RSS

SARANG (IN ENGLISH)

This post is an English translation of the post ‘SARANG by Asad Mohammad Khan” and which is in Urdu.It can be seen at

https://shakilakhtar.wordpress.com/2016/07/13/saarang-by-asad-mohammad-khan/

I wrote in its Urdu (Original) version that I failed to fully understand the story but liked it all the same and could any reader please enlighten me. One said she could not help for she could not read Urdu. I have then taken up the task of translating it knowing fully that I may not be able to translate the magic and beauty of the original. Here you are.:

Saarang

The little child Grija nand Ganesh pressed the play button, stretched his trunk, took a relaxed breath and focussed his tiny eyes on the screen in the front. There was still time before the transport from the Vishnu Nursery and Kindergarten Viddyalay of Dev lok (upper world) would arrive. It was a small thing for him to open the lunch box and gulp a few modak laddus (sweet balls of rice flour and jaggery). But Ganesh remembered that mom gets annoyed when she sees food crumps on the rug, ‘she will yell at me for sure’. He let the lunch box slip from his belly and concentrated his small eyes on the screen with his huge ears poised.

 

 

GRIJANAND GANESH

MUDAK LADDU

In the middle of the room was a mattress on which a young guy was lying. There was a water pitcher and an earthen cup in a corner. It was dark in the room except that some light trickled from a small grilled window high up in a wall. In a while the youth got up and yawned. Suddenly he said “Oh my mother, where am I?”

His mother or anyone else was not there. He went to the wall that had the small window high up near the ceiling allowing some light in and called, “Hello, any one there?” then said to himself, “no one answers”. After a while he called again, “Any one there? Please tell me where am I” No answer. He returned to the mattress and started scratching his loins.

Seeing him scratching, Grija nand Ganesh burst in to laughing. He struck his thigh with his trunk and trumpeted. A woman’s voice from somewhere said,” What happened Grijanand?” “Nothing, maa” he said. The one who called was Uma, Shiva ardhangini, Maa Parvati.

The youth stopped scratching his loins, went to the pitcher and had some water. Then returned to the mattress to lie down. He was hungry.

Girianand caressed his huge belly with his trunk and murmured,” I am hungry too”. He had a heavy breakfast just a while ago.

The youth slipped in to a slumber. When he woke up it was apparently late morning as the high window was quite bright. He heard someone trying to start a car engine which won’t start. Weak battery?

Grijanand strained his ears to hear the noise of car starting and thought, this can’t be the transport from the kindergarten, there is still some time before it should arrive. I am sure this noise is coming from the screen. He focussed his eyes on the screen again.

The morning progressed to noon and then to evening. No one came. He was hungry and the occasional water sips were nowhere near alleviating his hunger.

Grijanand yawned, leaned back, and spread his arms across the back of the sofa he was sitting on. The sofa gave a creaking sound.

Suddenly the youth heard a faint clicking noise and soon discovered it was due to some little glass pieces being dropped from the high window. He saw they were pieces of bangles. He went to the wall and tapped lightly on it and heard similar faint tap in answer from the other side. There is someone there on the other side, he thought.

Grijanand did not hear the sounds but his curiosity was on the increase. He shuffled his position and the sofa creaked again.

The youth called, who is there? No answer. Then he went to the wall and tapped again, this time with greater force. It was duly answered with a similarly intense tap.

“Oh my God”, Grijanand  Ganesh gave a yell of delight. He had understood that there was someone on the other side.

He asked again, who is there? He heard a girl whispering,” Do not make noise, talk slowly”. Oh, there is a girl on the other side. He asked, “Who are you?” The girl said something he could not fathom.

Say again? What did you say?

“It is me. I cook food for them here.”

The youth liked mention of food, “I am hungry” he said.

“I know”

“Can you get me something to eat? Please find out.”

“It is difficult. I am also kept under lock and key. They fetch me when they need me or when they want me to cook food for them.”

“Why would they need you other than for cooking?”

“For sex”

He did not like her frankness. He kept quiet. She said, “You did not eat for a long time. Is it not?”

“hooN” he grunted.

“I cannot promise, but tomorrow morning I will try to get you something”

“It will be a long wait, till next morning”

“hooN” she grunted.

“Will you tell me what place is this?” the youth asked.

“It is a sort of factory”

“I can see that, but what town is it in”

“I do not know”

After a while he asked, “From where have they brought you?”

“I do not know”.

“Why did they bring you?”

“I just told you. For cooking and for….”

“Ok. Ok.” The boy did not let her complete the sentence.

“Do they talk to you?”

“Yes, but seldom”

He said, “Ask them where do they plan to take you, and me”

“They will not say, and will beat me besides.”

“Is that so? They beat you?”

“Quiet. Someone is coming.”

He heard a faint noise of a door opening, A man talking and the girl shouted, What now?

The man said, ghooN ghoon ghoon, (not clear sounds) Then he sensed there was a tussle, a sharp clack of a slap.

The boy looked up towards the window and formed on his hand a fist.

He heard a cloth tearing, and the girl, weeping, being dragged. He heard a door banged shut. Then there was silence.

The youth was looking up all this time and now his neck hurt. He came back to his mattress and started dreaming food.

Girija nand moved his trunk on his belly as he imagined the sweet and fragrant modak laddus that were in the brightly coloured plastic lunch box. He started humming the (poem) ‘stuti’ written by Goswami Tulsidas and in which his own greatness was sung and modak laddus were mentioned. [modak priyah mudmangal daata…] He soon realised that his singing was horrible and was silent.

The youth slept and was awake several times and now it was morning with light coming from the high window. He saw something warm and soft come from the window and hit him. He got up in a hurry as he thought it was some sort of an animal. But he heard the girl ask from the other side, “Did you get it?”

He lifted the thing and saw that it was a boiled potato. He started eating it, not bothering to peel it first. He must have made a pained grunt for it was hot and the girl, knowing the situation said, “Eat carefully you, it is hot.”

“Thank you very much, much obliged”

“Here, take another”. Another potato was thrown which landed on the other side. The girl laughed and said, here, I will throw it again. This time it landed right on the mattress. She said, “May be not enough food but you may drink some water and feel better”.

“It is ok.” And he laughed. He could laugh now that he had had something to eat. Then asked, “What is your name?”

“Roopika” [good looking]

“Oh” the youth was surprised.

“What happened?”

“My name is Roop” [good looks]

“Oh, how strange!”

“But never mind.” Said the youth, “I am Roop, you Roopika” Both laugh at this.

“Ketu”, Maa Parvati’s voice could be heard “O my Ketu, go, your transport is here”

Grijanand had slipped into sleep and now he woke up with a start. He hurriedly collected his lunch box and ran toward the door. In his haste he forgot to press the stop button.

Parvati, beaming with her calling her son Ketu (my light, my comet) strolled into the room and sat down on the sofa in front of the screen.

“Roopika”

“Yes Roop,” there was music in the voice of the girl.

“I thought you had gone.”  

“I won’t go anywhere. You hear?”

“HooN” he grunts,

“And I will come over to you, on that side, you will see.”

Maa Parvati felt her long and slim fingers against her cheeks that were glowing pink due to her thoughts about her husband Maheshwar Shiva Shankar. Jai Umawar, Jai Digambar, Jai Maheshwar.    

“Hey, what is your age?”

“I am 18” said the boy.

“So you are younger to me”

“Am I? Well, what is your age?” asked the boy.

Maa Parvati was not attentive and wondered what these two have been talking about. She did not hear or heard but did not understand. She was tempted to rewind and hear but decided against it. She realised that they were asking each other their ages.

“I am seventeen, but…”

“What if and but, you are younger to me”

“No, not me, you are younger. You’ve seen nothing in life as I have”

Annoyed, he said, “What is there so great that you have seen?”

“A lot,” There was pain in her voice coming from over the wall, “If you had gone through what I have suffered since I was 14, you would have grown; grown in only one night.”

“In…..one…..night….?”

Now she was weeping, “They came to take me. I cried, help me, save me. No one came to help. No body.”

The youth made a sympathetic noise.

“I cook for all these who are here. Wash their clothes. They take me daily whenever they so feel, day or night. Before these, there were others. Before them still others. All of them are very powerful. They keep me till they are satisfied, then they push me to others.” She was crying all the time as she spoke.

He was torn between saying something and keeping quiet. He said at long last, “I am sorry to hear all this”. She was silent.

The girl was now in a light mood. “Oh not to worry. I am used to it now. I related this story to someone in a year. That is why I was sad.” She even tried to laugh a little.

“To whom did you tell a year ago?”

“To the walls.”

Both were silent now.

The girl called after a while, “Roop, dear Roop”

“HooN”

“Say something”

“What can I say? I will never forget this what you just told me.”

“What did I tell you?”

“That Roopika has been suffering and she is in trouble.”

“Oh no. The pain, dear Roop, lasted only as long as it took me to relate it to you. Now I am fine. I am sort of hardened. And I am even able to exact some revenge from these rascals too.”

“Revenge? How?”

“I made one fight the other. One struck the other with a knife. The car that brought you took the injured away. He will not survive. He has his neck vein slit.”

“How did you manage to get them quarrel?”

“Nothing, but I won’t tell you. It is quite shameful.”

“But if they find out that the fight was engineered by you, they will be very hard on you.”

“They can never be harder than they already are. And rest assure they will not know the reason of the fight.”

“They will surely know. The one who will survive will know.”

“No man will ever tell what I did, surely.” The girl was sure.

“What do you mean?”
The girl said, “I said something which made both of them fight each other. But they did not tell each other. It was something to keep mum about”.

“I don’t understand”

“Didn’t I tell you are just a kid?”

“Now don’t start that again. Ok. Go to sleep” said the boy.

“Are you angry”.

“No, I am tired, and I am afraid you might start crying again.”

“OK, if you are tired then go to sleep, my friend” said the girl.

“Oh I am so pleased you called me your friend.”

The girl over the wall gave a musical laugh and the youth thought there was spring in his dark room.

The youth said proudly, “I am so glad you admitted we are friends”.

“Oh it was just a pretence, a lie.” said the girl.

Maa Parvati removed the ‘moon ray’ flower from her hair and threw it towards Roopika’

“What was it?” the boy asked as he heard the clink sound.

The girl laughed heartily, “what?”

“I heard something fall over there.”

“It is a golden flower. Did you throw it?”

“What, me? No.”

“Don’t be silly, liar”

Shiva Ardhangi Parvati moved to the kitchen with a mild smile and with eyes on the screen. Much has been happening here.

“Are you going to the market?” asked the boy.

“Yes, they are taking me to the market. The spices and the grains are finished.”

“Good, it will be better for you to go away from here for a while”

“No, I will not be away from here at all. You will be with me too”

“How is that?”

“You will be in my heart, understand?”

“Ah” the boy was flabbergasted. He laughed.

“Why do you laugh? Don’t you trust me?”

“Yes I do trust you. Ok, tell me what will you bring for me from the market?”

The girl considered for a while and then said,” Sarang”

“What is sarang?”

“It is something and everything. When someone wishes to give a loved one something, wants to give the whole world, and does not know what, it is said sarang.”

“But what is this sarang thing? He insisted.

“Everything, like lotus flower, kohl, cloth, pearls, gold, lamp,…swan, peacock, horse are all sarang. And tiger, like you are. And so you are also sarang. Also deer, koel and papiha (birds of song). Hey, shall I bring you a koel, ‘koouu, koouuu’.”

“You must be mad”

“I haven’t finished yet. Sarang is Moon, Sun, Earth, and sky. Also sarang is moth, pigeon, plough and king. The crown and the sandal wood that could be used to touch your feet.”….”Moreover, a bird and a woman is also sarang.” “Hey do you want a woman?”

“You have surely lost you mind”

The girl was in tears. “Yes O Roop, Mahadev (Lord Shiv) is witness, you have caused my head to spin really. “

All of a sudden, there was a huge noise, The damru of Mahadev was beating, and there was lightning that demolished the wall between them. The mattress which had become dirty and shiny due to numerous acts of coupling performed on it, was replaced with a tiger skin carpet (Bagambhar). Jai ho.

 

 

DAMRU ( double ended drum played by the twist of hand)

 

BAGHAMBER (TIGER SKIN)  Seat of Mahadev, Shiva.

.

Roop and Roopika came face to face for the first time.

“So you are Roop?” The girl asked.

“And you are Roopika, You are Nirmala (pure) and also ujjwalta (light)”

“No, I am just a harlot Roopika kept by some rascals.”

“You are sattya( Truth), and also Shiva and sundar (Beauty)” said the boy.

“There is filth of unclean fire between my thighs.”

The boy touched her knees, “You are the one most modest, most pure and most innocent”

The youth touched her fore head, “Jai ho”

The girl caught his feet. He brought her on the bagambhar.(Tiger skin)

It looked like it was after a last supreme dance (of Shiva), when nothing was left, a new carefree life was emerging that blocked the path of all rascals and adulterers. Roop and Ropika were lying on the bagambhar of the most gracious Mahesh. Where these two dalit (low caste) man and woman, who were rejected and mistreated by the whole world, were meeting. In their arteries one could hear the beat of Lord Shiv’s damru.

 
2 Comments

Posted by on July 27, 2016 in adab and literature, Afsaane

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

SAARANG by Asad Mohammad Khan

I recently read a book by Asad Mohammad Khan named “Ghusse ki nayi fasai” and this afsana is one of several which have left me with a lot of ghussa (anger). Because I did not udnerstand it but still liked it very much. Interesting na?

{Shiv and Parvati are Gods who gave birth to a child whose face is that of an elephant (Gaja) and who is also a god called Ganesha. He has an enormous belly and is a child. Apparently he is waiting for his transport to take him to Kindergarten in the ‘Dev lok’ meaning upper world. But in this local world there is this boy of 18 and a girl of 17. The girl insists and proves that she is elder to him]

If you understand this afsana please teach me in the comments. Any way I liked the mystery and especially the end lines: “تم ستیہ ہو ، شو اور سندر بھی” [you are the truth, and Shiv and Beauty also]

Sorry, an attempt at translation will ruin the whole magic.so I leave it as it is in Urdu.

sarang1 sarang2 sarang3 sarang4

 

narang5 narang6 narang7 narang8 narang9 narang10

11 12 13 14

 
3 Comments

Posted by on July 13, 2016 in adab and literature, Afsaane

 

Tags: , , , , , ,

Prophet Moammad (SAW)’s mosque in Medina

In 2012 we went to Makkah and Madinah to perform Umrah. Some pictures from Madinah Mosque.

The first three pictures are from the Internet.

facebook_1465871085895

14658714612021079926736

14658716531771303556151

DSC03418

TheMedina mosque at night

umrah and dubai 002

The Medina mosque main entrance at night

umrah and dubai 003

A full moon above a minaret

 

umrah and dubai 007

 

From a poster. The mosque as it was a hundred years ago.

 

umrah and dubai 027

 

umrah and dubai 026

umrah and dubai 024

umrah and dubai 023

umrah and dubai 021

umrah and dubai 019

umrah and dubai 018

umrah and dubai 017

umrah and dubai 016

 

umrah and dubai 012

umrah and dubai 011

umrah and dubai 010

umrah and dubai 002

umrah and dubai 024

umrah and dubai 023

umrah and dubai 021

umrah and dubai 019

umrah and dubai 018

umrah and dubai 017

umrah and dubai 016

umrah and dubai 013

 

umrah and dubai 012

umrah and dubai 011

umrah and dubai 045

 

 

umrah and dubai 037

umrah and dubai 039

 

umrah and dubai 052

umrah and dubai 053

 

 
2 Comments

Posted by on June 14, 2016 in Quraan o Sunnat, Travel

 

THE STRANGER IN HIS OWN HOME

THE STRANGER IN HIS OWN HOUSE.

Translated From Urdu Afsana “Ajnabi Aadmi” by Shaukat Husain Shoro (Published in ,”Mah e Nau” June, 1994).

The original article in in Urdu and can be seen at

https://shakilakhtar.wordpress.com/2016/05/15/the-stranger-in-his-own-house/

He had stopped smoking for the last many days.

But the reason for which he stopped smoking never left him. When Ghulam Mohammad had a fit of cough he became breathless due to protracted coughing. Just now when he tried to stifle his urge to cough, he found that his throat was choking. He was least concerned about his own pain but did fear that his coughing will disturb people sleeping (on their cots) in the courtyard. And this is what exactly happened. His eldest son Anwar complained from his slumber, “Oh my”,

Then, instead of speaking to his father, he called his mother,

“Maa, what a great problem you have let us get in to, one cannot even get some sleep in a part of the night”

The mother Mariam said in an annoyed manner, ”Yes my son, He cares not; what does he ever do except eating and coughing”.

“No problem with his eating, he may eat to his fill, God has given us everything. But he should at least let us sleep”.

“Bhai Jaan, let us set his bed in the drawing room, where he could have his cough as he likes”, said younger brother Ahmad.

“Well done, my junior, what a great suggestion! Do you want others to laugh at us when they would see the filth in the drawing room from his coughing, like sputum and phlegm?”

Ghulam Mohammad was listening all this verbal exchange quietly as if they were talking about someone else. He now quipped, “What is there in me that people will laugh at me?”

“Who is talking to you? The poor fellows are talking with each other” said Mariam angrily, “you are wasting your breath, just get on with your coughing.”

“The poor fellows, eh” Ghulam Mohammad could not control his anger, “Is there anything ever said in this house except taunting me?”

Mariam, who was lying on her string cot, now sat up, “You are ruining everyone’s sleep and expect that they will say nothing?

Anwar came to his father and, putting his hands together, said,” Abba, please have mercy on us. We toil all day and do expect some rest and some sleep in the night. Please do not ruin it.

Now Mariam started grumbling,” I do not know what type of illness is this. He has managed to cough up enough filth around the house.”

“I am scarce happy to cough. I cannot help but cough when I get a fit.” 

“Bhai Jaan, please admit father in a hospital, or he will get us all ill”

“Now I have seen it all! My own sons planning to abandon me to a hospital when I am old!” Ghulam Mohammad said in a sad voice.

Mariam looked at Anwar and said,” Now look, he has started wailing like a woman”

“I do not talk to him just because of such behaviour” he said angrily.

Ghulam Mohammad kept quite as he had realised that it was futile to pursue the matter any further.

“He is no father, but is rather an enemy of his sons.” Mariam now laid down on her cot facing away from him.

Ghulam Mohammad felt a pang of rage but somehow he controlled his feelings.

He felt thirsty, but knew his sons or even wife won’t get him a glass of water. So he himself walked to the water pitcher and looked for the tumbler which was set aside specially for him. When he did not find it on its appointed place he asked his wife, “where is my tumbler?”

“It should be there somewhere” she replied with disdain, “You should take care of your glass”

(a tumbler, even if made of metal is called glass)

“It is not at the place where I usually keep it.”

“Yes, your glass is made of gold, someone might have stolen it” the wife said with sarcasm.

Ahmad came in,” We never touch that glass. Who wants to fall sick after drinking in it.”

Ghulam Mohammad was furious,” Am I suffering with T.B. that one will get sick after using my glass?”

“This disgusting phlegm you spread everywhere is enough indication of T.B.” said the wife.

“Abba has never learnt anything from his education as he goes on spreading his phlegm everywhere.” Said Anwar.

Ghulam Mohammad wanted to reply but his eye caught sight of his glass which was lying upturned on the ground in a corner. This reminded him of the glasses kept aside for the use of the low cast people in restaurants in small towns. He felt he had been reduced to the status of a scheduled cast in his own home. He picked up the glass, drank some water and placed it at its appointed spot.

What a pity a man becomes useless once he is old. The people outside as well as in the home scarce give him any importance, once he retires after working for many years. When he was in the service he knew even then people in his home were not very happy with him. After his retirement his folks complained he did nothing for himself and for them while he was working.

“When you will retire, the government will weigh you against gold because of your honesty?” his wife used to taunt him.

Back then he was strong and would shut her up. But now he was helpless in front of his wife and his sons.

The elder son hardly talked to him and always he was angry whenever he did talk.

“After all what good did you ever do to us? You even stopped me getting a motor cycle, forget about a car. The children of people who were in grades lower than yours go about in cars.” He would complain.

Anwar never allowed the story of the motor cycle be forgotten. How when a contractor came to know that Anwar wanted a motor cycle and his father would not get him one, brought a new motor cycle and gave him, in the hope that Ghulam Mohammad will oblige him by signing his bills, he refused to accept the bait and returned the motor cycle.

That day Mariam and Anwar became convinced that Ghulam Mohammad was their enemy.

They maintained a semblance of normalcy while they were dependent on him for board and lodge. Now when he is retired, their frustration has come out in the open.

He has realized that he has become a stranger in his own house.

He wondered if being honest was from within his own conscience or was it just his stubbornness. He made many people uncomfortable due to his habit. He was always afraid someone might trap him into corruption and this made him postpone even straight cases for weeks.

He now felt that he is a misfit in the society. But it was too late to do anything now. He looked at his wife and sons. They were all asleep. He felt a small itch in his throat. He pressed his hand against the throat. With red face and eyes bulging due to stress, he went to the bathroom and closed the door. Then he started coughing like he will never stop.

Suppressing the noise to the minimum, he coughed to his heart’s content.

 
3 Comments

Posted by on June 2, 2016 in adab and literature, Afsaane

 

Tags: , , ,

A VISIT TO MASQAT OMAN

We took a short trip to Masqat this month( Feb. 2015) from Dubai. It was a 50 minute flight. Grand mosque was found to be truly grand. As compared to Dubai, Muscat is very humble and simple. There are no high rise buildings. Most are just six story. Food was great and quite reasonable in price. Omani dinar is the most expensive currency in the world. 1 Omani dinar 10 Dubai Dirhams (= Pak Rs. 300).  Sultan Qabus palace also is very humble.

Below are some pictures.

20150109_082616

a view from our hotel room. The whole city is almost level with about 4-6 stories buildings.

20150109_151312

saas bahu in the hotel loby.

20150109_151342

huge copper tryas

20150109_151450

Roofi and Dara.

20150110_094340

The grounds of the Grand Mosque are a complex of magnificent gardens, well kept.

20150110_094615

 

20150110_094952

 

20150110_100319

out side the mosque.

20150110_100819

Post chamber inner dome.

20150110_100848

 

20150110_101125

Main Mosque Imam Member.

20150110_101331

 

20150110_101355

 

20150110_101409

 

20150110_101547

 

20150110_102506

very beautiful Iranian Carpet.

20150110_102920

simple and elegant.

20150110_110503

A typical Omani man. If you see one, you have seen them all. Taxi driver, to shop keeper, to officials, or common man.

20150110_111043

 

20150110_111051

Fore ground

20150110_111304

 

20150110_102920

 

20150110_100848

 

 

 
2 Comments

Posted by on May 29, 2016 in Travel

 

Gulzar on life and ambition.

GULZAR KI NAZM

after Urdu, you will find Roman and English versions below.

صبح سے شام ہویؑ اور ہرن مجھ کو چھلاوا دیتا

سارے جنگل میں پریشان کیےؑ گھوم رہا ہے اب تک

اس کی گردن کے بہت پاس سے گئزرے ہیں کیؑ تیر مرے

 

وہ بھی اب اتنا ہی ہشیار ہے جتنا میں ہوں

اک جھلک دے کے جو گم ہوتا ہے وہ پیڑوں میں

میں وہاں پہنچتا ہوں تو ٹیلے پے،

کبھی چشمے کے اس پار نظر آتا ہے-

وہ نظر رکھتا ہے مجھ پر

میں اسے آنکھ سے اوجھل نہیں ہونے دیتا

 

کون دوڑاےؑ ہوےؑ ہے کس کو

کون اب کس کا شکاری ہے پتہ ہی نہیں چلتا

 

صبح اترا تھا میں جنگل میں تو سوچا تھا

اس شوخ ہرن کو

نیزے کی نوک پے پرچم کی طرح تان کے

میں شہر میں داخل ہوں گا

دن مگر ڈھلنے لگا ہے

دل میں اک خوف سا اب بیٹھ رہا ہے کہ

بالاخر یہ ہرن ہی

مجھے سینگوں پہ اٹھاےؑ ہوےؑ اک غار میں داخل ہو گا-

Subah se shaam hui aur hiran mujh ko chhalaawe deta,

saare jungle mein pareshaan kiye ghoom reha hai ab tak..

uss ki gardan ke bahut paas se guzre hain kayi teer mere …!

 

[Its now almost evening and I have been chasing this antelope since morning

Which evades me like a mirage, now I see it now it is gone.

Many of my arrows have just missed his neck]

 

Woh bhi ab utna hi hoshiyaar hai jitna main hun!

ek jhalak de ke jo gum hota hai woh peddon mein..

main wahan pahunchta hun toh teele pe,

kabhi chashme ke uss paar nazar aata hai..

Woh nazar rakhta hai mujh par!

main usey aankh se ojhal nahin hone deta!!

 

[He has become as clever as me, I get a glimpse and it disappears between the trees

When I reach there I see it on a hillock over there,

or beyond a stream,

He keeps an eye on me as I make sure he is within sight.]

 

Kaun daudaaye hue hai kis ko!

kaun ab kis ka shikaari hai pata hi nahin chalta …!

 

[It is difficult to know who is now chasing whom

And who is hunting whom]

 

Subah utra tha main jungle mein toh socha tha ki..

uss shokh hiran ko,

neze ki nok pe parcham ki tarah taan ke

main shehar mein daakhil hounga …!

Din magar dhalne laga hai..

dil mein ek khauf sa ab baith reha hai ki,

bil-aakhir ye hiran hi..

mujhe seengon par uthaaye hue ek ghaar mein daakhil hoga .!!

 

[When I came to the forest this morning, I thought

I would hunt this beautiful antelope

I intended to enter the street, displaying this beautiful antelope

pinned at the end on my spear like a flag

As the end of the day is close

I fear now that I might end up as his trophy,

He would enter a cave balancing me on his horns.]

 

Tags: , , , , , , ,

The Stranger in his own house.

This story of a retired person who cannot cough comfortably in his own house.

Translation will come later insha Allah.

THE TRANSLATION IS NOW AVAILABLE AT

https://shakilakhtar.wordpress.com/2016/06/02/2429/

Image (19) Image (21) Image (22) Image (23)

 
1 Comment

Posted by on May 15, 2016 in adab and literature, Afsaane

 
 
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 323 other followers