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Category Archives: adab and literature

Paeveen Shakir Ghazal

This ghazal /nazm was taken from Facebook page named “Parveen Shakir”. There is no guarantee that it was penned by her. I assume that it was.

It is a beautiful piece, and many  who have come far out in life will see truth.

 

Displaying FB_IMG_1492593551627.jpg

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samundar saarey sharaab hotey to socho ktne fasaad hotey
gunaah na hotey sawaab hotey to soch kitne fasaad hote
kisi ke dil mein kya chhupa hai, buss khuda hee to jaanta hai
dil agar be naqaab hotey to socho kitne fasaad hotey
thee khamoshi hamaari fitrat, jo kuchh barsoN nibah gaye hain
hamaare munh mein jawaab hote to socho kitne fasaad hote
ham acche the par sada un ki nazar mein bure rahe
ham jo sach mein kharaab hote to socho kitne fasaad hote

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if all the seas were to be full of wine, just imagine how much chaos would there be
if there were no sins, only good deeds, just imagine how much chaos would there be.
what is in the heart, only God knows,
If the hearts were to be open,just imagine how much chaos would there be.
it was in my nature to keep quite.and with that I get on with you for so many years
if I had talked back, just imagine how much chaos would there be.
I was a good person, but always seen by you as bad.
If I were to be bad actually, just imagine how much chaos would there be.
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(Parveen Shakir)
 
2 Comments

Posted by on April 29, 2017 in adab and literature, Urdu Poetry

 

KAHAN GHALIB

‘لفظ ‘کہاں’ کہاں کہاں استعمال ہوتا ہے یہاں اسی بات پر بات ہو گی-

غالب کے دو شعر یاد آ رہے ہیں-

1- فکر دنیا میں سر کھپاتا ہوں

میں کہاں اور یہ وبال کہاں

  2- کہاں میخانے کا دروازہ غالب اور کہاں واعظ

پر اتنا جانتے ہیں کل وہ جاتا تھا کہ ہم نکلے

  غالب پر لب کشایؑ کی جسارت کرنے پر

اب آپ کوپورا اختیار ہے کہ ہم کو کہیں کہاں راجا بھوج اور کہاں کنگو تیلی

ایک دن ہماری بیگم شاپنگ مال میں کھو گیؑں

ہہت تلاش کیا آخر ایک دوست کے کہنے پر ایک خوبصورت خاتون سے کھڑے ہو کر باتیں کرنے لگے

– فورا بیگم نمودار ہویؑیں اور کہا ‘ تم یہاں ہو- ہم نے تم کو کہاں کہاں نہیں ڈھونڈا    

بچپن میں سبزی والا آخر میں ایک نیبو اور دو تین ہری مرچیں تھیلے میں مفت ڈال دیتا تھا- 

ہاں ہم تھیلا لے کر بازار جاتے تھے- 

تھیلا جو پرانی پتلون کو کاٹ کر بنا یا جاتا تھا

اب ہم آپ کو نیبو اور ہری مرچ مفت میں دے رہے ہیں-

سب کہاں کچھ لالہ و گل میں نمایاں ہو گیؑیں

خاک میں کیا صورتیں ہوں گی کہ پنہاں ہو گیؑیں

 

وفا کیسی کہاں کا عشق جب سر پھوڑنا ٹہرا

تو پھر اے سنگ دل تیرا ہی سنک آستاں کیوں ہو-

 

 
2 Comments

Posted by on February 9, 2017 in adab and literature, GHAALIB

 

CHILDREN NAZM BY RFIULLAH MIAN

yateem

An orphan alone knows what it is to be one.

Allah (SWT) enjoins us in many places in Holy Qoran to be kind to them.

In Surah “Maa’un” (Chapter 107), He says,

“Did you see the one who denies the day of judgement?”

Then replies Himself

“He is the one who pushes away the orphan”

Then proceeds to mention a few more such people (those denying the day of judgement)

  1. Those who do not encourage feeding of poor
  2. Those who are heedless of their prayers
  3. Those who make a show of their good deeds
  4. Those who withhold small assistance.

The last one is interesting and shows how Allah (SWT) notices even trivial things. We are here reminded to be generous in lending a helping hand, give small things in need etc. [We used to collect fire embers from neighbours in childhood days to start our own choolah so we can save a little kerosene and a match stick. Neighbours often asked for, and received, a little salt, a few chillies etc.]

But here we are discussing Rafiullah Mian’s Nazm about an Orphan:

— بچوں کی نظم
بہت ہی لاڈو‘ بہت چہیتی
رفیع اللہ میاں

ہٹا ہے جن کے سروں سے سایہ
دے ہمت ان کو مرے خدایا

یتیم بچی ہے‘ ڈر نہ جائے
کلی کھلے گی‘ بکھر نہ جائے

یوں دوڑتی‘ باغ میں ملے گی
حسین تتلی بھی کیا اڑے گی

یہ اپنے پاپا کی آنکھ میں تھی
بہت ہی لاڈو‘ بہت چہیتی

پھسل رہا ہے یہ‘ ہائے آنسو
زمیں پہ گرنے نہ پائے آنسو

تلاش کرتی ہے اپنا پاپا
ہر ایک رستہ ہے اس نے ناپا

ہر اک گلی میں یہی الاپا
بتاؤ مجھ کو کہاں ہے پاپا

بچھڑ گیا تھا یوں ہی وہ اک دن
خدا نے مانگا تھا اس کو اک دن

 hata hai jin ke saroN se saaya

de himmat unko mere khudaya

those who lost father’s care

O my God, make them strong

yateem bachchi hai dar na jaaye

kali khile gi bikhar na jaaye

an orphan, may she be safe from fear

a bud, may she not wither before long

yun daoRti baagh meiN mile gi

haseen titli bhi kya uRe gi.

running in a garden you will see her

even a butterfly can’t do flights as long

ye apne paapa ki aaNkh meiN thi

bahot hi laado bahot chaheeti

was an apple of her dad’s eye

she is cute and sweet like a song

phisal raha hai yeh haaye aaNsu

zameeN pe girne na paaye aaNsu

she is a tear from her dad’s eye, slipping

let her not fall, it will sure be wrong

talaash karti hai apne paapa

har ek rasta hai us ne naapa

looking for her dad every where

seen all the roads, short and long

har ek gali meiN ye hi alaapa

bataao mujh ko kahaN hai paapa

where is my dad, oh my dad

in every lane her cry is sad

bichhaR gaya tha yuN hi wo ek din

Khuda ne maNga tha us ko ek din

before you knew it, he was gone

God called him back, he had to be gone

 
5 Comments

Posted by on January 24, 2017 in adab and literature

 

MEENA KUMARI, TUKRE TUKRE DIN BEETA

Meena Kumari had a sad life and died at a young age of 38. Her poetry is of highest standard and shows how she found her life. In one of her couplets she tells us how life has treated her. [She got a checkmate in the chess game of life every time she played: by her father, her husband and then her friends, see below *.]

Meena Kumari

ٹکڑے ٹکڑے دن بیتا دھججی دھججی رات ملی

جس کا جتنا آںچل تھا اتنی ہی سوغات ملی

جب بھی چاہا دل کو سمجھیں ہنسنے کی آواز سنی

جیسے کویؑ کہتا ہو لے پھر تجھ کو مات ملی

ماتیں کیسی گھاتیں کیا چلتے رہنا آٹھ پہر

دل سا ساتھی جب پایا بیچینی بھی ساتھ ملی

رم جھم رم جھم بوندوں مین زہر بھی ہے اور امرت بھی

آنکھیں ہنس دیں دل رویا یہ اچھی برسات ملی

Tukre tukre din beeta dhajji dhajji raat mili

Jiska jitna aaNchal tha Utni hi saughaat mili

[In pieces did I get the day and the night was all in tatters

Of the bounty, one got only as much as one could gather in one’s scarf]

 

Jab bhi chaha dil ko samjheiN hasne ki aawaz suni

Jaise koyee kahta ho, le phir tujh ko maat mili

[Whenever I tried to understand life, I heard someone jeering at me

As if someone is saying, lo, you got yourself checkmated again]*

MaateiN kaisi ghaateiN kya, chalte rahna aath paher

Dil sa saathi jab paya, bey chaini bhi saath mili

[It is a journey all the time, what with these checkmates or traps

When a heart is your companion, you got restlessness too]

Rimjhim rimjhim boodoN mein, zahr bhi hai aur amrit bhi

aaNkheiN hansdeeN, dil roya, yeh achhi barsat mili.

[The ringing rain- drops have both poison and elixir of life

What a rain did I get, where the eyes laugh and the heart cries]

 
11 Comments

Posted by on January 13, 2017 in adab and literature, Urdu Poetry, videos

 

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BEGUM AKHTAR, mere ham nafas.

This is Shakil badayuni’s famous ghazal. It is in very simple language and can be related to by us all.

I like the translation offered by ‘Rekhta’ very much, as it is it self poetry. Never the less I would take liberty to expand a little here and there.

The link to ‘Rekhta” is

https://rekhta.org/ghazals/mere-ham-nafas-mere-ham-navaa-mujhe-dost-ban-ke-dagaa-na-de-shakeel-badayuni-3-ghazals

First listen to it by Begum Akhtar

image shayari for mere ham-nafas mere ham-nawa mujhe dost ban ke dagha na de main hun dard-e-ishq se jaan-ba-lab mujh...

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My explanation.

  1. O my friend, though we breathe together and our voices echo together, please do not betray me feigning friendship.

The burning love has brought me near death, do not if you will wish me well.

  1. My wounded soul glows and the light it emits keeps me alive,

I fear you, though my healer, might end up blowing the flame out.

  1. O my healer, leave me alone if you will, I have little confidence in your healing

Your brief attention might actually cause my malady to worsen.

  1.  (Here a bulbul (bird) is speaking, worried about the garden which is her abode) I am confident that any fire from outside will not touch it, but I have a real fear that the “fire” from the roses might ignite and burn down the garden.
  2. Lo and behold the beloved is ready to dispense favour, O Shakil, where are you,

What is yours might be usurped by someone else I fear.

[Literally: Where are you O  Shakil, Your lover is up, ready with wine and cup,

I fear that the peg of wine which is yours someone else might put a hand on it.]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 
4 Comments

Posted by on September 29, 2016 in adab and literature, Urdu Poetry, videos

 

Khabar e tahayyur e Ishq sun (Siraj Aurangabadi) (2)

You may want to hear this ghazal of Siraj Aurangabadi (714-1763) before reading its wording and its analysis. here

https://shakilakhtar.wordpress.com/2016/08/28/khabar-e-tahayyur-e-ishq-sun-siraj-aurangabadi/

This ghazal has 7 couplets. It appears that the love discussed here is invariably Love of the Divine.

my interpretations:

  1. True love means appearance of complete void where love, lover and the object of love all merge into oblivion. In context with the love for God, it strangely alludes to the fusion of subject and object into oneness and nothingness.
  2. True love allows one to be free from the norms of reason (mind) and of craziness (heart) and leaves him with just bare soul burning in love.
  3. The heat from the True One is so intense that it consumes the whole existence,yet the heart where He lives survives.
  4. In spite of a strong feeling of apparently being ignored (by the beloved) one can sense that his heart remains full of hundreds of longings. [This speaks of complete confidence in his Love and that he does not mind being thwarted or seemingly so] here I remember a sher of Ghalib “dhota hun jab main peene ko us seem tan ke paon, rakhta hai zid mein kheench ke baahar lagan ke paon’, meaning as I try to wash her beautiful feet to drink water thereof, She repeatedly keeps withdrawing the feet out of the pan.]
  5. It was a golden moment when I had the first lesson of True Love. Since then all powers of reason have taken leave of me.
  6. The effect of Your profound Beauty has left my heart incapable of appreciating any further ‘beauties’ or perhaps any other beauty has no shine any more.
  7.  Your Love has reduced my soul to ashes, and thus I cannot feel any threat or danger. I am free from fear.

خبرِ تحیرِ عشق سن، نہ جنوں رہا، نہ پری رہی
نہ تو تُو رہا، نہ تو میں رہا، جو رہی سو بے خبری رہی

شۂہ بے خودی نے عطا کیا، مجھے اب لباسِ برہنگی
نہ خرد کی بخیہ گری رہی، نہ جنوں کی پردہ دری رہی

چلی سمتِ غیب سے اک ہوا کہ چمن ظہور کا جل گیا
مگر ایک شاخِ نہالِ غم جسے دل کہیں سو ہری رہی

نظرِ تغافلِ یار کا گلہ کس زباں سے کروں بیاں
کہ شرابِ حسرت و آرزو، خمِ دل میں تھی سو بھری رہی

وہ عجب گھڑی تھی کہ جس گھڑی لیا درس نسخۂ عشق کا
کہ کتاب عقل کی طاق پر جو دھری تھی سو وہ دھری رہی

ترے جوشِ حیرتِ حسن کا اثر اس قدر ہے یہاں ہوا
کہ نہ آئینے میں جِلا رہی، نہ پری میں جلوہ گری رہی

کیا خاک آتشِ عشق نے دلِ بے نوائے سراج کو
نہ خطر رہا، نہ حذر رہا، جو رہی سو بے خطری رہی

سراج اورنگ آبادی

THE FOLLOWING IS FROM THE SITE:

….na junoon raha na pari rahi – when neither you exist nor I exist

Anis Zuberi writes:

It is hard to translate classical poets. This ghazal of Siraj is like a flower, full of beauty and fragrance that one should smell and enjoy and not dissect. …Siraj Aurangabadi was one of the earlier poets of Urdu who came after Wali Dukkani. According to his biography, for years, he was in a state of trance and used to remain naked. Khabar e-tahayyur-e-ishq is one of his most famous Ghazals.

Khabar-e-tahayyur-e-ishq sunn, na junoon raha na pari rahi
Na toh tu raha na toh mein raha, jo rahi so be-khabari rahi

Learn oh absorbing love that neither the obsession (for the beloved) is left nor the object (pari) of love survived. The only thing that is left is a state of self-unconsciousness: where neither you exist nor I exist.

Shah-e-bekhudi ne ataa kia, mujhay ab libas-e-barahanagi
Na khirad ki bakhiyagari rahi, na junoon ki pardadari rahi

My beloved (shah-e-bekhudi is a reference to the beloved. Knowing what little I know about Siraj I am leaning towards God as his object of love rather than a worldly being) has bestowed me with a dress of nakedness (libas-e-barahanagi). Neither the intellect (khirad) can repair it nor does the insanity (junoon) rip it. Meaning what a dress (nakedness) my beloved has conferred upon me! I am now free from the trouble of ripping it or mending it (depending on the mental state I am in). My focus is my beloved not my own appearance or even existence.

Chali simt-e-ghaib se aik hava, ke chaman zahoor ka jal gaya
Magar aik shaakh-e-nihal-e-gham, jise dil kahen so hari rahi

A breeze came from the outer space (simt-e-ghaib) and burned the entire garden of existence (zahoor) but a branch of the tree of sorrow (nihal-e-gham) that is called heart remained green. Since in the first line poet is referring to a wind coming from the direction of God (ghaib) that has burned the whole existence (chaman) it can be assumed that tree of sorrow is a symbol of the poets own being. In the burned garden of existence he stood like a sad tree. Nothing grows on that tree except sadness, caused by the separation from his beloved. Now that entire existence is gone, only the abode of the beloved (heart) is survived.

Nazar-e-taghaful-e-yaar ka, gila kis zuban se bayan karoon
Ke sharab-e-sad-qadaah aarzu, khum-e-dil mein thi so bhari rahi

I am speechless (kis zuban). How can I complain the indifferent and uncaring glances (nazar-e-taghaful-e-yaar) of my beloved? After reading, the second line it is clear that he is trying to say that I cannot complain about those cold looks or eyes that have granted me so much. I am indebted to those eyes. Why? My heart is brimming with his desire (aarzu) as if a vessel (khum) is filled with hundred goblets of wine (sharaab-e-sad-qadaah).

Woh ajab ghari thi mein jis ghari, liya dars nuskha-e-ishq ka
Ke kitab aql ki taaq main, jyun dhari thi tyun hi dhari rahi

In Urdu poetry, reason (aql-o-khirad) the product of mind is considered a source of selfishness and as it causes a person to make calculated move; as against altruistic emotions that come out of heart. A thoughtful person thinks about the consequences before taking any action. That is why it is assumed that a selfless love is motivated by heart and not mind. For that reason love and brain are just incompatible. Mind is deceitful, untrustworthy, selfish and devious whereas heart is pure, untainted and selfless. As Iqbal said:
bekhatar kuud para aatishe-namrood mein ishq
aql thi mehvi-tamasha-e-lab-baam abhi

That is what Siraj is saying that at that strange moment when I started taking lesson in love (dars-e-nuskha-e-ishq) I left my intellect or brain (kitaab-e-aql- book is synonymous with intellect as one needs brain to read or write) in an alcove, where it is lying ever since.

Tere josh-e-hairat-e-husn ka, asar iss qadar hai yahan hua
Ke na aayine main jila rahi, na pari meiN jalva gari rahi

Bewildered by your beauty (Josh-e-hairat-e-husn), I had such a mark on my heart (yahan is a pointer towards the heart) that the heart (aayina means heart) has lost all its shine (the basic quality of a mirror) and angel (pari is used as simile to refer profound beauty) had no beauty left to reveal.

Kiya khak-e-aatish-e-ishq ne dil-e-benava-e-Siraj ko
Na khatar raha na hazar raha, magar aik be-khatari rahi

The fire of love (aatish-e-ishq) has burned the voiceless heart (dil-e-benava) of Siraj to the ashes. There is no feeling of vulnerability or threat left. Only freedom from fear (be-khatari) is left. (As Iqbal has used the word bekhatar: bekhatar kood para aatish-e-namrood mein ishq.)

 

 
3 Comments

Posted by on August 31, 2016 in adab and literature, Urdu Poetry

 

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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.

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

 

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