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Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Stop all the clocks..

I don’t think I have words to describe this one..

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

W.H. Auden

P.S. I am in no sort of mourning whatsover ; the emotions one feels is a function of reality as well as imagination ūüôā

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Alvida..

Sari yaadein bator ke
Sare sapne simet ke
Humne apna daaman bhar liya

Sare shikwe mita ke
Sare gile hata ke
Saaf apna yeh ab man kar diya

Sari kshama bujha ke
Apna pehlu bacha ke
Ab dil door kahin tujhse chal diya

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When I was very young, my grandfather, used to sing to me.

I could never make out if it is a song or hymn. Was it a love song or a devotional one? I was always confused that who was he singing for?
The songs were beautiful in a different offbeat kind of way, as in if beauty can synonymize passion or fervor. Some of them funny, some of them satirical, some of them had the sarcasm (somewhat like Kabir’s dohe), but all of them had a devotion, love in its purest form.
Much much later, did I come to know it was all Sufiyana music and Kalaam.

Sufi love poetry tends to be based on the metaphor that our love for God and our seeking contact with him is like seeking a departed lover.
Therefore, in the Sufiyana Kalam, it becomes so difficult to ascertain that if one is talking about God or his/her beloved.
Till date, no matter how rudimentary or unsophisticated it might sound, this is what moves me the most.

One such sufi poet, is Bulle Shah (yes of the ‚ÄúBulla ki jana main kaun‚ÄĚ fame)

And one of his lines I remember from childhood is

Ranjha ranjha kardi ni main apay ranjha hoi
Sakhiyon ni menu sadho ranjha heer na akhay koi

( Saying Ranjha Ranjha I have became Ranjha my self,
therefore call me Ranjha and no one say Heer anymore.)

Another rendition that I had heard was:

Ranjha ranjha kardi ni main apay ranjha hoi
Ranjha main wich main ranjhe wich, hor khayal na koi

(Second line means, we both have become one, no other thought exists)

Although I would love to talk about Bulla ki Jaana (maybe some other time), let me describe another poem on a similar vein.

Ni mein kamli han (Yes indeed, i am mad in His love)

Haji lok Makey  nu jandey, mera Ranjha mahi Maka ni mein kamli han

(Those who want to go to Mecca can do that, for me Ranjha is Mecca
and yes, I am mad)

Jit wal yaar, ut wal Kaaba, bhaven fole Kitaban Chharen, ni mein kamli han.

(wherever is my beloved my Kaaba is there, you can check your all four holy books, i.e. the Tourant, Jaboor, Injeel and the Quran, i am madly in love with Him).

Wichey Haji, wichey Gazzi, wichey Chor Uchaka, ni mein kamli han.

(In my procession there are people going to Haj, to war and also cheats and thieves, i dont care, I am in love with My Beloved, and i dont look at others, i am in love with Him).

Mein ta mang Ranjhe di hoiyenya, mera babal karda dhakka, ni mein kamli han.

(I have been betrothed to Ranjha but my family wish to send me with the other group… what to say i am mad).

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Wo Kamra Yaad Aata hai

Well..

If life can never be stagnant.. if its everflowing.. than what stays with us?

If there is one thing which I fear, will remove me from Myself, is letting go of my roots, or to put it more clearly, things which are dear to me right now. I tend to keep everything, save it, savour it again and again… This makes me relatively quite slow for the world, but then thats me.

There is this poem by Javed Akhtar which really touched me, It goes like..

Main jab bhi zindagi ki chilchilatee dhoop mein tapkar
Main jab bhi doosron ke aur apne jhooth se thak kar
Main sabse lad ke khud se haar ke
Jab bhi us ik kamre mein jaata tha
Wo halke aur gehre katthai rangon ka ik kamra
Wo behad meherbaan kamra
Jo apni narm mutthi mein mujhe aise chhupa leta tha
Jaise koi maan bachche ko aanchal mein chhupa le
Pyaar se daante,
“Ye kya aadat hai, jalti dopahar mein maare maare ghoomte ho tum”

Wo kamra yaad aata hai..
Dabeez aur khaasa bhaari
kuch zara mushkil se khulne waala (Dabeez=Hard)
wo sheesham ka darwaaza
Ki jaise koi akkhad baap
apne khurdare seene mein
shafqat ke samandar ko chuupaye ho (Shafqat = Tenderness)

Wo kursi,
aur uske saath wo judwaan bahen uski
Wo dono dost thein meri Wo ik gustakh munhphat aaina,
jo dil ka achchha tha
Wo behangam si almari, (Behangam= Clumsy)
jo kone mein khadi ik boodhi anna ki tarah
aaine ko tambeeh karti thee (tambeeh=scold)
Wo ik guldaan,
nanha sa,
bahut shaitan,
un dono pe hansta tha

Dareecha                              (dareecha=window)
ya zahanat se bhari ik muskurahat     (zahanat=Knowing)
aur dareeche pe jhuki wo bel
Koi sabz sargoshi                      (sabz = green)
(sargoshi = whisper)

Kitabein
taak mein aur shelf par
sanjeeda ustaani bani baithein
Magar sab muntazir is baat ki main unse kuchh poochoon (muntazir = waiting)
Sirhane
neend ka saathi,
thakan ka charagar
wo narm dil takiya
Main jiski god mein sir rakh ke
chhat ko dekhta tha
Chhat ki kadiyon mein na jane kitne afsanon ki kadiyaan thein
Wo chhoti mez par
aur saamne deewar par
aawezaan tasveerein
Mujhe apnaiyat aur yaqeen se dekhtein thein,
muskuratein thein
Unhein shak bhi nahi tha,
ik din
main unko aise chhod jaoonga
Main ik din yoon bhi jaoonga,
ki phir wapas na aaoonga

Main ab jis ghar mein rehta hun, bahut hi khoobsoorat hai
Magar aksar yahan khamosh baitha yaad karta hoon

Wo kamra baat karta tha….!

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