ಈ ಪ್ರಪಂಚದಲ್ಲಿ ನನ್ನ ಪ್ರಪಂಚ ನನ್ನಪ್ಪ
ನಾ ಬೇಡದೆಯೆ ದೈವವಿತ್ತ ವರ ಇವ
ಅಂದು ಎಲ್ಲರ ಬಳಿ ಬೇಡಿದ ಕೈಗಳು
ಇಂದು ನನಗೆ ಕೇಳುವ ಮುನ್ನವೇ ಎಲ್ಲವನೂ ಕೊಡುವ ಕೈಗಳು
ಅವನು ಹುಟ್ಟಿ ಬೆಳೆದದ್ದು ಗುಬ್ಬಿಯ ಗೂಡೇ ಆದರೂ
ನನಗಾಗಿ ತ್ಯಾಗ -ಪ್ರೀತಿಯ ಕೋಟೆ ಕಟ್ಟಿದವ
ಅತ್ತಾಗ ಕಣ್ಣೀರ ಒರೆಸುವವನಲ್ಲ
ಕಣ್ಣೀರೇ ಬಾರದ ಹಾಗೆ ಕಾದ ಜೀವ
ಹಸಿವ ನೀಗಿಸುವನಲ್ಲ
ಹಸಿವು ಎಂದರೆ ಅರ್ಥವೇ ಆಗದ ಹಾಗೆ ನೋಡಿಕೊಂಡವ
ಅಪ್ಪಾ ಅಂದರೆ ಆಗಸ.....
ಅವನೆಂದಿಗೂ ನನ್ನ ಅರಸ.......
काश मैं चाँद होती
बस तेरी नज़रों के सामने होती
काश मैं चाँद होती..
तेरी मुस्कुराहट देख लेती
आँखों में तेरी झांक लेती
चुपके से तुझे छू लेती
बाहों में तुझे ले लेती
चाँदनी जैसे बिखर जाती
अपने रंग में समेट लेती
काश मैं चाँद होती..
बादलों के भीतर छुप जाती
चोरी से तुझे देख लेती
पानी के जैसे बरस जाती
काश मैं चाँद होती…
खुली खिड़की से अंदर आ जाती
चाँदनी का बिछौना बिछा देती
माथे को चूम ख़्वाबों में ले जाती
इंद्रधनुष का झूला झुलाती
तारों को पिरोकर हार बनती
काश मैं चाँद होती…
देखते देखते भोर हो जाती
ये रात भी रुक क्यों नहीं जाती
सुबह सुबह जब मैं जाने लगती
धीरे धीरे तुझे उठाती
काश मैं चाँद होती…
Sinking ships have paved a distant view
How to take the journey that has strained some and through
this coarse and blissful distraction
a method of dearth and subliminal action
The discovery of every possibility
has been chained to the corners to their own severity
Will this lead any further or question the sanity
of existing and evaporating all at the same time
the hand and the gesture, the truth that they combine
Tempting to bring the end that sits above and beyond the fence
The knife hung over waiting for its men
to surrender and submerge to the law
Known to evade and learnt to distort
its purview is attested to bring the sullied
to its understanding but never withstanding
a distant right to have, one for yourself and for other to forget
To see and to disregard
is a virtue, known to those who know what is not
THE TRUTH
I WANT TO SEE YOU,
I WANT TO TOUCH YOU.
BUT YOU JUST FADE,
JUST LIKE A THIN AIR..
MAYBE YOU JUST DON’T WANT TO SHOW UP.
CAN YOU JUST STOP?
I WANT TO FEEL YOU,
I WANT TO EXPRESS YOU.
BUT YOU JUST FADE,
JUST LIKE A THIN AIR..
I WILL TRY AGAIN AND AGAIN
UNTIL I FIND YOU.
I WILL COME BEHIND AND BEHIND
UNTIL I CATCH YOU.
I WANT TO BE WITH YOU
BUT YOU JUST FADE,
JUST LIKE A THIN AIR..
The chair from 1960 that my dad refuses to throw,
Occupies 3,888 square centimeters of our house
That 3,888 square centimeters is teeming with million tons of memories that are peerless and pleasant.
Crafted with teakwood, having minute fissures and fractures
Causing eruption of emotions
Releasing the aroma of nostalgia for my dad.
Dense plastic threads intricately intertwined
Forming the upper rest and the lower base.
The cushion though missing,
But no complaints made against it!
It evaporated with time.
Not humans but various material possessions and objects enjoy the chair’s heritage, quiescence, and comfort.
Owned by none other than my grandmother.
I was six years old when she departed from the world;
My dad and his sister are credible sources for her peculiar habits.
She enjoyed sipping chai leaning on her chair,
Along with watching movies and scrubbing her ivory-white teeth with miswak.
Her single glance was enough to cause shudders in my dad and his three siblings
Never found the need to elevate her tone,
Her fuming glance did more than enough for her children that were grown.
Whenever my grandfather tried to sit in her chair,
He would have to face a handkerchief attack that even the speed of light could not match.
Qawwalis, my grandfather loved to hear
Even the neighbor one floor above will bear witness to the qawwalis he hummed.
Radio’s sound was always louder than my grandma’s stern look.
Grandpa tolerated a hearing complication,
Heard less, but felt more!
Still, in the eyes of my dad, this huge piece of non-shining teakwood is more
lustrous than any diamond you can find on this planet!
More beautiful than any peerless piece an artisan could craft!
Sweeter than honey!
Softer than cotton!
Whiter than the moon!
More expensive than any treasure trove!
It is a treasure trove filled with a son’s love for his mother
Unbreakable,
Unbound, and
Everlasting!
You wed the beautiful man,
The promising boy, the pretty lad,
He's a jolly chap, a solid guy.
Everybody said a pretty prince for our princess.
You always wanted to be your own queen.
But perhaps you could settle,
Just this once, for this darling male,
This family man- all charming smiles.
You fell so desperately for him,
And the mountains were so cold.
Two months later you tell him,
"I am having our child."
His half-smile spells fearful joy,
You know this man now,
Know him enough to guess-
The first thought in his mind,
Is the new shackle binding him.
You know this man, your husband
Is bound to his father's family
Before yours, you know which duties
He places first, which relations, which bonds.
You resent him, you love him.
When your daughter arrives,
In unwilling splay of limb, you realise-
You birth this child, this child
With her trilling cries, her bloody body,
And your eyes.
You know then, you know it
In your bones and you swear
You swear with your very soul
She won't suffer your fate,
She won't be at another's mercy,
She'll rule her own land,
So you claim her, anoint her,
With mother's blood-
As mother's child.
Make passage like the river when at the foothill of you
To where you fill into me and I have my fill of you
There we lay, moonlit in embrace, tending until rose-bloom
That garden-bed which in crease and crumple smells still of you
Our drizzle of amour as a perfumery of soul:
Ache in the essence of mine, pine is a distill of you
To glimpse the dance of flame before the whirl of purging fire
While entwined in gaze I sit at the window sill of you
When so deep in the woods to the sway of a primal rhythm
Kneel for the hounds of desire to make what they will of you
सभी को पता था ज़मी किसकी थी
सभी को पता था कब्ज़ा किसका था
किसी ने सही का साथ ना दिया
कहीं ख्वाबों, कहीं इंसानों का
कत्लेआम हुआ l
ये बात ना कश्मीर की है,
ना आज़रबाइजान की है,
ना तिब्बत ना ताईवान की है
कहाँ कहा यूक्रेन की है
नहीं कहा फिलिस्तीन की है
सुनो, ये बात ना आदमजात की है
ना भूत भविष्य वर्तमान की है
ये बात ज़मीन की है l
ज़मीन जो कुदरत की है,
पर कब्ज़ा बस इंसान का है l
ज़मीन दरख्तों पर बैठे परिंदों की है,
कब्ज़ा तो इंसान का है,
हक स्याह रातों में फैली चांदनी का भी है,
कब्ज़ा ना जाने क्यूँ सिर्फ इंसान का ही है l
हक तो गिली डंडा, गेंद बल्ले का भी है,
कब्ज़ा तो फ़िर भी बस,
भरी तोपों और गूँजती बंदूकों का ही है l
हक़ क्या बच गया जो तेल ज़मी मे उसका भी है?
या धुआँ हुआ हक़ उसका जो गाड़ियों में जल गया?
हक़, सुनो तुम, ख़ाक हुए ख्वाबों का भी है,
पर कब्ज़ा आज फिर, सुनो तुम,
खून सनी हकीक़त का ही है l
Do you know those moments, right before drifting off to sleep, you find your thoughts meandering?
In these elusive moments of solitude, I oft catch myself wondering
How refreshing it would be if our world had stayed immune to all the progress
No, not in science or technology, but in the realm of matters of the heart, yes!
From an age where thumbs swipe right tirelessly every night in search of a new thrill,
If only we could be transported back to an era of an old school kind of love, the one with no frills
From hastily scribbled notes in library books by lovers, and for a reply, the agonizing wait
When did it become acceptable for us to chat with multiple people vying for a date?
From the mass of one night stands who will leave no trace, come the first rays of morning
How do you find the one who will stay through the day sponging your forehead when you lay in your bed, with fever, burning?
From weathering the storm together till death, standing by each other strong
Why do we now have options lined up at our fingertips to fall back on, the minute something goes wrong?
From lovers braving the tempestuous perils of night to simply gaze at their beloved from afar,
When did we turn into a generation stealing furtive glances at our phones even when seated across our love, it’s truly bizarre!
From the swarm of lustful eyes that pine to explore every inch of your body & devour you whole
How do you single out the ones that yearn to see beyond, into what lights up your eyes & a fire in your soul?
From fighting for their love against all odds, valiantly with the kind of courage that would put a warrior to shame
Why do we now settle for the cowards who betrays your trust and hides behind lies & blame games?
Immortal is how we defined love before, one that transcended even the finality of death, suffused with unfaltering patience
“Out of sight, out of mind’ is how we define love now, like Wi-Fi connections, growing weaker with distance
To those who say, this is a mythical kind of love mean to be written within pages of a novel, definitely not in our fate
I say probably, but what if our world really could go back this old school kind of love, maybe it’s never too late…
I don't know what it means,
But from a young age, I was suppressed from
Wearing what I loved by all means.
I don't know what it means,
But I was taught to cook food of all types and means.
I don't know what it means,
But my brother was taught to catch his fantasies,
While nobody cared for my dreams.
I don't know what it means,
But my brother travelled all around the world,
While I was stuck within the four walls.
I don't know what it means,
But my brother was taught to be strong and brave,
And all sorts of outdoor games,
While I was told to be calm, elegant and gentle,
And learn the household chores by heart.
I don't know what it means,
But my brother's tears had value more than gold,
While my tears had no value, that's what I was told.
I don't know what it means
But while I was learning ABCs,
I always dreamt of what I would be;
A pilot, a teacher, a doctor, a chef, or a scientist just like Marie Curie,
And weave my own inspiring story.
But my Baba's words, "Just marry",
Dropped me into a hole, deeper than a black hole.
Today I am 20 and with strength and hope, I got a job without Baba's permission
But when I came home there was silence and silence,
And no conversation.
I asked Ma what was the issue, But she stood there like a statue.
Surprisingly, I was not surprised,
She was always silent each and every day
No matter how much I cried and whined.
Today, I understood why Ma was silent all these days
But now it's enough,
It's time for a change by breaking all the stereotypical gates,
And throw away the Handcuffs in which freedom was till now tough.
So with lots of hope and a smile,
I went to Baba, thinking he'd realize and agree ,
That I'm no longer a child,
And my dreams are not little like a seed;
I've been a grown-up for quite a while,
And my never-ending dream tree is ready to reach the moon.
But I guess these cloud-like thoughts will eventually vanish away,
So,I suddenly tried to walk away;
When with a giggle and a smile, for the first time ever in my life,
My Baba spoke up
" Listen, my daughter, go live your dreams
In this modern world, you're forever free".
And finally today I know what it means,
Today I know the worth of my tears and dreams.
I went from being a nowhere nobody,
To being a special somebody.
बीते हुए कल की यादें संजोए
फूल सा नाज़ुक मन जब रोये
तो प्यार से सहलाकर उससे बस यही कहना
कि ज़िन्दगी का नाम है चलते रहना
न जाने हम कितने लम्बे रस्ते चलेंगे
न जाने कौन सी मंज़िलों को पायेंगे
लेकिन बरसों बाद जब हम फिर मिलेंगें
तो आज के बारे में सोचकर मुस्कुरायेंगे
बीता हुआ कल तो बदल जायेगा
आज के ज़रिए आने वाला कल आयेगा
रह जायेंगी याद हमेशा वह सुबह, वह शाम
कुछ दोस्तों की बदमाशियाँ, कुछ दोस्तों के नाम..
Mind games
Once again on a silent dark street,
I sat in the corner where no light could reach..
Helpless I looked at the sky above me
Whose darkness was also filled with a silent scream.
Just like me the clouds held back,
And waiting for someone to hold them close..
They were also heavy with pain,
Only we understood each other
Completely tired and drained..
Filled with thoughts of anxiety and pain,
I was waiting for one last chance
to breathe freely again..
I finally let out a loud scream
Just loud enough for the clouds to hear me...
Then came down pouring rain,
And lighting bursting with flames..
They silenced my scream
To let no one hear
What goes on in my head when no one is near..
Slowly I went back to bed
With the monsters smiling in my head..
~Sameera
জানোঁ,
ওপজাৰে পৰা আজিলৈ
এৰি অহা সময়ৰ
বহু ৰহস্য বহু আচৰ্য্য জানোঁ,
জানোঁ মই,
হাত ডাঙিলে আকাশ খহিব
মুখ মেলিলে মানুহ ডুবিব
সলনি হ'ব
সাম্প্ৰতিক মানচিত্ৰ,
অক্টোপাছী হাতোৰাৰ কৱলত
বন্দী হৈ
নিশ্চুপে থাকোঁ,
এই পৃথিৱীৰ
কোনো এক অমূলক
বাসিন্দা বুলি
টুপাই বুৰ মাৰোঁ ---
জানোঁ,
দিনৰ কাৰচাজি জানোঁ
ৰাতিৰ বেজ্জ্বতিও বুজোঁ,
আন্ধাৰত খিলখিলাই থকা
অধম ইশ্বৰৰ
সঠিক ঠিকনাও জানোঁ,
পম্পটাৰ
পম্পট কৰা
নাটক চলক
চলক নাটক!
একো নাই ---
আমিতো জানোঁৱেই
সবিশেষ বুজোৱেই
নিজানৰ গৰ্ভত
নৈশব্দৰ কোলাত
অক্ষত হৈ ৰ'ব
অমলিন জুপুৰি আমাৰ!
আমাৰ আমি---
দুখৰ বান্ধৈ
হিয়াৰ সাৰথি?
I once heard a man recite some lines,
He named it agapethos,
Expressing love for his lover's bosoms,
And the thickness of her hips.
Yet, I pondered the beauty lost,
In the sunset within her eyes,
The hair, darker than the night, now amiss,
And her smile, outshone by moonlight's demise.
When did the lovers inside of poets die?
I wondered, is he truly her lover,
If he disregards her enchanting smile?
Can one be a lover if the body's the sole find?
What becomes of love,
When time weaves its threads,
And bodies fade, yet souls remain
When did the lovers inside of lovers die?
I can tell that
my father is not a feminist
in the way, he calls
me and my sister
his rose and his dahlia
he is watering flowers
and not raising daughters
I can tell that
my father is not a feminist
in the way, he walks beside me
and in the way, he tells me
how to walk beside him
delicately softy gracefully
floating in the air like
a fairy
I can tell that
my father is not a feminist
in the way, he asks me to speak up
when he talks over me
my father has educated us
in science, in literature, in art
but he cannot teach us what
he does not understand himself
my father tells me
to go conquer the cosmos
to unfurl my wings and soar into the sky
but to come back home
before nine
my father loves us
but fears for us more
I can tell that
my father is not a feminist
when he says that
women have to hustle
harder longer
because we are built slower
he says it isn't our fault
it's our chromosomes
how our genes are coded
we are molded to be smaller
weaker with rounder shoulders
that cannot bear the weight
of this cruel unfair world
we have to wear armors
and be on guard with spears
this is a battlefield, darling
if you are too fragile to be the offense
at least be on your defense
why do I have to wage a war
to lay claim over my own womb?
I can tell that
my father is not a feminist
in the way, he doesn't want to
change the world for us
but wants us to change
for the world
my father is a good son
a good husband
a good father
but above all, he is a good man
my father is a man
a man
so when my father told me
that he would finance my
higher education once
I get married to a suitable man
I agreed to marry
as long as I could wear
a plain white sari
on the wedding day
it would be as though
I'd be attending a funeral
my funeral.
In Reverence we gather to Commemorate
Our Triumphant Victory on this date!
Flipping thru the pages of History, seven and a half decade back
The happenings then.....as we track
Evidently, 'Twas our Indian Freedom's long struggle
Claiming thousands of lives in its battle.
Its endless sacrifice...
Ultimately Winning its Prize !
With Non-Violence as (our) its only tool,
Persevered and ended the British Rule.
Marking it.....Seventy Five years ago
In our Capital, Khan's music did echo !
YES.....INDIA woke to LIFE at the midnight
When, all the world slept.
Tri Colour was unfurled first
In 1947 at The Red Fort on 16th August !
Our National Flag and Our National Anthem,
Will, in every dutiful citizen
Surge their PATRIOTISM !
JAI HIND !!!
ESWARI INDRANI
जम के बरस जाना बारिश,
रंजिशें को अब तो खत्म कर जाना बारिश ,
बेहिसाब हुए हैं यार के दीदार पर चर्चे,
अब अपनो के दिल का मैल भी साफ कर जाना बारिश।
तेरा दूर से बरसना ,
मेरे तक पहुंच जाना ,
और मुझे फिर भी भिगो जाना ,
कभी आंखो से बहते हुए आंसुओं को भी पोंछ जाना बारिश।
तेरी तारीफ करूँ मैं,
जब भी तू बेहिसाब बरसती है ,
लेकिन जब भी बरसती है,
अपनी मर्ज़ी से ही बरसती है ,
जब भी कभी मेरे शहर में बरसे तू ,
मेरी भी मर्ज़ी से तू बरस जाना बारिश।
Men are away for war,
They have gone so far,
Roads are now blown up tar!
Comes back in coffins,
Wreckage and destroyed inns,
The blood of people can't be rinsed!
The field of death,
People have lost their breath,
Coffins are covered with wreaths!
Lost our lives and homes,
Children and widows now roam,
Crumbling churches and domes!
Eyes filled with tears,
Men with ash and blood smears,
No more joy so sheer!
Grey sky with raining bombs,
Death comes with fine-tooth combs,
Now all are buried in graveyard tombs!
Oh, the fight for peace,
Time is now filled with crease,
Remember you can't take a life for lease!
Oh holy light, I bid farewell,
Oh black darkness, I welcome hell,
Oh Lord show mercy,
Like animals now we dwell!
A grandeur banquet which unfold and queer
Why granny's lip try ne'er move for tale?
So do her's granny in her aging year?
The grandeur feast of mine shocked me to pale.
Seen a man in wreck jumping up and down
Who cuddle the town owner with a glee
A black, white and naive alongst the brown,
A well renown man in a shame to flee
Here I in awe and quest, what kind of hoke?
Of feeble sight, not able, how they knot.
A mother's brother baffled leave to choke
What code or card they hold, here I in odd.
A man in murmur which passes through my ear
One heart! One heart! And solely that I hear.
The streets are riddled with potholes, the kind that make
you wonder if you could ever count them as you walked home.
I don’t mind potholes, for it is always easier
to drown in them like a tadpole with a penchant for endings.
I look at these potholes every day from the window seat of buses
and in this October heat, right after the cyclone, the water is dirty.
A little rainbow forms in them, glistening like a mirage
in this desert of a city, looking for something to quench
our thirst for tomorrow. This illusion is so light and fading
like the light in the ticket conductor’s eyes that I look away.
If I stare any longer, I will fall in like it is quicksand
and miss my stop. That would not bode well for I just started
this journey and the roads seem friendlier each morning but
grow estranged every night. The street lights flicker and
the mirage goes to sleep, its nose whistles till a pigeon
flies past, dipping its neck, colouring itself pink, green and silver.
The next day the news reads that too many potholes
might lead to accidents , and something should be done.
When I leave for college, the omnipresent potholes look
unsettling as if they know something I don’t.
On the bus, I hear a kid saying that what if
the potholes are just stars, not in the Milky Way
but in this city. When people die, they become potholes.
Maybe, that’s why they form little rainbows to let the others know.