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