12 अप्रैल 2010

Statement

In the ruins of memory the house breathes
through its mouldy surface
touched by strangers' looks
surrenders
lowering eyelids in abandoned
defenselessness

Time cracks inside the ripened walls
It tears off with fragile flakes
Swollen with history the heart of hearts
bestows its place on silence

More and more
transparent
caring walls
sheltering walls
define our confinement.

- Joanna Hoffman

9 अप्रैल 2010

Sarfaroshi ki Tamanna...

सरफ़रोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है
देखना है ज़ोर कितना बाज़ू-ए-क़ातिल में है

(ऐ वतन,) करता नहीं क्यूँ दूसर कुछ बातचीत,
देखता हूँ मैं जिसे वो चुप तेरी महफ़िल में है
ऐ शहीद-ए-मुल्क-ओ-मिल्लत, मैं तेरे ऊपर निसार,
अब तेरी हिम्मत का चरचा ग़ैर की महफ़िल में है
सरफ़रोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है

वक़्त आने पर बता देंगे तुझे, ए आसमान,
हम अभी से क्या बताएँ क्या हमारे दिल में है
खेँच कर लाई है सब को क़त्ल होने की उमीद,
आशिकों का आज जमघट कूचा-ए-क़ातिल में है
सरफ़रोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है

है लिए हथियार दुश्मन ताक में बैठा उधर,
और हम तैयार हैं सीना लिए अपना इधर.
ख़ून से खेलेंगे होली गर वतन मुश्क़िल में है,
सरफ़रोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है

हाथ, जिन में है जूनून, कटते नही तलवार से,
सर जो उठ जाते हैं वो झुकते नहीं ललकार से.
और भड़केगा जो शोला सा हमारे दिल में है,
सरफ़रोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है

हम तो घर से ही थे निकले बाँधकर सर पर कफ़न,
जाँ हथेली पर लिए लो बढ चले हैं ये कदम.
ज़िंदगी तो अपनी मॆहमाँ मौत की महफ़िल में है,
सरफ़रोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है

यूँ खड़ा मक़्तल में क़ातिल कह रहा है बार-बार,
क्या तमन्ना-ए-शहादत भी किसी के दिल में है?
दिल में तूफ़ानों की टोली और नसों में इन्कलाब,
होश दुश्मन के उड़ा देंगे हमें रोको न आज.
दूर रह पाए जो हमसे दम कहाँ मंज़िल में है,
सरफ़रोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है

वो जिस्म भी क्या जिस्म है जिसमे न हो ख़ून-ए-जुनून
क्या लड़े तूफ़ान से जो कश्ती-ए-साहिल में है
सरफ़रोशी की तमन्ना अब हमारे दिल में है
देखना है ज़ोर कितना बाज़ू-ए-क़ातिल में

English Translation:
The desire for sacrifice is now in our hearts
We shall now see what strength there is in the boughs of the enemy.

Hey country, Why is no one speaking to each other?
Whoever I see, is gathered quiet in my party...
O martyr of country, of nation, I submit myself to thee
For yet even the enemy speaks of thy courage
The desire for struggle is in our hearts...

When the time comes, we shall show thee, O heaven
For why should we tell thee now, what lurks in our hearts?
We have been dragged to service, by the hope of blood, of vengeance
Yea, by our love for nation divine, we go to the streets of the enemy
The desire for struggle is in our hearts...

Armed does the enemy sit, ready to open fire
Ready too are we, our bosoms thrust out to him
With blood we shall play Holi, if our nation need us
The desire for struggle is in our hearts...

No sword can sever hands that have the heat of battle within,
No threat can bow heads that have risen so...
Yea, for in our insides has risen a flame,
and the desire for struggle is in our hearts...

Set we out from our homes, our heads shrouded with cloth,
Taking our lives in our hands, do we march so...
In our assembly of death, life is now but a guest
The desire for struggle is in our hearts...

Stands the enemy in the gallows thus, asking,
Does anyone wish to be sacrificed?...
With a host of storms in our heart, and with revolution in our breath,
We shall knock the enemy cold, and no one shall stop us...

What good is a body that does not have passionate blood,
How can one conquer a storm while in a shored boat.

The desire for struggle is in our hearts,
We shall now see what strength there is in the boughs of the enemy.

--- बिस्मिल अज़ीमाबादी (Wrongly cited for Ram Prasad Bismil)

8 अप्रैल 2010

I was born with agonies

I was born with agonies
I will die with griefs
(I want) (you) to write my agonies
up on my gravestone

I will climb on a mountain
I will get down in the dark caves
my eyes to extinguish
not to be able to see the sun

I will get down in the garden
to those dewy flowers
to that scarlet rose
to that early white basil.

Original Text:

So maki sum se rodil jas
So zalosti jas ke si umram
Makite da mi gi napisite
Ozgora na grobot moj.

Ke se kacam na planina
Ke slezam v temni pesteri
Ocite da mi paraldisaat
Sonceto da ne go vidam

Ke slezam dolu v gul bavca,
Kaj tie rosni cvekinja
Kaj toj katmer alov trendafil
Kaj toj ran bel bosilok.


- Toše Proeski

7 अप्रैल 2010

तेरा हिज्र मेरा नसीब है

तेरा हिज्र मेरा नसीब है तेरा ग़म ही मेरी हयात है
मुझे तेरी दूरी का ग़म हो क्यों तू कहीं भी हो मेरे साथ है

मेरे वास्ते तेरे नाम पर कोई हर्फ़ आये नहीं नहीं
मुझे ख़ौफ़-ए-दुनिया नहीं मगर मेरे रू-ब-रू तेरी ज़ात है

तेरा वस्ल ऐ मेरी दिलरुबा नहीं मेरी किस्मत तो क्या हुआ
मेरी महजबीं यही कम है क्या तेरी हसरतों का तो साथ है

तेरा इश्क़ मुझ पे है मेहरबाँ मेरे दिल को हासिल है दो जहाँ
मेरी जान-ए-जाँ इसी बात पर मेरी जान जाये तो बात है |

- निदा फ़ाज़ली

I celebrate myself

I celebrate myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.

I loafe and invite my Soul;
I lean and loafe at my ease, observing a spear of summer grass.

Houses and rooms are full of perfumes—the shelves are crowded with perfumes;
I breathe the fragrance myself, and know it and like it;
The distillation would intoxicate me also, but I shall not let it.

The atmosphere is not a perfume—it has no taste of the distillation—it is odorless;
It is for my mouth forever—I am in love with it;
I will go to the bank by the wood, and become undisguised and naked;
I am mad for it to be in contact with me.

- Walt Whitman from Leaves of Grass

3 अप्रैल 2010

Flow

Life dealt them with many a hard blow...
But it never diminished their inherent glow!
A purpose to be extremely proud of,
A reason to be always happy and laugh!
An intoxicated affair with life as a whole,
A mysterious relationship with one's own soul.
A well balanced approach pregnant with equanimity,
Equal attention to both the self and society.
Goal followed by effort followed by another goal...
Little concern for the consequences or the toll!
Placing a positive interpretation on every event,
No time to regret, worry or repent!
A single minded pursuit worthy of intense admiration,
Based on self-discovery & leading to true elation!
A life of meaning and harmony...
Far away from the world of money.
Many more lives they are certain to inspire,
Tearing them away from being a victim of banal desire.
No chances of a break-down whatsoever...
Enthusiasm and passion more than the need to be clever!
No chances of giving in to adversity...
Always turning around a situation with positivity!
That, in a nutshell, is the story of Flow,
Always on a high and never once low!

- Taken from 'Flow' by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. Thanks Nimmy for this poem.

29 मार्च 2010

What Teachers Make

What Teachers Make, or
Objection Overruled, or
If things don't work out, you can always go to law school

By Taylor Mali
www.taylormali.com


He says the problem with teachers is, "What's a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"
He reminds the other dinner guests that it's true what they say about
teachers:
Those who can, do; those who can't, teach.

I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the other dinner guests
that it's also true what they say about lawyers.

Because we're eating, after all, and this is polite company.

"I mean, you¹re a teacher, Taylor," he says.
"Be honest. What do you make?"

And I wish he hadn't done that
(asked me to be honest)
because, you see, I have a policy
about honesty and ass-kicking:
if you ask for it, I have to let you have it.

You want to know what I make?

I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional medal of honor
and an A- feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time with anything less than your very best.

I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won't I let you get a drink of water?
Because you're not thirsty, you're bored, that's why.

I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
I hope I haven't called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something Billy said today.
Billy said, "Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don't you?"
And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen.

I make parents see their children for who they are
and what they can be.

You want to know what I make?

I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write, write, write.
And then I make them read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely
beautiful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math.
And hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you got this (brains)
then you follow this (heart) and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this (the finger).

Let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
I make a goddamn difference! What about you?

25 मार्च 2010

वो लोग बहुत खुश-किस्मत थे

वो लोग बहुत खुश-किस्मत थे
जो इश्क़ को काम समझते थे
या काम से आशिकी करते थे

हम जीते जी मसरूफ रहे
कुछ इश्क़ किया, कुछ काम किया
काम इश्क के आड़े आता रहा
और इश्क से काम उलझता रहा
फिर आखिर तंग आ कर हमने
दोनों को अधूरा छोड दिया

--- फ़ैज़ अहमद फ़ैज़

नाम में अक्सर मजहब का ज़िक्र होता है

नाम में अक्सर मजहब का ज़िक्र होता है
मेरा नाम जगदीश यानी हिन्दू
उसका नाम अशरफ था, ज़ाहिरन मुसलमान था
मैंने आदाब कहा उसने नमस्कार
हम दोनों के लिबाज़ तकरीबन एक जैसे थे
अछी बात है लिबाज़ आजकल मज़हब की अलामत नहीं
वो अपने गुमशुदा भाई की तलाश में आया था
मैं उसे अपने घर ले आया
हम पांच दिन साथ साथ रहे
वो मेरी अम्मी अबा के पाँव छूता
अपनी अम्मी अबा को याद करता
रोता हमें भी रुलाता
माँ कहती तेरे नैन नक्श अशरफ जैसे है
में पूछता फिर ये धर्म में फर्क कैसे है
में मज़ाक करता, कही में तो नहीं इसका खोया हुआ भाई
माँ मुस्कराती, अशरफ भी
उसका भाई छोटा था बीस साल का -- मुसलमा
और में तब था तीस का हिन्दू
उसका भाई नहीं मिला
मेरा भाई पाकिस्तान लौट गया
तब से अम्मी मुझे जगदीश अशरफ कह के पुकारती है
अब मेरे नाम में मज़हब का नहीं मुहबत का ज़िक्र होता है

--- रचनाकार: जगदीश रावतानी आनंदम »

6 मार्च 2010

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 crêpe 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 for ever: 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 wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

- W. H. Auden