रीता

रीता ही रहा

बारिश झमाझम

उल्टा मटका

आग़ोश

लेता सबको

आग़ोश में अपने

जवान पेड़

आस

रोटी खाऊँ मैं

या खा रही मुझको

रोटी की आस

A DAY..

Young chirpy dawn’s

Untutored virgin rays

Sidled through threshold

And vanished soon

As their master strong

Went oblong

Day grew through

Some cold nibbles

And tasteless brew

A tempest of thoughts

Groped for an idea

As if a microseism lost

In a pile of papers

Mellow dusk blushed

Hidden behind curtains

Unnoticed..

Note: This poem was published in the literary journal Muse India

‘The Nomad Learns Morality’ : A crossroads of emotions and intellect..

 

In the current times when pulp fiction is in vogue “The Nomad Learns Morality” comes as a whiff of fresh air - invigorating and relaxing at the same time. The learned author, Mr. Tomichan Matheikal, leaves the readers of his work awed by his absolutely new outlook of the stories we all know since childhood..the anecdotes in Hindu and Christian scriptures and classical legends about great warriors, heroes and Royalty, philosophers, scientists and holy men in about first half of this book. 

Mr. Matheikal’s approach to the subject is remarkably rational and unbiased. He reaches in those obscure corners of the psyche of his characters where a conventional reader of scriptures would not dare to tread. In spite of his revolutionary foresight his treatment of the characters and the portrayal of their depth is so vividly wonderful that you would not feel hurt even if you don’t agree with his viewpoint.

In most of the places the final outcome is barely suggestive, in others it has been left to you to decide and in still others you wish you could have more to be able to reach a conclusion. This, I guess, is due to his mellowness of consideration of others’ opinions, for he from his side hasn’t left a loose end which might have confused the reader. When he throws light on an incident or a protagonist with the radicals which all may not find agreeable his manner is mild to the extent of becoming delicate!

These stories in their new avatar will definitely leave you aghast by their ingrained logic and common sense which we have rather been blind to see, leave alone appreciate till now. The twist at the end will stun you in many. The process of understanding will depend on a reader’s individual mental and psychological development..some may agree, some may not, and some might not build an opinion at all. There will also be quite a good number, like me, who will fall head over heels in love with them, mesmerized by the charm of the writer’s approach and his manner. Since most of us have a deep rooted conditioning about matters pertaining to ‘religion’(?) I would suggest that you read the stories as mature adults, objectively, impartially and unbiased. These are best read when we are open to receive. You will deprive yourself of the excitement and delight these stories lead you to, if you try to interpret them with rigid mindsets..so open up and let the elixir of enlightenment 

and bliss bathe you!

I’d rather have the conservatives read the book too to broaden up their horizons, and to at least have a different taste of the otherwise dull and routine. Agreement with the author, a sagacious philosopher, is not necessary but enrichment of ideas is. The stories not only provoke you to think afresh but also are a constant supply of fulfilling nourishment.

Although it has not been made into a separate section, but in about  second half of the book we meet commonplace people, girls and boys next door. The particular incidents in their lives narrated in the stories will amaze you with their simplicity and profundity of emotions woven together seamlessly. The author mocks, jeers and even ridicules the characters at places but the mellowness of his expression leaves no allowance for any controversies whatsoever. Here again his insight into the depth of their hearts and minds is wonderfully remarkable.

Brevity is the essence of this awesome work. The language is crisp ant curt. The extraneous details have been done away with and the reader cannot find an excuse to take a breath while reading, their deep interest is maintained throughout. I can imagine what a mammoth task the writer must have gone through editing and re-editing his own drafts. I read almost each story three times: the first reading to delight, the second to savour and the third to reach ecstasy.

I have resisted the temptation of quoting from the book and deliberately so, in the interest of the readers..or the real beauty of those words would have been marred without their context perhaps, that is why.  Mr. Matheikal’s observations and suggestions are solitaires of wisdom best fitted in their gold encasements.

Available with: OnlineGatha

घर

भरा है घर

सामान ही सामान

कहाँ रहूँ मैं 

This post is dedicated to Geetashree Chatterjee who lambasted me for doing away with symbolism in my haiku here...I thank her for this favour!

शहर -2

होगी  उसकी  कोई  मजबूरी

जो  रहता  है  यहाँ  पर,

मुसाफ़िर  हो  के  ही गुज़र जाना

न बनाना यहाँ कभी अपना घर,

बेदर्द, बेमुरव्वत ही नहीं बस

बड़ा बदमिजाज़ भी है ये शहर..

This post is dedicated to Archana Kapoor who has had a harrowing experience with this town recently.

Read  शहर-1 here

भाईचारा

जानता हूँ मैं कि

तुम उच्च-वर्गीय कुलीन

शैम्पू-पाउडर से गमकते

घूमते हो मर्सिडीज़ में

और मैं खुजैला अपाहिज

जिसके होंगे कई बाप

मक्खियों से भिनकता

रहता हूँ हलवाई के नीचे की

नाली में.

हाँ, मानता हूँ मैं कि

तुम रहते हो

खूबसूरत मालकिन के

एयर-कंडीशन्ड बँगले में, बाँहों में

और मैं उस दिन को

खुशकिस्मत मानता हूँ

जब मुझे दस बीस

लात-डण्डे न पड़ें.

तुम्हारा मूड बिगड़ जाता है

जब मालकिन जाती है विदेश

हफ्ते दस दिन को

हो जाते हो तुम गुमसुम

और इम्पोर्टेड न्यूट्रिशन  खाने में

करते हो नख़रे

मैं भी तो हो जाता हूँ

थोड़ा कटखना

जब जूठे दोने-पत्तल

नहीं मिलते दंगे के दिनों में.

मुझे तुमसे प्यार नहीं :

तुम कहाँ-मैं कहाँ

न ही रश्क़ है मुझे तुमसे :

क़िस्मत अपनी-अपनी,

पर फिर भी

तुम्हारा आदर करता हूँ मैं

क्योंकि हमारी नस्लें

जुदा होते हुए भी

हैं तो आख़िर हम कुत्ते ही !

न जाने तुम

मुझसे घृणा क्यों करते हो..

Image courtesy: Google

सिलसिला

मुसलसल

है एक सिलसिला

तन्हाइयों का

Key:
मुसलसल = continuous

शायद

देखो सुबह

शायद मुस्कुराये

मेरा भी दिन

बे-लगाम

वहाँ पे तिल

ये दिल बे-लगाम

हुआ गुलाम

Meditate

Love is in the air

But so is smog

And dust and noise and CO2

Meaningless campaigns

Dull cartoons Blunt advices

Obscene jokes Political wars

Pierce through eyes, ears, nose

Oh give me a break

In silence let me meditate.


Note: This poem was published in the literary journal Muse India

Stigmata

So what if the clouds are grey

The shining stars shimmer through,

A distant violin weeps

In the eerie silence..

A spotless white buck sits

On the nose of a pitch dark boar

And devours burning charcoal..

Birds are shivering of the icy river

And a crocodile swims in my hot soup..

Some pages of a half burnt book

Flutter in my hollow vacuum

Stigmata!


Note: This poem was published in the literary journal Muse India

Marzipan

Fish-pigeon-lion-goat

No blood, no dispute;

Sweet   they   remain

Deewali      marzipan.

प्यास

ख़ुश्क हो चले

थरथराते होंठ

किसी प्यास में

अक्सर..

मेरा होना है

तुम्हारी हँसी की रौशनी,

तुम्हारा न होना

मेरे अँधेरे की उदासी;

मेरा अँधेरा तुम्हारी रौशनी को

ढँक लेता है अक्सर.

Your mirth is a light caused by my presence (in your life)
Your absence (in my life) is my darkest gloom
(your) light is often overpowered by (my) darkness...

(The happy moments are mostly shadowed by sad ones)

LIFE:

Sprouting, struggling, flourishing and...decaying!

उधार

कैसे जियूँ ये

उधार की ज़िन्दगी

कब तलक

कमबख़्त

उम्र बढ़ती

हसरतें अधूरी

'कमबखत' !

नंगी

क्यों ढकूँ सिर

मन्दिर या मस्जिद

रूह तो नंगी 

This post is dedicated to Geetashree Chatterjee for her ameliorated and refined version of this haiku.

She says:

बिखरे बाल

मन्दिर या मस्जिद

रूह आज़ाद

She has done an awesome job by transforming the vehicle (bailgaadii to Mercedes) without disturbing the passenger inside (the thought!)

I appreciate the fact that her version, in spite of its superiority, doesn’t make the original feel inferior in any way…both of them put together give a feeling as if you are reading Kabir and Eliot on the same pageJ

You make me!

Dear friends,

I am pleased to bring to your knowledge that your beloved “SAFARNAAMAA” has been selected by Indian Top Blogs as one of the Best Hindi Blogs in 2014-15 again.

The credit goes to all of you, my most valued readers, who have contributed to reach it here!

I am especially grateful to my non-Hindi speaking friends who regularly read my Hindi posts and register their admiration, suggestions, enquiries and observations.

What really makes me happy is the fact that I did not have to enter a contest (you know I don’t like competitionsJ), and did not push others back to come to the forefront. I can see many of my friends’ Hindi blogs alongside mine…the delight of sharing means more to me than that of winning!

All of you lovely buddies are requested to continue with your esteemed patronage and support to “SAFARNAAMAA”.

http://www.indiantopblogs.com/p/hindi-blog-directory.html

*(at serial no.9)

With love and regards,

Amit

मासूम

जी में ही दबीं

मासूम हसरतें

 हँसती रोती

हाशिये

ज़िन्दगी यूँ ही     

कटती रही बस 

हाशिये पर

पागल

खोजता रहा

दिन रात पागल

सुक़ून कहाँ 

शोला

       इक शोला सा

   लपके है दिल में

   किसी याद से                                                                 

ख़लिश

                            कोई ख़लिश

                         दिल के दरमियाँ

                          जागती - सोती 

चुभन

                           उफ़.. फिर से

                          जाग उठी चुभन

                            दबाई तो थी

                       

मौसम

क्यों छाये हैं ये

बादल से हमारे बीच

क्यों रह-रह के

फुहार सी आती हो...

जम कर ही बरस जाओ

इस से तो इक बार

और बस फिर

खुल जाए मौसम!

छलिया

आँखें मिला के

कितना तू छलता

दिल   हरता

मीरा

प्रियतम्  मेरे

मीरा सदा रही मैं

राधा बना लो

मेरा साया

या तो  बीच-दुपहरी   है

रौशनी  तेरे तसव्वुर की,

या फिर  रात-अमावस

सियाही तेरी चाहत की,

जो भी हो बिलकुल तनहा हूँ मैं

मेरा साया भी  मेरे साथ नहीं...!

तोहफ़ा

ज़ख़्म हरा भी है

और गहरा भी

दिया तो था तुमने

पर है सिर्फ़ मेरा ही