,
मेरा ये जिस्म जलाके रौशनी कर दे,
और मेरी रूह को किसी नए जिस्म का कपड़ा पहनादे ।।
7
__________
पुराने गेस्ट हाउस के खिड़की से देखा
भूरे-हरे, नीले-पीले, काले-सफ़ेद, पास और दूर से पहाड़ ।
मानो इतवार के मेले में एक कतार में, चुप-चाप सी खड़ी
गाँव की बहुत सारी औरतें
जिनके आँख-नाक, कान-दांत नहीं दिख रहे
बस उनकी जुल्फों पे उडेल हुए
वक्त के अलग-अलग रंग के स्याही दीखते हैं ।
वो जो सबसे पीछे खड़े हैं सफ़ेद से पहाड़,
वो जो कई सालों से चुप हैं,
वो जिनके करीब से अब बस खामोशी ही गुज़रती है
खामोशी से ।
पता नहीं चलता के पहाड़ हैं या सफ़ेद बादल
कौन कहे
बादलों ने अपना बोझ रख दिया
पहाडों के कन्धों पे पल-भर को
या पहाडों ने टिका दिए हैं बादलों के गोदी में
अपने थके-भरी सर को ।
सुना है दिवाली को पहनते है लोग नए कपड़े
पुराना ही कोई रिवाज़ होगा नए कपड़े पहनने का ।
अब यहाँ इस वीरान वादी में
खामोशियों की बाली के सिवा क्या है ?
तुम्हारे हाथों का बुना हुआ स्वेटर है
पुराना था, अब तो बहुत पुराना हो गया है ।
नज्में नई ज़रूर हैं, पर वो मुझसे दूर ही रहती हैं,
बेहया! हाथों से रुखसत होते ही लिपट जाती हैं कागज़ के साथ ।
ख़ुद के जिस्म से उसका जिस्म ओढ़ देती हैं,
जैसे तुम भी कभी मुझे ओढ़ देतीं थी ।
आसमान का शाल था कला-सा, शीशे जड़े थे, आइना भी था
उसे कोई ले गया कल रात, ये नीला-वाला मुझे नहीं भाता ।
धुंध बहुत है यहाँ, पहाड़ भी अपना लिबास बांटने को तैयार हैं
पर यह बड़ा है, काट के मेरे लायक बना दे, दर्जी भी तो नहीं है ।
पटाखों की गूँज अब हलकी हो गयी है, दिए मद्धम
ये दिवाली भी ऐसे ही गुज़र जायेगी, वक्त के दाने बचे हैं चंद ।
उससे जाकर कहता हूँ, वो तो यहीं है ,
वो ही कुछ आ़राम करे,
मेरा ये जिस्म जलाके रौशनी कर दे,
और मेरी रूह को किसी नए जिस्म का कपड़ा पहनादे ।।
7
__________
पुराने गेस्ट हाउस के खिड़की से देखा
भूरे-हरे, नीले-पीले, काले-सफ़ेद, पास और दूर से पहाड़ ।
मानो इतवार के मेले में एक कतार में, चुप-चाप सी खड़ी
गाँव की बहुत सारी औरतें
जिनके आँख-नाक, कान-दांत नहीं दिख रहे
बस उनकी जुल्फों पे उडेल हुए
वक्त के अलग-अलग रंग के स्याही दीखते हैं ।
वो जो सबसे पीछे खड़े हैं सफ़ेद से पहाड़,
वो जो कई सालों से चुप हैं,
वो जिनके करीब से अब बस खामोशी ही गुज़रती है
खामोशी से ।
पता नहीं चलता के पहाड़ हैं या सफ़ेद बादल
कौन कहे
बादलों ने अपना बोझ रख दिया
पहाडों के कन्धों पे पल-भर को
या पहाडों ने टिका दिए हैं बादलों के गोदी में
अपने थके-भरी सर को ।
Monday, 2 November 2009
रिश्ता
क्यों जाऊँ मैं यहाँ,
क्यों जाऊँ मैं वहां ?
काबा-कलिषा, कशी-पुरी
मक्का-अमृतसर, सारा जहाँ ॥ १॥
क्यों चढूं-उतरूँ पहाड़ के पहाड़,
क्यों पार करूँ नाले, टटोलूं गुफा,
क्यों कोई मुझसे कहे
कहाँ तू है और कहाँ तू नहीं ॥ २॥
क्यों करूँ मैं ऐसा या वैसा ?
चौकडी-आसन लागों, आँखे बंद
मत्था टेकून, घुटने जोडूं
सर फोडूं, हाथ जोडूं ॥ ३॥
क्यों करूँ मैं अलग-अलग भेष ?
सर मुंडवाऊं, दाढ़ी-मूंछ बढ़ाऊँ
टोपी-पगड़ी या हिजाब पहनूं
पहनूं हरा-गेरुआ- सफ़ेद बदन पे ॥ ४॥
क्यों करूँ 'वज़ु', गंगा नाहाऊं ?
तेरा नाम लूँ एक-तीन-पाच बार
हर साँस के साथ सोते-जागते क्यों नहीं?
मेरी आह, मेरी नज़्म मेरी दुआ नहीं ? ॥ ५॥
क्यों रोकूँ साँस, छोडूं फिर धीरे-से
क्यों जिस्म पे करूँ इख्तेयार
क्यों दूँ-लूँ मैं बड़े-छोटे दान-धरम
सब कुछ तेरा है, मेरा तो नहीं ॥ ६॥
क्यों किसी एक जुबां से बात करूँ तुझसे,
क्यूँ अदा करूँ नामाज़, मन्त्र-बनी पढूं ?
क्यूँ तारीफ़ करूँ तेरी, भीख मांगूं, गिड़गिड़आऊं
ख़ुद खामोश है, मेरी नहीं समझता ? ॥ ७॥
क्यूँ सुनु मैं इसको या उसको,
मुल्ला-पंडित, गुरु-सिख
तेरे चौकीदार है ? तू तो नहीं पहचानता इन्हे
रहता भी नहीं इनके घर में ॥ ८॥
क्यूँ जाऊँ मैं जन्नत
ये कहते हैं बड़ा हसीं है
कभी देखा है इन्होने, ये जायें
मुझे तो बस अपने घर वापिस जाना है ॥ 9॥
क्या देखा है किसीने तेरा चेहरा ?
क्या तू कभी बोला है किसी से ?
आ ! मेरे सर पे हाथ फेर, बोल मुझसे !
अपने ही बच्चे से इतना नाराज़ होता है कोई ? ॥ १०॥
क्यों जाऊँ मैं वहां ?
काबा-कलिषा, कशी-पुरी
मक्का-अमृतसर, सारा जहाँ ॥ १॥
क्यों चढूं-उतरूँ पहाड़ के पहाड़,
क्यों पार करूँ नाले, टटोलूं गुफा,
क्यों कोई मुझसे कहे
कहाँ तू है और कहाँ तू नहीं ॥ २॥
क्यों करूँ मैं ऐसा या वैसा ?
चौकडी-आसन लागों, आँखे बंद
मत्था टेकून, घुटने जोडूं
सर फोडूं, हाथ जोडूं ॥ ३॥
क्यों करूँ मैं अलग-अलग भेष ?
सर मुंडवाऊं, दाढ़ी-मूंछ बढ़ाऊँ
टोपी-पगड़ी या हिजाब पहनूं
पहनूं हरा-गेरुआ- सफ़ेद बदन पे ॥ ४॥
क्यों करूँ 'वज़ु', गंगा नाहाऊं ?
तेरा नाम लूँ एक-तीन-पाच बार
हर साँस के साथ सोते-जागते क्यों नहीं?
मेरी आह, मेरी नज़्म मेरी दुआ नहीं ? ॥ ५॥
क्यों रोकूँ साँस, छोडूं फिर धीरे-से
क्यों जिस्म पे करूँ इख्तेयार
क्यों दूँ-लूँ मैं बड़े-छोटे दान-धरम
सब कुछ तेरा है, मेरा तो नहीं ॥ ६॥
क्यों किसी एक जुबां से बात करूँ तुझसे,
क्यूँ अदा करूँ नामाज़, मन्त्र-बनी पढूं ?
क्यूँ तारीफ़ करूँ तेरी, भीख मांगूं, गिड़गिड़आऊं
ख़ुद खामोश है, मेरी नहीं समझता ? ॥ ७॥
क्यूँ सुनु मैं इसको या उसको,
मुल्ला-पंडित, गुरु-सिख
तेरे चौकीदार है ? तू तो नहीं पहचानता इन्हे
रहता भी नहीं इनके घर में ॥ ८॥
क्यूँ जाऊँ मैं जन्नत
ये कहते हैं बड़ा हसीं है
कभी देखा है इन्होने, ये जायें
मुझे तो बस अपने घर वापिस जाना है ॥ 9॥
क्या देखा है किसीने तेरा चेहरा ?
क्या तू कभी बोला है किसी से ?
आ ! मेरे सर पे हाथ फेर, बोल मुझसे !
अपने ही बच्चे से इतना नाराज़ होता है कोई ? ॥ १०॥
lancedowne 2
६
इस स्नो-पॉइंट पे आकर देखा
बड़े से एक पत्थर पे लिखे दो नाम
हाँ नाम जुड़े थे, या जोड़े थे किसीने ।
नाम तो जोड़ दिया,
पर जिस्मों का कोई पता नहीं,
ना ही रूहों का, जाने कितनी पुरानी होगी ।
पता भी नहीं वो दोनों जुड़े होंगे या तनहा ।
मैंने सोचा मैं भी जोड़दूँ तुम्हारा और मेरा नाम
कुछ देर यहीं रह जायेंगे हम
वक्त से नज़रें बचा कर, पास-पास ।
मैंने वहीँ पड़े एक छोटे से पत्थर से
उस बड़े पत्थर पे अपना नाम दोहरा-दोहरा के लिखा ,
एक चिन्ह सा बनाया,
फिर रुक गया ।
तुमने तो अपना नाम ही नहीं बताया था,
क्या लिखता,
खुदा का क्या कोई नाम होता है ?
________
५
जी करता है कुछ देर और रात की खुली जुल्फें सवारूँ
कुछ खाब और आ जायेंगे हाथों में मेरे।
कुछ देर और नर्म धुप को गुद-गुदी करने दूँ मुझे
भूली हुए कहकहे फिर से गुन्जेंगे मेरे आँगन में ।
कुछ दूर और यादों की रस्सी पकड़कर पीछे उतरूँ
छाले कुछ और पड़ जायेंगे हाथों में ।
कुछ कोपलों से शबनम निचोडून धीरे से
कुछ आँसू आंखों से ऐसे ही बह जायेंगे ।
कुछ देर और चलूँ इन लंबे रास्तों के साथ
कबसे चले हैं जो मेरे कदम शायद कहीं थम जायेंगे।
कुछ देर और खड़ा रहूँ यहाँ इन पहाडों के साथ
जो साँसें सदियों से जिस्म में कैद थे वो फिर से चल पड़ेंगे ।
इस स्नो-पॉइंट पे आकर देखा
बड़े से एक पत्थर पे लिखे दो नाम
हाँ नाम जुड़े थे, या जोड़े थे किसीने ।
नाम तो जोड़ दिया,
पर जिस्मों का कोई पता नहीं,
ना ही रूहों का, जाने कितनी पुरानी होगी ।
पता भी नहीं वो दोनों जुड़े होंगे या तनहा ।
मैंने सोचा मैं भी जोड़दूँ तुम्हारा और मेरा नाम
कुछ देर यहीं रह जायेंगे हम
वक्त से नज़रें बचा कर, पास-पास ।
मैंने वहीँ पड़े एक छोटे से पत्थर से
उस बड़े पत्थर पे अपना नाम दोहरा-दोहरा के लिखा ,
एक चिन्ह सा बनाया,
फिर रुक गया ।
तुमने तो अपना नाम ही नहीं बताया था,
क्या लिखता,
खुदा का क्या कोई नाम होता है ?
________
५
जी करता है कुछ देर और रात की खुली जुल्फें सवारूँ
कुछ खाब और आ जायेंगे हाथों में मेरे।
कुछ देर और नर्म धुप को गुद-गुदी करने दूँ मुझे
भूली हुए कहकहे फिर से गुन्जेंगे मेरे आँगन में ।
कुछ दूर और यादों की रस्सी पकड़कर पीछे उतरूँ
छाले कुछ और पड़ जायेंगे हाथों में ।
कुछ कोपलों से शबनम निचोडून धीरे से
कुछ आँसू आंखों से ऐसे ही बह जायेंगे ।
कुछ देर और चलूँ इन लंबे रास्तों के साथ
कबसे चले हैं जो मेरे कदम शायद कहीं थम जायेंगे।
कुछ देर और खड़ा रहूँ यहाँ इन पहाडों के साथ
जो साँसें सदियों से जिस्म में कैद थे वो फिर से चल पड़ेंगे ।
Saturday, 31 October 2009
एक बेनाम नज़्म
रुक-रुक के चेक करता हूँ फ़ोन (मोबाइल) का आँगन,
कहीं तुने कोई मेसेज का तोहफा तो नहीं रखा मेरे लिए।
हर बार आइने पे दौड़ के जाता हूँ और लौट आता हूँ,
पता नहीं कैसे हर चेहरे में तू ही दीखता है आज-कल ।
तेरे ख्यालों की रजाई ओढ़ के सोता हूँ,
पल भर को भी सरकती है तो बड़ी ठण्ड लगती है सच ।
तेरी खुसबू है तो साँस लेता हूँ, सहमी सी सांसें चल पड़ी फिरसे
वरना दम घुटता है तंग-ऐ-दुनिया में ।
तेरी दुआ, तेरी नज़र मुझपर है मेरे दोस्त,
इसी ख्याल से अपना ख्याल भी रख लेता हूँ ।
तू 'है' तो 'हूँ' मैं, मेरे जीने की वज़ह असल और एक यही है,
मैं जानता हूँ ।
तू मुझसे और मैं तुझसे मुकम्मिल हूँ ,
तू मेरी मोहब्बत है, मैं तेरी आदत हूँ ।
कहीं तुने कोई मेसेज का तोहफा तो नहीं रखा मेरे लिए।
हर बार आइने पे दौड़ के जाता हूँ और लौट आता हूँ,
पता नहीं कैसे हर चेहरे में तू ही दीखता है आज-कल ।
तेरे ख्यालों की रजाई ओढ़ के सोता हूँ,
पल भर को भी सरकती है तो बड़ी ठण्ड लगती है सच ।
तेरी खुसबू है तो साँस लेता हूँ, सहमी सी सांसें चल पड़ी फिरसे
वरना दम घुटता है तंग-ऐ-दुनिया में ।
तेरी दुआ, तेरी नज़र मुझपर है मेरे दोस्त,
इसी ख्याल से अपना ख्याल भी रख लेता हूँ ।
तू 'है' तो 'हूँ' मैं, मेरे जीने की वज़ह असल और एक यही है,
मैं जानता हूँ ।
तू मुझसे और मैं तुझसे मुकम्मिल हूँ ,
तू मेरी मोहब्बत है, मैं तेरी आदत हूँ ।
Friday, 23 October 2009
lancedowne 1
there will be a travelogue on this later, but first the poetry. 17 in two days. that should tell you something about the place - inspirational in one word. thanks to many people saurabh, gulzaarsaab, rashmi mam, 'ninu', the cook at Tip-n-Top, rooney (for rum) and his daughter becky (for one of the most beautiful smiles) and others.
i carried 'Pukhraaj' a collection of poetry by Gulazar with me, so there are definite influences of the words and thoughts.
all the 17 shall be uploaded one by one, none of them have names so will just number them। apologies to the poems.
४
ये हवा गुज़री है पत्तों से चिपक कर
या तुने भूले हुए जुबान में कुछ कहा है आकर ।
ये रात है जनवरी के महीने की
या तुने ओढ़ दी है काली शाल पश्मीने की ।
ये तारे खेल रहे है लुक्का-छुप्पी चाँद से
या दिए जलाये हैं भटके राही के लिए तुने शब से ।
ये पेड़ खड़े हैं सीधे और शांत इंतज़ार में
या इस ज़मीन ने मशालें जलाई है इबादत में ।
ये झींगुर दिन के झगडे निपटाते हैं शाम को
या इन्हे भी आयतें सिखादी है अपने नाम को ।
ये तारों के के मोती जड़े हैं फलक पे
या तुने माहीन से छेद किए हैं मायूस से काले परदे पर
और चुपके के कहता है, आ इस चादर को हटा,
रौशनी का, मेरा दीदार तो कर ।
ये सोचता हूँ मैं इन वादियों में कभी-कभी
के या तो मैं तनहा हूँ,
या तू मेरे साथ है भी और नहीं भी ।
__________________
३
वो जिसको देख कर
मुझे ये लगता था,
कि मानो आइना ही सामने ले आया हो किसीने ,
कि जुड़वों की शक्ल हमेशा एक जैसी नहीं होती,
और एक ही घर के लोग एक ही छत के नीचे बड़े नहीं होते।
मुझे आज ऐसा लगा कि
सरे भीड़ में उसीने मेरे चेहरे के पार देखा ।
मेरी सांसे, मेरा वज़ूद,
मेरा जिस्म, मेरी रूह सब को नकार दिया ।
पता नहीं उसने मुझे देखा भी या नहीं,
पता नहीं मैं सच-मुच हूँ भी या नहीं ।
ये 'पुन्तु' के लिए लिखा है। अब उसने इतनी बेरुखी कर ली है कि उसके इस नज़्म को पढने का कोई डर नहीं। किसी को पता भी नहीं चलेगा किसके बारे में लिखा है। ब्लॉग पर लिखने से पहले एक बार उससे पूछना चाहता था, उसे पढ़के सुनना चाहता था। पर कह चुका हूँ - बेरुखी काफी कर ली है उसने, उसे पता भी न चलेगा, फर्क भी न पड़ेगा।
______________
2
जाडों की सुबह नर्म धुप
जब गुदगुदी करती थी पैरों में उसके,
तो यूँ ही आँखें बंद किए हुए
आधी-सी मुस्कान बना लेती चेहरे पे ।
तरह-तरह से, जगह बदल-बदल के
घंटो निहारता था उसे,
सूरज पूरब से पश्चिम तक दिन भर
नीली वादी को देखता है जैसे ।
अपने ही हाथों से मैंने आज खोदी है
अपने छाती की गीली ज़मीन को,
और एक औंधे कोने में दफनाया है
'नीनू' और उसकी आधी-सी मुस्कान को ।
____________
1.
नींद में चलने की आदत भी है,
और कल रात देर तक
रात का सीना टटोलता रहा वो शायर ।
पर उठकर जाने क्या टटोल रहा है
बिस्तर के इर्द-गिर्द
तकिये उठाये, रजाई घसीटा,
शाल उठाके फैंक दिया कुर्सी पर ।
कहीं वो उस खाब को तो नहीं ढूंढ रहा
जो आयी थी उसके पास
दबे पाँव, चुपके-से, सहमी-सी ।
इतना भी नहीं जानता ये शायर,
खाबों के जिस्म नहीं होते,
आँख खोलने पर वो मर जातीं हैं
और कोई नाम-ओ-निशान भी रहता नहीं
i carried 'Pukhraaj' a collection of poetry by Gulazar with me, so there are definite influences of the words and thoughts.
all the 17 shall be uploaded one by one, none of them have names so will just number them। apologies to the poems.
४
ये हवा गुज़री है पत्तों से चिपक कर
या तुने भूले हुए जुबान में कुछ कहा है आकर ।
ये रात है जनवरी के महीने की
या तुने ओढ़ दी है काली शाल पश्मीने की ।
ये तारे खेल रहे है लुक्का-छुप्पी चाँद से
या दिए जलाये हैं भटके राही के लिए तुने शब से ।
ये पेड़ खड़े हैं सीधे और शांत इंतज़ार में
या इस ज़मीन ने मशालें जलाई है इबादत में ।
ये झींगुर दिन के झगडे निपटाते हैं शाम को
या इन्हे भी आयतें सिखादी है अपने नाम को ।
ये तारों के के मोती जड़े हैं फलक पे
या तुने माहीन से छेद किए हैं मायूस से काले परदे पर
और चुपके के कहता है, आ इस चादर को हटा,
रौशनी का, मेरा दीदार तो कर ।
ये सोचता हूँ मैं इन वादियों में कभी-कभी
के या तो मैं तनहा हूँ,
या तू मेरे साथ है भी और नहीं भी ।
__________________
३
वो जिसको देख कर
मुझे ये लगता था,
कि मानो आइना ही सामने ले आया हो किसीने ,
कि जुड़वों की शक्ल हमेशा एक जैसी नहीं होती,
और एक ही घर के लोग एक ही छत के नीचे बड़े नहीं होते।
मुझे आज ऐसा लगा कि
सरे भीड़ में उसीने मेरे चेहरे के पार देखा ।
मेरी सांसे, मेरा वज़ूद,
मेरा जिस्म, मेरी रूह सब को नकार दिया ।
पता नहीं उसने मुझे देखा भी या नहीं,
पता नहीं मैं सच-मुच हूँ भी या नहीं ।
ये 'पुन्तु' के लिए लिखा है। अब उसने इतनी बेरुखी कर ली है कि उसके इस नज़्म को पढने का कोई डर नहीं। किसी को पता भी नहीं चलेगा किसके बारे में लिखा है। ब्लॉग पर लिखने से पहले एक बार उससे पूछना चाहता था, उसे पढ़के सुनना चाहता था। पर कह चुका हूँ - बेरुखी काफी कर ली है उसने, उसे पता भी न चलेगा, फर्क भी न पड़ेगा।
______________
2
जाडों की सुबह नर्म धुप
जब गुदगुदी करती थी पैरों में उसके,
तो यूँ ही आँखें बंद किए हुए
आधी-सी मुस्कान बना लेती चेहरे पे ।
तरह-तरह से, जगह बदल-बदल के
घंटो निहारता था उसे,
सूरज पूरब से पश्चिम तक दिन भर
नीली वादी को देखता है जैसे ।
अपने ही हाथों से मैंने आज खोदी है
अपने छाती की गीली ज़मीन को,
और एक औंधे कोने में दफनाया है
'नीनू' और उसकी आधी-सी मुस्कान को ।
____________
1.
नींद में चलने की आदत भी है,
और कल रात देर तक
रात का सीना टटोलता रहा वो शायर ।
पर उठकर जाने क्या टटोल रहा है
बिस्तर के इर्द-गिर्द
तकिये उठाये, रजाई घसीटा,
शाल उठाके फैंक दिया कुर्सी पर ।
कहीं वो उस खाब को तो नहीं ढूंढ रहा
जो आयी थी उसके पास
दबे पाँव, चुपके-से, सहमी-सी ।
इतना भी नहीं जानता ये शायर,
खाबों के जिस्म नहीं होते,
आँख खोलने पर वो मर जातीं हैं
और कोई नाम-ओ-निशान भी रहता नहीं
Wednesday, 14 October 2009
Triveni
इस फॉर्म का इज़ात गुलज़ार साहब ने किया था । इस में दो ही पंक्तियों में शेर मुकम्मिल होता है , वो अपने आप हीसम्पूर्ण होता है , पर तीसरी लाइन के आ जाने से या तो उनके मायने बदल जाते हैं या उनके अर्थ में इजाफा होता है।
जैसे गंगा , जमुना मिलती हैं तो वो सबको नज़र आता है पर उनके अन्दर सरस्वती जो बहती है वो उसे त्रिवेणीबना देती है और पावन कर देती है - गुलज़ार साहब का अपना डेफिनेशन है यह ।
एक और बात उन्ही कि किताब पुखराज में एक नज़्म (मुझे यह शब्द बहुत पसंद है) है जिसमे उन्होंने लिखा है किकैसे एक थका हारा शायर जब बोझ ढोते-ढोते परेशान हो जाता है तो एक नन्ही सी नज़्म उसके पास आकर उससेकहती है - मेरे शायर, ला अपना यह बोझ मुझे देदे , मैं तेरा बोझ हल्का कर दूँ ।
अब त्रिवेणी शुरू होती है, आगे बनती गयी तो इसी जगह पे मिलेंगी आपको ।
not all of them may fully fit the description - did not want to loose the ideas, emotions, so just penning them down.
---
रात भर चाँद के आइने में अपना चेहरा निहारती रही,
शिकायत उनको नजदीकियों से, दूरियों से भी |
और ये कहते भी हैं वो के तुम बहुत confused हो!
- - -
औज़ार तैयार करता हो जैसे कोई, लड़ने से पहले,
धुल हटाई, नेहलाये-धोये, चमकाए, रंग लगाये;
आज मिलना था, कल देर रात वो 'nails paint' करते रहे
---
जब मिलती हो तो किसी बच्चे सी तेज़ी से दौड़ के भाग जाता है ,
तन्हाई में रेंगते-रेंगते धीरे से किसी बुज़ुर्ग की तरह गुज़रता है ;
यह वक्त है या इंसान, जो चाल अपनी बदलता ही रहता है ।
~~~
जो पुछा सबब रोने का उनहोंने हमसे, तो कहा कि,
कुछ खाबों की धूल खटकी और कुछ काई यादों की ;
कभी कभी नज़र भी आ जाता है आंखों में पानी भी ।
जैसे गंगा , जमुना मिलती हैं तो वो सबको नज़र आता है पर उनके अन्दर सरस्वती जो बहती है वो उसे त्रिवेणीबना देती है और पावन कर देती है - गुलज़ार साहब का अपना डेफिनेशन है यह ।
एक और बात उन्ही कि किताब पुखराज में एक नज़्म (मुझे यह शब्द बहुत पसंद है) है जिसमे उन्होंने लिखा है किकैसे एक थका हारा शायर जब बोझ ढोते-ढोते परेशान हो जाता है तो एक नन्ही सी नज़्म उसके पास आकर उससेकहती है - मेरे शायर, ला अपना यह बोझ मुझे देदे , मैं तेरा बोझ हल्का कर दूँ ।
अब त्रिवेणी शुरू होती है, आगे बनती गयी तो इसी जगह पे मिलेंगी आपको ।
not all of them may fully fit the description - did not want to loose the ideas, emotions, so just penning them down.
---
रात भर चाँद के आइने में अपना चेहरा निहारती रही,
एक एक कर सारे तारों की बिंदी try भी कर ली ;
देखना, तुम्हारी पीठ से चिपक कर मेरी नींद तो चली नहीं गयी |
--
गुफ्तगू पर पाबन्दी उनकी, ख़ामोशी पर भी,शिकायत उनको नजदीकियों से, दूरियों से भी |
और ये कहते भी हैं वो के तुम बहुत confused हो!
- - -
औज़ार तैयार करता हो जैसे कोई, लड़ने से पहले,
धुल हटाई, नेहलाये-धोये, चमकाए, रंग लगाये;
आज मिलना था, कल देर रात वो 'nails paint' करते रहे
---
---
जब मिलती हो तो किसी बच्चे सी तेज़ी से दौड़ के भाग जाता है ,
तन्हाई में रेंगते-रेंगते धीरे से किसी बुज़ुर्ग की तरह गुज़रता है ;
यह वक्त है या इंसान, जो चाल अपनी बदलता ही रहता है ।
~~~
जो पुछा सबब रोने का उनहोंने हमसे, तो कहा कि,
कुछ खाबों की धूल खटकी और कुछ काई यादों की ;
कभी कभी नज़र भी आ जाता है आंखों में पानी भी ।
Monday, 5 October 2009
balance
why is order is such a preferred order,
so important is equilibrium, harmony essential
and balance almost inevitable?
a trough has to follow every crest,
the worst has to play
merry-go-round with the best?
children have to turn to old men,
life to death and death to life
one traverses again and again.
bubbles and ripples emerge together,
as do corresponding
zeniths and their nadirs
smiles the tears cancel out,
every debit has a credit
so they tell without a doubt.
instances of forced gulping down,
sure are matched by ones
of vomiting on one's own.
two sides of the same coin you say
two opposite poles
but why, if ask I may.
what purpose might it solve,
if round and round around itself
does the round revolve?
if the good is just
as good or as evil
as the evil be must.
every thing has a thing opposite
or every opposite
has an opposite thing.
so important is equilibrium, harmony essential
and balance almost inevitable?
a trough has to follow every crest,
the worst has to play
merry-go-round with the best?
children have to turn to old men,
life to death and death to life
one traverses again and again.
bubbles and ripples emerge together,
as do corresponding
zeniths and their nadirs
smiles the tears cancel out,
every debit has a credit
so they tell without a doubt.
instances of forced gulping down,
sure are matched by ones
of vomiting on one's own.
two sides of the same coin you say
two opposite poles
but why, if ask I may.
what purpose might it solve,
if round and round around itself
does the round revolve?
if the good is just
as good or as evil
as the evil be must.
every thing has a thing opposite
or every opposite
has an opposite thing.
Sunday, 27 September 2009
इन शब्दों का मैं क्या करुँ
इन शब्दों का मैं क्या करूँ,
जो छोड़ के गए थे तुम मेरे पास ?
क्या वापिस कर दूँ ? कितना ?
ब्याज जोडूं या घटाऊँ, कैसे हिसाब लगाऊं?
जितनी तेज़ी से भूल गई थी तुम,
उतनी ही देर से उन्हें समेटा है है मैंने ।
आज भी अगर कोई नया ठोकर मारता है
तो उसे उठा, पोंछ कर जेब में रख लेता हूँ ।
क्या भाव दोगी तुम इन सब का ,
किस तराजू से नापोगी इनका वज़न ?
गिनती तो आसान है पर,
हर शब्द के पीछे जो
जज़्बात पिरोता है इंसान
उसे कैसे तोले कोई ?
कुछ सच्चे पर लाचार से वादे हैं,
कुछ वो जो तसल्ली के झूठे किए हैं,
कुछ उलाहने, कुछ बहाने,
कुछ शिकायतें, कुछ नेमतें ।
खंज़र भी हैं, मरहम भी हैं,
एक से दिखने और एक से सुनने वाले
पर अलग-अलग, कैसे-कैसे बहुत सारे हैं।
वैसे मेरे पास थे, अच्छे थे,
सच बड़े काम आते थे।
कभी नग्मे बनाके गुनगुना लेता था,
कभी स्याही के रास्ते कागज़ पर उतारता था,
फिर घंटों उनके उभरे हुए चहरे सवांरता था।
कभी आयतें बनाकर दुआ किया करता था,
कभी बेबस उन्ही की गली बक देता था।
कभी तकिया कर उनपर लेट जाता था,
कभी हिजाब बना ख़ुद को ढक लेता था ।
एक आदत सी हो गई है इन बेगानों के साथ रहेने की,
आज ना सही कभी यह अपनों से भी अपने थे ।
इन्हे भिजवाऊँ भी तो कैसे?
बड़े से एक संदूक में रख दूँ हिफाज़त से,
खामोशी की चाबी लगा दूँ ?
यादों के दीवार से कुरेद-कुरेद के जुदा करना होगा
तकलीफ तो होगी, उन्हें भी, मुझे भी ।
एक और दिक्कत भी है,
न कबूतर ही ले सकते है,
न डाकिया पहुँचा सकता है ।
मुझे ही ले जाना पड़ेगा
किसी तीसरे के जानने का डर जो है ।
पर जब से छोड़ के गई हो
चेहरे पर एक-दो और दाग हो गए हैं
पता नहीं तनहाइ के हैं या जुदाई के ।
मेरा दीदार करोगी तो चेहरे से मेरे
शायाद और न नफरत हो जाए ।
तुम ही बता दो फिर
इन शब्दों का मैं क्या करूँ।
जो छोड़ के गए थे तुम मेरे पास ?
क्या वापिस कर दूँ ? कितना ?
ब्याज जोडूं या घटाऊँ, कैसे हिसाब लगाऊं?
जितनी तेज़ी से भूल गई थी तुम,
उतनी ही देर से उन्हें समेटा है है मैंने ।
आज भी अगर कोई नया ठोकर मारता है
तो उसे उठा, पोंछ कर जेब में रख लेता हूँ ।
क्या भाव दोगी तुम इन सब का ,
किस तराजू से नापोगी इनका वज़न ?
गिनती तो आसान है पर,
हर शब्द के पीछे जो
जज़्बात पिरोता है इंसान
उसे कैसे तोले कोई ?
कुछ सच्चे पर लाचार से वादे हैं,
कुछ वो जो तसल्ली के झूठे किए हैं,
कुछ उलाहने, कुछ बहाने,
कुछ शिकायतें, कुछ नेमतें ।
खंज़र भी हैं, मरहम भी हैं,
एक से दिखने और एक से सुनने वाले
पर अलग-अलग, कैसे-कैसे बहुत सारे हैं।
वैसे मेरे पास थे, अच्छे थे,
सच बड़े काम आते थे।
कभी नग्मे बनाके गुनगुना लेता था,
कभी स्याही के रास्ते कागज़ पर उतारता था,
फिर घंटों उनके उभरे हुए चहरे सवांरता था।
कभी आयतें बनाकर दुआ किया करता था,
कभी बेबस उन्ही की गली बक देता था।
कभी तकिया कर उनपर लेट जाता था,
कभी हिजाब बना ख़ुद को ढक लेता था ।
एक आदत सी हो गई है इन बेगानों के साथ रहेने की,
आज ना सही कभी यह अपनों से भी अपने थे ।
इन्हे भिजवाऊँ भी तो कैसे?
बड़े से एक संदूक में रख दूँ हिफाज़त से,
खामोशी की चाबी लगा दूँ ?
यादों के दीवार से कुरेद-कुरेद के जुदा करना होगा
तकलीफ तो होगी, उन्हें भी, मुझे भी ।
एक और दिक्कत भी है,
न कबूतर ही ले सकते है,
न डाकिया पहुँचा सकता है ।
मुझे ही ले जाना पड़ेगा
किसी तीसरे के जानने का डर जो है ।
पर जब से छोड़ के गई हो
चेहरे पर एक-दो और दाग हो गए हैं
पता नहीं तनहाइ के हैं या जुदाई के ।
मेरा दीदार करोगी तो चेहरे से मेरे
शायाद और न नफरत हो जाए ।
तुम ही बता दो फिर
इन शब्दों का मैं क्या करूँ।
Monday, 21 September 2009
raat ko din hote dekha hai
दिन को रात होते कई बार देखा था,
आज रात को दिन होते देखा है ।
तेरी मुस्कराहट से किस्मत कि लकीरों को
अपना जाना - पहचाना रास्ता बदलते देखा है ।
नन्ही सी धुप के कोमल ठोकर से
जाने कब से जमे बर्फ को
धीरे-धीरे पिघलते देखा है , रात को दिन होते देखा है।
ग़म के अंधेर गलियों में
ढोते थे जो तन्हाई के बड़े-भारी बोझ ,
मोहब्बतों के दरार से उन्हें सरक-सरक के
हल्का होते देखा है , रात को दिन होते देखा है ।
संग और खामोश उन बुतों को
पूजा के श्रद्धा और विस्वास से पसीजते देखा है ।
त्रस्त और परेशान पत्थरों को,
पुरानी कैदखाने के आरामदेह दीवारों का
अपना ठिकाना छोड़ते देखा है, रात को दिन होते देखा है ।
सूखे बावरे से खेतों को
पहले सावन के बूंदों में रीसते देखा है ।
फटे पीले वीरान से पन्नों पर
कविता को फिर से उभरते देखा है,
कभी दिन को रात होते देखा था
आज रात को दिन होते देखा है ।
टाइटल ठीक है?
आज रात को दिन होते देखा है ।
तेरी मुस्कराहट से किस्मत कि लकीरों को
अपना जाना - पहचाना रास्ता बदलते देखा है ।
नन्ही सी धुप के कोमल ठोकर से
जाने कब से जमे बर्फ को
धीरे-धीरे पिघलते देखा है , रात को दिन होते देखा है।
ग़म के अंधेर गलियों में
ढोते थे जो तन्हाई के बड़े-भारी बोझ ,
मोहब्बतों के दरार से उन्हें सरक-सरक के
हल्का होते देखा है , रात को दिन होते देखा है ।
संग और खामोश उन बुतों को
पूजा के श्रद्धा और विस्वास से पसीजते देखा है ।
त्रस्त और परेशान पत्थरों को,
पुरानी कैदखाने के आरामदेह दीवारों का
अपना ठिकाना छोड़ते देखा है, रात को दिन होते देखा है ।
सूखे बावरे से खेतों को
पहले सावन के बूंदों में रीसते देखा है ।
फटे पीले वीरान से पन्नों पर
कविता को फिर से उभरते देखा है,
कभी दिन को रात होते देखा था
आज रात को दिन होते देखा है ।
टाइटल ठीक है?
Tuesday, 1 September 2009
golb
What is blogging? You write and post and then everyone else reads.
What would be the opposite of it? Everyone else writes and you read it?
Maybe.
Well something different happened tonight. I was cleaning up my room ( I can assure you it is an event which could contest with a celestial event such as an eclipse or comet's arrival for rarity) when I came across an old notebook. I stumble upon a set of words which looked like a poem.
Even more strange was the fact that the words were in my handwriting and presumably written by me.
I do not normally take physical notes of poetry/prose I read.
I read it once, twice and another time as well, but could not recall when had I written this poem. I don't get that drunk with alcohol and more so as far I remember have never written something under its influence.
I tried to get some meaning out of the poem, this seemed even more difficult. This was an educative experience for me as well - 'poetry is meaningless!'
Golden words; would save many trees and oil.
I am still not very sure. You read and let me know if it is your work that I might have plagiarised. I would apologise. Suggest a title.
More aware of yourself than ever,
More alert than the normal care,
Helpless though you find yourself melting
A strange fear and faith disturbing.
What you see within and without
is the same; minus the duality,
Devoid of shape and form
All things turn to One, loosing identity.
What is their real nature then?
What you saw and thought them to be
Or what you see or rather do not see now
Think as you never have, see now.
Reality that is evident on your face
Caught you low on guard, defenseless
Senses amputated, mind sucked and soaked
In deeper realms of numbing realisation.
What would be the opposite of it? Everyone else writes and you read it?
Maybe.
Well something different happened tonight. I was cleaning up my room ( I can assure you it is an event which could contest with a celestial event such as an eclipse or comet's arrival for rarity) when I came across an old notebook. I stumble upon a set of words which looked like a poem.
Even more strange was the fact that the words were in my handwriting and presumably written by me.
I do not normally take physical notes of poetry/prose I read.
I read it once, twice and another time as well, but could not recall when had I written this poem. I don't get that drunk with alcohol and more so as far I remember have never written something under its influence.
I tried to get some meaning out of the poem, this seemed even more difficult. This was an educative experience for me as well - 'poetry is meaningless!'
Golden words; would save many trees and oil.
I am still not very sure. You read and let me know if it is your work that I might have plagiarised. I would apologise. Suggest a title.
More aware of yourself than ever,
More alert than the normal care,
Helpless though you find yourself melting
A strange fear and faith disturbing.
What you see within and without
is the same; minus the duality,
Devoid of shape and form
All things turn to One, loosing identity.
What is their real nature then?
What you saw and thought them to be
Or what you see or rather do not see now
Think as you never have, see now.
Reality that is evident on your face
Caught you low on guard, defenseless
Senses amputated, mind sucked and soaked
In deeper realms of numbing realisation.
Tuesday, 21 July 2009
Silent Horizons
It gives me immense pleasure to inform you about the publication of my first collection of poems titled 'Silent Horizons'.
The book was released on 17th July 2009 at India International Centre, New Delhi. The book was released by Mr. Dinesh Mishra, ex-president Gyanapeetha Award Committee and Chairman, Indian Society of Authors, Dr. Madhu Pant, writer and ex-chairperson, National Bal Bhawan and eminent author Ms. Surekha Panandikar.
Ms. Panandikar made a critical review of the poems. The poetry, she said is marked by maturity of thoughts and boldness of expression.
And YES you can order a copy of the book !
Click on the link below
This is the website for the book. You can take a preview of the book, read/view pics of the release and order a copy by paying through your credit card or paypal account.
OR ELSE
Order a copy of Silent Horizons by clicking on the 'Buy Now' button below. This will direct you to pay through your Credit Card or PayPal account and specify an address for delivery.
The book will be sent to you by post within 15 days.
The book is for Rs. 100/- + shipping & taxes
All buyers/hecklers/fans would be sent an autographed copy of the book.
Thanks!!
Monday, 13 July 2009
चलो आए तो
अब के बरस बड़ी देर से आए, पर चलो आए तो।
शिकवों -गिलों की भीड़ जो जमा की थी साल भर
पल भर में देखो कैसे बिखर से गए । अब के बरस...
हसरतों के आँचल बेरंग खुले थे जो अब तक
तुम्हारी स्याही के इंतज़ार में सिमट से गए। अब के बरस ...
खूब सताया तुम्हारी सौत ने, जली- भुनी खिलाती रही
तुम्हारी हाथ की रोटी को हम तरस से गए । अब के बरस ...
एक आदत डाल ली थी धुँए कि घुटन में जीने की
तुम्हारी खुसबू को हम जाने कैसे भूल से गए। अब के बरस ...
कुछ बासी नाराजगी होगी, फ़ेंक देना इतना मुश्किल तो नहीं
देखो तुम्हारी याद में, मैं और वो पत्ते कैसे झुलस से गए।
अब के बरस बड़ी देर से आए, पर चलो आए तो।
दिल्ली की एक उदासीन दोपहर के उपरांत एक हलकी सी बारिश के बाद ।
Thursday, 25 June 2009
Bye Mumbai
Sleep clung on to my body like the remnants of a freshly baked cake stick to the pan on which they were put to the oven. I got up and walked around my square room looking for my slippers and some inspiration. Found only the former. If this is what life is supposed to mean, then i prefer not to listen.
I am more restless in this kind of inaction and stagnation that in action. In intense activity my restless energy finds a temporary vent or outlet. Mumbai, and my stay there made me feel that each day repeats itself in a ruthless routine. There are so many things to do just to get through your routine but you have not done or been through anything. I did not mind the pace of the city, but the lack of a life within the so called 'life'.
I became almost sacarstic of Mumbai and the joys and pains of people. Much had to do with not-so-brightest people, who shared the flat with me. I wasn't travelling to work everyday, living in Shivaji Park and working there as well. The food was good, available and hot. The flat was small even by Mumbai standards and the bathroom only large enough to allow me to strech one of my hands at one time!
I felt limited, in many ways, by the city. The city had nothing to offer me that would exite me. This had happened to me in many cities. Bangalore in 15 days, Calcutta in 1 year, Lucknow in 8 months and now this - the Maximum city!
Time to move. Something told me I had to leave. I did not have a job in Delhi, not many relatives, few friends and a vague familiarity with the city.
But I knew, I had to go to Delhi and say Bye to Mumbai.
----
June 2006
was written in Mumbai, completed in Bhubaneswar, after I have completed 2 and half years of stay in Delhi.
I am more restless in this kind of inaction and stagnation that in action. In intense activity my restless energy finds a temporary vent or outlet. Mumbai, and my stay there made me feel that each day repeats itself in a ruthless routine. There are so many things to do just to get through your routine but you have not done or been through anything. I did not mind the pace of the city, but the lack of a life within the so called 'life'.
I became almost sacarstic of Mumbai and the joys and pains of people. Much had to do with not-so-brightest people, who shared the flat with me. I wasn't travelling to work everyday, living in Shivaji Park and working there as well. The food was good, available and hot. The flat was small even by Mumbai standards and the bathroom only large enough to allow me to strech one of my hands at one time!
I felt limited, in many ways, by the city. The city had nothing to offer me that would exite me. This had happened to me in many cities. Bangalore in 15 days, Calcutta in 1 year, Lucknow in 8 months and now this - the Maximum city!
Time to move. Something told me I had to leave. I did not have a job in Delhi, not many relatives, few friends and a vague familiarity with the city.
But I knew, I had to go to Delhi and say Bye to Mumbai.
----
June 2006
was written in Mumbai, completed in Bhubaneswar, after I have completed 2 and half years of stay in Delhi.
Thursday, 11 June 2009
Udjayega Hans Akela
Ud Jayega Huns Akela,
Jug Darshan Ka Mela
Jaise Paat Gire Taruvar Se,
Milna Bahut Duhela
Naa Jane Kidhar Girega,
Lageya Pawan Ka Rela
Jub Howe Umur Puri,
Jab Chute Ga Hukum Huzuri
Jum Ke Doot Bade Mazboot,
Jum Se Pada Jhamela
Das Kabir Har Ke Gun Gawe,
Wah Har Ko Paran Pawe
Guru Ki Karni Guru Jayega,
Chele Ki Karni Chela
I am not very sure if there is a name for it - Learning through opposites. Like you learn about an Axiom /Thory in Mathematics by proving that the opposite is true. You learn about love through hatred, about friendship via treachery, about kindness through exploitation/harshness. Sufis and Kabir in particular, when they talk about Death they actually want to tell us about Life !
Death has been such an important concept, so many verses have been written about it. The reasons could be many - not many people get to do anything with it during their lifetimes, it is the final stop, a destination from where there is no apparent return (we can talk about rebirth later) but nothing more apt than the fact that we learn more about Life and Art of Living for that matter by knowing more about Death.
Death has been compared to a great escape, a grand reunion or end of a play/drama.
Our western friends call it 'giving up the ghost' where as much of Sanatana philosophy would say 'gave up his body' or 'kicked his frame' or 'change of clothes' !!
Kabir has his own way of comparing our souls to a Swan (Hans) which has been caged in our bodies and shall be free after Death.
The Swan will fly away,
Fly away alone to the blue skies.
Far from the fair of this world,
Which has entangled it for long in ties.
None can tell where shall it go,
Like dry leaves fallen from trees.
Driven by the gusts of wind,
Sans intention and direction which flies.
When the time of play is over,
No more ordering and being ordered around.
None to call the shots-
World, senses, mind or intellect profound.
The messengers of Yama (Lord of Death) are strong,
Never miss their target at all.
Is this life not a waiting,
A vain waiting for Yama's call?
Kabir is the slave of the Lord,
And sings the tales of His nature.
His name, shall get him(Kabir) to His door
That Kabir is sure.
Remember,it is a one way ticket for one,
The teacher shall go as per his action,
The student shall go as per his own.
Jug Darshan Ka Mela
Jaise Paat Gire Taruvar Se,
Milna Bahut Duhela
Naa Jane Kidhar Girega,
Lageya Pawan Ka Rela
Jub Howe Umur Puri,
Jab Chute Ga Hukum Huzuri
Jum Ke Doot Bade Mazboot,
Jum Se Pada Jhamela
Das Kabir Har Ke Gun Gawe,
Wah Har Ko Paran Pawe
Guru Ki Karni Guru Jayega,
Chele Ki Karni Chela
I am not very sure if there is a name for it - Learning through opposites. Like you learn about an Axiom /Thory in Mathematics by proving that the opposite is true. You learn about love through hatred, about friendship via treachery, about kindness through exploitation/harshness. Sufis and Kabir in particular, when they talk about Death they actually want to tell us about Life !
Death has been such an important concept, so many verses have been written about it. The reasons could be many - not many people get to do anything with it during their lifetimes, it is the final stop, a destination from where there is no apparent return (we can talk about rebirth later) but nothing more apt than the fact that we learn more about Life and Art of Living for that matter by knowing more about Death.
Death has been compared to a great escape, a grand reunion or end of a play/drama.
Our western friends call it 'giving up the ghost' where as much of Sanatana philosophy would say 'gave up his body' or 'kicked his frame' or 'change of clothes' !!
Kabir has his own way of comparing our souls to a Swan (Hans) which has been caged in our bodies and shall be free after Death.
The Swan will fly away,
Fly away alone to the blue skies.
Far from the fair of this world,
Which has entangled it for long in ties.
None can tell where shall it go,
Like dry leaves fallen from trees.
Driven by the gusts of wind,
Sans intention and direction which flies.
When the time of play is over,
No more ordering and being ordered around.
None to call the shots-
World, senses, mind or intellect profound.
The messengers of Yama (Lord of Death) are strong,
Never miss their target at all.
Is this life not a waiting,
A vain waiting for Yama's call?
Kabir is the slave of the Lord,
And sings the tales of His nature.
His name, shall get him(Kabir) to His door
That Kabir is sure.
Remember,it is a one way ticket for one,
The teacher shall go as per his action,
The student shall go as per his own.
Tuesday, 9 June 2009
NANOH!
I am bit by the Sustainable Development bug as you would have guessed from my last post. After, much reluctance and 10-15 min of wait later at 10 in the night at Delhi's Lodhi Gardens, I took an autorickshaw back to my guesthouse. (I would have liked a DTC killer Blueline Bus, even though they are infrequent, shoddy, drivers and ticket wallahs rude and the buses have a murderer's reputation to live up to)
I looked at a biker rider, nay riders and looked on further. Wait! Something unsual here. I looked again. There were five on them on the bike (a Hero Honda Splendour).
1. The smallest kid - a two year old sweetheart }- The tank
2. The father }- Seat
3. The eldest sister }- Seat
4. The mother }- Seat
5. The brother - a five year old }- the small iron rods that protude after the seat ends - generally used to hang up polythene, bags etc.
My face must have been distorted (more that what it already is) at the sight of five people on one bike and that too without helments for any of the riders other than the driver.
The kid who was at the last part of the bike clutching the rod looked sideways at me. My expressions did not change, he would have been scared. He looked ahead.
The kid looked back again (very natural) and smiled.
I have no idea whether the kid could read my mind full of safe driving, sustainable transport, family planning, city life and other bull shit.
I was reminded of a woman I say crying inconsolably inside a big black BMW, her face red, eyes swollen and hair dishevelled. Contrast.
My thoughts moved to Nano. I had heard and spoken a lot about how it is going to transform the scene on the roads, pollution levels, traffic jams etc etc. I had even stepped inside one at a showroom here.
I forgot all that in an instant and was reminded of the vision Ratan Tata talked about when he launched the car a few months back. This kid would be certainly happier and much much more safer to sit inside one.
I caught him again looking at me. I put out my arms tightened my fist, urging him to hold tight. He gave me a broader smile as his father sped away.
I looked at a biker rider, nay riders and looked on further. Wait! Something unsual here. I looked again. There were five on them on the bike (a Hero Honda Splendour).
1. The smallest kid - a two year old sweetheart }- The tank
2. The father }- Seat
3. The eldest sister }- Seat
4. The mother }- Seat
5. The brother - a five year old }- the small iron rods that protude after the seat ends - generally used to hang up polythene, bags etc.
My face must have been distorted (more that what it already is) at the sight of five people on one bike and that too without helments for any of the riders other than the driver.
The kid who was at the last part of the bike clutching the rod looked sideways at me. My expressions did not change, he would have been scared. He looked ahead.
The kid looked back again (very natural) and smiled.
I have no idea whether the kid could read my mind full of safe driving, sustainable transport, family planning, city life and other bull shit.
I was reminded of a woman I say crying inconsolably inside a big black BMW, her face red, eyes swollen and hair dishevelled. Contrast.
My thoughts moved to Nano. I had heard and spoken a lot about how it is going to transform the scene on the roads, pollution levels, traffic jams etc etc. I had even stepped inside one at a showroom here.
I forgot all that in an instant and was reminded of the vision Ratan Tata talked about when he launched the car a few months back. This kid would be certainly happier and much much more safer to sit inside one.
I caught him again looking at me. I put out my arms tightened my fist, urging him to hold tight. He gave me a broader smile as his father sped away.
Thursday, 4 June 2009
smarter planet
i am writing this with my skin burning - heat trapped under and over, millions of sweat-drops over my forehead, sipping a glass of water at room temperature (i.e. 40 deg. celcius, you can still call it room temperature!) and a distraught pair of hands typing at a insanely familiar keyboard.
No, it not just the month of June, it not just Delhi, it is not just the pollution, it is not just my bodily water cycle in hyper-active mode, it is not dehydration, it not just the Sun, it is all these in parts and a very small insignificant unsuspecting thing - a shower at 8.45 PM. I can read the 'Hmmph' on your face. Let me explain.
It is not uncommon to feel your skin burning, to have sweat oozing out of pores and your body and clothes heated up after exposure to sun in the month of June in Delhi. But, to have the feeling after your body have cooled down a bit because of a jog and subsequent perspiration after which you have take a shower is trival at the least and of personal interest at the most. The issue lies in between. It is 'WHY' and 'WHY NOT'.
If you feel like throwing something at me. Find it!
why?: It is perfectly normal and banal to have water pipes heated up during the day due to the Sun in the summers. It is a natural that when one wants to take a shower in the evening the pipes would not have cooled enough and for the first 5-10 minutes (okay so what if it is 30!) one would have hot (okay boiling!) water coming out. You be patient, read the newspaper, try a facepack, update your tweeter and come back ! Simple! Don't start writing a post on it man!
WHY?:The amount of water that I drained off for 30 min, could have allowed so many girls in Rajasthan and the outskirts/slums of Delhi to go to school or study for extra couple of hours, rather than walking miles and waiting for hours for water. Their families never had or would have access have such clean water (what I drain off every day at South Delhi) to drink.
It is not activist/nature enthusiast crap, it is a fact.
Why do we think that these things are not as important as other things we think about?
We do we think we have so much time?
WHY NOT?: Why can we not have a better solution to such problems?
I never had this problem of having to take shower in hot water (in Summers) while living in a not-so remote village in Orissa. There were wells, most of which dried up though during summers. Unlike Mumbai, Delhi there was no easy access to clean drinking water though. So, where is the ideal solution - somewhere in between?
Why can we not have naturally ventilated and cooled houses? Why can we not escape the A.Cs?
Why can we not escape drinking water from the bottles kept in refrigerator(which are too cold to drink often) or at room temperature (at 38-40! deg C)?
Whay can we not think that these things are for people who read/write in Science journal or do their PhDs or get Nobel Prizes?
Why can we not do anything about these things rather than read/write about them?
Why can we not build a smarter planet? (Thank IBM commercial for this)
WHY NOT?
No, it not just the month of June, it not just Delhi, it is not just the pollution, it is not just my bodily water cycle in hyper-active mode, it is not dehydration, it not just the Sun, it is all these in parts and a very small insignificant unsuspecting thing - a shower at 8.45 PM. I can read the 'Hmmph' on your face. Let me explain.
It is not uncommon to feel your skin burning, to have sweat oozing out of pores and your body and clothes heated up after exposure to sun in the month of June in Delhi. But, to have the feeling after your body have cooled down a bit because of a jog and subsequent perspiration after which you have take a shower is trival at the least and of personal interest at the most. The issue lies in between. It is 'WHY' and 'WHY NOT'.
If you feel like throwing something at me. Find it!
why?: It is perfectly normal and banal to have water pipes heated up during the day due to the Sun in the summers. It is a natural that when one wants to take a shower in the evening the pipes would not have cooled enough and for the first 5-10 minutes (okay so what if it is 30!) one would have hot (okay boiling!) water coming out. You be patient, read the newspaper, try a facepack, update your tweeter and come back ! Simple! Don't start writing a post on it man!
WHY?:The amount of water that I drained off for 30 min, could have allowed so many girls in Rajasthan and the outskirts/slums of Delhi to go to school or study for extra couple of hours, rather than walking miles and waiting for hours for water. Their families never had or would have access have such clean water (what I drain off every day at South Delhi) to drink.
It is not activist/nature enthusiast crap, it is a fact.
Why do we think that these things are not as important as other things we think about?
We do we think we have so much time?
WHY NOT?: Why can we not have a better solution to such problems?
I never had this problem of having to take shower in hot water (in Summers) while living in a not-so remote village in Orissa. There were wells, most of which dried up though during summers. Unlike Mumbai, Delhi there was no easy access to clean drinking water though. So, where is the ideal solution - somewhere in between?
Why can we not have naturally ventilated and cooled houses? Why can we not escape the A.Cs?
Why can we not escape drinking water from the bottles kept in refrigerator(which are too cold to drink often) or at room temperature (at 38-40! deg C)?
Whay can we not think that these things are for people who read/write in Science journal or do their PhDs or get Nobel Prizes?
Why can we not do anything about these things rather than read/write about them?
Why can we not build a smarter planet? (Thank IBM commercial for this)
WHY NOT?
present-future
“You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you’ll escape it one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present." Looking For Alaska, John Green
Really ?
Got me thinking and thinking real hard.
Really ?
Got me thinking and thinking real hard.
Thursday, 21 May 2009
stickiness
there is a certain stickiness,
in this - life.
why, look at this yesterday,
that had stuck so closely to today,
which shall do the same to tomorrow.
did they not tell you all days are similar,
monday, tuesday,sunday,saturday, anyday.
all people are the same - all people,
he, she, all of them, who, not them.
same are all tasks, and routine,
this and that, just like that.
dont be deluded by the changing hues
of the day,
of the moving hands of the clock,
of the greying of hair,
of lines on forehead.
Look deep, deeper and you would find;
surreptitious in its appearance,
glib in its talk - Futility.
A certain kind of refusal to acknowldge,
what is glaring one in the face as May's sun and
burning the skin of one's neck.
A pile of habits and routines of work and otherwise
You have hid in, Ostrich-like.
Too unfamiliar, you say?
Unchartered sea? El dorado?
Fantasy? Too risky?
Who can predict the future?
Well then, that's why I say
There is a certain stickieness..
in this - life.
why, look at this yesterday,
that had stuck so closely to today,
which shall do the same to tomorrow.
did they not tell you all days are similar,
monday, tuesday,sunday,saturday, anyday.
all people are the same - all people,
he, she, all of them, who, not them.
same are all tasks, and routine,
this and that, just like that.
dont be deluded by the changing hues
of the day,
of the moving hands of the clock,
of the greying of hair,
of lines on forehead.
Look deep, deeper and you would find;
surreptitious in its appearance,
glib in its talk - Futility.
A certain kind of refusal to acknowldge,
what is glaring one in the face as May's sun and
burning the skin of one's neck.
A pile of habits and routines of work and otherwise
You have hid in, Ostrich-like.
Too unfamiliar, you say?
Unchartered sea? El dorado?
Fantasy? Too risky?
Who can predict the future?
Well then, that's why I say
There is a certain stickieness..
Monday, 20 April 2009
kabir: avadhuta gagan ghata
in the world that we live in today, divisiveness has become the order of the day.
Divisions, chasms on the lines of wealth, social class, faith and education (unfortunate paradox) are rampant. Even on the path to liberation and knowledge (as you would have seen education has lost its purpose) there is so much duality. This duality is the root of all illusion or maya. As depicted by Kabir in 'Maya maha thugini' (see below) it remains in close proximity to all of us, in forms we fail to see because it is 'maya'.
Well, the point is Kabir, in his teachings, in his use of language and metaphors has always taken care of this aspect. So, we find his verses,poems and teachings very much rooted in the very earth he stood on and the people he lived with. No esoterism, no divisions, on this path, there are only travelers. Hence, the use of simple examples and metaphors to demonstrate the highest Truths.
An example would be this poem (heard it on a CD 'Nirgun ke Gun' Kumar Gandharva)
Avadhuta Gagan Ghata Geharani Re
Pachm Disa Se Ulti Badali,
Rum Jhum Barse Meha
Utho Gyani Khet Sambharo
Behe Nisrega Pani
Nirat Surat Ke Bel Banawo,
Beeja Bovo Nij Dhani
Dubadhya Dup Jaman Nahi Pawe,
Bovo Naam Ki Dhani
Charon Kone Char Rakhwale,
Chug Na Jawe Mrig Dhani
Katya Khet Meenda Ghar Lyawe,
Jaki Puran Kisani
Paanch Sakhi Mil Kare Rasoi
Jeehme Muni Aur Gyani
Kahe Kabir Suno Bhai Sadho
Bovo Naam Ki Dhani
O Unattached One!
Dark clouds are looming over the sky.
The winds have turned back from the west,
Don't miss the rhythmic rain,
Wake up O enlightened, tend to your fields,
Else, all water will drain away in vain.
Let's make a creeper of song and face, (naam aur rupa)
By planting the seed of Self,
Sow the seed of 'Naama',
Don't let the weeds of doubt settle.
Four guards (truth, detachment, celibacy, naama) on four sides keep watch,
Lest, the deer (senses) graze the crops,
Cut the harvest, and bring it home
And offer it to the Lord.
Five friends (senses) cook together,
Even saints and knowledgable ones are in the soup,
Says Kabir listen O noble ones,
Sow the seed of 'Naama'
Divisions, chasms on the lines of wealth, social class, faith and education (unfortunate paradox) are rampant. Even on the path to liberation and knowledge (as you would have seen education has lost its purpose) there is so much duality. This duality is the root of all illusion or maya. As depicted by Kabir in 'Maya maha thugini' (see below) it remains in close proximity to all of us, in forms we fail to see because it is 'maya'.
Well, the point is Kabir, in his teachings, in his use of language and metaphors has always taken care of this aspect. So, we find his verses,poems and teachings very much rooted in the very earth he stood on and the people he lived with. No esoterism, no divisions, on this path, there are only travelers. Hence, the use of simple examples and metaphors to demonstrate the highest Truths.
An example would be this poem (heard it on a CD 'Nirgun ke Gun' Kumar Gandharva)
Avadhuta Gagan Ghata Geharani Re
Pachm Disa Se Ulti Badali,
Rum Jhum Barse Meha
Utho Gyani Khet Sambharo
Behe Nisrega Pani
Nirat Surat Ke Bel Banawo,
Beeja Bovo Nij Dhani
Dubadhya Dup Jaman Nahi Pawe,
Bovo Naam Ki Dhani
Charon Kone Char Rakhwale,
Chug Na Jawe Mrig Dhani
Katya Khet Meenda Ghar Lyawe,
Jaki Puran Kisani
Paanch Sakhi Mil Kare Rasoi
Jeehme Muni Aur Gyani
Kahe Kabir Suno Bhai Sadho
Bovo Naam Ki Dhani
O Unattached One!
Dark clouds are looming over the sky.
The winds have turned back from the west,
Don't miss the rhythmic rain,
Wake up O enlightened, tend to your fields,
Else, all water will drain away in vain.
Let's make a creeper of song and face, (naam aur rupa)
By planting the seed of Self,
Sow the seed of 'Naama',
Don't let the weeds of doubt settle.
Four guards (truth, detachment, celibacy, naama) on four sides keep watch,
Lest, the deer (senses) graze the crops,
Cut the harvest, and bring it home
And offer it to the Lord.
Five friends (senses) cook together,
Even saints and knowledgable ones are in the soup,
Says Kabir listen O noble ones,
Sow the seed of 'Naama'
Wednesday, 15 April 2009
kabir - kya maangoon
Kya Mangoon Kutch Thir Na Rahyee
Dekhat Nayan Jalya Jag Jayee
Ik Lakh Poot Sava Lakh Naati
Ta Ravan Dhari Diya Na Baati
Lanka So Kot Samad Si Khayee
Ta Ravan Ka Khabar Na Paayee
Aavat Sang Na Javat Sangati
Kaha Bhayo Dar Bandhe Hathi
Kahat Kabir Unt Ki Baari
Jhari Jaise Chale Juwari
the question i sometimes struggle a lot with - what should i ask for ?
Kabir answers.
what should i ask for in my prayer
when nothing stays still,
when the whole world burn's,
at a moment's mere will.
sons and grandsons,
friends and relatives,
none to show a lamp to Ravan (mighty one of Lanka)
all fled before like fugitives.
wealth and fame
possessions, fortresses
left Ravana alone, of whom
we don't even find traces
we have come alone,
and shall leave alone,
with nothing in hand,
says Kabir like a gambler forlorn.
Dekhat Nayan Jalya Jag Jayee
Ik Lakh Poot Sava Lakh Naati
Ta Ravan Dhari Diya Na Baati
Lanka So Kot Samad Si Khayee
Ta Ravan Ka Khabar Na Paayee
Aavat Sang Na Javat Sangati
Kaha Bhayo Dar Bandhe Hathi
Kahat Kabir Unt Ki Baari
Jhari Jaise Chale Juwari
the question i sometimes struggle a lot with - what should i ask for ?
Kabir answers.
what should i ask for in my prayer
when nothing stays still,
when the whole world burn's,
at a moment's mere will.
sons and grandsons,
friends and relatives,
none to show a lamp to Ravan (mighty one of Lanka)
all fled before like fugitives.
wealth and fame
possessions, fortresses
left Ravana alone, of whom
we don't even find traces
we have come alone,
and shall leave alone,
with nothing in hand,
says Kabir like a gambler forlorn.
kabir - maya maha thugini
maya - the illusory power of Lord (bhagwan ki mohini shakti). Considered to be very very powerful, because it is a power of god. Only to the Lord does it bow, or only by Lord's grace does it spare man. One may always be deluded to have conquered maya but she somehow finds her place to become the veil between man and his ultimate perception.
Kabir in his own style - of truthful, plain and unrestrained style puts this forth in this beautiful song.
Again something I heard at a play called Kabir - played at Mumbai by Sukumar Sen.
Maya Maha Thugni Hum Jaani ||
Tirgun Phans Liye Kar Dole
Bole Madhuri Bani ||
I know it very well,
this delusion of maya.
she roams unhindered
with the knot of three gunas (rajas,sattwa and tamas)
and speaks in sweet voices.
Kesav Ke Kamla Ve Baithi
Shiv Ki Bhavan Bhavani |
Punda Ke Murat Ve Baithi
Tirath Mein Bhai Pani ||
Look how hideously she lurks close
to all that you call good or pure
As Lakshmi she sits near Vishnu
As Parvati near Shiva
As the idol before the pundit
and as sacred water in sacred lands.
Yogi Ke Yogin Ve Baithi
Raja Ke Ghar Rani |
Kahu Ke Hira Ve Baithi
Kahu Ke Kodi Kani ||
Sits as companion of yogis,
as queen in the house of the king
for some it is the diamond
for some it sits as the penny
Bhaktan Ke Bhaktin Veh Baithi
Brahma Ke Brahmani |
Kahe Kabir Suno Bhai Sadho
Yeh Sab Akath Kahani ||
look how she sits as bhakti of the devotee
as Saraswati with Brahma
Kabir says O noble ones,
this is the unsaid tale.
Kabir in his own style - of truthful, plain and unrestrained style puts this forth in this beautiful song.
Again something I heard at a play called Kabir - played at Mumbai by Sukumar Sen.
Maya Maha Thugni Hum Jaani ||
Tirgun Phans Liye Kar Dole
Bole Madhuri Bani ||
I know it very well,
this delusion of maya.
she roams unhindered
with the knot of three gunas (rajas,sattwa and tamas)
and speaks in sweet voices.
Kesav Ke Kamla Ve Baithi
Shiv Ki Bhavan Bhavani |
Punda Ke Murat Ve Baithi
Tirath Mein Bhai Pani ||
Look how hideously she lurks close
to all that you call good or pure
As Lakshmi she sits near Vishnu
As Parvati near Shiva
As the idol before the pundit
and as sacred water in sacred lands.
Yogi Ke Yogin Ve Baithi
Raja Ke Ghar Rani |
Kahu Ke Hira Ve Baithi
Kahu Ke Kodi Kani ||
Sits as companion of yogis,
as queen in the house of the king
for some it is the diamond
for some it sits as the penny
Bhaktan Ke Bhaktin Veh Baithi
Brahma Ke Brahmani |
Kahe Kabir Suno Bhai Sadho
Yeh Sab Akath Kahani ||
look how she sits as bhakti of the devotee
as Saraswati with Brahma
Kabir says O noble ones,
this is the unsaid tale.
kabir - hirnaa
Free translation of a song of Kabir.
there a beautiful rendition of this song by Kumar Gandharva
Hirna Samajh Boojh Ban Charna ||
O senses-deer carefully tread,
The woods of senses dreaded.
Ek Ban Charna Duje Ban Charna
Tije Ban Pag Nahin Dharna ||
Roam care-free in the first forest
of truth-bliss-absolute
Also roam in the second
of feeling and thought
But, stay away from the third
Stay away from the third.
Tije Ban Mein Panch Paardhi
Un Ke Nazar Nahin Padna ||
Five hunter-senses mighty lurk in the third,
avert their probing gaze like pray bird.
Panch Hirana Pachis Hirni
Un Mein Ek Chatur Na ||
Twenty-five female deers, all fools
will engage you in their tools.
Toye Mar Tero Mas Bikawe
Tere Khal Ka Karenge Bichona ||
will kill you and sell you flesh
and would sleep on any useful remains
Kahe Kabira Jo Suno Bhai Sadho
Guru Ke Charan Chit Dharna ||
kabir says listen o noble ones
fix your hearts on the lotus feet of gurus.
there a beautiful rendition of this song by Kumar Gandharva
Hirna Samajh Boojh Ban Charna ||
O senses-deer carefully tread,
The woods of senses dreaded.
Ek Ban Charna Duje Ban Charna
Tije Ban Pag Nahin Dharna ||
Roam care-free in the first forest
of truth-bliss-absolute
Also roam in the second
of feeling and thought
But, stay away from the third
Stay away from the third.
Tije Ban Mein Panch Paardhi
Un Ke Nazar Nahin Padna ||
Five hunter-senses mighty lurk in the third,
avert their probing gaze like pray bird.
Panch Hirana Pachis Hirni
Un Mein Ek Chatur Na ||
Twenty-five female deers, all fools
will engage you in their tools.
Toye Mar Tero Mas Bikawe
Tere Khal Ka Karenge Bichona ||
will kill you and sell you flesh
and would sleep on any useful remains
Kahe Kabira Jo Suno Bhai Sadho
Guru Ke Charan Chit Dharna ||
kabir says listen o noble ones
fix your hearts on the lotus feet of gurus.
clouds
The clouds promised to return. Some interaction, even though the people involved may wish otherwise, can not go on forever, nothing can for that matter. There has to be a pause, a periodic or final one, for the cycle to repeat. The clouds, have to go away, it is in their nature to do so, they knew what they were doing, they knew it is a part of the routine, the dry parched land alas did not.
Was not the summer long, the sun cruel, the dry winds unforgiving ? When all its children, whom it had nourished green and bountiful, suffered, how it wished it could provide them some care, some consolation, some relief as it had always done. But, he had to be the helpless migrant worker without work, who could only watch his kids writhe in hunger and pain. Did anyone, save the touring clouds and the migratory nights, understand the heat within its bosom and heat from the tyrant sun?
Now even, the clouds are going away. But where?
'To some other fortunate land?' or 'Did they actually dry up themselves?' or as they say 'to the sea again'.
Maybe it is normal - this transience, this changing nature of everything. Even it had changed a lot. It had become harder and dryer. Is it age?
It remembered the warm scent of the day when they met for the first time and looked with longing to the last tranche of clouds recede past the horizon.
Was not the summer long, the sun cruel, the dry winds unforgiving ? When all its children, whom it had nourished green and bountiful, suffered, how it wished it could provide them some care, some consolation, some relief as it had always done. But, he had to be the helpless migrant worker without work, who could only watch his kids writhe in hunger and pain. Did anyone, save the touring clouds and the migratory nights, understand the heat within its bosom and heat from the tyrant sun?
Now even, the clouds are going away. But where?
'To some other fortunate land?' or 'Did they actually dry up themselves?' or as they say 'to the sea again'.
Maybe it is normal - this transience, this changing nature of everything. Even it had changed a lot. It had become harder and dryer. Is it age?
It remembered the warm scent of the day when they met for the first time and looked with longing to the last tranche of clouds recede past the horizon.
Wednesday, 25 March 2009
awkward
They could hardly look into each others eyes. They were not sure how to greet, say hello or shake hands or smile and raise eyebrows or hug each other. Time and distance, not merely the physical ones, does funny things to memory. You think a person would like something, or dislike something else, based on your memory, but the person's preferences have changed! Why should they not, everything, almost everything does.
Why can't this memory change?
Well, she smiled, he could not hear what she said before or after, he could only smile back. No civilities exchanged, no 'whats up', 'how r you doing', no 'how r things at ur end'. There was a kind of silence, an inappropriateness of situation or setting, loss not merely words but something else.
There were other people as well, it was a reunion both were not sure about. Not sure whether the other would come, not sure whether they themselves would like to come or whether they would like the other to come. But they did.
Man tends to become somewhat superficial with a certain age (needless to say it is the age in between) and notices the temporary things more keenly. Phrases such as 'You have lost/put on weight' 'What have you done to your skin' 'Nice hair cut' etc. are not uncommon as the first reactions when people meet, women can add many more to that 'clothes, jewelery, etc. etc.
He did notice some of such things, of course he would not share them with her or the group. What did she notice and what were the changes, he thought.They talked for some time, traffic,transport,weather,work, weekends are easy things to talk about you see. The harder questions need not be discussed, there are no easy answers and one may not share them in public. Both of them stayed away from any such veering towards such difficult questions.
This was not natural, he could sense milk in some pot simmering and about to spill out. Some hopeless waves crashing on either sides of iron walls of the large ship cutting the ocean separate. Women are usually good at this (managing emotions) and she was very good. A sip of beer, a puff or coffee usually help at such times. The funny thing is that you tend to think no one else, especially the people who are around you, understand or notice. After all nothing has happened right. But, I guess all of them do notice something happening or not happening. It continued for sometime and then they spoke a few words to each other. Neither of them were interested in the answers. This not what they normally do, never to each other. It was as if they had locked their own true selves in their rooms and come here. They were left alone.
They were supposed to go together in one direction (ironic to say the least).
Nothing changed. Not even when they were alone. Oh wait, they were not, there were their egos and history to give them company.
'See you' was said without any meaning or hope. On his way back, he was thinking of many things, humming a tune and then the word came to his head and he smiled and shut up. 'Awkward'
Why can't this memory change?
Well, she smiled, he could not hear what she said before or after, he could only smile back. No civilities exchanged, no 'whats up', 'how r you doing', no 'how r things at ur end'. There was a kind of silence, an inappropriateness of situation or setting, loss not merely words but something else.
There were other people as well, it was a reunion both were not sure about. Not sure whether the other would come, not sure whether they themselves would like to come or whether they would like the other to come. But they did.
Man tends to become somewhat superficial with a certain age (needless to say it is the age in between) and notices the temporary things more keenly. Phrases such as 'You have lost/put on weight' 'What have you done to your skin' 'Nice hair cut' etc. are not uncommon as the first reactions when people meet, women can add many more to that 'clothes, jewelery, etc. etc.
He did notice some of such things, of course he would not share them with her or the group. What did she notice and what were the changes, he thought.They talked for some time, traffic,transport,weather,work, weekends are easy things to talk about you see. The harder questions need not be discussed, there are no easy answers and one may not share them in public. Both of them stayed away from any such veering towards such difficult questions.
This was not natural, he could sense milk in some pot simmering and about to spill out. Some hopeless waves crashing on either sides of iron walls of the large ship cutting the ocean separate. Women are usually good at this (managing emotions) and she was very good. A sip of beer, a puff or coffee usually help at such times. The funny thing is that you tend to think no one else, especially the people who are around you, understand or notice. After all nothing has happened right. But, I guess all of them do notice something happening or not happening. It continued for sometime and then they spoke a few words to each other. Neither of them were interested in the answers. This not what they normally do, never to each other. It was as if they had locked their own true selves in their rooms and come here. They were left alone.
They were supposed to go together in one direction (ironic to say the least).
Nothing changed. Not even when they were alone. Oh wait, they were not, there were their egos and history to give them company.
'See you' was said without any meaning or hope. On his way back, he was thinking of many things, humming a tune and then the word came to his head and he smiled and shut up. 'Awkward'
Wednesday, 18 March 2009
simple
Thanks for waking me up,
The sleep was deep and good,
But even better is waking up.
Your enthusiasm for the day is infectious,
So much to do, so much to think,
So much to talk, so much to listen,
So much to explore, so much to be curious about.
Take my hands in yours, let's hop and hum our ways through the day.
Let us dance in our hearts, celebrate the ever new love of our Father.
Discover the miracle in everyday, be the bliss-fountains we should.
Let's be good my dear, and let's do good.
The sleep was deep and good,
But even better is waking up.
Your enthusiasm for the day is infectious,
So much to do, so much to think,
So much to talk, so much to listen,
So much to explore, so much to be curious about.
Take my hands in yours, let's hop and hum our ways through the day.
Let us dance in our hearts, celebrate the ever new love of our Father.
Discover the miracle in everyday, be the bliss-fountains we should.
Let's be good my dear, and let's do good.
Tuesday, 3 March 2009
some day
He thought they would travel together in a fast car, she would be driving, he would be playing with her hair and they would travel far into the unknown in a light drizzle. He would talk of Coelho, Hesse and she would talk of green valleys and dark clouds, she would talk of flags on top of temples and he would talk of contours on the hands of the village women, he would talk of staying there forever and she would talk of the next gas station, he would be silent for a while and she would ask why. He thought they would listen to the wind for hours, they would scratch the surface of sky thousand times, they would speak to the mountains who can hear everything, they would walk with the innocence of a child and play hide and seek with the sun-rays skidding on the edges of the mountains. He thought he would share all this with her some day.
He thought they would sit together watching the sea. Sitting on the wall facing the sea, munching nuts and saying nothing at all. His son would ask questions and he would feel wiser, they would run together and he would lag behind, he would be called forgetful and stupid as he would fail to remember some names, they would do it together - his son’s 1st and his n+1th beer, he would listen in rapt attentions as his son would tell him about solar flares and he would say “I don’t know” and his son would understand. Some day he thought.
He would turn inwards and be calm. He would ask and he would be answered. He would be inconsolable and he would be hugged. He would thank. Some day.
Wednesday, 11 February 2009
parvana
Another story (not original) popular story among Sufis...
shama : source of light , candle
parvane : also called patanga, a kind of moth
In a village there lived a group of moths called 'parvane'.
A group of flies met the King of the moths registered their complaint.
"Sir, we also have six-legs, wings and we also fly like you, why don't you proclaim us as 'parvane' as well ?"
The King replied "But you guys are flies, why do you want to called as 'parvane', there is a very fundamental difference between us and the other flying creatures like you."
"We don't see any difference, we are just like you - flying insects" retorted the flies.
The King gave in "Ok, go around the village in the evening and come back after one hour and tell me all the places that you see any source of light, be it earthen-lamp, candles, lantens or anything. I shall also send a group of moths with you at the same time."
Words had not stopped buzzing from the lips of the King moth and the flies flew away towards the village, and organised themselves during the flight - dividing themselves into groups and allocating different parts of the village in search of various sources of light. They wanted to come back with all the information before the moths could do so.
A group of moths also followed them, flying in different directions of the village.
The flies returned in less than an hour and started describing all the places where they saw light in the village. They were visibly tired but very accurate in their reporting.
"Now, do you accept that we can also be called 'parvane' and by the way, where have your moths, the so called great 'parvanes'?"
"You guys saw all the light that was there to see in the village and came back! My loved ones are called 'parvane' because the moment they see light, they can never leave it, even if it entails sacrifice of their selves in that love of light!. Go again to the places you saw and you find them somewhere there being one with the light." the King said as tears rolled down his eyes.
shama : source of light , candle
parvane : also called patanga, a kind of moth
In a village there lived a group of moths called 'parvane'.
A group of flies met the King of the moths registered their complaint.
"Sir, we also have six-legs, wings and we also fly like you, why don't you proclaim us as 'parvane' as well ?"
The King replied "But you guys are flies, why do you want to called as 'parvane', there is a very fundamental difference between us and the other flying creatures like you."
"We don't see any difference, we are just like you - flying insects" retorted the flies.
The King gave in "Ok, go around the village in the evening and come back after one hour and tell me all the places that you see any source of light, be it earthen-lamp, candles, lantens or anything. I shall also send a group of moths with you at the same time."
Words had not stopped buzzing from the lips of the King moth and the flies flew away towards the village, and organised themselves during the flight - dividing themselves into groups and allocating different parts of the village in search of various sources of light. They wanted to come back with all the information before the moths could do so.
A group of moths also followed them, flying in different directions of the village.
The flies returned in less than an hour and started describing all the places where they saw light in the village. They were visibly tired but very accurate in their reporting.
"Now, do you accept that we can also be called 'parvane' and by the way, where have your moths, the so called great 'parvanes'?"
"You guys saw all the light that was there to see in the village and came back! My loved ones are called 'parvane' because the moment they see light, they can never leave it, even if it entails sacrifice of their selves in that love of light!. Go again to the places you saw and you find them somewhere there being one with the light." the King said as tears rolled down his eyes.
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