When I Be Absent In This World ( Mystical Love Poem )
Moving Towards A Place Where Earthly Meets The Divine :-)
Let’s venture out to quiet place
Where time has come to standstill
Where moments love to freeze
And at such a place
Sitting under shade of each other’s soul
Ponder about those days
When we be missing from this world
And yet life’s beauty be prevailing around
In all its majestic grandeur
And such an introspection
Would add a new dimension
In our existence
In our collective silence
Conceived as your silence merged with mine
That annihilated our beingness
And as that happened
We kept coming close
To the realm of Absolute
Which steadily and slowly
Kept moving towards us
Silently embracing our collective silence
The separation vanished altogether
And prevailed absolute oneness
Untouched by impermanence
Gaining entry into realm
Where oneness gets wedded to totality
In light of incessant togetherness.
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Hindi Version Of The Poem:
एक दिन जब हम नहीं होंगे ( रहस्यवादी प्रेम कविता )
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Information About The Picture:
The picture clicked by me shows River Ganges flowing through my village situated in Mirzapur District, Uttar Pradesh, India.
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वो जो तुमसे जोड़ता एक पुल है!
वो जो तुमसे जोड़ता एक पुल है!
कही न कही तेरे मेरे बीच
में एक पुल है
जिस पर से गुज़र कर मै
अक्सर पहुच जाता हूँ तुम तक
हां वो पुल दिखता नहीं है
इस यथार्थ से भरी दुनियाँ में
ठीक ही तो है कि दिखता नहीं
या फिर मैंने ठीक ही तो किया
जब मैंने इसे सच्ची दुनिया में
दोष बाधा से बंधी नज़रो से उलझती
हर इस तरह के तिकड़मो से ऊपर रखा
और नहीं बनाया सबको दिखने वाला पुल
वो एक पुल
जिस पर से गुज़र कर मै
अक्सर पहुच जाता हूँ तुम तक
बनता या बनाता इसे दुनियाँ में
तो निश्चित था कि वो ढह जाता
छल कपट से भरी हर निगाहो से
निकलती हर एक उतरन सें
और मिट जाता वो एक सहारा भी
जो अभी मेरे जीने की एक वजह है
वो एक पुल
जिस पर से गुज़र कर मै
यथार्थ के बीच से होता हुआ
अक्सर पहुच जाता हूँ तुम तक
हर रोज, हर एक गुजरते लम्हे में!
उस दुनियाँ में जहा कोई नही होता
सिवाय तेरे और मेरे अस्तित्व के.
For Non-Hindi Readers:
English Version Of The Same Poem
Pics Credit:
A Bridge Between Two Souls! (Poetry)
There exists a bridge between You and I!
There exists a bridge between
You and I
And I travel across it
To reach to you each day.
This bridge remains invisible
In the world governed by reality
Glad that it is non-existent!
In a world marred by evil eyes
It remains invisible to naked eyes
In love with concrete images
And I did the right
By not giving it a shape
To a bridge I travel across
Each day to reach to you.
Had it been built by me
Surely it would have collapsed
Facing every passing moment
The rays of eyes dipped in
Evil and falsehood, treachery and crime,
And I would have lost something
Which sustains my earthly existence
There exists a bridge between
You and I
And I travel across it
Through the realities of visible world
To reach to you each day
In every passing moment
To arrive at a world
Where no one exists
Other than you and I.
Attention Readers:
Hindi Version Of The Same Poem
Pic Credit:
Celebrating Holi, The Festival Of Colours, In League With Poetry Session and Comedy Session!
Colours Fascinate Everybody
The people having rendezvous with colours of Holi are in festive mood today. I don’t wish to act as spoilsport by making readers ponder over serious issues. I remember good old days of Doordarshan, when on the eve of Holi, it used to telecast late night poetry sessions, wherein poets, belonging to various parts of country, read their fun-filled poems. It’s really sad that glorious traditions have given way to cheap thrills on Doordarshan.
Though I am not going to present fun-filled poem, it (the poem) nevertheless speaks about the festival of Holi. It sheds light on distortions that have hit the festival of Holi. This Hindi poem addresses the disturbing scenario, which prevent the masses from embracing the festive mood in right spirit. It makes chilling disclosure that people in cities and villages have given way to dangerous disputes involving bloodshed. How can these people in grip of limited perceptions would ever be able to enjoy the prevailing festive fervour? That’s the essence of this Hindi poem penned by Dr. Ganga Prasad Sharma” Gunashekhara”. He hails from Sitapur, Uttar Pradesh. I also need to thank SC Mudgal, New Delhi, a friend on one of the social networking sites, for making me read this poem.
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तारकोल, कीचड़ सने, चेहरे रूप-कुरूप.
होली में सब एक-से, रंक, भिखारी, भूप..
होली खूनी हो गई,रक्त सने हैं पाँव.
कान्हा अब आना नहीं, लौट के अपने गाँव..
होली खूनी हो गई,रक्त सने हैं पाँव.
कान्हा अब आना नहीं, लौट के अपने गाँव..
कैसा हो यदि होलिका, सींचे जीवन- आस.
रंग-बिरंगे रूप, ले मह-मह करे मिठास..
गदराए गेहूँ खड़े , बौराए-से आम.
होली ने सब को दिए,मन-मन भर के काम..
सरसों,तीसी,चना हो,या गेहूँ के खेत.
मस्ती में लहरा उठे, होली आते देख..
जिसमें अपनापन नहीं,नहीं नेह का लेश.
ऐसे घटने से रहा ,बैर भाव या द्वेष ..
होली में फागुन फिरे, धर बासंती वेश.
पावन पाती प्रेम की, बाँटे देश- विदेश..
फागुन की मादक हवा, उन्मादक परिवेश.
खिले गुलाबी रंग -से, केशरिया गणवेश..
बँसवारी, अमराइयाँ ,ऐसी लुटीं अशेष.
फागुन वापस जा रहा, ले अपना संदेश.
-Dr. Ganga Prasad Sharma” Gunashekhara”
Once Upon A Time..
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And yes, now it’s time to laugh. Enjoy two comedy clips from two different movies. Enjoy this “Mahabharata Episode” from Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro, which is a landmark movie in the genre belonging to comedy. The high standards which it came to set have until now remain unsurpassed. The “Mahabharata Episode” is such a hilarious episode in the movie that it never fails to give rise to maddening laughter. I have watched it umpteen times, but even then when I watch it for one more time I am but all smiles. For non-Hindi readers let me apprise them of the plot of this episode. It’s all about possession of dead body which due to a blunder on part of the people, originally in possession of body, got trapped in live drama show, impersonating the lady who was about to play that role. This dead body is most sought-after object by various rival groups.
The bizarre methods employed by these rival groups to get hold of this dead body, right in the middle of the live show, based on a mythological theme, is terribly rib-tickling. After all, the actors in the play thought that this lady character belonged to their group, but which in reality was a dead body in hot demand among the dangerous rival groups.They trespass the ongoing drama, as new characters, and then there is huge confusion as they come into conflict with the original characters of the play. For me this movie brings back the memories of days when Doordarshan was darling of the masses.
The Mahabharata Episode From Jaane Bhi Do Yaaro
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This second comedy clip is from movie” Pyar Kiye Jaa”. Two legendary actors, Om Prakash and Mehmood, have touched the pinnacle while dealing with shades of comedy. That’s comedy at its best. Neat and clean comedy with no impressions of double-meaning dialogues and cheap gestures. In this scene Mehmood, appearing as wannabe movie producer in the movie, is narrating the elements involved in making of his forthcoming horror movie to Om Prakash. Just notice the expressions on faces of both the actors as they remain deeply involved in act of mutual conversation.
The Comedy Clip From Pyar Kiye Jaa
Pics Credit:
Woman Is A Cipher Whose Addition Or Subtraction Makes No Difference
Woman: A piece of paper on which we write only poetry
A book in which we wish
To read only geography
And avoid history.
On which we write only poetry
And never revolution(words that bring phenomenal changes).
A cipher
Whose addition or subtraction
Makes no difference
To our wicked and vain calculations.
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केवल भूगोल
पढना चाहते है
इतिहास नहीं.
एक कागज़
जिस पर हम
कवितायेँ तो
लिखते है
पर क्रांति नहीं.
और शुन्य
जिसके जुड़ने
या घट जाने से
हमारे अंधे
गणित को कोई
फर्क नहीं पड़ता.
-दीपक तिरुवा
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-Translation of Deepak Tiruva’s Hindi poem has been done by Arvind K. Pandey
That’s not the age to be in love!
Moving like lost ship in the ocean
You appear in memories
And I cry again
The age in which love crossed our hearts
Murmured the dragon called society
That’s not the age to be in love!
You didn’t protest
Nor I came to chain the dragon
And as it breathed fire
Our dreams got burnt
Time changed its cover
And arrived the age to love
Prevailed now the glorious illusion
Called glories of the skin
By which hanged the misery
In form of earthly fame.
Around me moved sea of people
Competing with chameleon
Burning in the flame of fame
Filling the episodes of life
With strange amalgam of black and white.
I searched for you in these new shades
Even in the isolation filling these shades
And I realized you were now a gentle breeze
Flowing in some unknown distant land
With you love remained like love
With all its mysteries and foggy depth.
When you changed I realized
That world does change
Sometimes to beat the time
Sometimes to be beaten by the time
I too tried to change my skin
Punctured the self within
To let it imbibe the law of change
Yet it remained the ancient self
Those who changed now wear some crown
And I the unchanged
Moving like lost ship in the ocean.
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Pic Credit:
Gulzar And Plagiarism: He Who Spits At Heaven, Spits In His Own Face !
Gulzar is in news again. Not for right reason this time. This brilliant poet dealing in surrealism is accused of dealing in plagiarism. Stunning and outrageous isn’t it? One of the lesser heard name from world of poetry has accused him of lifting the idea and verses from Nazım Hikmet’s, a famous Turkish poet, playwright and novelist, poem “Mera Janaza”. Well, it’s not a hard nut to crack to ascertain the real motive of such people who are trying to ride roughshod over his genuine achievements. They are all burning in the fire of envy.
There are two ways to attain success in literary world. Either work hard, write good pieces, or since that takes lot of energy besides needing lots of intellectual usage of brain, the easier route to fame for most of upcoming writers have been to enter into conflict with some established writer. That way you gain instant recognition. Some depressed and frustrated writers not able to gain the desired recognition try to heal themselves by painting other eminent writers into wrong colours. It’s easy for them to give rise to vain controversies and gain quick popularity which they failed to attain via their creations. In Indian literary landscape, it’s commonplace to find one writer engaged in character assassination of other writer. A constant effort is made by some writers, under the aegis of fake institutions, to label the good work done by other writers as rubbish.
It’s really sad that at least, in India, it has become some sort of fashion for writers to write less and play politics more. That not only ensures them awards, cream posts in various academic institutions but also provides them a chance to be branded as successful writer! After all, what’s the point in calling Gulzar a plagiarist ? He is an Academy Award winner for penning best song in movie ” Slumdog Millionaire”. His poems are read across the globe for their beautiful metaphors blended with delicate lyrical construction. The free flowing loosely constructed verses not only talk about ironies of life but also direct our vision towards something beyond the normal human perceptions. It’s ridiculous to suggest that a poet of such an evolved nature, capable of penning good poetry with such great ease, can enter in plagiarism. Why the hell would he ever do that?
The argument that there is remarkable resemblance between the two poems i.e. one penned by Gulzar, Mai Neeche Chal Ke Rahta Hun, and other penned by Nazım Hikmet, Mera Janaza, is quite laughable. It may be that he was quiet inspired and he came to write his own version of the same feelings echoed in Mera Janaza but somehow failed to give due credit to the said poet. However, Gulzar has already mentioned that he always loved to read Russian writers or, for that matter, take note of great writings spread in foreign literature.
He never kept it secret that he has not read works of Russian writers. It itself is a proof that one can trace his source of inspiration! I need to say that there are always chances that two people come to express the same views with great degree of similarity in expressions. That’s called a rare coincidence. However, I am ready to admit that in this case the level of similarity is of greater degree, and therefore, Gulzar should have specifically mentioned about Nazım Hikmet’s poem as footnote.
However, I raise strong objection to the efforts made by some people to make Gulzar get branded as plagiarist. That’s only the sign of mental retardation of people making such attempts. Even the Western worlds are not above such crude attempts. Just few years back V. S. Naipaul labeled some great writer’s creations as rubbish!
I mean one can see some meaning in words of Noble Prize winner writer like Naipaul but it’s hard to understand how can writers devoid of stature can paint another writer enjoying great fame as plagiarist? Do they have the moral courage or enough stature, attained after writing good pieces, to pass judgement on the worth of writings of their contemporary great writers? To be honest, let those who have not attained any height stop measuring the worth of writers who have given us some excellent creations. Who has given the intellectual dwarfs to issue certificates of excellence to literary geniuses like Gulzar? Any answers?
Anyway, listen this Gulzar’s song from movie Aandhi: Is Mode Se Jaate Hai
References:
Pic Credit:
Guest Poet CHARLES Reads The Poem MEMORIES
Guest Poet CHARLES Reads The Poem MEMORIES
Mind has become the storehouse of memories,
Sweet memories which are mine,
Which are, of course, my prized possession,
When loneliness has gripped me,
They surround me slowly, and make their presence felt.
They neutralize the pain of wounds inflicted by the world,
Innocent charm cast by them
Even makes these wound’s pain sweeter;
Walking down memory lane
I can very clearly see those days,
The days of my childhood;
When success and failure were things of little importance
Where we knew little about morality and idealism,
But still they were part of all our actions.
With the increase in knowledge
We have become selfish and self centered,
The fire of envy has burnt down morality and idealism into ashes.
We have lost the power to express our true emotions,
An easy task for us during our childhood.
The purity of heart, which is required is no more,
Indeed a great loss;
Memories which would always be with me, like guiding star,
I wish they would never part from me,
Let them be always on my side till doomsday,
Yes, only thing I like to be surrounded by
When I find myself in the arms of death.
Poem “Memories” Read By Guest Poet Charles On A Prominent Website Dedicated To Poetry Voices Net. Click here To Listen The Reading:
Guest Poet CHARLES Reads The Poem MEMORIES
Pic Credit:
Pic One: Internet
Valentine’s Day: A Day To Honour Love
To say something about love in confused and distorted times of ours is not an easy task. The generation dependent on money, social networking sites and exhibitionism treats love as some sort of fast food- easy to prepare and quickly consumed. It has no patience to see it blooming in all its colour. No wonder one of my colleagues treats arrival of Valentine’s day as arrival of mating season of dogs.
One of the recent Supreme Court verdicts has made it clear that tendency on part of well educated girls from good families to enter in prostitution is quite alarming. I mean having sex in the guise of love has become one of the easiest mode to attain richness. I cannot avoid quoting such recent trends as it’s necessary to make it clear that with such murkier shades in existence the love with its gentle shades has been pushed to the fringes.
One of the controversial books released shortly that deals with sexual appetite of women suggests once again that love is nothing more than release of chemicals ” dopamine, norepinephrine and phenylethylamine ” and when women fall in love it’s more management of “resource benefits’ and “genetic benefits” than bonhomie with romantic attributes. Now who will dare to love with such sort of horrible revelations? When it’s all biology the heart of lover seems to have become a frog ready to be dissected by the sharp razor in soft hands of lady love!! It’s a tough time for people who are in real love with someone for whom” absence from those we love is self from self – a deadly banishment” (Shakespeare)
Imagine the plight of lover who is in tine with ancient instincts -the idealistic instincts- which perceives his beloved a mean to knock at the door of bliss. When I refer to idealistic sense I am referring to vision which perceives love in its old mode- a gateway to totality. This totality is the result of complete identification with the beloved. To have glimpse of these idealistic portrait one needs to read the short poem by Shelly named ” To Jane”:
The keen stars were twinkling,
And the fair moon was rising among them,
Dear Jane.
The guitar was tinkling,
But the notes were not sweet till you sung them
Again.As the moon’s soft splendour
O’er the faint cold starlight of Heaven
Is thrown,
So your voice most tender
To the strings without soul had then given
Its own.The stars will awaken,
Though the moon sleep a full hour later
To-night;
No leaf will be shaken
Whilst the dews of your melody scatter
Delight.Though the sound overpowers,
Sing again, with your dear voice revealing
A tone
Of some world far from ours,
Where music and moonlight and feeling
Are one.
The poetic beauty attributed to Jane makes her gain timeless appeal. This sublimity is direct result of being in love with greater emotions, which allows one to imbibe unheard emotions, enabling one to carve larger than life portrayal of the lover. This sort of attachment is missing in our times as so called notions of realism have made us away from the realm of purer emotions.
Loving with animal instincts closes the opportunity to trace better perceptions. However, in our times loving the beastly way is normal now and it , in fact, has attained some sort of legitimacy. The story of break-ups, deception, cheating and torture are some of the glorious happenings that one hears whenever love makes its presence felt. By love I mean the romantic relationships which exists between two young hearts. Love has many other variations but it would not be appropriate to discuss them at this point of time as I have not seen that frequently young people buying roses for their parents as spending huge amounts of money on beer and girls on Valentine’s Day.
Well, being incapable of honouring the beastly version of love in our times, I place myself on road to refined love, abandoned by all, which takes me to days when it was easier for the heart to sense the true love often. I am recollecting those days with some classic love songs from bygone days:
1. Kabhi Kabhi Mere Dil Me Khyal Aata Hai
2. Tere Mere Sapne Ab Ek Rang Hai
4. Nothings Gonna To Change My Love For You
6. Tere Dar Pe Chale Aaye Sanam
9. Dheere Dheere Se Meri Zindagi Mein
Pic Credit:
MEMORIES
Sharing Memories With A Friend At Ancient Place!
Mind has become the storehouse of memories,
Sweet memories which are mine,
Which are, of course, my prized possession,
When loneliness has gripped me,
They surround me slowly, and make their presence felt.
They neutralise the pain of wounds inflicted by the world,
Innocent charm cast by them
Even makes these wound’s pain sweeter;
Walking down memory lane
I can very clearly see those days,
The days of my childhood;
When success and failure were things of little importance
Where we knew little about morality and idealism,
But still they were part of all our actions.
With the increase in knowledge
We have become selfish and self centered,
The fire of envy has burnt down morality and idealism into ashes.
We have lost the power to express our true emotions,
An easy task for us during our childhood.
The purity of heart, which is required is no more,
Indeed a great loss;
Memories which would always be with me, like guiding star,
I wish they would never part from me,
Let them be always on my side till doomsday,
Yes, only thing I like to be surrounded by
When I find myself in the arms of death
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This poem in audio form :
Poem can also be read on: Memories On Voicesnet
Pic credit :
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