शनिवार, जून 09, 2007

'इंडियन लिटरेचर' का अंक-238

मित्रो, सभी भारतीय भाषाओं के साहित्य को एक बड़े पाठक वर्ग तक पहुंचाने के लिए साहित्य अकादेमी, नई दिल्ली अपनी दो सुप्रसिद्ध पत्रिकाओं हिन्दी में 'समकालीन भारतीय साहित्य' और अंगरेजी में 'इंडियन लिटरेटर' के नाम से प्रकाशित दो पत्रिकाओं के माध्यम से विभिन्न भाषाओं की रचनाओं को हिन्दी और अंगरेजी में पेश करती है। अभी-अभी 'इंडियन लिटरेचर' के अंक-238 में मेरी पांच मैथिली कविताओं का अंगरेजी अनुवाद प्रकाशित हुआ है. आप भी उन कविताओं का आनंद ले सकते हैं.



Panting and panting
Short of breath
Speeding her way
Clutching closely her new born of six
At last stood she at the door
Of a Buddha-Vihar
Hopefully, Knocking

She stood knocking and knocking
Hoping and knocking in vain

How many doors
How many days
How many nights
How many times
Had She knocked, knocked, knocked
Only in vain

Stood a woman
Facing an inquisition
Answering questions
Fired by a battery of Bikshus
Scandalized, Scared tirelessly
Proving time and again
Her chastity her purity

In the endless cycle of life
Between life and death
Between murder and suicide
She passes through
Test numberless
Of ice and Fire
Like a Commodity
She is for sale
Sold from one hand to another
In the market place

From the slave trader Partul
To Bhudhar Sharma and the priest Chakradhar
Slave Divya
Like a mute animal
Is sold everyday
Passing from hand to hand

How ironic it does seem
What bitter constraints
Though a human, yet not considered so

To protect her child
Breathless and panting
She reaches for refuge
At the Buddha-Vihar
Only to be refused

One who has lost her partner in life?
And her father too
With a babe of six
Who will she seek
For refuge
Or to Slave away
Her life

ABBOT oh Abbot
How funny it sounds
She thinks she is one of them
But the world think she is not
One of them
She is not part, but apart from them

* * *

Translated from Maithili by- Poet


V. I. P.


Translated from Maithili by- Poet


On his way from Sarnath
Lord Buddha crossed the Ganga
Whispered the boatman
No more ‘BODH’ in Bodhgaya

In Gaya passed away Gayasur
Ajatshatru in Magadh
His eternal foe
Surrounds him still
Doubt and suspicion
Suspicion and doubt,
Mock him still

Change a prefix or a suffix
The word change, world change
Read Him forward he is a ‘God’
Read Him backward makes Him a ‘Dog’
But the truth still Stares
The fact remains
No more Bodh in Bodhgaya.

Translated from Maithili by- Poet

TIME: The Denominator

Nothing is visible
In the darkness
I quietly scan
Again and again

Swarms of code words
Swarm around me
Keeping a vigil
A watch over me

One fine day
The words in my diary
Suddenly change, so
Do their meaning

Where stood the writing pad
Now stood the ‘phallus’-’Shaligram’

Later one day
Vanish my creations
My complete and incomplete
Poetic outpouring
The living witness of my innocent feeling

Since several nights
Come wafting a cry
God Alone is Truth
Truth alone is God
In the tone of a lullaby
A chorus is sung

The last rites mantras
Are called didactic ditties
In a chorus resounds
A Prey
A Prey

In the darkness
Masked men inn medieval wears
With modern weapon
Demolish the image of Buddha

I see
The earthquakes in horror
Deferent men of different ‘isms’
Hurl abuse in different tongues
Keep shouting
Democracy, Democracy

I see
I hear

How Strange
How amusing
In an age of blank verse
In an age of unheeding
Come slogans in
Rhymes and alliteration.

Translated from Maithili by- Poet


From wherever he came from
Hung his bag on the peg
Went to the well
To wash away
His thirst, hunger and fatigue
And dust

The bag on the peg
Disturbs him again and again
Makes him restless again and again
Gets him ready again and again
Forces him out again and again

The bag on the peg
Used as a napkin
To wipe away his sweat
Is turned into an air bag
To stuff his clothes
Towel and snacks
When he travels afar

The bag on the peg
When he holds in the hands
Radiates a festive gay
In the wrinkled face of my father
On the day mother is busy,
Grinding ‘masala’
Sister is busy cooking rice
Grandma with her laughter
Sounds sweet as the flower
A crowd of birds
Keep hoping in the yard.

The bag on the peg
Was a mystery unsolved?
We stood on tiptoes
On the narrow stairs
On each others shoulders
We stood
-To peep and pry
See and find
Inside the bag on the peg

The bag on the peg
Had a hundred wholes in it
Like the innumerable cracks on his feet
Things in the bag could be seen
In and out
Like father watching the time

The bag on the peg
Perhaps it reminded him
Of the birds that left their nests
For their little offspring’s
To return in the evenings
Of going to bed early
Rising and leaving
Before day break

Bag on the peg
Denoted father’s presence
Which made children silent
Women talk in Whispers
And sister humming
Only Vidyapati instead of film
Thus in this beg democracy or ours
The beg gentrified the big boss

The bag on the peg
Still is on the peg
In the same place
In the same room
But the’ Nehru’s and ‘Jinnah’s of the house
Did not pay need
To the father (of the nation)
As was expected
The houses stood divided

Father was shaken like Gandhi

The bag on the peg
Still hangs there
It is now treated
Not even as a ‘Saint in Letters’
Nor even as Gods of the ‘Pariahs’

My wife put her foot down
I’ll use the bag
To dry the dishes my wife said
To dust the cycle my son said
To make a soft bed my daughter said
For my doll
But I stood firm never allowed the bag
To leave its peg

The bag in the peg
And me on the bed
Cried and Cried
All nightlong
Like a new bride
Leaving her home

Thank God no one
Raises the issue of the bag now
The bag is on the peg
Reminding of father
Swinging and reminding
Of his presence everywhere.

Translated from Maithili by- Poet

Senior copy Editor, KADAMBINI,
H.T.Media Ltd. 18-20, K.G.Marg,
New Delhi-110 001
E.mail: pkjpp@yahoo.co.in

1 टिप्पणी:

अनूप शुक्ल ने कहा…

बहुत खूब। बधाई! ऐसे ही छपते-छपाते रहें। बताते रहें। और आप कादम्बिनी में हैं यहां जिन ब्लाग में कुछ अच्छा लगे उसे वहां भी छापने की सोचें!