Tum Kabhi The Surya

Read this wonderful hindi ghazal this morning, thanks to Kavitakosh. Pleasantly surprised to see the poet is Chandrasen Virat, one of whose poems I had read and greatly admired, few years back. While I would love to share the other one some time, I just wanted to share the one I just read right now.

 

तुम कभी थे सूर्य
  -- चंद्रसेन विराट

तुम कभी थे सूर्य लेकिन अब दियों तक आ गये।
थे कभी मुख्पृष्ठ पर अब हाशियों तक आ गये ॥

यवनिका बदली कि सारा दृष्य बदला मंच का ।
थे कभी दुल्हा स्वयं बारातियों तक आ गये ।।

वक्त का पहिया किसे कुचले कहां कब क्या पता।
थे कभी रथवान अब बैसाखियों तक आ गये ।।

देख ली सत्ता किसी वारांगना से कम नहीं ।
जो कि अध्यादेश थे खुद अर्जियों तक आ गये ।।

देश के संदर्भ मे तुम बोल लेते खूब हो ।
बात ध्वज की थी चलाई कुर्सियों तक आ गये ।।

प्रेम के आख्यान मे तुम आत्मा से थे चले ।
घूम फिर कर देह की गोलाईयों तक आ गये ॥

कुछ बिके आलोचकों की मानकर ही गीत को ।
तुम ॠचाएं मानते थे गालियों तक आ गये ॥

सभ्यता के पंथ पर यह आदमी की यात्रा ।
देवताओं से शुरु की वहशियों तक आ गये ॥

Conversations with Sid

It is very difficult to get Sid to sleep, both in the afternoon and in the night, even when he is obviously sleepy. And its equally difficult to wake him up. One afternoon, as I woke him up from his afternoon nap, he wanted to sleep more. After half an hour of cribbing and crying he finally started to talk coherently.

Sid: Mujhe itni neend aa rahi hai ki main sota hi rahoo, uthoon hi nahin.
Me: Kitni der tak so-oge?
Sid: 100,1000 hours tak sota rahoonga ...
Me: Aur jab bhookh lagegi?
Sid: (thinks for a second) Uthoonga, khana khaoonga aur phir so jaoonga
Me: Aur jab khelne ka time hoga?
Sid: Khel kar aa kar phir so jaoonga
Me: Jab homework ka time hoga?
Sid: Tab sota hi rahoonga!!

***

Sid has collected some money in his wallet, given by us on weekend (as kind of pocket money), but he has not yet had occasion to spend it. One evening we planned to go for some ice-cream, and he insisted that he wanted to pay for it. For a while we humored him, but finally told him that we will pay now as he is young; when he grows older and earns, he can pay for the ice-cream.
Pat came the reply - "Par tab tak to aap buddhe ho jaoge!!"

Further, assuming that we did not get it, he clarified, "Tab tak aapke sare teeth toot jayenge to aap ice-cream kaise khaoge?!"

***

Sid saw our wedding pic, with both of us in the standard paraphernalia. The only thing he apparently found noteworthy was N's elaborate headgear and shiny garlands that punjabi grooms wear, and exclaimed - "Papa you are looking like a sheep. Baa baa white sheep!!"

If You Are Afraid of Heights

If You Are Afraid of Heights - Raj Kamal Jha

I was enticed into buying this book by the image of the lonely girl in a red frock on the cover, and the description on the back that promised "a glimpse into a looking-glass world where nothing is quite what it seems and yet everything is strangely familiar". I did not expect it to be a regular fiction - the story-telling kind, but more of a set of impressions and interpretations, and exploration of the thoughts, dreams and feelings of the girl on the cover. I would say my expectations were partially fulfilled.

It is a beautifully written book, with a vivid imagery and almost lyrical prose. It comprises of three distinct stories, with repeating images and motifs - each of these stories perhaps represent the viewpoint of a different character. It blurs the lines between memories, dreams, imagination, reality and fantasy, and the reader needs to draw his/her own inference on the meaning of the events, and the inter-connections of the characters. The portrayal of (what I believe to be) an alter-ego - Rima to Amir, and Alam to Mala - was quite a novel concept. Also interesting was the portrayal of observer/narrator flying through and above the city on the back of a crow.

However, with all the beauty, I was rather disappointed - I do not know of anyone else who has read it, but I was not able to extract the theme, and interpret how the stories connect together in the conclusion. It is what can be described as a very "literary" book. It could have been a very good book, if all the narratives could have been brought to a proper closure. But, with all the loose hanging threads, it feels kind of incomplete, and therefore, after finishing the book, that particular satisfaction is missing.

Nine Lives

Nine Lives - William Dalrymple

'Nine Lives' is the first book by Dalrymple that I have read. I had never been motivated to pick his works before, as they were mostly historic works, which I am not very fond of. I also think I was just a little biased against the author, despite (or perhaps due to) all the acclaim.

This book chronicles the stories of nine lesser known religious and spiritual faiths - most of which we would perhaps never ever come across. While some of these may be familiar depending on which region we have lived in, it is unlikely for many of us to have an insight to the depths that Dalrymple has explored. These beliefs are as diverse as the cultural heritage can be in India, and perhaps nowhere else in the world. These are stories covering a range of practices from the austerity of Jainism to extremism of Tantra; covering the length and breadth of the country from Dharamsala to Tamilnadu, from Rajasthan to Bengal.

I also loved the way Dalrymple has told these stories. Stories and experiences are related in the words of a follower of each belief or practice, a person who truly believes in his or her chosen path as the purpose of his/her live, as the way to attain enlightenment and to be one with God. Interspersed with these stories are the descriptions of the landscapes, beautifully written - almost painted in the words by the author. As are some history and facts behind and around these practices.

While he might have drawn some inferences on the history of some of these traditions, he has very subtly refrained from putting forth his own impressions on the practices or how they impacted himself emotionally or spiritually. He is curious and sensitive, and has presented the stories with wonderful compassion. He thus informs and impresses the readers, and enables them to learn and open their minds and hearts, leaving them free of any prejudices initiated by his own views.

The stories are poignant, fascinating and enriching, though tinged with an underlying sadness. They just do not open your eyes and mind to the diverse ways people can express and practice their faith, but also warm the heart to know of real, simple people whose devotion and dedication remain unwavering in the face of suffering and rejection. And they do it all without the least of pride, with humility and total submission.

Sadly, many of these rich traditions are in the imminent danger of being lost - facing threats from religious extremists on one hand, and on the other, from the changes that we call as "development". The compassionate Sufi tradition that bridges the gap between Islam and Hinduism and celebrates God as joy is targeted by Wahhabi extremists, Tantra has always been feared and looked down upon by orthodox/traditional Hindus, while the oral traditions - which have carried epic poems comprising of thousands of lines through centuries are endangered by literacy!

I'll have to admit that for a suspense thriller fan like me, it was a slow read, really so - I only could read it on half hour commute to and from my office. But, it is, without any doubt, beautifully written, and something to be savored at a slow pace.

Painting in some different media ...

Little Krishna - one of Sid's favorite cartoon characters 

Terracotta Ganeshji - painted over with metallic acrylic colors

A surprise discovery

While arranging my books in the new bookshelf in my new house, I found to my great surprise that I possessed two books that I had bought nearly 4 years back, but never read!!

However can that happen?! I think I bought a number of books at the same time, and read some of them. These two were perhaps in a back row; and there was a long phase where I had hardly been reading anything, so I did not miss them. When we shifted to Bangalore about two years back, I had to put all my books in one small cupboard, so the bigger size ones were naturally cramped at the back. I might have noticed them then, but with too much to do, I simply forgot all about their existence. Until the time I had to arrange my books in the new, large bookshelf :-)

The first one was was 'Nine Lives' by William Dalrymple, an author of whom I have heard a lot (who hasn't?!), but never read before. The other was 'If you are afraid of heights' by Raj Kamal Jha, of whom I have never heard before.

Conversations with Sid

At times I miss the time when Sid was much younger, and much more innocent and cute [Well, he is still innocent, though not as much as before. And although people refuse to believe me, he can be a total 'badmash' :)]
At one such occasion, I cuddled Sid, and asked, "Mera little baby, cute wala, kahaan gaya?"
Sid replied, simply, and as a very matter-of-fact, "Mumma main bada ho gaya."

***
[Dated: 20/3/2013]
Yesterday N forgot his lunch-box in his office. He must have mentioned this to Sid when he picked him up. Now, Sid is a champion in complaining about others, especially papa, to portray them in a bad light. So, as soon as he sees me, he tells me, "Mumma, papa apna lunch box office mein chhod aaye!" I said  "OK. Koii baat nahin, kal le aayenge".

Sid, apparently unsatisfied by my reaction, returned back after a few minutes, to re-launch his complain, "Mumma ... papa aaj apna lunch box office mein chhod aaye!!" In the meanwhile, N had told me that he forgot his lunch box in office, and that he anyway didn't have to take lunch the next day. So, just to amuse Sid, I told him, "Accha!! Papa ko punishment milegi ... main kal papa ko lunch nahin doongi!" He was really tickled, and happily announced, "Papa! kal aapko lunch nahin milega!!"

The next morning, when the cook came and I started telling him what to prepare for the day, Sid was in the toilet. Right there from his potty seat, he shouted as loud as he could - "Mumma, papa ko khana mat dena!!"
 
We all had a good laugh. And thanks to his remembering the details, even if just to pull down papa, extra food was avoided.

***
[Dated: 23/3/2013]
Today is Sid's last day of school for this session, and though there is a PTM today, he has been treating it as if today's a holiday. He has by now also figured out that if the next day is a holiday, we are not insistent about going to sleep in time the previous day. So, yesterday night, as we came back from his friend's place around 9:30 pm, he was not at all ready to sleep.

Sid: Ghar ja kar main TV dekhoonga ... only one hour.
Me: No, it is time to go to sleep.
Sid: Par kal to meri chhutti hai!
Me: Par school to jana hai, for the PTM. So you have to wake up at the same time.
Sid: Par kal 8:30 jana hai. Main uth jaoonga.
Me (trying a different argument): Aap ki chhutti hai, par mujhe to kal office jana hai.
Sid (pausing barely for a second): Agar kal aapko office jana hai to mujhe kya problem hai??

***
[Dated: 25/3/2013]
I had put on a face pack and as soon as Sid saw me, he asked me what I had put on my face and why. I told him it was a kind of cream, and kidded him, "mujhe bhi aapke jaisa gora gora banna hai". 
After a while I washed it off, and on seeing me he immediately exclaimed, "Par mumma aap to gore nahin hue!!"  

Prayangeet

Knowing my keen interest in hindi poetry, a friend introduced me to this poem when I was in class 12. Actually he challenged me to decipher the meaning, since this is in a very chaste, sanskrit-ized language. I think I must have scored about 70-75 % :-) But once I knew the meanings of the remaining words, I never forgot the poem - it's beauty had that kind of impact on me :-) 

प्रयाण-गीत 
  -- जयशंकर प्रसाद 

हिमाद्रि तुंग श्रृंग से प्रबुद्ध शुद्ध भारती
स्वयंप्रभा समुज्ज्वला स्वतंत्रता पुकारती
अमर्त्य वीर पुत्र हो, दृढ़-प्रतिज्ञ सोच लो,
प्रशस्त पुण्य पंथ हैं - बढ़े चलो बढ़े चलो।

असंख्य कीर्ति-रश्मियाँ विकीर्ण दिव्य दाह-सी।
सपूत मातृभूमि के रुको न शूर साहसी।
अराति सैन्य सिंधु में - सुवाड़वाग्नि से जलो,
प्रवीर हो जयी बनो - बढ़े चलो बढ़े चलो।

Mujhko Yaad Kiya Jayega

I love Niraj's lyrical, poem-songs that deeply touch the heart. I am grateful to have read quite a few of them in school, and to find more, thanks to the net. Here is another such poem, I especially love the first and the last stanza of this one.

मुझको याद किया जाएगा 
  -- गोपालदास नीरज 

आँसू जब सम्मानित होंगे मुझको याद किया जाएगा
जहाँ प्रेम का चर्चा होगा मेरा नाम लिया जाएगा।


मान-पत्र मैं नहीं लिख सका
राजभवन के सम्मानों का
मैं तो आशिक रहा जनम से
सुंदरता के दीवानों का
लेकिन था मालूम नहीं ये
केवल इस गलती के कारण
सारी उम्र भटकने वाला, मुझको शाप दिया जाएगा।


खिलने को तैयार नहीं थीं
तुलसी भी जिनके आँगन में
मैंने भर-भर दिए सितारें
उनके मटमैले दामन में
पीड़ा के संग रास रचाया
आँख भरी तो झूमके गाया
जैसे मैं जी लिया किसी से क्या इस तरह जिया जाएगा


काजल और कटाक्षों पर तो
रीझ रही थी दुनिया सारी
मैंने किंतु बरसने वाली
आँखों की आरती उतारी
रंग उड़ गए सब सतरंगी
तार-तार हर साँस हो गई
फटा हुआ यह कुर्ता अब तो ज्यादा नहीं सिया जाएगा


जब भी कोई सपना टूटा
मेरी आँख वहाँ बरसी है
तड़पा हूँ मैं जब भी कोई
मछली पानी को तरसी है,
गीत दर्द का पहला बेटा
दुख है उसका खेल खिलौना
कविता तब मीरा होगी जब हँसकर जहर पिया जाएगा।

More conversations with Sid

The child is growing up. And one of the signs is that his conversations have become more "insightful" (I wish I could say more intelligent, but actually it is becoming more and more argumentative these days).

***

One night, as I was putting Sid to sleep, I was chiding him for his naughty acts. He had been involved in some such activity and got a minor hurt.
Sid: aaj mere pair mein chot lag gayi ...
me: aap shaitani hi itni karte ho
Sid: main itni shaitani waitani kyun karta hoon?
me: I don't know .. u tell me

Sid: because I am a naughty boy
me: but when I say you are a naughty boy, you start crying
Sid: because I don't like when somebody grown up calls me naughty ...
me: so you know that you are naughty but you don't like someone calling you that

Sid: yes!
me: <speechless>

***

Sid is very fond of salads, and I therefore sometimes cut some salad for dinner [specially if what we are having for dinner is something he not quite fond of ;-)]. And then I try to use this fact to cajole him to have his food :-D
Thus, one day, as I served Sid and N their food, I gave them both the salad along with it.
Me: Sid, ab khana kha lo, dekho maine bas aapke hi liye salad banayi hai
Sid: Phir papa ko kyun di??

***

One morning last weekend, as N prepared to go to the grocery shop, he asked Sid to get his wallet from his drawer. Sid opened the drawer, and cried out, his voice full of unbounded joy and excitement, "Papa dekho mujhe kya khajana mila hai!" 

Papa had forgotten that also in the drawer was some money - a bundle of notes - that he had withdrawn the previous day.

***

Hearing me crib about my weight, Sid gave me this sage advise: "Mumma, aap 1 roti khaya karo, phir aap patle ho jaoge ... mere jaise".