सिले होठ ! Tight lipped !

पाबन्दी पे पैबंद नहीं हैं, शुक्र है
नहीं तो सांस आ जाता ज़बां बोल उठती

Thank Heavens; chocked lips may not open to tell!
Breathing in though, to raise a voice—to raise Hell

I still was more thrilled writing the original than the translation!

ऐसा नहीं है !

हम-जबां होने से कोई,
हम-ख्याल हो जायेगा!
ऐसा नहीं है .
सोच बैठे आप,
किन अल्फाज़ में साहब?
मगर वैसा नहीं है .
राजबीर देसवाल दिसंबर २०१०

रेत का ढेर ! Where are his Child Rights?

Where are his Child Rights?
रेत का ढेर पर बिखरा हुआ नहीं हूँ
माटी का हूँ सो ऐसा निखरा हुआ नहीं हूँ
इमारतें तामीर करता हूँ मैं ढेर सी
तुम कहते सीमेंट सा मैं खरा नहीं हूँ
To him from me...
Rajbir Deswal December 24, 2010

Cooling Burns! 15 Years or a life time to heal?

(I wrote this in memorium to Dabwali fire vitims the same year in The Tribune!)
Cooling burns
One full year has elapsed when flames wrought havoc in Haryana’s Dabwali town. While many of the affected people are now denizens of heaven, more are there who deserve our indulgent and heart-felt sympathy. These survivors have all those days and months suffered the trauma, and have “lived” like the “spared-ones”. Says Longfellow, “Know how sublime a thing it is; to suffer and be strong”. Yes, the sufferer lives in the present, shivers at the thought of the past and craves for a ray of hope.
The flower and the thorn both receive the honey-dew, yet the petals avaricioulsy try to engulf and hold the cool and shiny drops. While the thorn may not be able to accommodate the dewy droplets, it does have a cooling, dampening ‘sensation’. Well, this may be the difference between life and death.
We were in our small house preparing ourselves to celebrate Diwali last year when a cracker burst in my hand. It was a blinding experience, and when the smoke coiled up I looked at my hand, with the entire skin gone. Writhing in unbearable pain, I put the hand in water. They took me to the doctor and all his ointments and sedatives left me feeling the pain still, except when the hand was kept dipped in cold water.
Continuously for more than 36 hours the burning sensation left me crying, shrieking. Dear survivors of Dabwali, the cooling of burns was definitely a matter of time.
And O’heaven-dwellers who “rose” from that inferno, do drop on the survivors like what follows;
My mother died about a decade ago. Since then my home has become my house, with my lonely father striving to readjust to the changed situation. He has built s samadhi or my late mother in our small orchard. Some plants, including creepers, have grown there and a small grassy carpet, just by the side of the samadhi provides the lap-comfort to me.
The other day when I was wrestling with some knotty problem I happened to visit my village. A sentimental fool, I was on the verge of breaking down when I craved for my mother’s lap, and I walked towards the samadhi.
Half in tears, I plucked a flower to offer to the soul of my mother by placing it on the samadhi. I put the flower on it and, with folded hands, stood in obeisance to my mother. It was June, the hottest summer month. My mother, who used to console me with her blessings, was not available to me.
Suddenly, as I was standing with my eyes closed. I felt some sort of coolness above my head. I looked upwards, to the sky. To my utter surprise, there was a lone cloud above me. I was thrilled at the presence of that floating cloud as its shade gave me the same comfort and cuddling solace as one would get from one’s mother’s blessings and caressing.
I still wonder where from did this cloud appear in that clear hot sky! I am reminded of Shiv Batalvi’s following lines:
Joban rute jo be marde, ja(n) koi karma(n) wala:
Joban rute jo be marda, phull bane ya tara!
You are with us O’dead (?);
We are with you O’survivors (?) !
pic:
http://www.google.co.in/imgres?imgurl=http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3026/3359151705_2f73821303.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.flickr.com/photos/10659472%40N02/3359151705/&usg=__tgstaksUAYIBOrpEd2ywbj2HygA=&h=375&w=500&sz=77&hl=en&start=0&sig2=QzcHqYeeXE74dnoEgVwNfw&zoom=1&tbnid=JI0EC0qYNDBfLM:&tbnh=117&tbnw=156&ei=3r0STb3aB4-GvgP-1NmWDg&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dburnt%2Bface%2Bpics%26um%3D1%26hl%3Den%26sa%3DN%26biw%3D1259%26bih%3D524%26tbs%3Disch:10%2C171&um=1&itbs=1&iact=hc&vpx=115&vpy=172&dur=281&hovh=194&hovw=259&tx=170&ty=116&oei=vr0STZrmIILNrQfx7NjICw&esq=8&page=1&ndsp=23&ved=1t:429,r:16,s:0&biw=1259&bih=524

Missing the Czar: Indo-Russian Kaun-Action?

Here I go walking down memory lane, searching for the lost Rusi bhai
Medvedev's visit to our country, reminds me of the days gone by—the Russian connection we Indians once boasted about.
Some years ago Mikhail Gorbachev’s photograph appeared in the newspapers after a very long gap following his wife’s death. With his daughter standing by his side, Gorbachev was seen wiping tears. The dark, birthmark on his forehead indeed looked very familiar. Not many Indians at that time knew much about Raisa, the deceased wife of one of the most powerful men of that time, but tears trickling down Gorbachev’s eyes did evoke sympathy.
I still remember the times we Indian looked up to the then Russian President as a big brother and a trusted friend—whom we could rely on. In other words as Rusi bhai we could count on and identify ourselves with.
Our country in the 1950s was of course, highly influenced by the Russian version of socialism. This era was marked by the experimentation of certain practices prevalent in the Russian system.
No wonder, a number of movies were made in India on related themes. Take for instance, Raj Kapoor’s Awara, which became an instant hit in Russia with the Russians.
Indian, on the other hand, had a special liking for Russian literature and culture projected through certain magazines brought out by the Russians and circulated in friendly nations. One such magazine being Soviet Bhoomi, the main source of information at least, for me during my childhood.
Those were also the days when India’s agriculture, industry and defence were highly influenced by Russia. Which explains why Russian tools and machinery were a craze here including Russian circus and artists. Not to forget, the cultural programmes organized for cultural exchange between India and Russia those days.
One has to be a machine to forget the 20 years treaty, the American its destination, the Indian Ocean, and the reports of Russian preparedness to intervene during the Indo-Pak war of 1971.
Of course, the Breznev era was equally important in the diplomatic relations in the Indian context, and later, perestroika of Gorbachev had its own desirable and undesirable effects on Russia, in particular, and the rest of the globe in general.
The world became unipolar and the then Indian premier Rajiv Gandhi, was rumoured to have referred to the Russian President, Gorbachev, as “Guru-Bachao”.
Earlier, Lal Bahadur Shastri’s death in Tashkent after the Indo-Pak war of 1965, in a way, led to the further strengthening of Indo-Russian ties. The common Indian man on the streets boasted of their Rusi bhais who were there for their Indian brothers whenever they were threatened by enemies, no wonder they couldn’t stop narrating tales about Russian trained monkeys planting explosives under the Pakistani Patton Tanks during the war.
Unfortunately for us though, we seemed to have lost touch with our Rusi bhais over the years, but then it’s never too late to get back to big brother.

Watchdogs & Monkeys!

Watch dogs to continue watch while monkeys shall play pranks!

खुदी और खुदा !

खुद का अलम्बरदार
कैसे ना बने कोई
खुदी अपनी, खुदा अपना
खुदी के खुदा का, खुदा अपना !
राजबीर देसवाल दिसंबर १९ ,2010

Toys R Us & Time out

Toys R Us & Time out
When with what we played!
Twas all but a game.
Then, now btwixt, it swayed,
Tomorrow being another name!
Toys n tools, not to stay.
Same, same,same,same!
Rajbir Deswal Dec 19, 2010

Certain images need no legend

Driftwood

Driftwood
Already uprooted
Water-washed
Stone shined
Wind-whirled
Day-dried
Night-knelled
I am driftwood.
Not of time
But of temperament
Of my maker
A tree
In the dark woods.
I was its branch
Or a stem
Or maybe a root
One time
And felt more of
Association.
A lover then
Picked me
After finding me
Placed me
Show-cased me
To be looked at
By art-lovers
Or maybe
To be
Discarded as
Driftwood.
Was it an accident?
Or a default?
Divine?
Rajbir Deswal (June 1993 Nainital)

I took this pic from Kangra Fort in the backdrop of Dhauladhars.

Phoney-Tracks! तड़क तड़क !

(When I met Dilip Kumar in 1997, he mouth-enacted this to me!)

तड़क
तड़क - तड़क तड़क -तड़क तड़क (और फिर जमुना का पुल आ जाता है) तड़ाआम- तड़ाआम-तड़ाआम -तड़ाआम-तड़ाआम-तड़ाआम (फिर वापस रेल अपनी पे आ जाती है ) तड़क तड़क -तड़क तड़क -तड़क तड़क!!! SPANS in the journey make a difference in acoustics...more resonance...more romance...more music...तड़क तड़क तड़क तड़क !

चाँद क़ि फितरत

चाँद क़ि फितरत नहीं क़ि दूर रह सके
सीने पे उतर आता है, ख्याल भर से।
उसकी जो रौशनी है वो शीतल है शांत है
धुंदला मगर हो जाता है, मलाल भर से ।
कहते हैं दाग हैं वहां उसके दामा पे
शर्मांता नुक्ताचीनों को, जमाल भर से ।
पूछा क़ि यूँ परेशां क्यूं चाँद तू हुआ
आँखों में उतरा जज्बों के, उछाल भर से ।
एक मर्तबा पूछा कहाँ तू खो गया था चाँद ?
वो छुप गया बदली परे, सवाल भर से ।

राजबीर देसवाल दिसम्बर १२.२०१०.

Gold is not to go old!

Gold is not to
Go old through
But only in hue
And not in value
Only a touch-stone
Though stony
Would vouch
To say the least
But not about
The time that
In between flew
And only gold
That stood all through
With its golden hue
And Well-You!

Rajbir Deswal Dec 12, 2010

Ana Tanu painting session

When other times Khushwant Singh wrote on me:

When other times Khushwant Singh wrote on me:
The e-versions available on net here:Will update with clippings from the past soon.
----------------------25 November 2000--------
Hariyanvi ha ha!
Every region of our country has its own brand of humour, often encapsulated in proverbs and aphorisms. They are best told in the original dialect as they lose much of their rustic flavour in translation. This is well illustrated in the case of Hariyanvi which has a mix of Punjabi and Hindustani. It has some stock figures:an elder from one’s own village is called a taoo, while one from outside is a chowdhary, a wife is joroo or lugaaee, son or a boy is a chhora, a girl chhoree; hai becomes sai.
Some years ago I received a book on Hariyanvi humour, by Rajbir Deswal of the Indian police. His son, Sawan Deswal, has gone a step further by setting up Hariyanvi.com, which covers different aspects of his home state: its history, culture, lifestyle, humour, proverbs etc. I give a few examples of humorous anecdotes culled from his collection.
A jackal saw a mouse running out of a jungle. He asked him what had transpired to make him run for his life. The mouse replied: "Sher ki bebe kise nai chher di aur shak meyrey pai ho rahya sai"(someone made a pass at the tiger’s sister and the suspicion is cast on me).
An old man who happened to brush past a young girl said, "Sorry" to her. She gave him a tongue-lashing. Later a young man brushed past her and also said, "Sorry". The girl smiled but said nothing to him. The old man lost his cool and shouted"Ey chhoree, meyree ‘sorry‘ ki spelling galat thee" (hey girl, was my sorry wrongly spelt)?
A Hariyanvi’s wife went missing. The husband went to Lord Rama’s temple to pray for her return. From the side-wall, Hanumanji beckoned him and said "Ureaajaa Molar, jab iski lugaaee kho gai thee to manney he tohi thee" (Foolish man come to me, when his wife was abducted, I helped him to recover her).
There is an apt saying, pertinent to our times: "Haanji kee naukari, naanji kaa ghar" (a job for one who says yes sir, one who says no sir stays at home).
-----------------------------16 February 2002------------------------

Stamping the police:
MY opinion of the Indian Postal Services rocketed sky-high ten years or so ago when an irate Canadian Khalistani wrote me a very abusive letter in Gurmukhi with the address in English which read: "To bastard Khushwant Singh, India". It was delivered to me within a week of its despatch from Canada. I can't think of another country in the world where postal services would have bothered to locate an individual with so unsavoury reputation to discharge the duty entrusted to it.
We've had postal services of some kind or the other since times beyond memory. Every ruler employed dak runners to carry information to and fro from the outposts of his kingdom to the palace. At later stages, people trained pigeons to carry messages tied to their legs. It was during British rule that postal services were linked to the police. A regular police force was set up in 1829; the first Indian postage stamp issued in 1840. To start with, post offices were located in the same buildings as police stations. Then postal services outstripped the police and had to have large buildings like General Post Offices to handle mail, telegrams, money orders, fixed deposits, etc. Now postal services are on the decline. People use telephones, courier services, e-mail and fax. In the near future, post offices may become a relic of the past.
The story of our postal services and their close collaboration with the police needed to be put on record. They could not have found a better authority than S. Kitson, now living a retired life in Kolkata, to do so. The outcome is a handsomely produced coffee-tabler: A Philatelic Tribute to Police of India & the Sub-Continent (published by the Bureau of Police Research & Development). Six names appear on the editorial board. I could recognise one, Rajbir Deswal, IPS, of the Haryana cadre. He has written several books on Haryanvi humour. I am pretty certain most of the donkey-work in producing the profusely illustrated book of the policepost office liaison has been done by him.
-----------------------------19 July 2003---------------------
Backdoor entry to journalism:

You need not go through the mill of acquiring a degree or diploma in journalism and work your way up from being a cub reporter, to correspondent, and if you are lucky, becoming an editor. Continue in the job you are doing and start with writing letters to the editor. Editors have big egos; so pick up a singularly bad editorial and write a few lines praising it. It will be published. After a few letters appearing in the papers, move on to writing middles. This needs more skill and a touch of humour. Middles are more read than articles or editorials. Once you have established yourself as the master of light, witty pieces, the chances of your being taken on the staff of the paper at a higher level become brighter.This is roughly the course pursued by my young friend Rajbir Deswal (46) from Anta village in Jind district of Haryana. He has an MA degree in English and has no trouble with the language. He is in the Indian Police Service and is currently Assistant Director of Research and Development. The itch for writing never left him. Being a police officer, he could not indulge in writing letters to the editor. He skipped that ladder and went straight to writing middles. He has set up a record of sorts: over 400 middles in different national dailies. Also book reviews, short stories and travelogues. In between he produced Wit and Humour of Haryana and Culture Bright and Dark. He is a strappingly handsome six-footer Haryanvi Jat who could well have become a matinee idol. He, however, prefers to remain a police officer and a man of letters.

-------------------------------11 December 2010-----------------
Policeman humourist:
Rajbir Deswal is the most unusual police officer I have met. He is more eager to make a name for himself in the world of letters than by nabbing thieves and robbers. He is well on the way to succeeding in both his ambitions. He is IG Police of Haryana and has won the President’s Police Medal. He is also a member of the Haryana Sahitya Akademi and won the Haryana Akademi’s Pandit Lakhmi Chand Award.
He is a prolific writer. His middles appear regularly in several national dailies like The Tribune, Hindustan Times, The Indian Express and The Pioneer. So far he has seven books to his credit. My introduction to Haryanvi humour came through his writing. In the last two months he has produced two books — Hoor Menaka: The Seductress, an adaptation of Pandit Lakhmi Chand’s drama; and a month later a second collection of his middles, Mall Watch: Write in the Middle (D.K. Books). Deswal wields a light pen. A vein of gentle humour runs through all he writes, which makes him highly readable.
Other related links:
http://www.in.com/videos/watchvideo-khushwant-singh-interviewed-by-rajbir-deswal-on-fatima-bhutto-7667133.html
http://rajbirdeswal.instablogs.com/entry/religion-indias-biggest-enemy-khushwant-singh-as-told-to-rajbir-deswal/
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WLpJywDSpys

Policeman humourist as known by Khushwant Singh

How shall I repay Khushwant Singh I don’t know? I have had his love during the last 30 years or so when he wrote about me in his columns atleast half a dozen times. First he wrote about me was in 1991 when “Wit & Humour of Haryana was launched. Then in 1992 for “Culture Bright & Dark” . And then many times about my books and other activities undertaken as part of my Community Policing projects. At 95, I still draw his attention and he is there to say it all in—This above all: Saturday Dec 11, 2010
Policeman humourist
Rajbir Deswal is the most unusual police officer I have met. He is more eager to make a name for himself in the world of letters than by nabbing thieves and robbers. He is well on the way to succeeding in both his ambitions. He is IG Police of Haryana and has won the President’s Police Medal. He is also a member of the Haryana Sahitya Akademi and won the Haryana Akademi’s Pandit Lakhmi Chand Award.
He is a prolific writer. His middles appear regularly in several national dailies like The Tribune, Hindustan Times, The Indian Express and The Pioneer. So far he has seven books to his credit. My introduction to Haryanvi humour came through his writing. In the last two months he has produced two books — Hoor Menaka: The Seductress, an adaptation of Pandit Lakhmi Chand’s drama; and a month later a second collection of his middles, Mall Watch: Write in the Middle (D.K. Books). Deswal wields a light pen. A vein of gentle humour runs through all he writes, which makes him highly readable.

Also at http://epaper.bhaskar.com/Details.aspx?id=8021&boxid=121135959812

इश्क के हर रंग में रब का सा लगता है

मेरा खुदा !

आज तो पहचान से भी करता है इनकार

हाय मेरा कल मुझे अब का सा लगता है।

इक हसीन खाब जो देखा किये दिन में
अब वही सपना किसी शब् का सा लगता है।
वो तब्बसुम जो कभी सजता था चाँद पे
आज वो जलवा तेरे लब का सा लगता है।

जखम है ताज़ा मगर भरने लगा है ये

देखता हूँ जब इसे कब का सा लगता
वो भला सा गीत आया फिर जबान पे

धुन के तारों पे मगर तब का सा लगता है।

था जहां पूरा मेरे ख्वाबों का कैनवैस

घट रहे मित्रों का अब तबका सा लगता है।

जो मेरा था पीर, मेरा था, मेरा ही था

और ऊपर उठ गया सब का सा लगता है।

तेरा चेहरा जो कभी इन्सां का लगता था

इश्क के हर रंग में रब का सा लगता है।

राजबीर देसवाल 'आमिल'

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Journeying

I feel bad about it!

When for me
Others wreathe in pain
I feel bad about it
Yet I try to square it up
With my own
Balmy-implorations
Sickly-interpretations
Stamped-impressions
Sullied-expiations
Soiled-introspections
Sacred-machinations
Soulful-autosuggestions
Skilled-sagaciousness
Rowdy-recompense
When for me
Others wreathe in pain
I feel bad about it.

Rajbir Deswal

A into it thrill

A into it thrill
A peep out of the window
A sneak into the street
A squeak out of excitement
A sleep into the quilt
A freak into the jungles
A leap into the arms
A streak into the heart
A sleight out of the hand
A sleet into the frying pan
A fleet into darkness
A beep into the mind
A seat into the crown
A neat into the goblet

A sweet into the sour
A tweet into the ears
Is all that what thrills me!
Rajbir Deswal Dec 4, 2010

Man made natural things!

Identify what all is manmade here.
Lemme be the first.
Even trees are .
Re-Searched as a variety,
That grows faster than others.

Photographers & Artists

! In the times gone by when Agfa used to be the popular brand of films the photographers were also the artists and working on negatives and prints with sharp pointed pencils and brushes was a sight in routine. Photographers & Artists were the billboards and signboards. Then came colour'ed' photos!

Talking at Kareena's back

When she was in Panchkula about two years back for the IPL, somone talked to his frined on the mobile, screaming," Yaar Kareena ke theek peechhe khada ho kar baat kar rha hoon!" Did we laugh? Did you say that? No,but we did chuckle and clicked!

And quite flows the Ganga...from under the same Bridge!

I took this colour pic of the Ganga Bridge two years back while my father took took the B&W one, may be about sixty years back--both with different angles! Enough has changed since then including the quality of water in Holy Ganga . Ram teri ganga mailee ho gyi...!

Chah ki chah ! चाह की चाह !

‘Chah’ in Punjabi and Haryanvi means tea—chai! M reminded of Raj Kapoor in Teesri Kasam when he says ‘chah’ time and again to Waheeda Rehman before he gets tea for her.
Also, K. L. Sehgal’s number,”Chah barbad karegi humko maloom na tha”. I think he referred to tea only.
Punjabi has a saying—Ladaee halle di te chah thalle di( A loud war-cry for victory and the residual tea at the cup’s bottom –are sure to stay!”
A Haryanvi paid no price for the rusk to the vendor but only tea, saying, “Chah to yo rus pee gyaa (The tea was partaken of by the rusk and not meeee!”

To my college after 37 years!

At RKSD College Kaithal...Celebrating Harivansh Rai Bachhan's birth anniversary. I once studied here. Visiting the college after 37 years was a trip down the memory lane. Met Mr Garg, the Principal, Dr Praduman Bhalla,Mr Mittal President Management, Mr Khurania,Mr Chaturbhuj, Mr Raghubir Anaam, and a host of other local poets.

Mall Watch and other books for Mauritius President

Presenting a copy of Mall Watch to H।E. Sir Aneerudh Jagunath, Hon'ble President of Mauritius on his visit to Rohtak. Two years back also I presented a set of my books to him when he visited Karnal with the First Lady of Mauritius. My young friend Preet Pal Pannu has excellent relations with the couple and has been garnering their support for social causes taken up by NIFA

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I and Anaysa going for a ride

Khushwant Singh and Raj Chaterjee sign my copy of Mall Watch.

Moon can do with lesser stars who are on Earth today.

The all bright full Moon has lesser stars around it on Guru-Poorab today. HE sent them to earth to add shine to the lights and candles put up on their houses by the believers. Happy Guru-Poorab to them all and those too who bask in the reflected shining glory. Moon can do with lesser stars who are on Earth today. And little Anaysa says, “Thank you Baba Ji!”

Clouds you are too much!

Dabs appear,

on fresh stillness,

to stir it to life.

But the day dawns.

Patchless.

Morning clouds,

you are too much.

To bear with,

in just one sky.

Fade out you will,

for sure.

Or change into,

hopes; or despair.

You are too cloudy too.

But still keep obtaining.

Here. There. Anywhere.

Morning clouds.

Rajbir Deswal Nov 21,2010

Ana gets her Jingle

Cajoled, cuddled, caressed!

The green belt,

plush with,

plants and bushes,

has the Sun,

with its morning rays,

creeping in,

not surreptitiously,

but dauntingly,

tickling the lazy darkness,

slouching there for all night,

into a kind of—Good Morning.

How nice to feel,

enlightenment,

in a wild-wilderness,

howsoever orderly!

How nice to be,

woken up,

cajoled, cuddled, caressed!

Rajbir Deswal Nov 20,2010

Witty take on grim issues!

Vivek Gupta's report in HT Panchkula Live
IPS Rajbir Deswal's latest book is a witty take on grim issues like corruption, babudom...

Call it a wit or sarcasm, Mall Watch, IPS Rajbir Deswal's new book has it all. A compilation of about forty short anecdotes, the book narrates many incidents that stir humour as well as human farce while touching many grim issues like corruption, babudom, and police highhandedness besides different shades of human affairs and ostentatious maneuverings.
The interesting short stories in the book include one on former US President Bill Clinton's rendezvous with Shah Jahan in Taj Mahal on the subject of true love, Thanedar's elbow pressure due to countless Diwali gifts, interesting episodes from the entertainment industry, taxing on `quilt' for propounding work culture, a woman Shakespeare, and all that is `phoren' being great.
Joking seriously and seriously joking are two different things. Ask Deswal, and he says both matter when cooked with human miseries. “It is general tendency among juniors to salute their senior officers but what if it is done out of compulsion? They may be chiding in their heart while saluting. In one of my stories, I have projected it differently and given it humour,“ says Deswal.
In another story, he shows how a police officer's decision to horse ride at 5 in the morning results in a lot of hullabaloo at midnight.
Deswal is at the best of his wits as well as satire when he narrates a story of a police officer who pointlessly harasses a barber who later is called by his servant to give him a shave. The story talks about the police officer's fear when he realises the same and how it lands him in trouble.
He also touches many serious issues. He questions changing role of editors who remain silent on burning issues. According to Deswal, Mall Watch, is the story of confusions, frustration, tongue-in-cheek attitudes as well vanities in one's life.What makes the book worth reading is the way he has treated the social issues.
Deswal has over six books to his credit, besides over 1,000 articles including middles and book reviews.
Few of his books on Haryanvi culture, including Wit and Humour of Haryana, Culture-Bright and Dark, Latke Jhatke, have been a hit in the literary circles. His last book, Hoor Menaka, is a translation of Haryanvi songs by Pandit Lakhmi Chand.

Mind & heart! Near & far!

That which yonder,

Looks so fonder,

Has my heearty heart in it.

This so closer,

With a poser,

Is my mind, 'lways at it.

Rajbir Deswal

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