गुफ्तगू

नीम  शब्  बेहोश चाँद  और एक ग़मज़दा  दिल 

आज  ज़िन्दगी  को  गुफ्तगू  करने  बुलाया  है ...

भूख (Hunger)

बदला बदला सा है लग रहा वो शक़्स क्यों  

के भूख नहीं जानती तहज़ीब-ो-अदब कोई 

शहर से जा रहा वो छाले लिए पैरों में 

के उसे बुला रहा गांव का टूटा घर कोई 

Last night I saw a very disturbing video of a migrant laborer eating a dead dog on a highway in Rajasthan. He must have been terribly hungry and destitute. This is the story of our laborers who leave their villages for cities to earn bread & butter. Cities have proved them wrong; there is no love for them. Employers have not paid them their dues and government is busy in blame games. The poor migrants are going though a very rough patch. That video shook me somewhere deeply and these poems came out. I applaud people who are helping them. At the end of the day, it is people supporting each other only.

The translation –

Why does that person seem different these days?

For hunger knows not of any manners & etiquettes

He is leaving the city with blisters on his feet

For that tattered hut in his village is calling him

Urdu Quatrain

Tried my hands at Urdu poetry after a long time :)

ज़िन्दगी की शाख से कुछ लम्हे टूटे थे कभी

उन्ही की तलाश में उम्र गुज़र जाएगी लगता है

वक़्त की तो फितरत ही कब थी लौट के आने की

अब तो आप पे यकीं भी कुछ कम सा लगता है

I lost some beautiful moments of life, long back

And I am still searching for them

It is well known that time never comes back

But my trust upon you too, has weakened now

Pic link

ज़ख्म

क्यों छुपाएं हम कुछ रिस्ते ज़ख्म
क्या महताब का एक रुख स्याह नहीं होता

Why should I be ashamed of my pain?

Even the moon has a dark side

क्यों न मानें के वो भी मुन्तज़र हैं हमारे
दिल बहलाने पे कोई इलज़ाम नहीं होता

Why shouldn’t I make myself believe that he too longs for me

For one can’t be blamed for beguiling one’s heart

जब चाहा छूना आस्मां का दामन,
जाना हर परवाज़ शानदार नहीं होता

When I tried to soar and touch the skies

I learnt not every flight is destined to be grand

किस चाह मेँ कटती ज़िन्दगी हमारी
अगर सितारों के परे कोई जहाँ नहीं होता

I would have spent my life in vain

Had I not known there is an afterlife

(Because of pain, she is looking forward to afterlife)

Source: hdwallpapers

Dast-Daraazi

दस्त-दराज़ी

खौफज़दा दिलों या ज़ख़्मी सीनों से आयें

आहों को मज़हब न सरहद रोक पाएं

अपनी या ग़ैर की, तेरी हों या मेरी

अंगारे तो हर सीने में जला जायेंगी.

उन मैली सफ़ेद परतों से झाकेंगे 

स्याह रिसते नासूर यूँ बेपर्दा हो कर

कफ़न अपने पर हो या किसी ग़ैर पर

हर ख़ामोश गवाही एक नई आग लगाएगी.

देख! जाल सी फैलती ये सुर्ख नदियाँ

तेरे और मेरे घरों को निगले जाती हैं

ले बहें अश्क-ओ-लहू अपना या ग़ैर का

फिर एक दफ़ा ख़ुदा का सर झुकायेंगी.

The Translation:

Violence

From fearful hearts or wounded bodies, they may come

Neither any religion nor borders can stop these sighs

Be our own or someone else’s, yours or mine;

They’ll surely leave burning embers in every heart

From those soiled white layers, will peep

Black open wounds shamelessly unveiled

A shroud may be on one’s kin or else’s

But each shroud will lead to more violence

See! Those red rivers distending like a net

They are swallowing our homes, yours and mine

Be the tears and blood flowing our own or else’s

Such violence will once again hang God’s head in shame

  

This poem was written originally in Urdu after I read about violence at many places. Just the very news of such bloodshed is enough to disturb us; we cannot even imagine the plight of the people involved. Such wars effect their generations to come, leaving their children ill-fed and uneducated. Families of armed forces officers suffer too, for their kin face painful deaths in such useless mayhems.

The tree of violence bears only poison thorns that vex generations to arrive. There is no winner in a war; both the sides involved suffer more or less equally. A peace loving attitude and a stance of non-violence is the best gift we can give others but most importantly to ourselves. 

                                                                                  

To quote Gautam Buddha.

‘If you throw a burning coal at someone, your fingers get burnt first’

How true!

Images from: http://z6.co.uk/e1cb1863 and http://z6.co.uk/089fda62