My Lost Sundays

My Sundays are lost
Like other Working days
And still
I have a soft corner
For you,My Love

My days with books
And apart…….
Are those
Wherein
I see nothing,
Nothing beyond you & …………..
Still Sunday comes
It will come sure
But I don’t know
If the sensation will sneak
Into me the same way again
As something is changing
Incessantly in me
With careless control.

Yet, it’s not mine
This is the wind
Across the mighty wind
Blowing in all directions.

CHASNALA

Monday, March 14, 2011

CHASNALA

It was just another night
Full of twinkling stars
And the deep cut moon 
Steadily growing bright. 
Cradling their children
To happy dreams
Putting soul behind
Mothers were singing 
Their favourite  lulla byes, 
Very close to their heart.
Old aged father was coughing out the night
In a solitary room just outside.
Restless dogs were barking loud
Thickening the darkness 
Of CHASNALA.

On the fateful freezing night
Of 27th December,1975
Almost 3000 head lamps came 
Out of the Old Light-House
Dazzling the dark core of the Mine
Like the fire flies
Four hundred feet below the surface.
With gillatin rods in their hands
They were measuring 
The depth of the MINE,
The layers of "BLACK DIAMOND"
And the sound of horrible hollowness
On the other side of the wall.

Ignoring the experience of those
Making their presence felt
Through the impression of their thumb,
The blast was carried out-the blast of DEATH.
The River Damodar 
With all fury and fire
Roared through the wall
That instantly caved in 
Putting off the lamps 
Atonce.
But
There were dreams 
Still floating
In their open shocked eyes.

It took months 
To bring Damodar out
But at a cost.
Human skeleton were still coming out
To say the story of utmost greed
And human plight.
Their songs of pleasure or pain
Sung with diffrent mood 
Hangs in the air even today.

The songs of the mothers were lost,
The sound of coughing old man was gone,
The children suddenly turned young,
Flowers around lost their sheen.

The care free faces 
Throwing coins on funny cock-fight
Are now rarely seen.
Temple of Mother KALI is filled
With terrible void,
Where once 
Thounds used to bent
Their heads and knees
Without showing 
Their caste and creed.

Though 
By vacating the families 
And tearing away
The pages of presence
Attempts were made 
To erase 
The memories of those 
Brave hearts. 

But
Even today
As a DATE they stay
In their family's heart,
In commons'mind.

चासनाला 
(धनबाद से बीस किलोमीटर दूर एक कोयला क्षेत्र है चासनाला. २७ दिसंबर १९७५ की रात को एक विस्फोट होता है खान के ३०० फुट नीचे और ७० लाख गैलन प्रति मिनट के हिसाब से पानी घुस जाता है खादान में और करीब ३००० मजदूर कभी ऊपर नहीं आ पाते. सरकारी आकड़ों में ये केवल ३७२ हैं. यह कोई दिल्ली तो नहीं है कि मनाई जाएगी इस हादसे की बरसी या फिर से खुलेगी इसकी फ़ाइल भोपाल गैस कांड की तरह. गुमनाम चासनाला शहीदों को समर्पित यह कविता ) 

आम सी ही रात थी 
चाँद आसमान में खिला था 
तारे झिलमिल कर रहे थे
माँ लोरिया सुना कर 
सुला रही थी बच्चों को 
बूढ़े पिता खांस रहे थे बाहर के कमरे में 
और जोर जोर से भौंक रहा था 
धौरे का कुत्ता 
चासनाला में 
२७ दिसम्बर १९७५ की 
सर्द रात को 

बत्ती घर से
उठी थी लगभग ३००० बत्तियां 
और झिलमिल हो उठा था 
चासनाला का भूगर्भ 
लगभग चार सौ फुट नीचे
टिमटिमाती बत्तियों से 

हाथ में थामे 
जिलेटिन का बैटन 
स्टील के लम्बे छड़ों से 
मापी जा रही थी 
खदान की और गहराई 
कोयले की परतें
खोखलेपन की आवाज़ को
और निरक्षरों के अनुभव की 
अनसुनी कर 
किया गया था एक विस्फोट 
जो साबित हुआ अंतिम ही 

एक विस्फोट और
सत्तर लाख गैलन प्रति मिनट की दर से 
दामोदर के सैलाब ने
भर दिया चासनाला का गर्भ 
और समाहित हो गयीं 
वे तीन हज़ार बत्तियां
काले स्याह चेहरों के बीच 
झिलमिलाती पुतलियाँ और
उनमे भरे सपने 

महीनो लग गए 
चासनाला खान से 
निकालने में पानी 
वर्षों तक कंकाल मिलते रहे खान से
चैता और विरहा के आलाप भी 
गूंजते से सुनाई देते थे चासनाला खान में 

वह जमाना नहीं था
लाइव रिपोर्टिंग का
फिर भी बिके थे
अखबार पत्रकार 
अधूरी रह गईं
माँ की लोरियां 
खांसते बूढ़े 
गुम से हो गए 
अचानक से 
बड़े हो गए बच्चे 
और पलाश, पुटुष, अमलताश 
चुप से हो गए 

मुर्गों की लड़ाई पर
पैसे फेंकते निर्द्वंद चेहरे 
गायब हो गए 
काली माँ का मंदिर
जहाँ रोज़ झुकाते थे 
हजारों मजदूर अपना माथा 
धर्म जाति से परे 
खाली रहने लगा 

फिर बनी 
जांच समितियां 
हुए धरने प्रदर्शन 
हटा दिए गए रातो रात 
हाजिरी रजिस्टरों के पन्ने 
और खाली करा दिए गए 
धौरे, मोहल्ले
और फिर 
हो गया सामान्य सब कुछ 
चासनाला में 

बस हँस नहीं पाया 
हंसोड़ बत्तीबाबू फिर कभी 
27 दिसंबर 1975 की रात के बाद

Posted by Rajiv at 3:19 AM 

Child Is A Mirror (Modified)

Child is not a puzzle,
But surely puzzles all.
His acts stands mirror
Of his true mind,
And what man be,

A child adheres to one
At a time with innocence,
But a man at least nine
With his divided mind.

He is what he is
Looks alike
Both inside or out.
He does what he likes,
And never
What he dislikes.

If he smiles he smiles,
If he cries,he cries,
There is no holding back
Of emotions
Be it pleasure or pain.

He staggers
When he strives
To walk
Fall and rise
Become the same
As he is nature's wise.

But there is
In every house
A hazed and misty glass
Where....
Even anger stricken face
Looks fully smeared
With grace.

Act and mind
Like two banks of a river
Has their separate ways
Which ever needs
A bridge to meet.

But the child
With his simplest ways
Always remains
A lasting craze
Among those
Who crave for love,
Crave for peace
Of mind and days.

Child Is A Mirror

Child Is A Mirror

Child is not a puzzle,
But a mirror
Of what a man be,
And not what man is?
His each act puzzles
A grown-up mind,
Pleases all kinds
As he is not a puzzle
at all.

He is what he looks,
He does
What he thinks,
He doesn't do
What he dislikes.

If he smiles he smiles,
If he cries,he cries,
There is no holding back
Of emotions
Be it anger or pleasure
Be it tears or laughter.

Unlike us
He staggers
When he strives
To walk,
Fall and rise
Become the same.
He limps
But moves endlessly
Towards horizon
That,for him,
Nature has planned.

But we have
A hazed and dusty glass
Where....
Even anger stricken face
Looks fully smeared
With grace.
Act and mind
Like unbridged river
Has their separate ways
On separate banks .

This combine
Makes a man hypocrite,
But the child
With simple oceanic ways
Always remains
A lasting craze
For generations
Till eternity.

TO MY BELOVED TEACHER

O,Inspiring candle:
O,light divine
Today you are far away,
But your memories still kindles
The holy fire of knowledge,
That leads the way of life
Like a 'pole star'.

You were our true guide,
You were the Savior of soul,
We always ignored
Your cordial approach
That you ever made
With a gentle touch
And an excellent grace.

Life is literature,
literature,life
Were not known to our mind,
But it was you
Who made us know
Glory of books
And essence of life.

Our heart weeps today
As you go home
Though we know
It's a temporal depart,
Yet surely we,ll miss you,
Miss your soft enchanting voice.

You are away
But your dedication stay
To remind us the days
Full of events,
Memorable moments
That keep coming in silent ways.

A time comes
When a farewell is made
With heart full of sorrow,
And eyes full of tears
But your image,ll stay
Till we stay on the earth.

Farewell to you,dear sir.
The world,ll remember you
As a person on move
Holding a burning candle
With both hands.


(IN THE LOVING MEMORY OF DR.B.GHOSH,MY ENGLISH TEACHER AND HEAD OF THE DEPARTMENT(ENGLISH),R.D.S. COLLEGE,UNIVERSITY OF BIHAR, MUZAFFARPUR,YEAR-1982)

DAUGHTERS NOT CURSE

Tuesday, October 12, 2010

बेटियां नहीं अब बोझ.....

धीरे-धीरे ही सही
बदल रही है सोच,
सोच की दिशा
हो रही है उत्तरायण,
बहने लगी है
परिवर्तन की बयार .

होती रही होगी
बिटिया कभी बोझ,
झुकाती रही होगी माथा
अपने माँ-बाप का
क्योंकि
उसे मिला होगा
कुंठित,संकुचित,
झूठी प्रतिष्टा का पैरोकार
सहमा हुआ समाज,
जो नहीं लांघने देता था देहरी
पीहर हो या ससुराल.

अब लोग
बेटियों को
नहीं मानते बोझ,
पूर्व-जन्म का पाप.
नहीं कहते हैं
उसे पराया धन .

अब तो
मां-बाप मांगने लगे है
ईश्वर से वरदान ,
झोली में देना
बिटिया ही दान.

पूछने लगे हैं
खुद से ही सवाल:
ऐसा क्या किया है बेटे ने
जो बिटिया ने नहीं किया,
फिर भी,
क्यों नहीं मिल रही.
उसे पहचान ?

आज
वह भी
कमा रही है नाम,
बढ़ रही है आगे
कंधे-से-कंधे मिलाकर,
बढ़ा रही है
जननी,
जन्म-भूमि का मान.

अब नहीं चाहिए
उसे वैशाखी
समाज की ,
बस चाहिए
एक कंधा
स्नेह- भरा
मां का हो या बाप का


DAUGHTERS NOT CURSE

Much water has flown
Under the belly of the bridge
Things have changed a lot,
Thoughts are going North
Emotions and wishes,skyward.

She might have been thought
To be a burden once
Whose weight might have lowered
The shoulders of her parents,
Forcing them to curse
The day she was born.

It was feeble social fabric,
With fake honor oriented mind,
Full of self-grown thoughts
Meaninglessly so mean,
Responsible for this fall
That followed her for long
And never allowed
To step out of the door.

Daughters are not so heavy now,
Nor the living curse of past
As our society made us feel,
Nor a thing to pass on,
But all bliss in disguise,
If you think,
A rare gift to mankind.

Today
Desires are very high
To have daughters in arms,
And around
That'll keep us fresh,
Keep us warm.

Like a worthy son,
Daughters are using
The same ladder
Scaling the same wall
In every walk,
She is mapping every inch
Of Earth and Sky.

She is all name and fame,
Making parents proud,
Like the followers of greats
Success and prosperity,
Both have fallen in line
.
Nature feels elated,
A nation feels proud
Neighbors feel high.
To have herself in race,
To match steps of men
She is marching ahead
With faster pace,
.
And now
The sun has chosen
A new sky to rise
And dispel altogether
The darkness of common mind.

All she needs today
Is not the crutches of society,
But a soft,sincere shoulder
To rest her head and heart
And move on with all comfort.

BID YOU A SAD GOOD NIGHT

Dear Love,
Bid you a sad good night
To night
As you are a merchant,
I,m a poor purchaser
Of memories and desire


You know about my ways,
Know about my bygone days.
You know
I,ll crave for all
That is my past.


I,ll seek to get back all
That is full of dreamy desires,
Where You and I turn,
Turn into"Let us go to cinema,
Let us have a morning walk
On the bank of River Gandak,
Let us have some fun
Sitting somewhere
Under the summer moon,
Under the winter sun
Together.


Here
We have merged
Our individual self into one,
Have exchanged
Our pain and pleasure,
Our hatred and love
For each other.


Today
I,ll bid you customary good night
,cause my feelings have grown stale,
Our position have changed
From we to you and I again.


Standing away from the past
Here today I see
Only the picture of ours
Restored within,
Where the flames of burning desire
Are still seen rising
But with a touch of brightening ice.


Now
I feel thoroughly relaxed,
Feel free to bid you
A pleasant good night,
My love..