Freelance Falcon ~ Weird Jhola-Chhap thing ~ ज़हन

Sunday, April 22, 2012

रूठी माँ



तेरे मना करने पर..
हाथ छुड़ाया मैंने...
दर्द पड़े जो सहने..
तुझको रुलाया मैंने..
दे चाहे मुझको जो सज़ा...

माना मेरी गलती है...
आँखें मेरी जलती है...
रूठी रहेगी कब तक ये बता..

छूना तेरा फबता है..
भीड़ मे डर लगता है..
संग लगा ले माये...

जादू तेरे हाथो मे..
मधु जो तेरी बातों मे..
नींद न आये माये..
झूला झुला दे माये...

खाऊं मै या मै खेलूँ...
एकटक निहारती तू क्यों..
जैसे मै तुझसे हूँ जुड़ा.. 

छाँव हो या हो धूप..
कितने तेरे जो रूप..
ममता मे तेरी ठंडक...
आँचल मे तेरे रौनक...
साये मे इसके होना मुझे रवां...

जो तू कहे मानूँगा...
तेरी रजा जानूँगा..
बस एक बार फिर से गोद मे ले सुला...


...समाप्त!

Poet Notes:

i) - Poem from my upcoming story "Maa ka Monologue".

ii) -  क्योकि ये कविता ऐसे विषय पर थी...इसलिए दिमाग पर ज्यादा जोर नहीं देना पड़ा.....और समय भी कम लगा. :)

iii) - Pic Source - jpsuess.blogspot.com 


iv) - 400 Likes on my Facebook Page. http://www.facebook.com/Mohitness Thank you! everyone. :)


Tuesday, April 17, 2012

The Wailing Fair of Jalliyanwallah Bagh

Translation of my Hindi poem "भीगी बैसाखी" (on Jallianwala Bagh Massacre (Amritsar, 13 April 1919) by Srishti Mudaliar. *Giving me complex* Thank you! Srishti. :)


The Wailing Fair of Jalliyanwallah Bagh
 
By Mohit Sharma

Translated by: Srishti Mudaliar

Thy deep, dark, black abyss,
That devoured our mother’s kiss,
Selfish, wretch, appareled in red walls,
Jalliyanwallah, thy tyranny with weight upon us falls!!

The chaotic streets of the kids are now vacant,
Blackened the doorsteps the white skinned tyrant.

The patient, nimble, morning ears that heeded to thy voice,
In the evening were silenced and turned cold as ice.

For the freedom to be born their hopes waited for years and more,
To see it alive none succeeded to flee from thy captivity’s door.

A revolt so peaceful, the devil would melt,
The white queen let it honored with the cannon balls pelt.

Seas of the emotions could flood enough with the pain,
In vain were those heavy showers of trickles of rain.

The sleepless insomniac nights restless,
Long and long of nightmares endless.

Under the siege of the curfew the trampled crowd,
Vultures covered their fallen kins before the shroud.

Those waiting to reach the Baisakhi’s tavern,
To their destination would never reach and return.

The woman you jilted was our mother,
Her truth you concealed under thy tanned leather,
Wait for a while if you dare to bother, look how those holes the little hearts smother!!

Source: http://mohitness.blogspot.com/