आज इस शहर में अकेला हु
जबकि बहुत जान मेरे जैसे
चलते है, रोते हुए, आस पास
जब देखता हूँ उन आँखों में
सब नीरस होके मुझे देखते
उनकी निगाहो में मैं सुराग ढूंढ़ता हु |
हे खुदा कब मुझे इस जीवन से
मुक्ति मिले इस अनजान शहर से
कब मैं अपने गांव को चला जावु
अगर यह मेरी चाह कुछ ज्यादा है
दफना दो, मुझे और मेरे सपनों को
इस शहर में, जहा तुम भी अब अजनबी हो |
My first attempt in Hindi. The plight of the migrants who come to the city with a lot of dreams and a healthy soul are let down by the city so inhumanly that they crave to go back to those villages, but they are so tired and having lost their souls to the devils who linger and rule the city, now even going back seems to be a far fetched dream.
Let me know your thoughts on this.
Rough translation is as below.
Today, am feeling lonely in this alien city
when a lot of souls, like me, I see in pain
around and about me, crying as they pass
as I look deeply into their sad eyes,
they sense me, with looks monotonous
i fervently search for clues in those looks
for me to survive in this city alien to me.
Oh Lord, when will you relive me of this distress
and give me solace from life and this city
when can I think of going back to my sweet village
from whence I came, if you feel this wish of mine
is too much to fulfill, bury me, my tired self
who lost his way and his dreams in this city
where, even You have been now lost to me…
Had dream’t of flying to far off Spain
tickets we did not obtain in any plane
She asked how the dream would sustain
I told her we could always get a train
that passed through the terrain of Spain
We had barely got into a crowded train
when it started to mighty heavily rain
having the crowd seeming so insane
only one person Jane, she looked sane.
When I started looking at her again
she seemed to be in some sort of pain
efforts to reach to her were all in vain
when, of a sudden, our train hit a crane
that somehow got stuck in wet terrain.
We seemed to lose contents of our brain
comforting, as in, no gain without pain,
could you tell, amid tears, are we in Spain?
the strain was much, though, to ascertain
we looked like people hit with dirt cocaine
though in our plan was, old Champagne…
This poem came to me with the recent rains in Bahrain.
I have been standing for years
lending ears to many persons
walking below in their lively days
some, who sat beneath or came
to fulfill their needs, be it any.
The birds had built many a nest
I have seen fledglings groomed
who fly away not to be seen again
people to whom I gave shade from
be it the hot sun or the cold rain.
The kids, who pelted me with stones
for me to let go of the fruits on them
I did not mind for any reason though
little did they know, they did disturb
nests sitting secure, be it high or low.
Many a kid has climbed me or made
swings that I supported with my arms
I have seen good times and seasons
having prospered in bounty, long years
having all, to offer, be it flowers or fruits.
I have also seen bad times, these days
my arms having cut, citing obstruction
The pollution that seeps to the ground
affects my health afflicting me with pain
I weep, be it shedding leaves or oozing gum.
I know a time will come when someone
sees me, an obstacle to their future plans
I will be grateful for him who ends my agony
now that everyone shuns me, a sore to the eye
my sweet memories will die with me, be it so…
A group of clouds came from nowhere
filled with water, they turned to a shower
it is rainy days here again, remarked some
kids left their games and did a rain dance
whatever was left to dry now taken inside
whatever needed to be wet was put outside
the rain drenched and washed the stench
bringing its own perfume that was earthen.
The clouds could now be seen fast receding
a child looked up to see them now flying away
what other task you have, to go soon so fast
please stay and pour some more water on us
to our hearts fill and to fill our pots and wells
No dear, we have other places to water well
and we better not be late, whispered the cloud
as he sped away to catch up with the others…
He was a skilful archer and the pride of his father
arrows just left him by the dozen in all directions
even rivals would admire when he was at his best.
He was clouded by the arrows that left his great bow
and the arrows that try to reach him from his foes
his armor was struck by the many darts falling thick.
He shone in bright glory when the sun was upon him
a true warrior, he destroyed by the thousands that day
it was difficult to injure lest conquer him on that day.
By an act of fateful treachery they could lay him low
but what a lowly act it was and rightly shunned by all
he was a dear son now that death had embraced him.
The prince’s father upon his death, took a vow, that night
that the person, the chief responsible, will surely die
before next sunset, come what may, his head would roll.
The sun set early next day by an act of the mighty God
who chose to help his dear disciple who was righteous
in the ensuing confusion and melee, revenge was taken..
The above poem reflects the events of the 13th day
of the Great war, in the Epic Mahabharatha,between
the Pandavas and the Kauravas where the Pandava
prince Abhimanyu displayed mighty skills in archery,
fought valiantly till he got killed by an act of treachery…