An attempt at translation

Munni ne ugaya ek daanth
Phir do aur chaar aur phir paanch
Aur phir wo chahe choosna ganna apne aap
turanth hi seekhegi wo kuch bol
Aur chhalti jayegi apni hi ek dagar
Tumhare or tumhari patni ke kesh hue shwet
Hriday mein paschataap kintu kinchit nahin
Aakhir pita ka dayitva hi toh nibhaya
Thak chuke hain charan tumhare, ho rahi hai saanjh
Aur bitiya tumhari ho gayi badi


The original

A little tooth
by Thomas Lux

Your baby grows a tooth, then two,
and four, and five, then she wants some meat
directly from the bone. It's all

over: she'll learn some words, she'll fall
in love with cretins, dolts, a sweet
talker on his way to jail. And you,

your wife, get old, flyblown, and rue
nothing. You did, you loved, your feet
are sore. It's dusk. Your daughter's tall.
****
From New and Selected Poems, 1975-1995, published by Houghton Mifflin, 1997.

Kal bhi, aaj bhi, kal bhi...........

Kuch boondein
os ki
aur, ek pyas
Kal bhi
aaj bhi
kal bhi

boond os ki,
samidha,
chadte din ki.
Kal bhi
aaj bhi
kal bhi.

pyas,
maru bhoomi ki,
kinchit atrupt.
Kal bhi
aaj bhi
kal bhi.

Boond os ki
din prati din
nit nayi
pyas,
wahi
Kal bhi
aaj bhi
kal bhi.

Os: dewdrop
samidha: the kindling used in a havan (samagri)
atrupt: unsatisfied, unfulfilled
kinchit: maybe
marubhoomi : desert

Sab wahi, phir bhi nahin

Deewarein wahi
Tasveerein wahi,
Phir bhi vey rang badalti see kyon hain

Aine mein mera chehra wahi
Per rangat badli se kyon hai

Muddaton ke baad khuli hai ek khidki,
Phoolon se chhan kar aati dhoop,
Apne saath le ayi hai,
Bheetar, kuch rang naye.

Dreamcatcher

A dreamcatcher hanging over my head,
Whenver I sleep,
Yet, nightmares are the only ones I see.
Is the legend false,
Or is the dreamcatcher helpless.
Do I dare to check if it is trapping
Worst nightmares than the ones I see.

On belonging

Who does one really belong to?
One self primarily, one might think.
But , does one really?
Is that really belonging,
Or a longing,
A keening yearning,
That has no name, no shape
and yet, has a large lingering presence
In one’s dreamless nights.
Again, who does one really belong to?

A random thought

When my sight went a wander

and looked yonder,

it seemed like the horizon

and that made me wonder

just what was meeting what?

Some day...

Some day,
When I meet you
I want to tell you
Of the journey that brought me to you
Of all the places I've been to
And the people I've met
Countless stories I have to tell
Of hilarity of joy and some tears shed
But when I do meet you
Before I do tell
Just hold me
And let me catch my breath
And gather my thoughts.

Paridhi aur atthhahas

A few tough questions

When is it OK
to draw our battle lines,
and take a stand?

When is it OK
to quit
and take the easiest way out ?

Was it stupid to object
to something that was part of the accepted ?
or, did I see something
that every one missed ?

Did they really?
Was it missed
or was it a concious decision on their part?
To ignore it and live with it.

When is it OK
to decide not to live with something?

We all work hard for the things we achieve.
At times, its not just our labor,
but also the dreams and aspirations of our loved ones.

Is it OK
for us to decide like individuals
That we can't live with something and quit?

Aren't we throwing away something
that isn't ours alone?

Whom do I write for?

Whom do I write for?
and why?
for, the thoughts, that churn within my head,
continue to do so, long after the words are written and forgotton.
No deity to retain the resultant venom,
it only turns my mood to various shades of grey.

Soch - an effort in translation

Talking to myself,
laughing and crying too.
The getting upset,
and then trying to make it up to me.
I often tire myself out,
And then begin the cycle anew.
I am my own friend philospher and guide,
my own destination and perchance, the road too.
I lose myself in me, while looking for myself,
and wander around, in my own musings.
I often wonder, For how long , I'll wander in myself
and, if these thoughts of mine, will ever reach anywhere

Soch

apne aap se hi baatein karna
hansna, rooth jaana
aur manane ki koshish karna
thak kar baith jaana kahin
aur phir shuru silsila wahi
dost main, hamdard main, humraaz mein
humsafar main or shayad raah bhi
khud ko khokar , khud mein khud ko dhoondhi main
aakhir kab tak bhatkoongi apni hi sooch mein
khud se khud ka silsila akhir kab tak chalega
kya is soch ki manzil hai koi?

Aas

kuch aisi hi hoti hai aas
komal shanbhangur si
pal mein mitne wali
mit kar phir bandhne wali
har vinash ke baad
aur dhrin hoti aas
jeevan ki pehli saans se shuru hokar
kabhi na khatm hoti aas
ankhein khul kar band ho jati hain
aur reh jati hai unme basne wali aas

Some thoughts

I wake up often enough
In the middle of the night
While my mind tries to go back to sleep
My eyes wander
And come to rest on my hand on the pillow
Needless to say the hand is empty
And memories of what it once held come rushing back

I still remember tracing the contours of your face with my fingertips
And the feel of your hair against my palm
I would have burnt my fingertips over and over by now
And scraped the skin off of the palm
Had I not known
That although the feel resides on the tips
The memories are in my mind
And I can’t erase those
One often thinks that reel life has got nothing to do with real life
And that truth is stranger than fiction
Yet, lying awake, with the moon for company,
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind
Suddenly makes a lot of sense.

The prisoner in my mind

It's a lonely walk
On a long winding road
There’s a chill in the air
And it has begun to rain a little
Yet, I walk around.
Not yet ready to go home.

I do this often,
on grey days.
The darkness seeps into me,
And my thoughts.
Rather than pace
On the worn rug of my mind,
I walk it out.
In crowded malls,
And empty parks
Amid the falling maple
And sometimes the naked trees

Yet, it is an empty victory.
I rarely escape the churning of all the questions
The whys and the what if and what nows.
Stay like open beaks
Their cacophony drowning out my sanity
I can walk , but not run away
From the voices in my own head
Only when the volume turns down a little
Do I head back.
Tired , ready to collapse.

I am becoming
My own biggest enemy
And need a sanctuary
From myself.
I could do with an ally or two
But am captive within my own walls.
Just whose brilliant idea,
Was it to throw away the key?

Exorcism

Memories of you
Are like ghosts
That haunt my psyche
My mind
And sometimes,
Even my living breath

They rise up
When I least expect them
Hitting me hard in the gut,
Leaving me unable to breathe

I often wish for an exorcism
To end this torment
Alas, no priest,
Or spell
Can get rid of the residue
You’ve left on my senses.

You are not here,
But, yet are.
So much
More than ever

I wish, when you left,
You’d also taken
Your ghosts with you.

Chasing rainbows

With the sand scorching my feet
I chased my rainbow.
Followed it to its end,
only to realise,
there never is a pot of gold.
Only the myth remains
perpetuated by people
who only believed,
but, never dared to check.

The reason for tears

There are hopes and dreams
That lie broken
I’ve tried to sweep them away,
But random shards remain.
They can still pierce the heart
And draw blood
That has lost its color.

Quest for sound

I don't like silence
neither do I like the sounds around me.
So I run,
from sounds to silence,
from silence to sound.
Craving, looking and running,
to and fro,
back and forth,
between quiet and crescendo,
my ears thirsting
for a symphony of their liking.

an emotion divided

On my way to the cafe today,
I found a butterfly wing.
Now, I feel an emotion divided.
On one hand, I feel pity,
for the small creature, that lost its life and flight,
on the other hand,
I can’t help but feel,
a surge of hope.
I am hopefully,
another wing away ,
from taking flight.