Ab aaye ho? Mujhe dhoondhte jana.
Ek arse se kisi ki yado me gum hu.
___________
English translation:
So, you’ve finally returned? Find me before you leave again.
For ages, I’ve been lost in someone’s memories.
___________
Author’s note: Sher are couplets in Urdu that tell a complete story.
I know it is tempting, brother,
but don’t chew the shoe that feeds you.
It’s a long night,
safe, for now, in the swan’s feather,
delaying inevitable.
.
Precariously balanced,
wind threatening to topple me over,
onto the thirsty ground.
.
I grieve over the fate
all falling droplets meet—
before me and after.
.
I wonder…
I pray…
I hope to be better.
.
Dawn wakes me.
No longer falling, I rise in a cloud
to be one with the sky…
Free photo by Erik Stine on Unsplash
Jis samandar ki lehero me tair ke laut aaye hum,
Suna he ki log usme doob ke paar ho gaye.
_________________________________________
Translation:
The ocean that I swam in and returned from unscathed,
I’ve heard, has drowned many and let them pass.
______________________________________
Author’s note: In Urdu poetry, a Sher is a couplet, where two lines present one thought or story.
Sir jhukaye, asman ko neelam lutaate dekhta hu,
Sharm he ki hatheliya dua me khulne nahi deti.
Translation:
Head bent, I look at the sapphires falling from skies above.
Pride forces my palms in pockets, ashamed to spread heavenwards and collect.
______________________________________
Author’s note:
In Urdu poetry, a Sher is a couplet, where two lines present one thought or story.
I run another site with urdu poetry and I’m moving my work here gradually. I will translate the pieces, but not verbatim since it seems impossible without breaking the spirit of the piece.
My daughter has got a way of being inspired by other works.
For instance, lately, we have been competing to create stories involving different animals. We give each other random animals and, then, the other had to create a story out of that animal. A couple of days back, my daughter gave me rather a tough combination: Peacock, Hippo and Rhino. I asked her to reduce the number of animals but she won’t relent. So, here’s the story I created.
Once upon a time, a peacock was flying. Since they are heavy and not used to flying too far, this one decided to sit down on a rock beside the river. It was a huge grey rock and as soon as he sat down, the huge grey rock began to move. The peacock thought it was an earth quake and flew up lest he would be crushed beneath the now freely moving rock which also sprouted four thick legs. After a few seconds in air, the peacock again felt tired and chose another rock–a huge brown one–inside the river. As soon as he sat down, this rock too gave a huge lurch and started walking out of the water. The peacock took flight in time to see the rock open its huge jaws to display teeth large as daggers. Now, wary of rocks behaving like animals, it chose a fallen log beside the river. He had come pretty close and was really hoping to sit down, since his long wings were now soggy and heavy with water, when the log opened its yellow eyes and bared a log set of sharp teeth. The peacock decided that ground was not safe for beings like him anymore and sat on a tree far away.
My daughter felt the story was not long enough. So, I asked her to create another story with the same combination she gave me: Peacock, Hippo and Rhino. She was not allowed to tell the same story as mine. She pleaded her case as being only four-years-old and requested to reduce the number of animals. I refused, hoping to give her a taste of her own medicine. Here’s my daughter’s story.
Once upon a time, a peacock was flying. Since they are heavy and not used to flying too far, this one He was flying for hours, got tired and decided to sit down on a rock beside the river. It was a huge grey brown rock. As soon as he sat down It sat there for sometime, then, the rock began to move. The peacock thought it was an earth quake and flew up lest he would be crushed beneath the now freely moving rock which also sprouted four thick legs. After a few seconds in air, the peacock again felt tired and chose another rock–a huge brown grey one–inside the river. As soon as he sat down, this rock too gave a huge lurch and started walking out of the water. The peacock took flight in time to see the rock open its huge jaws to display teeth a couple of horns large as daggers. Now, wary of rocks behaving like animals, it chose a fallen log beside inside the river. He had come pretty close and was really hoping to sit down, since his long wings were now soggy and heavy with water, when As soon as he sat down, the log opened its yellow eyes and bared a log set of sharp teeth. The peacock decided that ground was not safe for beings like him anymore and sat on a tree far away. The tree began to move too. It ran in really long strides. The peacock decided that only safe place to sit was bare ground and that was where he stayed for the rest of his life.
I argued with my daughter that this was more or less my own story. But she pointed out that in her story:
Well, I really couldn’t argue against such a strong case. So, I gave up trying to pry another story out of her. With five animals, her story trumped mine!
It reminded me of remixed songs–add an extra beat, a couple of extra instruments, a few hip-hoppers, and you have a quick hit and a chartbuster.
Plagiarism with brains!
Wake up to find
that the day has changed but life has not.
Office’s still on.
The child still drones on.
Husband mutters in his sleep.
Parents call,
hoping all’s well and all,
with no hope of meeting any time soon,
with responsibilities weighing me down.
Life goes on.
My 4-year old daughter, a Muslim, was super excited when she created this flag and hoisted it on a stick yesterday.
It was India’s Republic Day on 26th January. It is the celebration of the birth of our Constitution, which is the backbone of all our laws–existing and new.
The preamble of the Indian Constitution is the keeper of the soul of India–a constant reminder of what we are and what we strive to be. It speaks of freedom and equality, and gives the common man the right to challenge government and court decisions where they lack. It is the backbone of becoming a Socialist Secular Democratic Republic.
Let’s keep that in sight when we choose our government this year and next.
Let’s all vote.
Let’s vote for the people who work for growth, equality and freedom, not for a particular religion.
It is time to rise above our petty quabble and stand up for ourselves and each other. Let’s ensure that your children and mine grow up as proud of being Indians.
Jai Hind!
Happy New Year, Readers and Co-blogggers!
If you are wondering why I am late by five days in wishing you all, rest assured I wasn’t drunk or nursing a hangover or dealing with an LSD side-effect. I was busy vacationing…
Of course, vacation now means a car trip from my place to my parent’s place, and binge watching cartoon movies and Harry Potter on TV. Gone are the days when people went to beach for sunbathing or to hills for watching snowfall. Earth’s smallest organism has ensured that we are all inside our pigeon holes, never daring to poke our heads out.
Well, I made new year resolutions: rising early and daily exercise, which I have already broken on the first day. It is a norm, of course. I have made that resolution every 31st December night for the last 19 years and broken it the next day. It is sort-of a private joke now.
I remember my first time clearly. I slept through it, of course. After five months, when my parents could clearly see that I needed help waking up, they voluteered. They woke me and my elder brother up on a cool morning in May. It was 5 am. We walked sleepily with them to the closest park and sat down. When they forced us to walk around, we slouched for a few metres and sat down again. My parents left us there and began walking along the diametre of the park.
My brother, with his charming and respectable personality, was in a traditional kurta-pajama that day. He was sitting on a bench and I was down on the grass in a traditional salwar suit. Not sure what inspired him. My brother began preaching me in pure traditional Hindi about ‘Nidra Devi‘ (the godess of sleep), which was a beautiful construct of his overactive imagination. Like a true Swami, he preached me that sleep was a way to being close to God. I sat at his feet with my hands joined like a true follower, crying out intermittently in a loud voice, “Swami ji satya kehte h. Swami ji amar rahe.” (“The Great Preacher says the truth! Long live, Great Preacher!”) Together we sang a bhajan in praise of this newly-discovered goddess. His language and my acting was so impressive that people began to come close to hear what the wise man had to say. By the time, my parents had done two rounds of that park (around 1 km), we had shamed them enough never to bring us along again.
I tried again some years later when I had joined office gym, but that meant bathing and breakfasting in office. After having heavy breakfast (exercise makes you hungry) with a bunch of friends (laughter helps gain weight), I gained even more weight in that month. So I stopped.
Well, now the first resolution is broken, I made new New Year Resolutions: I will try to remember when to take medicine; I will try to eat healthier, if not less; I will try to spend less time on laptop and more with real people…Of course, the promises were broken the same morning when I forgot to take my calcium tablets, ate gajar ka halwa and potato sandwiches for breakfast while watching a movie on my laptop.
I am unsure if I should make more resolutions or ‘re-resolute’ myself to keep these old ones.
What do you say?
Did you make/break any new year resolution too?
Those of you who have followed me for some time must have noticed that lately, my posts are less and farther between than ever in the past. It’s not that I am out of juice…just out of energy. My househelp had to leave suddenly and I haven’t found a replacement.
I am not sure how many of you can truly understand the place of househelp in an Indian household. Losing one is akin to losing a hand and both legs.
If her husband is ill, an Indian woman will be concerned. If you tell her that her maid is unwell, she will be hysterical. She will cry her eyes out and blame her husband for all her misery while washing utensils in the kitchen or kneeding the dough, as if he’s the only one who eats. And while washing clothes, she will pray for her sons (even six-months old…or rather, especially six-months old) to grow up quickly and get married so that there will be someone to help in washing their clothes. If it is a daughter, she will try to help, keep getting in the way and falling over the spilled detergent, increasing the size of laundry. Then, the woman will wish that she would grow up and stop helping.
A house without househelp is a complete chaos. Mountain of utensils keeps toppling over. The mop gathers dust and clothes gather in piles all over the house–piles of washed clothes, piles of dirty clothes, piles of clothes okay to be worn again and so on. The family winds its way around these hillocks, trying to find space enough to place their feet.
Visitors are returned from the door on the pretext of COVID to avoid potential embarrassment due to the lack of space to sit, since all chairs are covered with clothes of varied level of privacy. Husbands might have to sleep in a sitting posture if the clothes on the bed are not dealt with, until a replacement is found.
With my househelp gone for a month, I am now looking for a spot big enough to sit so that we can sleep. If not, one of the hillocks will do…
Short Stories | Fish-eye Perspective 