अजनबी शहर

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.

Alien City

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…

Sands of time

An instance of a dream that I had some days back

A person (me) goes with a message to a distant village

on the way he has to cross a hot desert with obstacles

he meets many a person at various points in his journey

he is surprised to see the same people in the village

but there is something different as people here are sad

but whom he met on the way were very joyful and helpful sandsoftime

got me wondering, if I ever met them in the sands of time…

 

 

Voice of a City

sounds-of-my-city
Credits: SoundCloud 


Tinker of the milk man whose tampering

has broken daily, fresh water records.

The chime of the fruit seller cart where

the fruits were painted in the morning.

The gas cylinders unloaded nearby when

you had ordered one, a fortnight ago.

The newspaper thrown at your door by

the boy who vanishes into thin air daily.

The school bus honking, when the lunch

of kids is still made by the half-maid.

The laundry man dropping your clothes

wearing them before he returns to you.

The fish monger who pedals his bicycle

with lot of fresh ice in his long dead fish.

The lime pickle vendor with his  jarring

having a mix of all except those lemons.

The mat seller who dusts his rugs for you

claiming the dust was picked in Kashmir.

The fire engine arriving at the front door

to contain raging fires at the back door.

The crows cawing out for their daily food

Voice of a city, a craving now, left in life. 

Story of a Ruin

 

Hindu temple, Ubud, Bali
Pura Temple, Bali

 

On the banks of a winding river
covered by shade giving trees
stood an old temple now a ruin
one day, was I mighty surprised
to see myself walking towards it?

The glaze from the noon fiery sun
as it struck many majestic pillars
at first blinded me; I could now see
a deity of a goddess unattended.

Offering my salutations to her
I looked around to spot anyone
who would come this desolate way
but alas, no one seemed to exist
except me, in these lost quarters.

I walked down the once trodden steps
when having heard a sharp noise
I turned around to see, to my wonder
the old sanctorum door now shut
who had shut that door, I wondered.

I went around to the farther side where
trees grew abound next to a cool pond
with water flowers growing amid aplenty
my eyes spied in the shade of trees
a monkey and a squirrel eyeing in awe.

The cool breeze and the fruits in bounty
took me to a dream of bygone days
I dreamt of that very place back in time
how festivities rocked the still ground
where people flocked and lost in joy.

The temple fair with all its pristine glory
had attracted one and all, near and afar
a visitor like me now in different attire
it was then I spied upon a beautiful girl
who stood in the precincts of the temple.

Was she beautiful, or was she radiant
there was something about her charm
eyeing all who seemed to be lost in fun
wondering who she was, bright as the sun
my mind at sea, churning with thoughts.

I climbed the well laid lovely temple steps
a flood of devotees praying to the goddess
somehow the glow on the face of the deity
could very relate to that on the young girl
one in divine and another in human form.

Making casual inquiries it was made known
she was the very child of the temple priest
a staunch devotee who cared for nothing
engrossed in the ardent service of his folk
worship of a mother who was his child.

I circled with the crowd, and at every turn
her radiant smile, of the ever mighty holy
my doubts cleared with the compassion
she bestowed on us with her look of love
a mother truly pleased at her children.

At a loss, to keep the discovery to myself
do I make it known, not had I, the courage
should I approach her the wonder she was
would she listen to me as others of her age
or be wise as a woman of a countless age.

One day, she was playing prank with kids
getting close, away from the little ones
when she sensed my faithful approach,
the graceful, the all knowing smile asking
how was I attracted to her, all these days.

Garnering courage, I went near divine her
while the kids were not at close quarters
asking her, was it true, what I had sensed
she being the divine in human form said
keep it to you, which I did all this time.

Days were spent meeting and asking
had she powers that she could exercise
could she keep the village blessed
she would wait for them to pass a test
would then, she decide to be a part of it.

A few months passed by, days of joy to me,
but one day, the priest’s daughter fell sick
the ailments added to her father’s plight
one said of a physician at the king’s court
might help her to tide over her such illness.

A journey to the palace place was too far
calling the physician might invite wrath
a young lad, i was to carry the message
private it was, to the medic to respond to
a person who still glowed, despite her pain.

I went to the king’s court and with difficulty
manage to get his consent, for the call
but he asked for a big fee, which I doubted
any one, of the village could well afford
but they could have grouped and helped.

With sad tidings, I brought the message
no one cared or willed to help the priest
who rendered selfless service for them
helped bring them blessings from Her
just as She had blessed him with Her.

Chiefs and the landlords refused to help
in kind or in money, left him disconsolate
the priest died,  heart broke, just as he was
was this test you told of, she faintly smiled
she was to pass away, with me by her side.

Rain clouds hovered to the delight of all
but my wet plight only, no one could gauge
I lost her that very night, her hands in mine
radiant as ever, her loving eyes upon me
was it in torrents, it poured from the sky?

The river, beside the village, rose in anger
submerged banks with all its people
the waves climbed the forsaken temple
did they also wash away our lost selves
I must be delighted to part with my body.

It all came back to me, I was driven here
a place where once, I loved a  girl of  glory
a divine Odyssey it was,  that got me here
I now, left to reminisce the story of a ruin
a pleasure if She would come again for me.

 

The Great Teacher

 

teacher

I longed to understand the person they called God
poring over religious texts, I could not understand
somehow, the great personality He was made of
I had questions that one had no clear answers to.

I joined a group who said they will bring verily, Him
close to me, just as I had become very close to them
but then I knew, they were a group like many others
caring only for more members getting added to them.

I went to places of worship with people chanting
who appeared holy, just as He appeared to us all
as we left those sacred places, was I surprised
to see them engrossed in petty chatter and  rant?

I went to those mountains searching for dear Him
on the way, a huge tree fell and barely missed me
In my weary wanderings,  as I got up from sleep
a snake meandered away, how close was I to death.

Then as I continue to trod on, in desolate jungles
thirsting for water and dreading many a beast
whose fearful voices were too close for comfort
was I pleased, to see a pool that appeared as feast?

It was one night when due to lack of moonlight
I stepped on a stone and fell, I not knew where
as I sensed up, I saw a stranger attending to me
Why he cared for me, when God still eluded me?

Why was it, the Great teacher that He was
fail to appear, putting a halt to my journey?
Holding a peaceful  smile on his lips, He asked
Son, why do you think, He evades you, a seeker?

Just as you care for the kids and pets at home
He keeps a roving eye upon you, all the time.
A tree pauses before it falls, a snake beguiled
a helping hand such as me, send to tend you.

Do not ever think, He  does not see or think of you
He may not always comfort or deliver what you ask
but if it is Him that you ask for and long to be with
He will put a halt one day  to help you attain bliss…

 

My Poems

The Lost Series

The Lost Sparrow
The Lost Poet
The Lost Explorer
The Lost Dog
Lost Forever
Never lose a friend
Balance Lost

Nature

The Indian Summer
Indian Monsoon
Clouded Vision
When it rained
The waterhole
The Open Window
Marching Soldiers

Grief

Maid for you
Friends who blossomed
The Wait
The poor girl

Reflections

Unanswered
Making of a guru
The Inspiration
To know it was the day

Adhoc

Sense with Eyes
The tea maker
The Eerie House
Sentries
The Messenger

To know it was the day

When i was born
was it not a day
that i would celebrate
as i became young enough
to know it was the day 
i was born to live life carefree

A few decades passed
then i would celebrate
as i became mature enough
to know it was the day
i was re-born to re-live life

Another few decades passed
was it not a day
that i would dread
as i became old enough
to know it was the day
that sounded the chime of death…

The lonely Tree

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…

Rain Series

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…

The Lost Poet

She wrote a poem while at school
many liked it and praised her well.

She wrote a few more but then no one
found time to read and appreciate them.

Why did her friends lose interest suddenly?
Why they failed to notice her creative head?

One day she took the sheaf of faded poems
discarding it  sadly along with her dreams.

She sold them to an old newspaper store
but divine providence had some other plans.

A publisher’s son saw the still lying papers
was overjoyed to read but could not trace her.

The publisher then had one published
every month in his  popular magazine

He, hoping,  kept the last line always blank
for his readers to fill it out and complete it.

A year passed by; He got a matching line
and another matching one on the next one.

It was time, he decided to invite the lost poet
and gave her share of the fame and appreciation

and made her creation known to the whole world
her past and her, would be delightful, future poems.

And no wonder, the Divine Creator was happy to see
the events as they happened just as He had planned

It was a great event with the blessings of all her fans
when our poet got married to the publisher’s son…

 

Note: Thanks to a fellow blogger through whom the Sun shines who put this seed of imagination in me with her recent post “Fill in the Blanks”…

https://sunnshhine.wordpress.com/2016/06/14/fill-in-the-blanks/