मुझे रख लो काम पर
तुम्हें लतीफ़े सुना कर
खूब हँसाया करूंगा
और तुम बदले में मुझे
अपनी छत से
चाँद ताकने देना
Let me come work for you
My job
will be to make you laugh
till your sides hurt
And your payment
is to let me see the moon
from your rooftop.
This is a random personal blog - covering everything from poetry to politics. Views presented are strictly my own.
मुझे रख लो काम पर
तुम्हें लतीफ़े सुना कर
खूब हँसाया करूंगा
और तुम बदले में मुझे
अपनी छत से
चाँद ताकने देना
Let me come work for you
My job
will be to make you laugh
till your sides hurt
And your payment
is to let me see the moon
from your rooftop.
हर बचपन में होनी चाहिए
एक नदी
या पोखर
या पहाड़
और इन में से कुछ भी न हो सके तो
कम-अस-कम
एक बड़ा सा
पेड़/
क्यूंकि
बचपन की यादें
जब maypole के रंग बिरंगे रिबनों सी
स्मृति की हवा में
लहलहाती है
तब
उन्हें आवश्यकता होती है
एक स्तम्भ की
जिस से
उन सब का स्थायित्व
महसूस किया जा सके
हर बचपन में होनी चाहिए
ऐसी नदी
पोखर
पहाड़
या फिर
कम-अस-कम
एक बड़ा सा पेड़।
*********
Every childhood deserves
a river
or a lake
or a mountain
or at least
a really big tree.
When
childhood memories
flutter
like Maypole ribbons
(colourful, but chaotic)
That is when
they need
the pole
to peg themselves
in the real-ness
of the physical world.
That is why
every childhood deserves
a river
a lake
a mountain
or at least
a really big tree.
*****
I am most certainly regressing.
But I had a really amusing encounter today and since this blog is my memory box of small things, where else would one post such a sweet little thing?
Remember when we were younger and boys would do different things to get our co-ordinates? (Email id, phone no., linkedin, facebook. etc.?) I used to find that so cute - the confusion, the hesitation, the attempt, the gentle smile, etc?
So, today, i was in a flight. A morning flight. Which means i had not slept well. Which means i was not feeling well. So I had only one agenda in that flight - to sleep. As soon as take off happened, I closed my eyes rather involuntarily.
Sometime during the flight, the person in the next seat and i got talking. I cant remember how. He was just coming from a trip and i was going to one. We spoke about a lot of things - his business, my work, the kind of holidays we like, good places to visit solo, etc.
Towards the end of the flight, he just turned to me and asked, "Are you on insta? What's your id?"
And that, dear reader, has not happened to me in a loooong time.
:)
उदास आदमी
ज़्यादा से ज़्यादा क्या कर सकता है?
फांसी लगा सकता है
कोने में लाश की तरह पड़ा रह सकता है
एक बंद कमरे में आलसी का तमगा लटका कर लेट सकता है
उदास आदमी
अंतत:
उदास होने से ज़्यादा
कुछ नहीं कर सकता।
******
Today's gratitude is for my guardian angel.
In general, i have been rather ungrateful lately.
A lot of things that could have gone wrong, did not go wrong. Instead of being grateful for the magic (and dare one say, the hard work) that goes into ensuring this, I was resentful.
And just now, getting a minor taste of how much work it takes to keep things ok, i am very grateful.
Tomorrow, I might resent the larger issue, but this - ensuring that so many things that could (and should) have gone wrong, did not - is something i will remain grateful for.
उस दिन फिल्म देखने गए थे।
मेरी आँखों में आँसू आ गए। हाथ में रुमाल नहीं था
आँसू रुक नहीं रहे थे।
तुम्हारी कमीज़ की बाज़ू पर आँखें पोंछी थीं
एक काली सी लाइन छूट गई थी उस पर
*This is a new series. A lot of times, we see a scene - irl, in a book, or on screen, and we imagine it differently. Like Katran, the format is short and self-explanatory.
So, i m keeping the categroy as Katran only.
जिनकी प्रेम कहानियाँ असफल रहीं
वे बने
कवि
जो अपने प्रेम के लिए लिख गए
सुंदर कविताएँ
जिल्द वाली किताबें
जिनकी प्रेम कहानियां सफल हो गईं
वे बने
पति
जो अपने प्रेम के लिए लाये
घर आते हुए ताज़ी तरकारी, और हरा धनिया
सुनो,
मेरे लिए तुम
धनिया वाले ही बनना।
*****
Love stories that fail
make poets
who write
sonnets
for their love.
Love stories that succeed
make husbands
who bring
fresh groceries
on their way home.
My love
I wish you
fresh groceries.
***********
कवि लिख कर सुना सकता है
बीवी बच्चों को:
"वो 16 वें साल का लम्स
जब तुम
अमलतास सी झुकीं थी मुझ पर
और मैं
आंच सा उठा था..."
कवयित्री
"दरवाज़े से दरीचे तक*"
भी नहीं।
कवि लिख सकता है -
"सुनो द्रौपदी शस्त्र उठा लो
अब गोविंद ना आएंगे**"
कवयित्री
"तुम्हारे साथ खाना मुझे अच्छा लगता है
तुम्हारे जूठे बर्तन उठाना नहीं। ***"
भी नहीं।
कवि कविता लिखने से पहले
चाय पीता है
कवयित्री
रसोई समेटती है
कवि और कवयित्री होना
समान नहीं है।
*******
Notes:
* - Darwaze se dareeche tak is a nazm by the Urdu poetess - Dr. Tarannum Riyaaz. It speaks about the loneliness felt by a woman her whole life as her husband ignores her and leaves her alone to manage the house, kids, and her own loneliness. The poetess mentioned, while reciting this piece, that she is questioned every time she recites this one, because the audience knows both her and her husband. Even though she said it in jest, the sheer pain in the nazm was raw and real. Many years later, what remains with me is not just the brilliance of the piece itself, but also her having to preface it with "Don't question me after this. Every time i recite the nazm, the audience knows both the husband and me, and there is a QnA." Unfortunately, I am not able to find that nazm anywhere. I only heard it from her once in a private poetry gathering.
** A poem by Nepali poet - Pushyamitra Upadhyaya, exhorting women to bear arms, with reference to a narrative from the Mahabharata. The text of the poem is:
सुनो द्राैपदी ! शस्त्र उठालो अब गोविंद ना आएंगे...
छोड़ो मेहंदी खड्ग संभालो
खुद ही अपना चीर बचा लो
द्यूत बिछाए बैठे शकुनि,
...मस्तक सब बिक जाएंगे
सुनो द्राैपदी ! शस्त्र उठालो अब गोविंद ना आएंगे...कब तक आस लगाओगी तुम
कब तक आस लगाओगी तुम, बिक़े हुए अखबारों से
कैसी रक्षा मांग रही हो दुःशासन दरबारों से
स्वयं जो लज्जाहीन पड़े हैं
वे क्या लाज बचाएंगे
सुनो द्राैपदी ! शस्त्र उठालो अब गोविंद ना आएंगे...तुम ही कहो ये अंश्रु तुम्हारे
कल तक केवल अंधा राजा, अब गूंगा-बहरा भी है
होंठ सिल दिए हैं जनता के, कानों पर पहरा भी है
तुम ही कहो ये अंश्रु तुम्हारे,
किसको क्या समझाएंगे?
सुनो द्राैपदी ! शस्त्र उठालो अब गोविंद ना आएंगे...
- पुष्यमित्र उपाध्याय*** Another poem by a poetess that I read on facebook. The poem speaks about micro daily inequity. The wife writes that she loves eating with her husband, but not picking up his dirty plate after him every day. She loves going out with him, but not picking up his shoes and taking them from the sofa to the shoe rack.. and so on. Again, cannot find the poem online.
**********
I have recited this poem: