Irom Sharmila

When I first saw the name on an invitation to a book reading session, I could vaguely remember having heard the name before. On the day of the reading by Deepti (the author) of 'Burning Bright: Irom Sharmila and the struggle for peace in Manipur' I was assured that what I had heard of her was too little and incommensurate with the portent situation. Irom has been waging a brave battle that has been almost unnoticed by the media and civil society (if something like that exists in India, though I strongly believe in the contrary).

For details about Irom, her struggle and an interview please check NDTV and Tehelka's articles.

Deepti's simple as-a-matter-of-fact reading and the immense inner force of Irom moved me (even if for a few moments) and dented a few not-so-obvious but huge dents in the capitalist-consumerist life that I live and justify. I unsuccessfully searched for the book in order to be somewhat more aware of what is called society and country (an independent, sovereign republic mind you!).

Yesterday's news regarding the denial of VISA by Canada to many serving and retired officers of Indian Army though connected a few dots for me. The ground for denial was that Canada reserves the right to deny VISA to persons who serve/work in organisations that are involved in human rights violation. Indian Army serving in J&K, members of the BSF are under this category! Though Indian Army is no stranger to accusations of violation of human rights - J&K, Chattisgarh, Punjab and Manipur of course, blaming the entire basket for a few or quite a few bad apples would set a very bad precedent. What about US, UK and even Canadian troops engaged in human rights violation in Afganistan and Iraq?

Irom's struggle though made me realise that how much driven, forced and disturbed could someone be because of such 'incidents'. Here is someone who could have chosen a life that many many of her age lead - a well paying job in a concrete jungle, a boyfriend, marriage, many parties, weekend at malls, shopping, theaters etc. etc. But she rather chose to do what she calls her 'bounden duty'. I wonder how many of us have the propriety to even understand what those words mean. How many such duties have we comfortably ignored and they still stand wide-eyed staring at us in stark vacuity?
It is even more repulsive to see that a country whose struggle for was unique in its use of non-violent means for its end - freedom from foreign rule and tyranny, is resorting to the same means that her ruler did not more than 60 years ago to curb the voices of protest. A country where millions die of a familiar phenomenon-hunger, hunger strike was a language that Gandhiji used to communicate so effectively to the illiterate villagers and Britishers alike. Irom is arrested and re-arrested for the last 10 years for the same act.

Another dot - What should the tribals do about the loss of their land and livelihood? Come to Delhi, sit on hunger strikes? For how long? 10 years? Will anyone give a damn? Will the media even report it? Is it not more important to know whether IPL nights are the real cause of India exit from 20-20 world cup?

Will the Armed Forces Special Powers Act be repealed?
May The Strength be with you as it has been Irom. Amen!

suggest a title please

हर रात एक झूठे वादे की तरह
भूल जाने की तस्सली देती है ।
और हर सुबह, मार के तमाचा
याद दिलाती है की तुम याद हो ।

अब तो इन सफ्हों पर
नज़्म लिखते डर लगता है ,
कहीं ये पत्थर न बन जाएँ
और मैं कैद न हो जाऊं
अपने लफ़्ज़ों के ही साथ
इनमे सदियों के लिए,
इतिहास की तरह ।
तुम्हारा क्या है?
तुम तो चल दोगे हवा के साथ
सूखे, हलके धुल की तरह ।

breeze

You seem a little confused.
Have come to me, touched
And gone past and come back again
And again, many times.

And what have you written
On these white letters of clouds ?
I can't read well, the moon is with you,
Or have you sent them blank?

Your words are all mixed tonight
Anger, care, complaint and love.
All come and go fast
How am I to respond ?

Come closer, stay,
Let me feel you on my face.
Let me take-in your scent
In my breath.

Be engulfed in joy innocent
Without reason any
And be aware
That you Are.

all i have is words, hope and you

there is no tomorrow;
what we have is the present and each other.
lets live each day as it is,
lets meet each other as we do eager.
lets trust each other as us,
lets be robbed of all that is to be.
lets transform into something we yet know not,
lets cross the limits of all limits we think and
lets rejoice that we found in each other
what we never searched.

lets love each other as we love
lets be each other as we are. (i have not missed 'with')

sauda

बड़े घाटे का सौदा रे,
सौदा बड़े घाटे का रे ।
हाथ लिए गेहूं,
मोल दिए आटे का रे ।

जो कुछ भी माँगा,
पल में गवाया,
फिर मांगने तेरे
द्वार मैं आया ।
माया मरी न
तृष्णा मरी,
देह मरा पर
यह मन न मरा रे
बड़े घाटे का सौदा रे
सौदा बड़े घाटे का रे । । । १। ।


चैन गवाया, बुद्धि गवाई
बदले में चिता-सी चिंता पाई।
इस दौड़-धुप में क्या पाया मैंने
और कौन मुझसे छुटा रे
बड़े घाटे का सौदा रे
सौदा बड़े घाटे का रे । । २। ।

ध्यान छुटा, मेरा भजन छुटा
विषयों के बाज़ार आकर
मेरा तकदीर फूटा ।
कीमत न जानी कैसा अभागा
सोने को मैंने माना सुहागा
इसकी सुनी मैंने उसकी सुनी
गुरु ज्ञान पे न ध्यान धरा रे।
बड़े घाटे का सौदा रे
सौदा बड़े घाटे का रे ।


तोता भी रट रट के राम का नाम सीख लेता है। सतगुर कबीर जी को पढ़, सुनके ही यह बन पाया है , उन्ही को अर्पित है ।

naiharva

Naiharva Hum Ka Na Bhave
Sai Ki Nagri Param Ati Sundar,
Jahan Koi Jav Na Avey
Chand Suraj Jahan, Pavan Na Pani,
Ko Sundesh Pahunchave
Dard Yeh Sai Ko Sunave

Naiharva...
Agey Chalo Panth Nahin Sujhe,
Peeche Dosh Lagawe
Kehi Bidhi Sasure Jau Mori Sajani,
Virha Jor Jarawe Vishai Ras Nach Nachawe

Bin Satguru Apno Nahin Koi,
Jo Yeh Rah Batawe
Kahat Kabira Suno Bhai Sadho,
Supne Na Pitam Awey Tapan Yeh Jiya Ki Bujhawey

Don't like anymore, the home of my mother.
Most beautiful is beloved's home - comes and goes none.
'Tell this pain to Him', will someone bother?

Someone, please be my kind messenger,
Wind, water, Moon or you the Sun.
Don't like anymore, the home of my mother.

To move back or ahead, a path I can't decipher.
How do I go to the home of the loved one?
'Tell this pain to Him', will someone bother?

There is no savior that one's own master,
Shows the right way for us often.
Don't like anymore, the home of my mother.

Objects, senses, engage me in the dance macabre
And my heart faces the arrows of separation.
'Tell this pain to Him', will someone bother?

Listen my dear noble ones, says Kabir,
In dreams He comes, quenches thirst of my own.
Don't like anymore, the home of my mother.
'Tell this pain to Him', will someone bother?

The master mystic Kabir gives the allusion of a married woman (soul) who pines for her husband's/beloved's (God) home and her heart does not find solace or peace in her mother's home(world). Translated to English by me in a form called Villanelle.
Listen to the song.