maan

[Guest guest]

Anurag, it is fine.

I am also sitting immersed in poetry so I am going to post it. if any

member objects, then I will not do so again. If there is no objection

I will fill your heads with hindi, urdu and English poems. However I

am still too scared to post any romantic stuff until I have lord

krishna' s shoulder to support for my gun, so I am posting two other

poems –again by the same man. He seems to be very good. I am not

translating simply because I will not do justice. OK I will try.

 

 

maa.N (mother)

 

besan kii so.ndhii roTii par

khaTTii chaTanii jaisii maa.N

yaad aatii hai chaukaa-baasan

chimaTaa phukanii jaisii maa.N

(like sour chutney on a soft gram floor chapatti, now that she is no

more, her image comes to mind. My dearest image of her--Working in

the kitchen and synonymous with chauka baasan-chimta pukanai –things

used iin an Indian rural area--my maan)

 

baa.Ns kii khurrii khaaT ke uupar

har aahaT par kaan dhare

aadhii so_ii aadhii jaagii

thakii dopaharii jaisii maa.N

(sleeping on an old woven charpoy, ready to get up at the slightest

murmur around, half asleep, half awake. Like a tired afternoon — my

maan)

chi.Diyo.n ke chahakaar me.n gu.Nje

raadhaa-mohan alii-alii

murGe kii aavaaz se khulatii

ghar kii ku.nDii jaisii maa.N

( as morning comes, and birds sing, and you hear names of radha –

mohan and ali ali from passing by ascetics. Like the call of the

cock, like the opening of the iron bolt to welcome the morning –my

maan)

 

bivii, beTii, bahan, pa.Dosan

tho.Dii tho.Dii sii sab me.n

din bhar ik rassii ke uupar

chalatii naTanii jaisii maa.N

( a bit of a wife, abit of a daughter, a bit of a sister, a bit of a

neighbor, there are bits of her in all of these and of all these in

her. All day balancing herself on a high-strung rope like a circus

girl –natni-my maan)

 

baa.NT ke apanaa cheharaa, maathaa,

aa.Nkhe.n jaane kahaa.N ga_ii

phaTe puuraane ik alabam me.n

cha.nchal la.Dakii jaisii maa.N

(after distributing her face and forehead among us, GOD knows where

her eyes have been lost. Now, all that remains is a picture in an old

torn album of what was once a young effervescent girl—my Maan)