I write
From the pages of my very old diary. I wrote this one 23 years back, in 1988.
उजड़े मकानों के साये में,
उसी राह के मोड़ पर
वह अचानक टकराना
नज़रें मिलाना
परिचय की कौंध का पल को उभरना
और लुप्त हो जाना
अनपहचाने चेहरों का लिबास ओढ़े
आहिस्ता से गुज़र जाना
फिर किसी विध्वंसक ज्वालामुखी का फ़ूटना
मन के किसी कोने में, उस गर्म उबलते लावे में
अतीत का पिधलना, उबलना और पथरा जाना
| कल शब बड़ी देर तक निकला रहा चाँद चाँदनी गिरती ओस को पिरोती रही रात घिरती रही कल शब तुम्हारी अलसाई बाहों में आने को मचलता रहा चाँद बेदम ठंड़ी साँसो को गर्म करता रहा चाँद कल शब बहुत उदास था चाँद सितारे थे तुम्हारी आगोश में राह तकता रहा चाँद -स्वाति सानी ‘रेशम’ |
کل شب بڑی دیر تک نکلا رہا چاند
چاندنی گرتی اوس کو پروتی رہی رات گھرتی رہی کل شب تمہاری السائی باہوں مین آنے کو مچلتا رہا چاند بے دم ٹھنڈی سانسوں کو گرم کرتا رہا چاند کل شب بہت اداس تھا چاند ستارے تھے تمہاری آغوش میں راہ تکتا رہا چاند ؔسواتی ثانی ریشم – |
मेरी हर बात शुरू तुमसे, खत्म तुमसे,
मेरी हर साँस, हर जुनूं तुमसे.
On a hot day in the month of May this year standing by the lakeside trying to soothe myself with the slight breeze that blew over the cool, deep waters of the lake I wrote these lines:
At 18, I was a shy girl. Extremely introvert, I was petrified of public speaking . It was she who insisted I go on the stage and give “Vote of Thanks” in one of the Rotract club event. “Not doing it is not an option” she admonished. That was the beginning and Sangita has been my friend and mentor ever since. Continue reading Sangita – आज फिर शुरू हुआ जीवन
A long time ago, there was a young girl, in love with a boy who said he loved her but can not marry her for reasons not known. The girl was sad, disappointed and angry at being rejected and knew she must learn to deal with it. It was one evening in the month of October she stood on the lakeside and wrote these words…
कभी न सोचा था प्यार बाँटा
तो दर्द पाऊँगी
कभी न सोचा था कि दर्द होगा तो इतना
कि उसे न बाँट पाऊँगी
वक्त लगता है संभलने में मगर
यकीं है मुझे कि संभल जाऊँगी
Sangita is a friend who shares my love for poetry and was one of the very few readers of my early writings. When she visited my site yesterday, she wanted to know as to why have I not published any of my new Hindi poetry here – I promised her I will and here it is –
अपने रिसते हुए घावों की तरफ मत देखो
उनके बहते हुए मोती समेटो पहले
वो टपके तो ये जख्म तारी होंगे
वो डूबे तो ले डूबेंगे सब कुछ
दर्द की तराशी हुइ है यह जिन्दगी
कुछ और दुख से न बिखर जाएगी
उनका दर्द कर सको तो कम कर लो
उनकी मुस्कुराहटों से ये जीस्त बहल जाएगी
I have not heard from her since ages, last time I called her she was busy shifting back to India from another country and we could hardly talk.
Cute and petite, she was the life of our group. Her anecdotes with smatterings of “uno bola, to fir main boli” in typical Hyderabadi style kept the conversation alive. We called h er “Hauli” a slang for cutely silly. She loved the road side chinese and I would very often gatecrash on her road side dining dates which she went with her “Quack”. Her boyfriend “Quack” was a friend of mine studying to be a doctor. I still don’t know if I was an intrusion, but I was close enough to both of them to be allowed to do that. Continue reading Friends forever
“Go straight inside baby” Bhiku the rickshaw wala told her before dropping her off at the gate. It was the month of July, schools had just re-opened and all of 8 year old, Gulgul, the girl with chubby cheeks felt liberated. It had rained heavily in the afternoon and at 4 o’clock when the school ended, the roadside was full of big and small puddles making her mind race and imagination run wild as she sat in the rickshaw to reach home.
And there it was, a huge puddle just outside the entrance of her home. There was a stone way through the puddle to the veranda of the old bungalow and it was easy to reach the door without getting her feet soiled -as she was told time and again, girls ought to behave demurely and in proper fashion, she even started to walk on the pathway. One step and the second one, she saw her own reflection in the puddle, stood there admiring the sky being reflected in water. Continue reading Gulgul
