Words

attempted translation

attempted translation

attempted translation,

*a dithauna is basically an evil eye charm of sorts, a mark applied above the cheek or above the eyebrow to ward off evil eyes.

attempted translation,

jo dekha, suna, jana
har pal kiya mehsus
wo chand lamhe khusi ke
sahej lena tum
aur
dena use
jo aaye tumhare paas
aur mange ye kahani

this is dee. written by her as only a comment on my post ‘sawaal’. it was too beautiful to be kept there. i’ve completed it on her blog. and to read it, you’ll have to click here.

Its been 30 odd days since I started the Heart of Darkness. Haven’t been out of its tangled influence, yet. Maybe by today I’ll finish it off with the criticals and all. Will be starting Yugandhar by Shivaji Sawant afterwards. Mr. Marquez will have to wait, with his 100 years of solitude.

Why Yugandhar over …Solitude? Krishna has been enveloping my senses lately, in too many ways to be coincidental. As if, He wants me to read His story first. And Mr. Sawant is a master storyteller.

There is something unique about book reading. I mean, no two persons will read the same story alike. Everything that has shaped them till now, will be responsible for this. And one of the more remarkable aspects of this would be where they are coming from, in their reading journey. Like, I’m sure, nobody in the world would have read the Heart of Darkness after reading the Bridge Across Forever by Richard Bach. (With Ms Alice also tumbling in for good measure.) And nobody else, maybe ever is going to follow it up with Yugandhar and the …Solitude.

As for the HOD, I’ve been under its enchantment for quite some days now. The poem ‘Sawaal’ was a result of the first four pages of reading. There is another one, which I haven’t posted yet. And then, ‘The Inquest’ also resulted from its weird spell. A search for identity, for light amidst all the darkness that envelopes me, and what about the source it originates from, if it self is not the source, what is the energy, the reason, the consciousness, what is it actually. And what it IS.

I’ve quoted a passage from the book here, on our other blog, where me and dee, are putting together a collection of our favourite literary forays. There were too many favourites in this book though.

To finish this longish post, I would add that the last post, ‘Metaphor’ has a part two coming, as soon as I finish it. It’s a sort of antithesis to the one already posted. Hope you’ll like it.

Till then, stay along.

Keep dreaming, keep doing.

p.s. both of us are doing fine. i’ve settled in my new job nicely and waiting to start my education again. she has cleared her previous year’s examination and is balancing work, studies and family life as only she can. and am still amazed at the way life has shaped-up for us to meet, to love, to work towards a better life ahead, together.

something within
that lights these eyes,
burns the breath
& fuels desires in the skeletal chest
an infernal fire,
a divine pyre
what is it
what it is

It is around a holy tree,
She revolved her belief,
It stands a sacred symbol,
Surrounded by four pillars of gold,
Small engravings of wisdom,
Being chanted out,
In a language long forgotten,
Surviving only as a dead whisper,
A whisper loud enough to wield power,
To keep her enslaved;
Surrounded by red and yellow flags,
The amber incense filling the senses with a fragrance that helps,
To create a trance that culminates into,
A numb ecstasy;
A trance of oaths, pledges,
Offerings and devotion;
Endless heads with her bowing down,
Millions of souls revolving around,
The tree oozing out divine faith,
Her faith, their faith;
Taken from within and given away,
Sold by the proxy Gods,
As sacred threads; that
Are tied back on the stems, on the branches
Where it stays and will stay
For her, for them,
The manifested faith, faith she searches for,
Faith she will always search for,
Till it is hers.

A few evenings ago the two of us, unknowningly, were writing the same thing, differently ofcourse, but similar also. And it turned out into a little story of faith and wonder. Here’s the other thought. it is a Hindu ritual to weave threads around holy trees for a ritual of wish fulfillment. the following bad translation was my take on the thought.

i
the silent serious son of the earth
was standing alone
in the temple courtyard
for ages and ages
in a silent dialogue
had asked
of my goal
from the wind and the water
from the sky and the sun
or was searching it for
in the fire’s final embrace

you
*Shakti’s daughter
moving, agile
calm, still
came and weaved
all around me
a fair thread
of faith

and me
a helpless peepal tree
transformed
into a **Kalpvriksh able

* shakti is the ‘life force’ in Hindu mythology, the name given to the mother goddess

** kalpvriksh is the mythical tree in heaven, which fulfills wishes

and now, thanks to dear ‘how do we know’, i’ve the poem in devanagri script…

मैं
धीर गम्भीर
खडा अकेला,
देवालय के प्रांगन में
युगों युगों से
मौन संवाद में
पूछ रहा, ध्येय अपना
वायु – वरुण
आकाश – अरुण से
या ढूंढ रहा था,
अंतिम – अग्नि आलिंगन में

तुम
शक्ति पुत्री,
गतिमय, चपल,
प्रशांत, अटल,
बांध गयीं
चहुं ओर मेरे,
आस्था की
डोरी कुशल

और मैं,
अक्षय पीपल
बन उठा कल्पवृक्ष सबल..