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 ।
Saturday, 31 October 2009
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.
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