Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Poetry by Sunita Biddu

Door zehen me chhupa ek Armaan likh du!
Lafzo'N ki bayaani, ghazal ki Zubaa'N likh du!!

Gumnaam Yu'N Huye, is dillagi me Jaana.N!
Gar Pooche koi, Takhallus Anjaan likh du!!

Ye Zindagi hai kya, mehez chand saanse!
Tere naam se bani, Vo Pehchaan likh du!!

This is a piece that i really liked.. its short, and impactful in every sher... hindi script and translation later in the day please...


Don't surrender your loneliness
So quickly.
Let it cut more deep.

Let it ferment and season you
As few human
Or even divine ingredients can.

Something missing in my heart tonight
Has made my eyes so soft,
My voice
So tender,

My need of God

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

apne honthon par sajaana chaahta hoon... nida fazli

अपने होंठो पर सजाना चाहता हूँ,
तुझे मैं गुनगुनाना चाहता हूँ...

कोई आंसूं तेरे दामन पर गिरा कर
बूँद को मोती बनाना चाहता हूँ

थक गया मैं करते करते याद तुझ को,
अब तुझे मैं याद आना चाहता हूँ...

छा रहा है सारी  बस्ती में अन्धेरा
रौशनी को घर जलाना चाहता हूँ

आखरी हिचकी तेरी जानों पे निकले ,
मौत भी मैं शायराना चाहता हूँ

i want to celebrate you on my lips
come, for i want to hum you..
i want to drop a tear in your palm
and convert a droplet .. to a pearl..
oh! for how long will i think of u
for once, i want to be thought of....
it is dark again, in our village
let me burn my heart, let there be light..
let my last breath be in your lap
even in death, i want poetry...

vo dil mein raha aur use tod gaya bhi... वो दिल में रहा और उसे तोड गया भी

काँटों की चुभन पायी , फूलों का मज़ा भी ...
दिल दर्द के मौसम में,  रोया भी हंसा भी …

आने का सबब याद ना जाने की खबर है…
वो दिल में रहा और उसे तोड गया भी .

हर एक से मंजिल का पता पूछ रहा है
गुमराह मेरे साथ हुआ रहनुमा भी .

गुमनाम कभी अपनों से, जो ग़म हुए हासिल
कुछ याद रहे उन में, कुछ भूल गया भी ...

it had the pain of thorns pricking, and the delight of flowers,
in the season of pain, the heart laughed and cried by turns..

i have no clue why he came, nor know when he left..
he lived in my heart, and broke it too...

he asks everyone for the way to our destination..
with me, even the guide is lost...

the hurt i got from the ones i trusted
some of it i remember, but the rest is forgotten...


Sunday, May 19, 2013

Hitchie's hatching... and the memories that got made...

आज , गुदगुदी लिखो…
क्या करना है
नेइत्श्स्चे बन कर
रूमी बनो
खूब हंसो :)

ग़ालिब नहीं
चुटकुला कहो…

write a tickle
what do we gain
by being Neitzsche
Today, we be Rumi
and laugh a lot.

recite not
a Ghalib
tell a joke instead...


jan-nat :)


ped.. is par koi pun nahi..

Tuesday, May 14, 2013


how can i explain how much i love you
like love was a linear metric
with a scale?

love, like life
... is amoeba
a thousand different shapes
in a hundred different directions.

depths that cannot be fathomed
because even microscopes have limitations
and microcosms created by love
are limitless.

Sunday, May 05, 2013

When a Tree Shook Delhi - excerpts

It is a commentary on the Indian democracy that Sajjan Kumar, who has been accused of leading mobs during the carnage in the most number of affidavits, secured the maximum no. of votes in the whole counry - 8,55,543 - when he won from the Outer Delhi constituency in the last Lok Sabha elections in 2004.

Wednesday, May 01, 2013

The 1984 riots and how they deprived us of the one thing - hope.

The 1984 riots are a miracle in human history, because NO ONE KILLED THEM, and yet, 2700 people burnt to their death in the biggest known occurence of spontaneous human combustion(look that up).
For 29 years, the victims have waited patiently, hearing after hearing, court after court.. for SOMEONE to be convicted. But miraculously, NOT ONE of the leaders who killed thousands in the most brutal way, not one of them was convicted.
Today, as Sajjan Kumar was also acquitted, i lose all hope.
Waris Shah, a well respected Sufi poet from Punjab, wrote of the plight of Heer - a daughter of Punjab. Many centuries later, Amrita Pritam, a Punjabi poetess, saw the massacre of partition, the rapes and the forced conversions, and wrote a very famous poem, in which she exhorted Waris Shah to rise from his grave and see. When he saw one daughter of Punjab cry, he wrote a long story about her. What will he do today, when millions of daughters cry in the land of Heer?
Today, this comes, straight out of grief. There is no other emotion. No anger, no rage, not even a hollow sense of injustice. Just. Grief. and an emptiness that cannot be filled.
The piece is in Punjabi, and borrows from the original of Amrita Pritam.. because today, i know what it is to not have a single living soul to look up to for hope or solace.
ਆਜ ਆਖਾਂ ਅਖਬਾਰਾਂ ਨੂ,
ਕਿੱਤੇ ਪ੍ਰੇਸਾਂ ਵਿਚੋਂ ਬੋਲ
ਇਕ ਧੀ ਮਰੀ ਸੀ 
ਤੂ ਲਖਾਂ ਅਖਰ ਵਗਾਏ (ਅਥਰੂ ਵਰਗੇ) ..
... ਆਜ 2700 ਲਾਸ਼ਾਂ ਪੁਛਦੀਯਾਂ ,
ਕੀ ਸਾਡੇ ਲਹੁ ਦਾ ਮੋਲ ?
ਕੋਈ ਇਕ ਨਾ ਅਖਰ ਬੋਲੇ,
ਕੋਈ ਇਕ ਨਾ ਅਥਰੂ ਰੁਡਯਾ ,
ਬੀਬੀ ਬੈਠੀ ਸੁਬਕਦੀ ,
ਕੋਈ ਇਕ ਨਾ ਲਁਗੇ ਕੋਲ...
ਆਜ ਆਖਾਂ ਜ਼ਮੀਰ ਨੂ,
ਕਿੱਤੇ ਕਬਰਾਂ ਵਿਚੋਂ ਬੋਲ 
ਤੂ ਉਸ ਵੇਲੇ ਵੀ ਚੀਖਦਾ , 
ਜੱਦੋਂ ਬੁੱਲ ਰਹੰਦੇ ਅਡੋਲ 
ਆਜ ਆਖਾਂ ਚੀਖਾਂ ਨੂ,
ਜਿਗਰਾ ਫਾੜ ਕੇ ਪਾਓ ਸ਼ੋਰ 
ਡੋਰੇ ਸਾਰੇ ਜਜ ,
ਸਾਡੇ ਹੌਕੇਯਾਂ ਨੂ ਕਰਨ ਖਮੋਸ਼ .

आज आखां अखबारां नु,
कित्ते प्रेसां विचों बोल 
इक धी मरी सी,
तू लखां आखर वगाये (अथरू वर्गे)
...आज २७ ० ०  लाशां पुछ्दियाँ ,
की साडे लहू दा मोल ?
कोई इक न आखर बोले 
कोई इक न अथरू वगेया 
बीबी बैठी सुबकदी ,
कोई इक न लंगे कोल ...
आज आखां ज़मीर नू 
कित्ते कब्रां विचों बोल 
तू उस वेले वी  चीखदा 
जद्दों बुल रहंदे अडोल 
आज आखां चीखां नू 
जिगरा फाड़ के पाओ शोर 
डोरे सारे जज ,
साडे हौकयाँ नु करण खमोश .
Please see the comment for a translation.