Big 3

Study of literature left everlasting impression on me since childhood days. I came across many gems of English and Hindi language. As having a sentimental nature, I had admired these 3 writers. They are inherent in me forever..

P.B.Shelley

Mark Twain

Oscar Wilde

They are mighty ones on whom shoulders, I rose and learned about this place called as world. I will not recommend any masterpiece of them because each individual has its own choice and taste.

The mask of Anarchy

I was moved by reading the poem "The mask of Anarchy". It is a period of time in Germany that I feel sad about events happening in India and the globe around it. But this poem just expresses my thoughts out of mind in the poetic form. This poem reflects the true face of anarchism and a sadistic beauty of poetry by eminent poet P B Shelley. The link of poem is given here.

Gulzar shows flow of URDU Lang.

Song at Youtube here:

इश्क कि छाओं
पाऊँ के नीचे जन्नत होगी
जिनके सर हो इश्क कि छाओं

चल छैया छैया छैया छैया - २
छैया छैया छैया छैया
चल छैया छैया छैया छैया
चल छैया छैया छैया छैया - २
छैया छैया छैया छैया
चल छैया छैया छैया
सर इश्क कि छाओं चल छैया छैया
सर इश्क कि छाओं चल छैया
पाऊँ जन्नत चले चल छैया छैया
पाऊँ जन्नत चले चल छैया

चल छैया छैया छैया छैया - ४

वोह यार है जो खुशबु कि तरह
जिसकी जुबां उर्दू कि तरह


मेरी शाम रात, मेरी कायनात
वोह यार मेरा सैया सैया
चल छैया छैया छैया छैया - २

चल छैया छैया छैया छैया - २

गुल्पोश कभी इत्राये कहीँ महेके तो नज़र आ जाये कहीँ - २
ताविज़ बनाके पेहें उससे, आयत कि तरह मिल जाये कहीँ - २
गुल्पोश कभी इत्राये कहीँ महेके तो नज़र आ जाये कहीँ
ताविस बनाके पेहें उससे, आयत कि तरह मिल जाये कहीँ


(वोह यार है जो इमान कि तरह)
मेरा नगमा वोही, मेरा कलमा वोही
मेरा नगमा नगमा, मेरा कलमा कलमा
मेरा नगमा नगमा, मेरा कलमा कलमा - ३

यार मिसाले ओस चले,
पाऊँ के टेल फिर्दोस चले
कभी दाल दाल कभी पात पात
मैं हवा पे धून्दूं उसके निशाँ
सर इश्क कि छाओं चल छैया छैया
सर इश्क कि छाओं चल छैया
पाऊँ जन्नत चले चल छैया छैया
पाऊँ जन्नत चले चल छैया

चल छैया छैया छैया छैया - ४

मैं उसके रुप का शैदायी, वोह धुप छाओं सा हर्जायी
वोह शोख का रंग बदलता है, मैं रंग रुप का सौदाई

मैं रंग रुप का सौदाई

जिनके सर हो इश्क कि छाओं, पाऊँ के नीचे जन्नत होगी - २
शाम रात, मेरी कायनात, वोह यार मेरा सैया सैया

चल छैया छैया छैया छैया - ४

सर इश्क कि छाओं चल छैया छैया
सर इश्क कि छाओं चल छैया
पाऊँ जन्नत चले चल छैया छैया
पाऊँ जन्नत चले चल छैया

चल छैया छैया छैया छैया - ४

वोह यार है जो खुशबु कि तरह
वोह जिसकी जुबां उर्दू कि तरह
मेरी शाम रात, मेरी कायनात
वोह यार मेरा सैया सैया
चल छैया छैया छैया छैया - ४

चल छैया छैया छैया छैया - ४

छैया छैया छैया छैया
चल छैया छैया छैया छैया l

Lyrics of Title Song from Bharat Ek Khoj

सृष्टी से पहले सत्य नहीं था,
असत्य भी नहीं
अंतरिक्ष भी नहीं,
आकाश भीं नहीं था
छिपा था क्या कहाँ,
किसने देखा था
उस पल तो अगम,
अटल जल भी कहाँ था
सृष्टी का कौन हैं कर्ता
कर्ता हैं यह वा अकर्ता
ऊंचे आसमान में रहता
सदा अध्यक्ष बना रहता
वोहीं सच मुच में जानता.
या नहीं भी जानता
हैं किसी को नहीं पता
नहीं पता
नहीं है पता, नहीं है पता...........
वोह था हिरान्य गर्भ सृष्टी से पहले विद्यमान
वोही तो सारे भूत जात का स्वामी महान
जो है अस्तित्वमाना धरती आसमान धारण कर
ऐसे किस देवता कि उपासना करे हम अवि देकर
जिस के बल पर तेजोमय है अम्बर
पृथ्वी हरी भरी स्थापित स्थिर
स्वर्ग ओर सूरज भी स्थिर
ऐसे किस देवता कि उपासना करे हम अवि देकर
गर्भ में अपने अग्नी धारण कर
पैदा कर्व्यपा था जल इधर उधर नीचे ऊपर
जगह चुके वो का एकमेव प्रान बंकर
ऐसे किस देवता कि उपासना करे हम अवि देकर
ॐ ! सृष्टी निर्माता स्वर्ग रचायता पूर्वज रख्सा कर
सत्य धर्मं पलक अतुल जल नियामक रक्षा कर
फैली हैं दिशाएं बहु जैसी उसकी सब में सब पर
ऐसी ही देवता कि उपासना करे हम अवि देकर
ऐसी ही देवता कि उपासना करे हम अवि देकर....


Lyrics Of The Title Track of Bharat Ek Khoj

Creation Hymn from the RIG VEDA

CREATION HYMN from the RIG VEDA
Translation by V. V. Raman, University of Rochester

Not even nothing existed then
No air yet, nor a heaven.
Who encased and kept it where?
Was water in the darkness there?
Neither deathlessness nor decay
No, nor the rhythm of night and day:
The self-existent, with breath sans air:
That, and that alone was there.
Darkness was in darkness found
Like light-less water all around.
One emerged, with nothing on
It was from heat that this was born.
Into it, Desire, its way did find:
The primordial seed born of mind.
Sages know deep in the heart:
What exists is kin to what does not.
Across the void the cord was thrown,
The place of every thing was known.
Seed-sowers and powers now came by,
Impulse below and force on high.
Who really knows, and who can swear,
How creation came, when or where!
Even gods came after creation's day,
Who really knows, who can truly say
When and how did creation start?
Did He do it? Or did He not?
Only He, up there, knows, maybe;
Or perhaps, not even He.

Baanwra Man

Baanwra Man from Hazaaron Khwahishen Aisi. I really liked that song and got at the Hindi lyrics from a blog of a great guy.

The song is “Baanwra Man” - an amazing composition by Shantanu Moitra. There is a feeling of yearning in the lyrics by Swanand Kirkire. He has himself sung the song as well, and rendition is real soulful. Here are the lyrics:

बाँवरा मन देखने चला एक सपना।
बाँवरा मन देखने चला एक सपना।
बाँवरे से मन की देखो बाँवरी हैं बातें।
बाँवरे से मन की देखो बाँवरी हैं बातें।
बाँवरी सी धड़कने हैं, बाँवरी हैं साँसे।
बाँवरी सी करवटो से, निंदिया तू भागे।
बाँवरे से नयन चाहे,बाँवरे झरोकों से,
बाँवरे नज़ारों को,तकना।
बाँवरा मन देखने चला एक सपना।
बाँवरे से इस जहाँ मे, बाँवरा एक साथ हो।
इस सयानी भीड़ मे, बस हाथों मे तेरा हाथ हो।
बाँवरी सी धुन हो कोई, बाँवरा एक राग हो।
बाँवरे से पैर चाहे,बाँवरे तरानों के,बाँवरे से बोल पे,थिरकना।
बाँवरा मन देखने चला एक सपना।
बाँवरा सा हो अंधेरा, बाँवरी खामोशियाँ।
थरथराती लौ हो मद्धम, बाँवरी मदहोशियाँ।
बाँवरा एक घुंगटा चाहे,हौले-हौले बिन बताए,
बाँवरे से मुखडे से,सरकना।
बाँवरा मन देखने चला एक सपना।

Tribute to ITBHU

In the ruins of memory the house breathes

through its mouldy surface,

touched by strangers’ looks …

Time cracks inside the ripened walls.

It tears off with fragile flakes

Swollen with history

the heart of hearts

bestows its place on silence.

एक बूँद सहसा उछली

यायावर में कोई आत्मावसाद नही है। भीतर उमडे हुए करुण भाव को अपने ही पर ढलकर वाह कारुन्य का अप्व्यय नही करेगा...केवल गहरा स्पन्दन्शील अकेलापन, जिसमे संवेदना की अतिरिक्त सजगता है, मन मानो जड़ है । देखना है, सुनना है, घ्रान है, स्पर्श है- सभी कुछ है, किन्तु नही है चिन्तन वहाँ सतह पर आ गया है और भीतर केवल सन्नाटा है।

My favourite line in english poetry

"Love of poetry is first sign of spiritual life."- Aurbindo Ghosh.

When Aurbindo ghosh had quoted this sentence, I was not even born in this world. But really consider me as a unborn or dead without poetry. Poetry preserves the decay in the visitations of divinity in me. I am not a poet, but I am incomplete without it. Reading & Enjoying poems is one thing but remembering them for exam was another cold blooded task to me. I read many poems like "Twinkle Twinkle", "Jack and Jill", "Mary had a little lamb", "Baba black ship" etc from childhood but they were just a part of the boring eduction system, not me. They do not enlightened me with the beauty of the words and also I was little to understand them.

In class 2nd, my father taught me a 2 lines of a poem composed by eminent poet Shelly. That was something about west wind and seasons. I was highly impressed by sound of it and just found a taste of English poetry. I read and recite English poetry from my text books which charms me much but do not give satisfaction. In fact some poems just stuck up my lips due to some unknown or divine reason.

Starting from lines of Blake,

Tiger!tiger! burning bright,

In the forests of night.

These words left me with a magical touch of words.

I was much interested not in happy man's shirt but in reading poem alone:

For oft ,when on my couch i lie,

In vacant or in pensive mood,

They flash upon that inward eye,

Which is the bliss of solitude.

I was then romanticized by the Keats who describe the word beauty for me

'Beauty is Truth,Truth Beauty'-that is all

Ye know on earth,and all ye need to know.

When I was understanding both physical and intellectual world in teenage, I read Gray's lines as a optimist as well as pessimist:

Full may a gem of purest rays serene,

The dark unfathomed caves of ocean bear;

Full may a rose is born to blush unseen,

And waste its sweetness in the desert air.

I was reading few poets like Tennyson and Wordsworth in high-school but Tennyson just touches my soul and feeling that Wordsworth cannot achieve with Lucy,

The old order changeth yielding place to new

Lest one good custom should corrupt the world

And God fulfils Himself in many ways.

Here comes a phase in my life when I face a world of grown-ups. I was  a bit of childish then but later became addicted to elegies and a constant search of mine identity began. I face ethical identity crisis about myself and material world. Every thing appear to be fallen apart by watching the brute reality of the society, religion and relations. It was like transition period for me. I was becoming humanist and thinking money as root cause of all problem.

The boast of heraldry,the pomp of power,

And all that beauty,all that wealth ever gave,

Await alike the inevitable hour;

The paths of glory lead but to the grave.

This is the Thomas Gray's lines from Churchyard Elegy. That was the era of my wandering here and there in an unknown search. When I feel the problems of society, I found myself expressed in Matthew Arnold-

Living between two worlds,

The one dead,the other powerless to born.

These poems were showing my struggle within myself. I had to choose now between the work of art or work of technology as my career. I chooses technology as my career and poet inside me died out gradually. P.B. Shelly emerged as my favourite poet in this hour of darkness:

Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
Nor peace within nor calm around;
Nor that content, surpassing wealth,
The sage in meditation found,
And walk'd with inward glory crown'd;
Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure.
Others I see whom these surround—

Smiling they live, and call life pleasure:
To me that cup has been dealt in another measure!

I was devoid of academics or anything serious in life while doing graduation. One day, I found a rip page from poetry book in home and there was revival of poet inside me. It was like redemption,

Oh, lift me as a wave,a leaf,a cloud !

I fall upon the thorns of life ! I bleed !

And in the same poem the following stanza,

Drive my dead thoughts over the universe,
Like wither'd leaves, to quicken a new birth;
And, by the incantation of this verse,
Scatter, as from an unextinguish'd hearth
Ashes and sparks, my words among mankind!
Be through my lips to unawaken'd earth
The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,
If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

Life comes in full circle with this discovery of 'west wind' poem. The last line of poem now inspires me and became mantra of my life. A new dawn of hope begins for me and metamorphosis of mine is complete. But I have still faith in the words of Goldsmith that once attracted me,

Ill fares the land to hasting ills a prey

Where wealth accumulates and men decay!

I am now in 3rd year of graduation and enjoys reading poetry. It has become now inseparable part of me. I can now proclaim that development in the character of man with the age is also affected by type of poetry an individual read.