Tag: Poetry

धूप छाँव

Finally in Devanagari script, my poem about the games young rays of the sun play on a morning in early winter, written in November 2011! An English translation called ‘Games on a Winter Morning’ was one of the first few posts written and posted on my blog!

बेपर्दा खिड़की पाकर, बेख़ौफ़ मेरे आँगन में आती हैं

सुबह सुबह सूरज की किरणें
तमाशा बहुत दिखाती हैं,
बेपर्दा खिड़की पाकर, बेख़ौफ़,
मेरे आँगन में आती हैं।

फ़र्श पर इठलाती कहीं,
मेज़-कुर्सी का रूप बनाती हैं।
कभी, अलमारी के शीशे में अपनी
छबी देख इतराती हैं।

खाने की मेज़ की काँच पर, क्या-क्या डिज़ाइन बनाती हैं?

खाने की मेज़ के काँच पर
क्या-क्या डिज़ाइन बनाती हैं!
और सोफ़े के नीचे घुसकर
सफ़ाई याद दिलाती हैं।

अब तो ये अति हुई!
छत पर चढ़, कैसा स्वाँग रचाया है?
शायद लाइट जल रही है,
ऐसा भरम दिलाया है।

अब तो ये अति हुई! छत पर चढ़, कैसा स्वाँग रचाया है? शायद लाइट जल रही है, ऐसा भरम दिलाया है।


कुछ दिन की मनमानी ये,
कर लो तुमको जो करना है!
अभी तो सर्दी के दिन हैं,
तुमसे हमको क्या डरना है?

अच्छा लगता यह खेल तुम्हारा,
हर अदा तुम्हारी भाती है।
कुछ दिन की यह हठखेली,
जल्दी ही गरमी आती है।

धूप-छाँव की तुम कर्ता,
तुमने शायद भुलाया है।
आज अपनाया, कल बिसराया!
इस जग की ये ही माया है।

हम भी, पर्दे मोटे डालकर
तुमसे बचना चाहेंगे।
नर्म हो, तब तक अच्छी लगतीं,
वरना आँख चुराएँगे!

बेतुकबंदी, नवम्बर २०११

(This poem, about the games young rays of the sun play on an early winter morning, written in November 2011, was originally posted here in the Roman script in February 2012. I translated it into English for my son, here! With Hindi transliteration now available from my iPad keyboard, I finally got around to posting it in the Devanagari script) 

A Special Quilt of Hope

20131121-153341.jpg

This is a very special quilt, perhaps the closest to my heart! I started making it in February this year, as a Valentine’s Day challenge entry for my facebook quilting group, Desi Quilters. I had just managed to get the pieces ready for English paper piecing, when my daughter fell seriously ill.

20131121-152157.jpg
She was hospitalized for 2 months, when there was someone very special who gave us faith she and we would come out of it, stronger than before.
“Cruel harsh winter
Ablaze with flowers of hope.
Summer’s in my heart.”
The unfinished pieces lay there forlorn and rolled up, to emerge in September, for yet another group challenge, ‘Flowers’. Finally completed, here it is.

Small Quilted wall hanging 25" X13" English Paper pieced clamshells, appliqued, machine free motion quilted. Flannel batting
Flowers of Hope – Small Quilted wall hanging

This piece is also special, because it is the first time I tried free motion quilting, quite successfully, I thought!

Back of Flowers of Hope - Small Quilted wall hanging
Back of Quilt

(The use of the lighter brown in the bobbin case was not intentional – I just ran out of the darker thread  :-p)

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I added a few French knots to give some dimension to the flowering trees.

20131121-153320.jpg

Today we are faced with yet another situation where we need strength and hope, lots of it!
My faith continues to give me belief we shall overcome this too!
“…but winter always turns to spring. Never, from ancient times on, has anyone heard or seen of winter turning back to autumn. ” Nichiren Daishonin
And so,
बीहड़ उजाड़ मन.
गुलमोहर अमलतास बन
झूमी आस किरन…

The Dance of the Butterfly

 

My Butterfly - In Waiting

The Butterfly’s Dance – A Mother’s Promise

 

In the jungles of her mind

In a dank and dreary cave

Surrounded by much deadwood

Rarely the joy of day.

Only those creeping crawling vines

Twist in to hold their sway

Curled up in her little cocoon

My butterfly’s world is dark and grey.

Many try in vain to find her

And when almost there

The demons that surround her

Frighten them away.

Usually efficient messengers

Scramble here and there

Mixing up their messages

Angry lightning flashes everywhere

Roaring thunder booms around her

All creation seems to shake.

 

But then she tries to struggle out

Is my butterfly coming awake?

Suddenly she smiles at me

Her smile lights up my day

As her wide, trusting eyes study my face

I touch her hand and say

Yes, my sweetheart, we’ll find an answer

I promise we’ll find a way!

We’ll turn this world upside down

And we’ll get you out of here.

With a sword of steel we’ll cut the vines

Of hopelessness and despair

A single candle can brighten a cave

Dark for many a thousand year.

A  stone, millennia under the sea,

Continues  to hold fire.

 

On the wings of golden sunshine

Soaring ever higher

Blazing a trail of hope and freedom

For others who live in drear

From the jungles of your mind, you’ll fly

Into flower-kist mountain air.

 

October 2011

 

Some shayari…

अब है सोचा कि तुझको न अब सोचेंगे
महज़ ख़याल की ख़ुशबू से महक उठते हैं।

सरे महफ़िल ख़ामोश ही रहते हैं हम
बात बे बात पे बेवजह चहक उठते हैं।

तेरी गलियों में आना यूँ छोड़ दिया
तेरे कूचे से जो गुज़रे तो बहक उठते हैं।

नशा तेरी नज़र का है या मयख़ाना?
ज़रा उठे तो सागर भी छलक उठते हैं।

तेरी आवाज़ में कहतें हैं वो है मौसीक़ी
जाने अनजाने से जज़्बात थिरक उठते हैं।

तेरी हँसी की खनक में है क़शिश ऐसी
मुस्कुराये तो कई शोले दहक उठते हैं।

सुना है तेरा आँचल जो छू जाए कहीं
बुत के सीने में अरमान धड़क उठते हैं।

दूर रहने में तुझसे है जो समझदारी
पास आने को क्यूँ ये क़दम उठते हैं?

पास आने की हिमाक़त हम करें कैसे
तुझसे दूरियों के कई सबब मिलते हैं।

बेतुकबंदी (2012)

 

 

Ab hai socha ki tujhko na ab sochenge

Mahaz khayaal ki khushboo se mahak uthte hain.

Sarre mehfil khaamosh hi rehte hain hum,

Baat be baat pe be-wajah chahak uthte hain.

Teri galiyon mein aana yu chhod diya,

Tere kuchche se jo guzre to bahak uthte hain…

… Paas aane ki himaaqat hum karein kaise?

Tujhse dooriyon ke kai sabab milte hain!

  

For my son – translating the poem into English:)

GAMES ON A WINTER MORNING

Early on a winter morning,

Young rays of the sun

March into my house

To have a lot of fun!

Without e’er an invite,

Through the bare window

They clamber down my bed

And scamper over my floor.

In a game of make-believe,

They pretend to be my furniture.

Suddenly they stop in their tracks

And preen in front of the mirror.

They creep under my sofa.

And in their faces bright,

I spy a collection of dust,

Hiding from my sight!

Giggling, they run to find

Every dirty nook in my room,

Getting in my way, as I

Go looking for my broom.

They visit my dining table glass

To draw  patterns of  my chair.

Before you can even blink

They are dancing everywhere!

Now, this really is the limit!

Using  my chair as a ramp

Some climb  on to the ceiling

Disguised as a lamp.

 They chuckle, having fooled me

Let them snigger all they will.

They’re welcome to my house

For it is winter, still!

But,  when summer comes,

Let no one have any doubt.

With thick curtains and blinds

I will shut them out!

 (And then it goes all philosophical – but forget that!)

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