Nothing has changed                                                                  Lok Nath

Nothing has changed

Just the names of melancholy moments 've changed

Now

Haranguing has turned into my hobby

Clapping a giggle in some celebration

Or raising slogans in some conference

No, no

I'm no hero

I've got in my inheritance

sipping the pains oozing out of limbs

And fancying Light even in the murkiest gloom

Nothing has changed

A leader has said

Poverty is on the wane, poverty will be removed

A poet has penned

People here walk on crutches, not legs

Letter from a friend says

I'm going to wed his beloved

My beloved has told

That our coming along now   has reduced to a question

Nothing has changed

Rivers are dry even in the monsoons

I know not who's proclaimed

The death of the Leader       

The day's broke at the dawn itself

Much better

We should go bury in the rhyme of our chores.

                                                -2-

                                    Nails

Nails were struck dead right

A nail right into my head

Two into my eyes

Two on the palm

While  a  discreet cross stood behind      

And yes...

Two nails were struck

In my feet too

I know not

Why no nails pierced my tongue

The fate of democracy   

Lives on, perhaps

With nails pierced on.   

                                                            -3-

                                               

The creator one

Who was He ?

Who he was

Who shaped the universe in seven days

Only in seven days

Don't you believe

Believe me

He took just seven days

And created the whole universe

The first day

He created

Firmament, mountains & caves

The second day

Rivers, seas, oceans

And a lot many human passions

He retained nothing with Him

Distributed   all in all

Among the masses

All rights, he bestowed to them

The third day

He gathered them all

And said

What is Love!

What is called Joy!!

How does grief look like!!!

He uttered further

How rhythms in perfect unison

The ins and outs of man

He got saddened

Explaining

Jealousy, envy, malice and much more

And

He went on staring for long dumbfounded

An innocent child's head

Patted him affectionately

Glared keenly through his broken glasses

And uttered
Only one step remains

That could destroy all he created

He preserved the fourth and the fifth day

To humour

And warm himself

He let the jester juggle out free

He let Kings and Monarchs

And unfortunate masses

Shape themselves as they want

Sixth day

The whole administration was made to stand alert

And he shaped the rest of tits  & bits

Into an image of man

So the ancestors could be remembered

Seventh day

Reviewed to see

What more can be done!

However

Unannounced, the Directors

Displaced the masses, the common folk

From the visions of Universe

He had cherished yet

To see his creations

After so much labour long

He had that right!

But before that

As much exhausted he was

He decided he would taste death

A bit!

                                                            -4-

                                                           

                        ROTI                          

When the world abounds in

Eatables manifold

Of hues scintillating

Why then you wage a war

Just over a bite of Roti

Lo, feast on  the world's choicest delicacies

But you are yearning for the Roti

Your mother baked once!

When drinks are multitude

In the world to sip on

Why you're desperate

Just for water

Is water really a thing worth you drink

Rather just a liquid

To wash and bathe in.

You will die if you drink water

You had been gulping water for so many days

Not died yet?

Amazing!

*Roti--Round thin loaf of wheat-dough baked at home-the staple food of Punjabis.                                                                                 -5-

                                                                        Poem-5

Every evening

I think

While returning home

I have a roof

To ease out my day long fatigue

A bed under the roof

A pillow on the bed

And with that pillow

A sigh of patience

Home and patience

Sleep and dream

Everyone does not have in his ambit

Someone  has a home

But no patience

Someone has sleep

But no dream

And someone has dream

But neither sleep nor patience

They are left with

Just having a dream of a home

The poor ones!

                                                                        -6-

                                               

Country... my country

All of a sudden

The country asked me

'Do you love me?'

I'm dumbfounded

He repeated

I'm giving you air to breathe

Water to drink

Bread to eat

Roads to walk on

Land to sit on

Not just giving

I'm giving

I'm bestowing you with  all this

Still

You love me or not?

I'd reply

Reply I would indeed

A cry escaped from

My choking throat

Yaa...yaa...The country... My country!

Most humbly

Your Majesty

You should also listen

My questions have been walking along for half a century

My mother, an apostle of perseverance

Died in distress, in dire need?

Who poisoned my sister to death?

Who'd answer

My father cherished for me dreams nice

Why he sighed all life?

The wind remarked instantly at my questions

And water too responded

We've no masters!

The grains of corn uttered

The soil gave us birth

The paths did scream

None has the right over me

The Earth said-Grass belongs not a country

The country

Raised me again

Lovingly in affection

And asked in a domineering tone

Now you know of your country!                                                                                                                                                                           

The Bazaar on Fire

She was coming from the bazaar

She-I mean my wife

Coming back from the bazaar

A tea packet in hands

A long stringed satchel  hanging down the shoulder

Brimming with tits & bits1

She was breathless

Not fatigued though

A shadow of fear

Writ large on her face

I asked

What's the matter-what's happened?

Piercing across my bosom with quiet glares

She had a deep breath

 No, not a breath

A sigh, indeed, she had

And said

'The bazaar 's on fire'

This is not just a piece of information

But a political statement

Of a middle class woman

Getting crushed under the wrath of domesticity

In our times

The small screen has landed

The bazaar in our homes

None has dared broadcast this news-

Nor the issue has been raised in the parliament

By any member

The minister said

I know

There's been a fire

But this is a ministry

You'd better dial no.101

I 'm not free

The fire station is located

In  the minister's heart

Since then

I've been dialing no.101

From the public booth

But the conscience bell does ring not

Perhaps

Some might have snapped the cables!

                                    I want to name

I want to give that mountain

Some other name

That stands between

What I say &

And what you comprehend

That has turned into a scar

From a mellow pain between

My journey & your path

I know not

What should I name the way

That is ever expanding

At my stepping forward

And your retreating back

What should I call the wall

That's ever getting taller

As I ram into and you escape out

I want to give that grief

Some other name

That undergoes a change

As it comes between us

And swallows our comfort

in different planes

The unwritten document

The snake lying dead in this square

None has any problem-

They search the dawn in a closed gloomy room

The passengers sleeping on the cold pavement

None has any problem

From the life-from chilled on life

The snake lying in the square

The poisonous wind blowing fast

Extinguishing The night of the earthen lamp

The memory dozes at the broken door

The shadows have gone long

The dirty curtains, uneven stairs the windows closed

The empty firmament is the unwritten document

Let me be willed  the will of stars

I will stop not-not for a moment

At the broken doors

I will not get into the row of gloom

I will  set even the stairs

Open the doors and windows

Let me be willed   the will of stars

This firmament is -an unwritten document

                                                Born-unborn

Neither mine nor yours

This is the tale of the child

That needs no parents to come about

Whose birth needs no passage of day and night

Just the hands of the clock have to stop

Once the Sun was just here-

The child if born then

Might have been the son of the Sun

But the poor baby found no mother

Since then

Many a son was born-many died

But  that  child is yet to be born

Ages manifold he remained busy

Planning to be born

He was yet to be born - that

He was pronounced dead.

The whole generation went crying over his sudden demise

Singing melodies somebody be a muse

Delivering medals some other be the president

The rest got down to be

Dismember at values big & small

Neither mine nor your

It is the tale of the child

Who is yet to be born

            The Village

The village laughs heartily

Measures the face impressions

Pressing fingertips in the stomach 

Despite facing defeat continuously

Remains engrossed in the daily chores

The village streets have turned just into bazaars

And pretty damsels are now mature women

Hiding the beauty of the entire village in their limbs

Sing melodies at the loss of someone's husband

Be someone's groom in a game

Or the man -Friday of Someone's husband

Nothing of some other's

The village land lies in debt

And conscience too

The aged mound is a witness that

 The village was once alive

When the kids build mud houses

They play not but coin a vision that resembles death

They don't grow tall like the Saroo tree

But get trampled underneath the wants of the day

The village lives not on the well nor in the fields

Nor in streets bazaars or under the shade of Banyan trees

The village beats in the heart of man

Who gets born and dies everyday

Wait

Every evening

The sun runs away in desperation

And in joy,  we scratch our own face

The skin crackles like the plaster giving way

From some old wall

Whenever we try to read from the unwritten pages.

The civilization is all locked in the almirah

Our eyes sink in the gloom of night

In search of some other Sun

The human odour

Rising from the  bodies

The people of my town

Now needs no oxygen!

There is no regret

Of accidents

A difference lies

Whether they happen or not

In a weak moment

The scorching rays of the sun

Land on the round table

Piercing through the window curtains

Still we wait for the postman and the day to come!

Delhi

She yearns

To lie naked on the grass like moonlight

But-there are walls on the way

She longs for

Someone to come and make her his own

But none comes

Everyday

She lives an age

Every evening

She dies frozen on the palm

My friend-

This is DILLI

D--I--L--L--I

Here You find  not

A doting  difference between a man, donkey or a book

The girls here are just like gossip

The boys are hullabaloo

People here do not talk

They read ads or wait for the month to end

This is Delhi

No road lost in the light and the gloom

Become 'a lane'

Nor any path turns to a home

Here footpaths befriend  trees

Trees befriend    the winds

And  Winds do the birds

Friendship is here a forced labour

And kinship an excuse to live apart

Everything  belongs to others

Nothing is own anyone's

My friend!

She is your friend, my beloved 

May be somebody's keep

This too is an accident

She is nothing to anybody!

This is DILLI -D--I--L--L--I

The dusk is just like the same

The Sun sobs

Disappears into the age long  night

The trees are sad

The road naked

The birds bereft of flight

(though no pheasant-just crows)

History is a witness

This remains dying , to be born again

But now she dies longer

Her residents die instead

( They don't die-just leave a space for the hippies)

But -this is Delhi

The capital of India

The keep of Russia

America's niece

Mother of the new Bengal

This is the capital of India

But relates not with the Indians

This is Delhi

Yearns to lie naked on the grass like the moonlight

But -there are walls on the way.

                                                            Translated by : Pawan Gulati, 098762-25837