akhil katyal poetry

Your small hands

2012-02-03T23:09:00.000-08:00

Your small hands have been in mine
and your words have been warm against me,
we saw, as we entered, this had its time,
I tied your shoelaces, you mine,
but it wouldn’t do if it was all like that.

I creased your shirt in that last hour,
do not smoothen it right away, a while
to reach the door, till then let the folds reckon
against your body that it wouldn’t do
if it was all like that, it would never,
yes, if it was all like that?

You’d be all right, I never doubt, you’d be
counting the hours but only the first few,
love, know that days take over the night
(if it is summer) and you’d be all right
because all along you knew, that
it wouldn't do if it was all like that.

(Thanks to Nigel Kneale and John Osborne)

तुम कोई मेट्रो स्टेशन होती

2012-01-27T10:51:00.000-08:00

तुम कोई मेट्रो स्टेशन होती

तो ज़रूर येल्लो लाइन पर

'घिटोरनी' होती, इससे कम

दमदार नाम तुम पर जचता

हि नहीं, मेरा क्या, मैं तो

ऐसे हि ठीक हूँ, तुम्हारे मेरे

बीच ये पूरी दिल्ली है, इसलिए

आने से डरता हूँ, थोड़ा मीक हूँ

- सदा तुम्हारा,

'विश्वविद्यालय'

For the first few days

2012-01-14T08:33:00.000-08:00

'since I know you'll be coming down the road;

since I've put away dinner 'til that time;

since there is grass under ground, waiting to grow.'

- Kyla Pasha

For the first few days, everything

here had a thin film over it, as if I

saw them from the eyes of years
before, that film is almost shed now
and there is no distance any more
between me and this gamble that
is now laid down, between me and
the places here where I am now
hesitantly putting this hope – let me
cope, after all, how tough can it be,
there was love and now the next thing
will be that which comes after it,
a kind of (I find) modesty, an aftertaste,
a willingness but without the haste
and a new sort of ability to know
before it comes, that trough and
that crest, to know when it is time
to go, and to know the time to rest.

Khusro and Nizam: A villanelle

2011-12-13T11:01:00.000-08:00

'The real causes of the loss of the Mughal Empire were some mistakes committed by the elders of that king [Bahadur Shah], and the biggest of them all was that they had separated lover and beloved from each other, by burying Muhammad Shah between the graves of Hazrat Mahboob Elahi and Hazrat Amir Khusro' - Ahmed Ali, 'Twilight in Delhi'

They parted them in their graves,
for a Mughal to be buried in between.
Khusro and Nizam count the days,

how long before this city's razed?
Part not the lovers, the curse had been,
they parted them in their graves.

Now look from the ridge, all Delhi's ablaze,
'They exiled the king, what do you mean?'
Khusro and Nizam count the days,

till Bahadur Shah looks for a little place
to be buried in, far from home, unseen,
they parted them in their graves.

Setting up the marquee, a worker says,
'They're white as milk, the new king an' queen,'
Khusro and Nizam count the days,

till the time another Delhi pays
its ransom to the lovers that had been,
they parted them in their graves.
Khusro and Nizam count the days.

The places that are left - Mangalesh Dabral

2011-12-06T10:21:00.001-08:00

tr. from Mangalesh Dabral's Hindi poem 'Bachi Hui Jagahein'

These days, I keep forgetting things, keep losing them,

I misplace my glasses, lose my pen,

a second ago, somewhere, I saw the colour blue,

now I do not know where it has gone.

I forget answering letters, paying my debts,

I forget saying my hellos an' goodbyes to friends,

regretting that my hands remain full with work

that has little to do with me,

sometimes, having forgotten a thing,
I can not even remember forgetting it.

Mother used to tell me to go to those places

where I had last seen, taken off or kept those things.

This way I usually found them and was thrilled.

Mother used to say that these things, wherever they are,

make a place of their own and do not let go easily.

Now mother is no longer with me,

only her place is left.

Things get lost but their places remain,

moving with us all our lives,

We move elsewhere, leaving our homes, our people,
the water, the trees,

like a stone, I had washed away from a mountain,

that mountain must still have a little place left.

Meanwhile, my city was submerged by a big dam,

they have made another city in its place
but I said this is not it, my city is now an empty feeling.

Things happen and then pass

but where they happened, those places add up,

those places move with me,
reminding me of all that I have forgotten

and of all that I have lost.

पत्थर - चार्ल्स सिमिक

2011-11-27T11:19:00.001-08:00

tr. from Charles Simic's 'Stone'

कभी पत्थर बनो
मेरी तो यही सलाह है।
कोई बनता है तो जाए कबूतर बने
जाए शेर बनकर दांत पीसे,
मैं तो पत्थर बन कर हि खुश हूँ।

बाहर से एक पहेली तो है ये पत्थर:
किसी को समझ थोड़ी हि आया है।
फिर भी देखो, अन्दर चुप-चाप, सुस्ता रहा होगा,
चाहे उसपर गाय धम से चलती बने,
चाहे कोई बच्चा उसे नदी में फेंक दे,
वो डूब जाता है, धीरे से, थोड़ा सुस्ताता है
नीचे, नदी के तल पर
जहाँ मछलियां आकर उसपर खटखटाती हैं,
उसे हल्के से सुनती पाई जातीं हैं।

मैंने तो चिंगारियां भी देखी हैं
जब दो पत्थर आपस में घिसे जाते हैं,
तो फिर शायद उसके अन्दर अँधेरा नहीं हैं;
शायद उसके अन्दर चाँद निकलता है
ऐसे जैसे किसी टीले के पीछे से आया हो--
बस इतनी रौशनी लिए हुए
कि अन्दर कि तरफ कि ये अजीब सी लिखावट दिख जाये,
ये सारे तारे दिख जाएँ, इधर उधर फैले हुए।

You

2011-11-08T05:32:00.000-08:00

You push the bag under your seat,
sidle back, make space for more,
'This is the Piccadilly line service
to Heathrow terminal 4,' you see
attics pass by and vacant lots of
the city you are leaving make their
graffiti as if to say - a year later,
it is only yesterday, a year later,
it is only yesterday. And you think,
if you were given one more question
for her, you would ask, how long does
this year of separation last, how long
does it take for a shadow to fall
between what we love an' what we
fear; you are near, the tube halts, you
take a long step out so as not to miss
the ground beneath your feet, how bad
a joke departure is, to leave everyone
you meet. You board your plane, take
your seat again, an' by way of love, the
city tilts when you see it last, it begins to
melt as the plane turns around, you sigh,
for love, a bit like the seat-belt you tie,
guards you but always holds you down.

क्या से क्या हो जाए

2011-10-23T14:56:00.000-07:00

तुम्हें देखे कोई तो क्या से क्या हो जाए,
इक नज़र पड़े और सुन्नी शिया हो जाए

डर डर के खोलते हैं अब अपना फेसबुक का पेज,

कहीं तुम फिर दिखो और कोई वाक्या हो जाए

आज रात किसको अपनी आखों में बांधे रखे हो,
कभी मूँद लेना उनको कि वो भी रिहा हो जाये

ये आठवां महिना बीतता हि नहीं, साल होने को

आया, हम तो चाहते हैं कि महिना नवां हो जाए

इश्क़ के बाद भी तो इश्क़ ज़रूर होता होगा,
देखे चलो, अखिल, कब कौन ज़रिया हो जाए

Back from the library having read Donne

2011-09-24T05:28:00.001-07:00

'If it makes you feel any better,' I said,
'write him a letter.' 'And what is that,'
Tim asked, 'supposed to achieve,'
struck by this, bookishly, I quoted Donne,
'Why, for one, men are sponges, which,
to pour out, receive, first you send him
some words, and then he'll send back...'
'...words,' Tim frowned, 'should I shove 'em
in your crack, when all I want is his kiss,'
but I, presently high on Donne, jump at
exactly this, and say 'see, Tim, more
than kisses, letters mingle souls,' Tim
rolls his eyes, as if least concerned
with the meeting of souls, 'then Akhil,'
he says, 'if this be true, just tell me
this, why do all letters ask for a kiss?'

क्यूँ है

2011-09-01T04:01:00.000-07:00

कितना है बदनसीब “ज़फ़र″ दफ़्न के लिए

दो गज़ ज़मीन भी न मिली कू-ए-यार में - बहादुर शाह ज़फ़र (1775-1862)

जो तू कर पाए ना, ऐ खुदा, वो तेरा काम क्यूँ है,
तुझसे होता नहीं रहम तो रहीम तेरा नाम क्यूँ है।

तुम जब गए थे मेरे घर से, सब कुछ ले के गए थे,
फिर आज कल इन कमरों में तेरा सामान क्यूँ है।

बड़ी महंगी पड़ी ये नज़र, जो तुमने देखा हमको,
ये तो बता कि तेरे हर तोहफे का कोई दाम क्यूँ है।

जब बात एक, साज़ एक, कलाम एक, आवाम एक,
सरहद आइना हो, तो हिंदुस्तान-पाकिस्तान क्यूँ है।

ज़फ़र, तस्सल्ली रख, यार तो सिर्फ दिल में रहता है,
फिर मानो तो रंगून भी दिल्ली है, तू परेशान क्यूँ है।

बातों-बातों में हि, अखिल, तुम सर दुखाये थे अपना,

तो उससे फिर से बातें करने का ये अरमान क्यूँ है।

Come let me walk you down the Pentonville Road

2011-07-23T20:04:00.000-07:00

Come let me walk you down the Pentonville Road

come let us do our last thing as friends

for once you take that train back home

our beginnings won't know our ends.

Come let me give you my hand to hold awhile

or to rest your troubled head, my shoulder,

for if again, some evening, you'd think of calling me,

you might feel that much more the bolder.

Come let me wait a bit for your train with you,

another five minutes dawdling in King's Cross,

another five minutes, for us, for all our love,

another five minutes, for us, for all our loss.

(Thanks to Simon Gray)

मुझे बस

2011-07-06T02:54:00.001-07:00

मुझे बस इक लोहे का टुकड़ा बना दे, रब,

मैं उसकी बेल्ट का बकल बन जाऊं,

मुझे उसके कमरे का आइना बना दे, रब,

मैं रोज़ उसकी हि शकल बन जाऊं।

मुझे रुकने का इरादा बना दे, ऐ खुदा,

जो मैं आऊँ तो वो खुदा-हाफिज़ कह न सके,

मुझे घुटनों कि नरमी बना दे, ऐ खुदा,

मैं गुदगुदाऊँ, तो वो खुद में रह न सके।

मुझे मेरे यार का मोबाइल फ़ोन बना दे, रब,

मैं उसकी पैंट कि जेब में बैठा गाता रहूँ,

जो डाले कभी वो अपनी शर्ट कि जेब में मुझे,

मैं उसके दिल के करीब युं आता रहूँ।

I do not know

2011-06-28T17:48:00.001-07:00

I do not know
when I thought
of you last, but
these few months
not a single day
has passed, an'
these few months,
each time I tried
to forget, tried to
do away with your
part, I had to brush
aside the fact that
I knew you by heart.

वक़्त ये दिखाया है उसने

2011-06-26T06:58:00.000-07:00

वक़्त ये दिखाया है उसने

तो वक़्त और भी दिखाएगा

जो बुरा सा है आज कल
तो वक़्त अच्छा भी आएगा

जो बादल हैं सर पर

तो बारिश तो होगी

बरस लेने दो इनको

फिर सूरज आएगा

लखनऊ, दिसंबर, उन्नीस सौ बयानवे

2011-06-07T22:00:00.001-07:00

लगभग सात-आठ साल का हूँगा मैं, माँ,

हमारे आँगन में सहजन के पेड़ के नीचे

चीटियाँ जब कतार बना कर चला करतीं,

तो मुझे शैतानी सूझा करती। उनकी कतार

के बीच में मैं थोड़ी सी अपनी थूक से कहीं

एक लाइन खींच देता, चीटियाँ सब कि

सब घबरा सी जातीं और मुझे बड़ा मज़ा

आता उनको ऐसे बिखरते हुए देख कर।

फिर एक दिन आँगन में यही सब नाटक

करने के बाद, मैं घर अन्दर आया और

सीधा आपके कमरे में। आप और पापा

दोनों टी-वी पर आखें जमायें, बड़े शौक

से कुछ देख रहे थे। वी-सी-आर में कैसेट

और स्क्रीन पर एक मस्जिद के तोड़े जाने

के कुछ जोशीले सीन। हज़ारों लोग एक

गुंबद पर धमा-धम, धमा-धम लगे हुए।

पापा आप से बोले 'जल्दी देख लो, द्विवेदी

जी के यहाँ से कैसेट आया है, और अब

शर्मा जी के यहाँ जाना है।' मैं तो थोड़ी

देर देख कर बोर हो गया, मुझे क्या पता

था कि हमारी कालोनी में ये कैसेट एक

घर से दुसरे घर सैर कर रहा है, कितने

मज़े से सारे अफसर लाइन लगाये बैठे हैं

कि कब देखने को मिले। तब कुछ अक्ल

होती, माँ, तो थोड़ी थूक इस कतार के लिए

भी बचाए रखता, तब कुछ अक्ल होती तो

ये समझने कि कोशिश करता कि क्यूं सब

के सब बन गए थे चीटियाँ, क्यूँ हड़बड़ाये से,

अंधे, टूट पड़े थे, क्यूं अफसर लोग अपने

घरों में कैसेट बाँट-बाँट जोश से फूट पड़े थे।

(एम् ऍफ़ हुसैन के लिए, हर एक निर्वासित कलाकार के लिए)

जो मैं मन को जानन लगी

2011-06-03T10:10:00.001-07:00

जो मैं मन को जानन लगी, तो जान नहीं पायी रे
मन हि मसीहा मोरा, मन हि कसाई रे
जो अब तक करती रही मैं अपनी हि मन-मानी
युं अपनी करते करते ये मैं कहाँ चली आई रे

Kate and Kirsty

2011-05-31T13:23:00.000-07:00

Kate thinks that in a few years

when she'll get a bit of a slouch,

she'll order around Kirsty, lying

down on her couch, 'Darling,

get some water, I'm thirsty,'

after all, she thinks, 'I'm five

years older than her, I can

always play that card.' Kate

should have thought better,

we do not grow old like this;

at thirty, twenties feel like bliss

but at sixty it seems contrived

to long to be fifty-five, they

are so much more the same.

You should've guessed it Kate,

with age, we drift nearer still,

a bit like love and hate, like

them we begin, tactless and

apart, like them we end up

too, playing each others' part.

Years before we thought

2011-05-07T16:33:00.000-07:00

Years before we thought

that years later, if nothing

else, we will have hindsight.

We will have years to look

back on with wonder and

regret, we will have friends,

and more, we will have love,

with beginnings and ends.

Now years have passed,

and we know that with

each year gone, we knew

a little less of the game,

we still had things wrong,

just less people to blame,

and we still had love, only

it went as it came, and we

knew one thing, to be sure,

about wanting to scream,

if you keep it in, quietly,

it comes out as a dream.

London night fox

2011-04-27T18:55:00.001-07:00

Say, where do you hide

when it's day, where do

you disappear in the light,

is it something in London

that's good only at night?

Is there something to be

told only in the dark, is it

scribbled on the kerb, is it

lost in the park, or is it that,

like me, you too are a bit of

a creep, always getting to

work when it's time to sleep.

मौत, इतना इतरा मत - जॉन डन

2011-04-15T17:09:00.000-07:00

मौत, इतना इतरा मत, जो कुछ ने तुझे

बड़ी

और डरावनी क्या कहा, ऐसी नहीं है तू,

वो जिन्हें तू सोचती है तूने हरा दिया, वो

मरते नहीं, ना हि मुझे मार सकी है तू। गर

आराम और नींद में, जो कि तेरी हि नक़लें हैं,

इतना मज़ा है, तो सोच तुझमें कितना होगा,

एक से एक जल्द चल पड़ते हैं तेरे संग, उनके

बदन कि आह है तू, उनकी आज़ाद रूह है तू।

तू तो ग़ुलाम है, किस्मत कि, इत्तिफ़ाक कि,

हकूमतों कि, बेअक्लों कि, और ज़हर, जंग

और बीमारियों में रहती है, नींद तो हमें अफ़ीम

से भी मिल जाती है, और तुझसे कई बेहतर,

तो तू क्यूं अकड़ाती है; ज़रा सी आँख लगने के

बाद, हमारी सुबह तो उसी कि बाहों में आएगी,

मौत, तू नहीं होगी वहां, मौत, तू मर जायेगी।

tr. from English 'Death be not proud', John Donne (1572-1631)

कितनी अच्छी

2011-04-11T17:04:00.000-07:00

कितनी अच्छी लिखूं ये नज़्म

कि घुल जाएँ उसमें मेरे सारे ख्वाब

कि खो जाए उसमें वो सारे दिन

तुम्हारे साथ, कि अब याद आयें

तो बस ऐसे कि याद आने पर

खुद नज़्म के लब्ज़ बन जाएँ,

कैसे लिखूं इतना अच्छा कि

खिड़की से बाहर शाम को युं ताकना,

कि देर तक टहलना, कि कभी-कभी

अजीब सा रहना, भी ऐसा लगे कि

शायरों के लिए तो आम है, जो बाकियों

को बस उलझा सा दर्द सा लगे, वो

तो इन शायरों का रोज़ का काम है,

इसी हुनर से तो उनकी ज़िन्दगी बनती है,

कैसे लिखूं इतना बढ़िया कि नज़्म

छिपा ले वो सब कुछ जिससे नज़्म बनती है।

This Winter - Mangalesh Dabral

2011-04-03T16:59:00.000-07:00

Last winter was hard,

I shiver when I remember it now

though this time, the days seem fine.

Last winter, my mother went,

I lost one love letter, lost one job,

don't know where I wandered at nights

don't know which numbers I dialed,

last winter

my things kept falling on me.

This time

I take out the clothes from that last winter,

quilts, caps, socks, scarves

I see them carefully

and think that that time has passed,

why will this winter be hard like before.

tr. from Hindi, 3rd April, 2011

Mangalesh Dabral's Hindi original 'इन सर्दियों में': http://tinyurl.com/3cwc4r8

ये तीस तारीख वाला मैच

2011-03-28T06:44:00.000-07:00

मुल्क चाहे जो भी जीते

अंदाज़ तो एक हि जीतेगा

युं बातें चाहें जिसकी जीतें

अल्फाज़ तो एक हि जीतेगा

हम खेल खेल में कुछ देर

'इंडिया' 'पाकिस्तान' करें

हम गेंदों और बल्लों कि ओर

थोड़ी देर युं ध्यान करें, पर

इधर से खेलो, उधर से खेलो

बात तो एक हि है बनती है

साठ साल कि सरहद ये

युं सर का दर्द हि बनती है

अपनों में गर हम हारें भी

तो है बस दिल हारने जैसा

युं धुन चाहे जिसकी जीते

साज़ तो एक हि जीतेगा

तेरा युं चले जाना भी तो इक निशाँ होगा

2011-03-14T12:42:00.000-07:00

तेरा युं चले जाना भी तो इक निशाँ होगा

मेरा औरों को चाहना भी तो इक निशाँ होगा,

और जो अबस उदास रहा था मैं इतने दिन

युं हल्के से मुस्कुराना भी तो इक निशाँ होगा।

बात फिर से इस ज़माने से मैं करने लगा

तेरी नज़रों के पहर से मैं उभरने लगा,

जो गए दिन मैं दोस्तों से छूटा-छूटा सा था

युं फिर ये दोस्ताना भी तो इक निशाँ होगा।

वक्त कैसा जो उम्मीद का दूसरा नाम न हो

सज़ा कैसी जो फिर बन्दों पर रहमान न हो,

फिर से लिखने लगा जो मैं तेरी बातों के सिवा

कभी-कभी तुझे भूल जाना भी तो इक निशाँ होगा।

उस तरह कि मोहब्बत फिर कहाँ से कर पाऊंगा मैं,

इस शहर में अब दूसरा हि खेल आज़माऊंगा मैं,

ऐसा नहीं कि फिर बात कभी तुझसे करूंगा नहीं

बस अभी न कर पाना भी तो इक निशाँ होगा।

(फैज़ के लिए)

Blue Morning at Penn Station, 2011

2011-03-10T20:10:00.000-08:00

'Blue Morning', George Bellows, 1909

Part of this is finding things and documenting them. A lot of things are not going to be here five to ten years from now. - George Bellows, 1882-1925, painter

Bellows would have said, c. 1910,

blue morning still comes even after

they carved up the Penn. New York

still turns, and how - with another

name, there is more of the same -

so what if lovers burn, then as now.

'He is late,' she says, and he: 'she never

calls, you see,' it's always, damn, the

same story, and her defence - 'he is, at

times, a fuckin' pain, can you believe it,

he voted McCain,' 'and she's, urrgghh,

liberal scum,' so the two go on with

their fight, an' the diggers blow up a

big hole where Penn station will come

up tonight, the whole island, it seemed

would have sunk with the explosion -

when the lovers said they'd move on -

blue mornings still come, after him, the

bed is still creased with longing, but then

no one ever said that break-ups can't

be fun (especially with a Republican),

just that those who part pay their fees,

they make slaughter and call it peace.

(Thanks to George Bellows and Tacitus)

23:00hrs Gatwick to Berlin

2011-02-28T14:52:00.000-08:00

The kid on the seat behind mine

tells his mom, 'this plane is going

to go hit the stars,' I think of the

likelihood, Chris, of it happening,

and smile, but on a night like this,

it seems, I know exactly what this

kid means. None of it happened,

though, on this flight, we gave the

stars a miss, reached by midnight,

and the last that I saw of him, that

kid, was on the walkway at Tegel,

half in sleep, so what if he could

not keep his promise, Berlin will

have to do, this time, for the stars,

will it not, Chris, tell me tonight,

will Berlin not do for Jupiter an' Mars?

Ol' Man Tom at Hampstead Heath

2011-02-06T16:23:00.000-08:00

'Ol' man Tom,' April joked, seeing
her college friend after years,
'Not all together old,' Tom replied
- fifty-two, but trying to sound
younger - they had come to meet
at Hampstead heath (it used to

be their running ground at UCL,

he had rung her after years) the
wind blew, Tom shivered a little,
April took out her cigarette pack,
and rolled, 'one to keep you warm,
will you, my poor Tom's a cold?'
He smiled, she, canny, had cited

his favorite play, no awkwardness
now, no, not today (she was his
first love when he was twenty)
she painted now, and got paid
for it, he wrote, an' once in while
got laid for it, she was his senior
at Slade, 'not bad,' Tom thought,
'she still remembers how I love
King Lear' - at school, she had
taken him under her wing, but
his love had been, as first loves
are, an unrequited thing, yet
once sown, their friendship had
(knowin' no other way) grown.
'Do you remember,' she said,
'we had made a song, walking
down the Gower Street, near
the school, Tom is April's, April's
Tom's, now all these years, and
again this heath,' Tom added,

again from Lear, 'and not all

together fool,' they laughed,

an' set about down to the pool,

the breeze blew soft over them,

April said, 'you have to meet her

Tom, she'll be here in a minute

or two, you'd like her, like you,

she's a writer,' her girlfriend, May,

Tom knew, but distracted, saw

how April's hair, white, grey,

reflected the evening light, and

just then when she had cited Lear,

he thought he could not take it,

would say, 'Can I hold you, April,

tight, this year, can I,' but did

not, for he saw her eyes turning

to where the pebble path went -

May, she was here, and Tom,

never too old to resent, now

quiet, would not say, 'How can

you, ever' he thought, 'come

between April and May?' The

three walked together, the girls

let Tom walk between them,

less like a man (a writer at

that) and more like a child,

the sun about to set, the black

birds now return, the heath

looks more wild, now, May,

always brisk, rushes ahead,

April holds her hand, 'careful

May, this heath's a bog, rained

yesterday, so slow down, dear,
it's bad,' Tom saw (they held

hands), he heard (she said 'dear,

it's bad') and suddenly, again,

Lear - 'O let me not be mad,

not mad, sweet heaven' - 'so slow

down, dear, it's bad' - 'Keep me

in temper,' Tom repeated to

himself, 'heaven, I would not

be mad,' 'It's late, and dark,' he

said ('pull yourself together,' he

thought) 'should we go to a pub,

it's almost seven,' (it is always

time to drink outside of heaven)

but May, pert, super sonic, not

listening to April rushed ahead

again, 'yes, I'll have a gin an' tonic,

and you?' but before they could

pick, brisk May, she slipped.

April stood laughing at her, an'

Tom, suddenly finding his foe

momentarily defeated, his

jealousy, it strangely depleted,

and he rushed to pick her up,

'new lovers of old friends should
always be treated with unusual

kindness,' so Tom, feeling more

at ease, gave his hand to May,

(he joked - 'here, her highness!')

she, quivering, held his, tight,

they got up, it was dark then,

their 3 shadows stood with

the trees, fading light, April

laughing, Tom and May, now

holding eachother's hands, what

strange places love brings us,

what strange lands, they -

now just 3 old folks, on the

brink of they know not what,

decide to go for another drink,

an' not that this, being old, has

given him a clue about love, or

made him bold, but with friends

who are on the same page - grey

but not too wise with age, living

but never hunting for gold, with

them, poor Tom, he's not too cold.

(Thanks to Inayat Anaita Sabhikhi)

Tim's day out in Falmouth (Cornwall)

2011-01-29T19:51:00.000-08:00

As the sleeper moves more south, more west

of London, some place names come weird, the

rest you just cannot say (what we don't know

(Cornish) we let it lay), it halts at Taunton an' Truro,

an' Looe an' Learkside, an' when you pass all these,

you reach Gyllyngvase, if you please. Tim had to give

a lecture; that done, earlier in the day, he goes out

into the evenin' sun, obeying what his supe' had to say,

'Cornwall? perfect, don't forget, once you teach, go hit

the beach, they don't come more blue.' That was true

enough (Tim saw some surfers too) but he'd always

been skeptic of small towns, never could stray from

the centre of things, for him, it was always either

London or New York, cities which call a sfork a sfork,

where you shout (you want to) when you talk, look out

(you have to) when you walk, not these one High Street

towns, damn, 'what to make of Falmouth,' Tim frowns,

'these small Cornwall seaside downs,' so much so that

he feels a bit dismayed, when the owner of the guest

house where he stayed, says 'Back from the beach?

So you goin' to hit the town?' 'What town,' Tim almost

said, then felt silly, might as well, 'can't just sit here,

shaking me willy.' He went out, and in about half an

hour, he was glad he was there, the street was full

of the seaside air, not many people but under these

lights, this night felt different from all other nights.

He walked into a pub where 3 men sat, 'let's try,' he

thought, 'some sort of sea port chat,' he was afraid,

though, that it would not click, all sea-talk he knew

was in Moby Dick, but Tim, you see, flirts a lot when

he's on a trip (he trips a lot, that's another thing, when

he flirts), but three pints down, he forgets the fear and

turns a little loud when speaking to one third of the crowd,

'What's your name,' he asks the red shirt, 'Chris,' 'new

around here?' and then that is that and this is this,

they talk till they are well past the intro, and are now

poking fun (at each other, when did he do this last in

London?) they ask the full names of the other. 'Chris,

Chris Weizenbaum', Tim laughs and says 'what's sort of

name's Chris, for a proper Jew boy like this' 'Why, what's

wrong, did you expect Jacob or Moses?' 'No no, that's too

much, but at least a Leo,' Tim went on, when he thinks Jew,

he thinks talent, he thinks of Jerry Seinfeld or Woody Allen,'

and slightly tipsy, Tim imagines them passing their

baton on to Chris, and all of Manhattan (Jew paradise)

is suddenly this, and this, here, the Falmouth night

wears on, the nip in the air enters the door, the

barman here, seems to be done, 'we'll close now,

sons, it's already one,' (urgh, small towns!) they walk

out, more like, they flow, in a bit, Tim gets to know

that Chris is Irish, he laughs, 'Are you thinking what

I am thinking? Gay and Jew, and Irish too, think of

all the cards that you can play.' 'Well it would seem,'

Chris says winking, 'all three have come to use today.'

(Thanks to Howard Jacobson)

Returning from the Piccadilly Cinema

2011-01-22T17:11:00.000-08:00

Tim thought it slightly odd

that, after a movie, he would

think so much of him. To

overreact to a film might

seem a little sad to you,

and so it did to Tim, but

movies, they do that to you.

Walking back, he thought of

those days with him, 'what's

the point,' he asked, 'of looking

into the past, it only tells you

how long misunderstandings last,'

yet this twenty-five year old

kept on chewing the plot in his

head, the guy in the film, he

remembered, said 'I love you

still, there is no point lying,

in the end we're all dead, or

dying,' on his way back, Tim

did not think of anything as

far as tha', but wished he

knew, tonight, if not how to

set right what now was riven,

at least to know how much he

had to forgive and be forgiven.

(Thanks to Vikram Seth)

मेरे शहर कि आदत है

2011-01-20T15:10:00.000-08:00

मेरे शहर कि आदत है

मेरे रंग में ढल जाना,

कभी हसूं, तो गलियाँ

भी बारी-बारी मुस्कुराएं,

रोऊँ तो चौराहों कि ये

सड़कें तक सिमट जाएँ,

गुस्से में स्ट्रीट लाइट भी

जल-बुझ जल-बुझ करे

और गर शायराना हूँ मैं

तो पूरी सिटी मुझपर मरे,

शहरों कि आखिर यही तो

ख़ास बात है, जो भी मूड हो,

साला शहर अपने साथ है।

Tonight

2011-01-08T12:29:00.000-08:00

The thirsty caravans pitch their tents, they dream of wine tonight.
You are the stuff that dreams are made of, come in mine tonight?

‘Who’s there? Othello?’ ‘Ay, Desdemona.’ ‘Will you come to bed,

my lord?' 'His eyes roll so,' she thinks, ‘Othello, be kind tonight.’

God, in his loneliness, has put his love up for auction.
Satan, last guest to arrive, will you be buyin’ tonight?

They say all things lost go to Brighton. Really? My way
must be lying in those pebbles, can you find tonight?

"Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me, aren't you?"
“You always thought I was nice, I see no harm tryin’ tonight.”

How can you, Vladi, string such a cruel story for swans?

Odette waits, and for Odile, the Prince will pine tonight.

Even a little bit of light reminds me of you, Lalita.

Moon, don't roam in my lane, would you mind, tonight?

सुलझ जायेगी ये भी सालों में, अनबन हि तो है

2011-01-02T13:37:00.001-08:00

सुलझ जायेगी ये भी सालों में, अनबन हि तो है,
मौसम ये भी बीतेगा, आखिर मौसम हि तो है।

पच्चीस साल के लड़कों को दिली दांव समझ लेने चाहिए,
जो अब गवायेंगे तो कह न पाएंगे कि लड़कपन हि तो है।

अरे ख़ुशी तो हमको भी है उनसे दूर जाने की,
क्या हुआ जो उनकी ख़ुशी से ज़रा कम हि तो है।

गर कभी सोचो, अखिल, इसके बाद रखा क्या है,
पीछे कायनात पूरी, आगे तमाम चमन हि तो है।

An Acrostic

2011-01-01T18:18:00.000-08:00

Light, you said in class, was God's first
And sky was the second, poor old guy,
Lewd, a bit, sly, a lot, but when he got
In the mood, he mixed all the sunshine
That he could find, with all the laughter
And made you; we, happily, came after.

December goes mad

2010-12-26T14:37:00.001-08:00

December goes mad

when it snows so much.

V hangs those blinking lights

on his window for Christmas.

They are tacky, about a yard,

turn red and green, then

for some seconds, go off and

can not be seen, so that V

who would strike out on his own

tonight, finds it hard.

But when they are lit, he sees the city

between their red and green, and

nothing, it seems, is stopping it,

the cars run by and the boys on the

bus stops fill the sky with their cigarettes,

and tonight, even if it is not like in

the films, it is not much worse, and

December, V would know, is only

mad at the snow because it melts,

and, try as it might, it can not let go.

Delhi

2010-12-18T14:24:00.000-08:00

It is two years before,
I am in Delhi again.

They’ve made me stay
at the Gandhi guest house
for the conference.

Off the Ring Road,
behind Raj Ghat, a turn
I had never taken before.

It is that night again of two years before.

At I.T.O, I board the bus back
and sit on the second last seat.

From the last row
I can hear you and me,
I am telling you he will understand,
my room-mate, come
and stay tonight.

I am trying hard to hear
but you and I are almost whispering.

It is that February night again,
of two years before.
The winter is on its last leg.

I get off the bus with you guys,
keeping two steps, I walk behind.

I want to tell you, and me, to be kind

and not raise the stakes

tonight,

the night of the smallest month,
for small love.
I do not rue it, and two years before,

that winter night, I leave you two to it.

Don’t bring on the day

2010-12-14T17:01:00.000-08:00

this December night.

When Washington Sq.
is all blue.

The trees get used

to the tree lights.

When the time comes
I will lose track of you.

When the time comes,
the whole of Manhattan

will drift on the river in my city.

We will sit,
I will count out the names
of all those I love
and you will remember yours.

And once the notes are exchanged
it will be right.

Don’t bring on the day,
this December night.

माँ, देहरादून के वो दिन याद हैं?

2010-12-13T19:17:00.000-08:00

माँ, देहरादून के वो दिन याद हैं, आपके साथ

केन के झूले में मेरी जबरदस्ती घुसने कि कोशिश,

भैय्या कि हर अकेली तस्वीर को बिगाड़ देना, उसके

फ्रेम में अचानक दौड़ कर, और जो पालतू गाय थी,

पीछे आँगन में बंधी हुई, उसके सींग के साथ खेलना,

फिर आपको ये कह के डराना कि पेट में मार डाला

गाय ने, आप पेट में निशाँ ढूँढती हि रह जातीं। और

मैं हर चीज़ में अपनी टांग अड़ाने में कोई ख़ास शोहरत

देखता। उन्हीं दिनों, स्कूल कि टीचर ने फैंसी ड्रेस

कोम्पीटिशन के लिए मुझे 'मुस्लिम' बनने कि राय दी थी

- 'शकल से तो अखिल मुस्लिम हि लगता है', घर में

सबने हस के कहा, फिर सफ़ेद टोपी, कुरता-पायजामा

और काले स्केच-पेन से मूंछ खींच कर स्टेज पर भेज

दिया था, अभी भी वो तस्वीर है कहीं घर में, माँ, कभी

दिल लगाके ढूंढूंगा उसे और साथ बैठ कर याद दिलाऊँगा।

Tim calls from Brighton

2010-12-01T14:46:00.000-08:00

Tim calls from Brighton, panting,

I ask him what's wrong with you,

he says he wants a bit of friendly

advice but mainly needs my cue

for ranting, I plop myself on the

bed and give him the 'Go ahead.'

'If only,' he says, 'I could forget

him, all will be fine,' he's lonely,

my instinct says, but I listen to

his words an' keep a tab on mine,

but soon, Tim, without a sense

of proportion, as is usual with him,

lets his grumbling decline from

the high themes of love and loss,

to how his day had been, what he'd

read and what he'd seen, how he

goes to the gym, to gather moss,

for the hot guys, but still, hates

to get on the treadmill. We yack

about his daily itinerary, bitch

about the world, and wax literary,

'Love, you know Tim, is a bit like

your treadmill, where else would we

sweat so much, with heart-rate

gaining, think about time elapsed

and the time remaining, and run

like that (we don't want to be parted)

only to end at the point we started.'

The trick of love

2010-11-29T14:39:00.000-08:00

The trick of love

runs so deep,

how easy to start,

how hard to keep.

Three wishes

2010-11-27T16:44:00.000-08:00

When God appeared

and said 'I will give

you three wishes

before you die,' you

asked, 'Let my mother

know that I hid two

things from her - that

I loved her always

more than I could say

and that I was to die

young, before my day,

(only the young are

unafraid to die, which

would have been bold,

if they were not afraid

of growing old) and

let my lover know

that I did try to be

less of a pain, and if

I could have done it,

I would have done

again, he and I, but

I go before my time,

as they say, though

after our last fight,

I think I have timed

my exit right, and,'

God, impatient now

with your wishes

asked for the third,

you said, 'if you have

to give, then in my

next life let me live

as a bird, perched

near those I loved,

so that if I see them

on their wistful day,

I may rush to their

windows and sing

them a song, nothing's

wrong, it will say, it will

be better, and then,

as unlikely as lightning on

a summer's day, happiness,

it will strike again.'

We go at it like insane

2010-11-13T17:23:00.000-08:00

We go at it like insane, we

break up, we make up and

break up again, and when

we think we could do this

for a while, the game is

called off due to rain (we

thank the gods for their

timeliness, for their pain).

We call each other to our

cities, we cross the Atlantic

twice in a night, get knackered

and have a spat, Jackie K says

'Life is like that,' we only love,

we only fight, get to know better

in hindsight, and 1 pm voices tell

us to stop flying for once, and

remain, forget East Coast, they

say, come rest with us in Spain.

For Irom Chanu Sharmila

2010-11-11T05:46:00.000-08:00

There is no way through checkpoints,

no way through a stuck dvd, no way

to end the argument when it happens

between you and me, there is no way

through the odor of gun shots that looms

around here everyday, like there is no way

through a lover's head, or through the

cheerfulness of news anchors who have

for long made up their minds, there is no

way for a heaven if angels resign, or for

a country that sits still, when its poets go

hungry for years singing where there's a will...

कल

2010-11-03T17:48:00.000-07:00

कल प्रोटेस्ट मार्च में देखा था तुमको। बैनर के

पतले गत्ते पर अपना स्लोगन लिख कर अकेले

कोने में खड़े थे। हल्की सी बारिश से मारकर की

लाल स्याही बहने लगी थी। मैं ये सोच के परेशान

की ऐसे वक्त भी दिख जाता है कोई। इस प्रोटेस्ट

का आखिर एक सबब है, पर तुम्हें देख कर ये थोड़ा

उलझ सा रहा है। फिर भी भोंदू सा खड़ा होकर घूरे

जा रहा हूँ तुम्हें। तुम्हारी शर्ट के नीचे भरा-भरा सा

बदन, इन दिनों जब सब ऐब्स के पीछे पड़ें हैं, मार

जिम में थकने जाते हैं, पसीना बहातें हैं, तो तुम्हारी

कमर कि ये चरबी, ये फलां के हाथ रखने के लिए

ज़रा सी जगह, कुछ ज़्यादा ही अच्छी लग रही है।

आज

2010-10-11T16:30:00.000-07:00

आज फेसबुक पर तुम्हारे बचपन कि एक तस्वीर

दिख गयी। कुछ छे-सात साल के होगे, भूरी नेकर

और उसमें घुसाई हुई नीली 'हाल्फ-स्लीव' शर्ट

जो कि कोहनियों तक बेशर्म झूलती जा रही है।

हम नाइंटी-नाइंटीज़ के बच्चे हि ऐसे बेडौल कपड़े

पहनते थे, अब देखो तो कितने भद्दे लगते हैं,

उन्हीं कपड़ों में जिनको शौक से चढ़ाए शाम को

मोहल्ले में फिरा करते थे। कॉलोनी कि मेन सड़क

पर टहलते-टहलते पड़ोसी दिख जाएँ तो 'नमस्ते

अंकल,' 'नमस्ते आंटी' करके अपनेआप को बड़ा

समझदार मानते, कंघी किये हुए बालों में अपने

मम्मी-पापा का स्टेटस चिपकाए चलते और

अंग्रेज़ी के इस्तमाल से कुछ लोंगों को दबाने में

मज़े लेते। अब तुम्हारी इस तस्वीर में मुझे अपना

छे-सात साल वाला वही बेढंगापन दिखाई देता है।

लगता है इस तस्वीर के खिंचने के एक-दो दिन पहले

नाइ ने तुम्हारे सर पर एक कटोरा रख कर बाकी बाल

छांट डाले थे। इस कटोरे-कट में हस्ते हो तो बिलकुल

लंगूर लगते हो। अब ये मैं मानूं तो कैसे मानूं कि कल

रात यही बाल सवारें थे मैंने, इन्हीं को एक तरफ से

हलके-हलके दूजी तरफ किया था, और तुम्हारे साथ,

इन्हीं में मुंह छिपाए इक पूरा अरसा जिया था।

अकेली है

2010-09-07T19:26:00.000-07:00

अकेली है खिड़की कि सिल्ली, अकेली बाहर रात ये,

है अकेली बिजलियों से बादलों कि मुलाक़ात ये, अकेले

सुर में गड़गड़ाता है ये सारा आसमां, गड़गड़ा कर

फिर जो होती अकेली वो बरसात ये। इन दरवाज़ों

के खुलने कि चरचराहट वो भी तो अकेली हि है,

उन पर किसी के पैरों कि आहट वों भी तो अकेली

हि है, जा के देखें हमारे दर पर है किसी ने दस्तक दिया,

दरवाज़ों पर ये खटखटाहट वों भी तो अकेली हि है।

आग लग जाए कमरे में मेरे, तो हर चीज़ भी अकेली

जले, किताबें झुलस जाएँ तो पन्नों पर हर लकीर भी

अकेली जले, लपटें मुझ तक आ कर हि भला युं रुक क्यों

जातीं हैं, क्या चाहती हैं कि मेरी ये तकदीर भी अकेली जले।

After

2010-09-03T16:47:00.000-07:00

After those wasted motel-rooms, after

photographs of dusky skylines, after

room-windows that open at traffic-lights

and riversides all soaked up in a sponge,

there, after gravity, we give us another

chance, hang out, doubt ourselves, lose

step, dance. Before wide eyed closeups

signal impending disaster, before the

feelings consume obsolete men, before

tomorrow when lotuses burn and love

reaches Last Star Ave., the universe is

rent, you and I wait, touch, doubt, end.

कैसे

2010-08-27T04:06:00.000-07:00

यहाँ हर दिल में है दोज़ख की आग, उसको बुझायें कैसे,

ज़मीन की इस जन्नत को फिर से जन्नत बनाएं कैसे।

पत्थर कश्मीर कि सड़कों पर गिर कर भी घिसते नहीं,

हिन्दुस्तां हर पत्थर से आज़ादी का नाम मिटाये कैसे।

चाहते तो ये हैं कि बदल दें जो खुदा ने तकदीर में लिखा,

पर उसके कागज़ पर उसका हि दस्तख़त हम बनाएं कैसे।

ऐ तेहरीक के अजनबी, जो लब्ज़ लिखे थे तुम्हारी शहादत

के पहले, अब हर उस कसीदे को मर्सिया हम बनाएं कैसे।

फुरसत हो, ऐ नबी, तो फिर से आना हमारी दुनिया में,

ये न सोचना कि इतना होने के बाद अब हम जाएँ कैसे।

ख़त तो तुम लिखने बैठे, अखिल, पर इस वतन में डाकखाने

हि नहीं, अब अपना पैगाम उस मुल्क तक पहुँचवायें कैसे।

(आग़ा शाहिद अली के लिए)

अब आयें हैं

2010-08-07T17:04:00.000-07:00

अब आयें हैं फिर पहली दफा मुस्कुराने के दिन,

आँखें चुरा, सांसें दबा, कुछ न कह पाने के दिन,

तुम्हारे बाद, सोचा न था, इतनी जल्द मेरे दर पर

आ जायेंगें, चख कर प्यार, फिर से आज़माने के दिन।

हुईं हैं कॉलेज में मेरे अब फिर से वही कारावाहियाँ शुरू,

छु कर रह जाने के खेल कर रहीं हैं ये कलाईयाँ शुरू,

बेढंगी बातें करने का अब जो जी फिर से करने लगा,

तो उसके बोले ही फिर उड़ने को होती हैं मेरी हवाईयां शुरू।

अब फिर किताबों में मन नहीं, काम सब टलने को है,

फिर उस कॉल के इंतज़ार में ये दिन बलदलने को है,

इश्क में हिदायत होती है कि दूसरी दफा संभल कर करें,

तो फिर से मेरा मन क्यों फिसल कर चलने को है।

Tonight

2010-05-21T01:29:00.000-07:00

Tonight, we measure our distance
to the sky, or figure out how far
is one star from the other; how long
would it take us to walk to the moon,
if we were to try, or how wide apart
do this world's ends lie. Of all the
precedents we could have found,
we took our cue from galaxies, and
kept far, but when we felt blue,
the first thing to fall was the sky, now
reached by hand, and you and I saw
the stars huddling close together
in the night (because light-years are
nothing in the absence of light) and
the moon lapsed into the little puddle
on the ground, where it shone, and
this world, insolvent without you,
demurred, but somewhere in history
to make its ends meet, got curved.

मैन्नु लत लगी सी तेरी

2010-05-17T18:06:00.000-07:00

मैन्नु लत लगी सी तेरी
हुन छुट्ते-छुट्ते छुट्टेगी
ऐ जो गल सी तेरी-मेरी
हुन टुट्ते-टुट्ते टुट्टेगी।
ऐथ्थे मिंटा विच धुप ते मीं
ते बर्फ़बारी होंदी ऐ; ओ यारी,
मेरे मौसमां नु ऐ की कर दित्ता,
तू ते लुट्ते-लुट्ते लुट्टेगी।

ऐ दिल, हम उसे भूलेंगे

2010-05-05T11:02:00.000-07:00

tr. from Emily Dickinson's 'HEART, we will forget him!'

ऐ दिल, हम उसे भूलेंगे,
मैं और तुम, इस रात,
तुम चाहो तो भूलना उसकी हसी
मैं भूलूँ उसका साथ।

जब हो जाए, मुझे बताना ज़रूर

कि मैं भी ख़यालों को दूँ लगाम;
जल्द करना, की कहीं तुम पिछड़ो
और मुझे याद आजाए उसका नाम!

(HEART, we will forget him!
You and I, to-night!
You may forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.

When you have done, pray tell me,
That I my thoughts may dim;
Haste! lest while you’re lagging,
I may remember him!)

Of this I was certain

2010-04-29T18:15:00.001-07:00

Of this I was certain

that the taller one has to make

the first move because it is

too awkward for the short one

to subtly - as they say - lean in.

I want to meet him in the eye,

not hit him in the chin. So I told

you the problem I could not skirt:

is there a right height to flirt?

'Why that's a lie,' you said,

'the short one's equally slated

to win. Perhaps by design,

give your voice another lilt,

or deliberately whisper a word.

To hear it, the tall guy would

resign and tilt, and I am hoping

your prayers would be heard.

At any rate, it's as good an excuse

that the tall ones try: 'Hey,

is there something in your eye?'

मुझे इश्क से सिर्फ़ उसकी शुरुवात चाहिए - आग़ा शाहिद अली

2010-04-03T07:27:00.000-07:00

tr. from Agha Shahid Ali's 'I want from love only the beginning,' his version of the poem by Mahmoud Darwish, from collection 'Rooms are Never Finished'

मुझे इश्क से सिर्फ़ उसकी शुरुवात चाहिए। कबूतर रफू करतें हैं,
मेरे ग्रानाडा के चौराहों पर, आज की शर्ट।
हमारे चिकनी मिट्टी के घड़ों में शराब है, हमारे बाद के जशन के लिए
और इन गानों में खिड़कियाँ हैं: काफ़ी हैं फूलों के फूट पड़ने के लिए।

मैं चमेली को वास में रहने देता हूँ। अपने बचकानू दिल को
अपनी मां की अलमारी में; अपने सपने को रहने देता हूँ, हस्ते हुए, पानी में;
सुबह को अंजीर के शहद में; अपने दिन को और
कल को
रहने देता हूँ ओरेंज स्कैर के रास्ते पर, जहाँ कबूतर उड़ते हैं।

क्या मैं सच में तुम्हारे पैरों पर इसलिए गिरा था की लफ्ज़ उभर सकें,
एक सफ़ेद चाँद तुम्हारे रातों के साए में...हवा इसलिए पीसी थी
कि फ्लूट स्ट्रीट को एक दफा नीला देख सकूं, और शाम पीसी थी
कि देख सकूं तुम्हारे और मेरे बीच का ये संगमरमर, दुख कैसे सहता है?

खिड़कियाँ अब खाली हैं तुम्हारे शौल के ना होने से। किसी
और वक्त
कितना जानता था तुम्हें। तुम्हारी दस उँगलियों से
गार्डेनइयों को चुना था मैंने। किसी और वक्त, वों मोती थे मेरे लिए
तुम्हारे गले के इर्द-गिर्द, और अंगूठी में जड़ा एक नाम जिसका हीरा
अँधेरा था, चमकता हुआ।

मुझे इश्क से सिर्फ़ उसकी शुरुवात चाहिए। कबूतर आखिरी
आसमान में उड़ते हैं, पंख फैलाये वों उड़ते हैं उस आसमान में।
शराब है, हमारे बाद भी, इन पीपों और घड़ों में।
ज़रा सी ज़मीन काफ़ी है हमारे मिलने के लिए। ज़रा सी ज़मीन
काफ़ी है सुलह के लिए।

My love

2010-03-22T05:23:00.000-07:00

By night and day, the lady would sit and weave, my love

till Lancelot sang his 'tirra lirra' and she would leave, my love.

Now you say it was so easy for me to reach and wreck

your heart. Who told you to wear it on your sleeve, my love?

The beloved always leaves, James had told you. So when

you learnt to love, you should have learnt to grieve, my love.

I tell you that you will find some one better. 'The world lies

disenchanted,' you say, 'now don't ask me to believe, my love.'

I see them playing with their pets in Hyde Park. I remember

our conversations. Even dogs have learnt to retrieve, my love.

And will you, fortune's favorite son, look around

one day and find there is no one to bereave, my love.

Vikram said 'A friend, unlike a lover, does not need to be wooed

by exaggerations;' it is good you never meant to deceive, my love.

They ask me what Akhil means, I tell them 'the whole universe,'

it bides time in the name you will not receive, my love.

The biopic lecture

2010-03-11T16:27:00.000-08:00

I was taking notes on my laptop

when the professor stated: 'So he

loves her like a madman in 1903,'

a little jaded, I mistyped 'loved.'

I could not help, you know,

this s and d are right next

to each other on the keyboard.

Who knew love ends like a typo,

a letter wrong and you detonate softly.

Or perhaps I must have sensed

that their love would not last

when I faulted its tense from

present continuous to past.

आओ सींचें सनम

2010-02-17T17:11:00.000-08:00

आओ सींचें सनम

बातों की क्यारियाँ

हम ना बोंले तो बातें ये मुर्झायेंगी

लब्ज़ो के जाल पर

जो चढ़ें और जियें

चुप रहोगे तो मर जायेंगी

Come

2010-02-12T04:23:00.000-08:00

The drowsy hour is past

and I can no longer sleep.

I pull out a book but

skip too many words.

Outside, snow flakes

quietly press the ground

and your words, they

ring in the deep.

Come, love, forgetting,

if only for tonight,

how our dreams will

eventually part us.

In dim expectation

the night sky hangs low

come, love, carefully

choosing your step

the pavement's all snow.

That day

2010-02-11T17:35:00.001-08:00

That day when I was dead tired

but you were all fired up, I tried

to make cuddling off to sleep

sound like a better option.

'Babe,' I said, spooning you

strategically, and going for the kill,

'you know how I love you,' but you,

detecting calculation and will, said

'Damn love, I'll fuck you still.'

It's so hard for me, tracing

the way my love takes its toll

it's like in the basin, foolish water

spins madly to drown in the hole.

लो जी, मेघालय से दिल्ली!

2010-01-30T16:41:00.001-08:00

दिल्ली में कुछ सहेलियों ने बताया था
कि यहाँ लोगों की आँखें घूरती कुछ ज्यादा हैं,
इसपर ध्यान थोड़ा कम देना, कहीं तुम परेशान न हो जाओ।
अबे भला ध्यान तो मैं कम दे दूं सही
पर यह जानवर हैं क्या कि उल्लू कि तरह घूरे जाएँ,
मैं तो शहर में रहने आई थी, मार चिड़ियाघर में नहीं।
और एक बात तो मुझे समझ ही नहीं आई,
कि चीन न मैंने आज तक देखा,
न वहां जाने की कभी कोई ख़ास ख्वाइश जताई
तो भाई, यहाँ लोग सठियाय गए हैं क्या
जो पड़ोस में रहते हैं, फिर भी आँखें हैं मानों दूरबीन की
दिल्ली के ये सब अच्छे-खासे भारत वासी
और जो मैं खासी तो मैं चीन की?
अब सुनो, कुछ नयी हवा हमें चलानी पड़ेगी
एक प्यार भरी चपेट उनको लगानी पड़ेगी,
ऐसी बातें हैं जिनकी, उन सब की
ये चिंकी-पिंकी की पट्टी भुलानी पड़ेगी,
नयी दोस्ती की यही तो ख़ास बात है
जो मानो लड़ाई की रात है, तो

सुलह की सहर किसी को तो दिखानी पड़ेगी।

अरे जाओ

2010-01-01T17:51:00.000-08:00

अरे जाओ, ये इश्क भी क्या इश्क
जिसमे बातें बनाना तुम्हें आता ही नहीं,
पहाड़ों पर चढ़ना-चढ़ाना मालूम है लेकिन
चने के झाड़ चढ़ाना तुम्हें आता ही नहीं।
मुनासिब बातों का तो हर जगह बाज़ार है
ज्यादातर से तो सच का ही करोबार है,
सिर्फ़ तुमसे थी उम्मीद कि झूठ बोलोगे ज़रा
बढ़ा-चढ़ा कर बताना तुम्हें आता ही नहीं।
ये सब्र का सबक ऐंवें ही मीठा बतातें हैं
भला खामोशी से कभी पंछी गाना गाते हैं,
दर्द होता है जब उसका गवाह ही चुप रहे
यूँ सता कर मनाना तुम्हें आता ही नहीं।
मालूम है तुम्हारे चाहने वाले हैं और कई
तुम्हारे सर के लिए सिरहाने हैं और कई,
यूँ शमा है जहाँ, वहां पतंगे फिरते हैं ही
इक भी पतंगे को बचाना तुम्हें आता ही नहीं।

Arre Jao

Arre jao, ye ishq bhi kya ishq
Jisme baatein banana tumhe aata hi nahi
Pahado par chadhna-chadhaana aata hai lekin
Chane ke jhaad chadhaana tumhe aata hi nahi
Munasib baaton ka to har jagah baazar hai
Jyadatar se to sach ka hi karobar hai
Sirf tumse thi ummeed ki jhooth bologe zara
Badha-chadha kar batana tumhe aata hi nahi
Ye sabr ka sabak aivein hi meetha batate hain
Bhala khamoshi se kabhi panchee gana gate hain
Dard hota hai jab uska gavah hi chup rahe
Yun sata kar manana tumhe aata hi nahi
Maloom hai tumhare chahne wale hain aur kai
Tumhare sar ke liye sirhane hain aur kai
Yun shama hai jahan wahan patange phirte hain hi
Ek bhi patange ko bachana tumhe aata hi nahi

मैंने हुस्न के लिए अपनी जान दी 'I died for beauty' - Emily Dickinson

2009-12-06T18:11:00.000-08:00

मैंने हुस्न के लिए अपनी जान दी
और कब्र में अभी अडजस्ट हो ही रही थी
कि बगल के कमरे में आ पहुँचा वो
जो सच के लिए मर मिटा था।
उसने आहिस्ते से पुछा: यहाँ कैसे?
'जनाब, हुस्न के लिए' मैंने कहा।
'और मैं सच के लिए, -- दोनों हुबहू ही हैं,'
वो बोला, 'तो हम तो दोस्त हुए ना।'
फिर क्या था, बिछड़े हुए यारों कि तरह
हम रात भर वहीं बैठ गप्प मारते रहे
जब तक काई हमारे होठों तक ना आ गई
और हमारे नाम अपने नीचे छिपा गई।

tr. from English by Akhil Katyal, 8th December, 2009

At the second-hand bookshop

2009-11-08T15:11:00.000-08:00

At the second-hand bookshop near my place,

Romance is at the end of Self-Help,

next to Crime.

A little bored, I pick up a book

to pass the time, while I hum a song,

browsing a bit, I reach the line -

'What a pity that we love each other,

but we don't get along.' I am not keen

to follow it up, not in the mood today

for things gone sour or hearts of clay,

so I keep on turning the pages,

and chance on this girl, who says,

- right before she blows him a kiss -

'I will love you forever, until further notice.'

(Thanks to David Hermann)

The only thing I forget

2009-10-29T15:08:00.000-07:00

The only thing I forget when you are around

is myself, like those stupid sailors who jumped

into the sea, forgetting themselves and the

barest clue they might have had not to drown.

No one came for their sake. Did you know that

you are the sirens' song that you loved to cite?

You are the reason why wars are conched,

why Gods go foolish over the ones they make.

And you are the face that launched.... When

you are around, I feel dumb, speaking words

that make no sound, I feel light, and when

you look at me, boy, it's either that I go blind

or this whole fucking world goes out of sight.

आख़िर प्यार है

2009-10-06T18:52:00.000-07:00

आख़िर प्यार है, इसको ऐसे ही थोड़ी छोड़ेंगे।
लड़ोगे तो बात सुलझाएंगे नहीं,
चिढ़ोगे तो तुम्हें बहलाएँगे नहीं,
पर अगर ख़ुद चुपचाप हों हम,
तो बात ना करने की कसम
हम ख़ुद ही तोड़ेंगे,
आख़िर प्यार है, इसको ऐसे ही थोड़ी छोड़ेंगे।
थोड़ा दूर जाओगे,
तो बिना रोक टोक चलने देंगे तुम्हें
मुड़ के देखोगे नहीं,
तो हम कुछ ना बोल मरने देंगे तुम्हें,
फिर धीरे धीरे, तुम्हारे जाने बिना,
कभी हसी से बांधे, कभी रोये बिना,
तुम्हारे कदम हम अंजाने ही मोड़ेंगे,
आख़िर प्यार है, इसको ऐसे ही थोड़ी छोड़ेंगे।

देखो

2009-07-26T10:39:00.000-07:00

अपनी तस्वीर बनाने वाले से हुनर न मांगो, उसका तस्सव्वुर तो देखो,

छिपाने वाले से उसका राज़ न मांगो, उसकी आबरू तो देखो।

अगर प्यार वक़्त के चलने का लंबा सफर है,

तो घड़ियों के रुकने की आरज़ू तो देखो।

कितना कहा, कब तक कहा, लब्ज़ों के पीछे आंखों से, पर

जो आंखों के भी पीछे छुपी है, वो आधी-अधूरी गुफ्तगू तो देखो।

अगर मेरी बातों से हो परेशां, नापसंद है वो, तो उनको

अनसुना करो, पर मेरी बातें करने की जुस्तजू तो देखो।

जिस्म को सांस ज़रूरी है, तारों को रात ज़रूरी है, तो फिर क्यूं साँसे रुकी हैं,

दिन में तारे दिखे हैं, अखिल, इश्क के नक्शे में, क्या ज़रूरी क्या फालतू तो देखो।

ऐसी रातें भी बीती हैं _ मोहम्मद दीन तसीर

2009-07-22T07:51:00.000-07:00

ऐसी रातें भी बीती हैं
जब तुम्हारी याद नहीं आई,
कुछ दर्द तो हुआ
पर कोई शिकायत नहीं।

हर गलती अब सामने आती है
काले पत्थरों की लकीर बनाये,
कोई आरज़ू नहीं है इन पत्थरों को तोड़ने की,
ना आज़ादी की, ना यहाँ से चल पड़ने की।

ऐसी रातें भी बीती हैं
जब तुम्हारे रास्तों में, हर तरफ़
बस परछाईयां ही परछाईयां थीं,
कूदती ऊपर से नीचे, नीचे से ऊपर
तुम नहीं थे, पर परछाईयां थीं तुम्हारे जैसी
नाचती हुईं,
मैं नहीं था, पर परछाईयां थीं मेरे जैसी
कांपती हुईं,
हमारे रास्तों की परछाईयां।

ऐसी रातें भी बीती हैं,
जब तुम्हारी याद नहीं आई।

translated into Hindi from Anisur Rahman's Eng tr. 'Shadows' of Mohammad Deen Taseer's Urdu poem.

एक बार

2009-07-01T13:59:00.000-07:00

सोचते हो हम तुमको भूले बैठें हैं, न नाखुश हैं, न बेकरार, क्या मालूम तुम्हें,
तुम्हारे दरवाज़े से कितनी दफा लौटें हैं दस्तक दिए, तुमने न खोला एक बार।
कितनी बार झिझकते हो, बिल्कुल रोने को आ पड़ते हो, पर मानते नहीं हो हार,
अगर तुम हमसे करते दिल की बात सामने से हस कर, क्या पता जीत जाते एक बार।

It is too much of a chore, this love

2009-06-18T00:57:00.000-07:00

It is too much of a chore, this love,
too much of a keeping track; lovers,
they are always on a look out for a lapse,
when his love might dim, or his passion slack,
and each time he is quiet, the other fears
it is the end, and each time he is terse,
the other takes a spin at Auden's verse
and imagines himself recompensed, though
a moment ago he felt the pangs of death.
Love is a botched experiment in symmetry,
and all lovers mutter under their breath -
'If equal affection can never be true,
why can't the more loving one be you?'

अब वो मौका

2009-06-14T05:16:00.000-07:00

अब वो मौका, क्या मालूम, वापस आएगा या नहीं,
उस शाम, कमरे के बिलकुल पीछे बैठे हुए थे तुम,
तुम्हारे और मेरे बीच कुछ सत्तर-अस्सी लोगों का फासला,
मैं माइक पर, बोल तो रहा हूँ मानो उन सबसे, लेकिन
सच पूछो तो हर बोल केवल तुम्हारे कानों में पिरो रहां हूँ।
कमरे के इस तरफ़ से भेज रहा हूँ, एक औपचारिक भाषण
में छुपा हुआ प्रेम पत्र, जिसको बूझना केवल तुम्हारे जिम्मे है।
कमरे की एक मात्र लाइट मुझी पर टिकी हुई है, मुझे मालूम है
कि हालांकि मैं तुम्हे नहीं देख सकता, तुम मुझे देख पा रहे होगे;
तुम्हारी मौजूदगी का सिर्फ़ एक ज़ायका है मुझे, और अंदाजा
लगा सकता हूँ, कि इस भीड़ के पिछली तरफ़, तुम बावरे से
बैठे हुए होगे, सोच रहे होगे कि तुमसे परे हैं मेरे सारे इरादे,
तुमसे ऊपर हैं, कि मानो इन्हीं सत्तर-अस्सी लोगों के लिए हैं,
और मेरा हर दांव इन सबकी वाह-वाही लूटने के लिए,
पर ग़लत हो तुम, ये सार्वजनिक चर्चा तो एक बहाना है
तुमसे बात करने का, या क्या पता ग़लत हूँ मैं, कि वो बातें जो
मुझे तुम्हारे कानों में फुसफुसानी चाहिए, वो ऐसे कर रहा हूँ।

Tell it like it is

2009-06-08T11:07:00.000-07:00

I write in a bid to exorcise you, to finish
you once and for all, but whatever I write,
it ends up reading like rapture, and all
my attempts at invective resign into an
embarrassing sort of fondness. To love
was never a pity in my eyes, but to be
this humorless image of the lover. Now
tell it like it is, how many times have you
smiled when you see me like this? No, do not
hold hands, do not kiss, do not do the things
you usually do to assuage, just tell it like it is.

And framed against the stained glass door

2009-05-31T01:59:00.000-07:00

And framed against the stained glass door,
with a slim cigarette between his fingers, was he;
his waist coat thin and his arms fair enough
to shame all the ladies of leisure. Everywhere
around him was the color of wealth and his nails
shone of the pleasures of waste. He stood less,
reclined more on the door frame covered with
the dark green vine, his hair seamless with the flush
of leaves, and camouflaged in the red flowers
were his eyes, and those who saw him then, died
because it was too much, and those who read
of him, winced, because they could never see.

You will give

2009-05-22T16:09:00.000-07:00

You will give me a thousand love bites and a gift
for each favour I make but I will give you less;
you will give me tenderness, and a face flushed with
lust, and to repay that, I, with some awkwardness,
will give you less. For every touch, for every time
you look at me, as if before mating, my heart,
it will beat a little slower because I give less but
worse, I know it, for each time you flood me
with more, you betray what I give to you,
and it pales, it pales, my love, in comparison.

And he witnessed the lords of his day

2009-05-16T15:11:00.000-07:00

And he witnessed the lords of his day
pronounce many deaths. They said
activism is dead, love's been dead a while,
and they made all possibilities sound similar
which is the same as death really.
It was their job as choir boys of fuck-shittery,
that once their usual songs were done, to go and ring
the knell of something or the other, ding-dong,
they heard and smiled, ding-dong, and then
came back smugly to sing their fuck-shittery song.

अज़ीज़ और सिरिल, घुड़सवार

2009-05-12T14:04:00.000-07:00

और वह घोड़े पर उसकी तरफ़ तेजी से बढ़ा, 'फिर उसके बाद,'
उसने बोला, दूजे को आधा चूमते हुए, 'तुम और मैं दोस्त बनेंगे।'

'हम अभी क्यूं नहीं दोस्त बन सकते,' दुसरे ने कहा,
उसे प्यार से थामे हुए, 'यही तो मैं चाहता हूँ, यही तो तुम चाहते हो।'

पर घोड़े वह नहीं चाहते थे - भागने लगे अलग-धलग;
धरती वह नहीं चाहती थी, उनकी तरफ़ पत्थर ढ़केल दिए,
कि अकेले ही बढ़ना पड़े, न मन्दिर, न टंकी, न जेल,
महल, पंछी, न मुर्दा जानवर, न गेस्ट हाउस,
जो अब दिखाई पड़ने लगा था, जैसे ही वो जंगल से
बाहर निकले और सारा माऊ राज्य नीचे दीख पड़ा,
ये सब वह नहीं चाहते थे, अपनी हजारों आवाज़ों में सबने कहा,
'नहीं, अभी नहीं,' और आकाश बोल पड़ा, 'नहीं, यहाँ नहीं।'

Tr. from E. M. Forster's 'A Passage to India' (1924) , Penguin Publications, pg. 289.

How do you compare

2009-05-05T17:32:00.000-07:00

How do you compare one lover with another?
Do you prepare a checklist of lovable things
and then count the scores of each?
Who would win -- he who closes his eyes
when he thinks, or the one who blinks;
he who is rude, incorrigibly rude, but must
win and keep the favour of those he meets,
his love for them taking a detour through
himself, or he, who sensing defeat,
would quieten at the right time, his words
sincere while they last but finishing too early;
his hair, they have a light whiff of lemon
if you come close to him in bed, but
the other, his hair fall on his forehead.

गर्मी 'Heat' - Hilda Doolittle

2009-05-04T12:33:00.000-07:00

ऐ हवा, चीर डालो इस गर्मी को,
इस गर्मी को काट खोलो,
इसके चिथड़े-चिथड़े कर दो।

फल गिर नहीं सकता
इस घनी हवा के बीच --
फल गिर नहीं सकता इस गर्मी में
जो ज़ोर लगाये ऊपर और घिस दे
नाशपाती के सिरों को
और गोल कर दे अंगूर।

काट डालो गर्मी को --
हल चला दो इसके बीचों-बीच,
अपने रस्ते के दोनों तरफ़
इसे ढकेलते हुए।

translated from English by Akhil Katyal, May 2009

My Photograph 'अपनी तस्वीर' - Mangalesh Dabral

2009-05-03T12:43:00.000-07:00

This is a picture where
a little courage can be traced
and poverty be seen, all wrapped up.
Taken in light, this photograph
hides its darkness behind it.

The calm of this face
is a mask for restlessness.
Any compassion is forever mixed with malice
and a little pride is soaked in much shame.
Although one's time to fight quietly passes one by,
there is a yearning in it to return from war
and these are the eyes
which tell you how love, on which all things rest,
is becoming less every minute.

In self-love and yet fooling around,
I get many pictures clicked
in a stupid sort of hope
that a better one might come by
one of these days.

translated from Hindi by Akhil Katyal, with a little help from Vebhuti Duggal, May 2009.

If you like my poems let them 'अगर तुम्हें पसंद आयीं मेरी कवितायेँ' - e.e. cummings

2009-04-27T16:22:00.000-07:00

अगर तुम्हें पसंद आयीं मेरी कवितायेँ,
तो उनको चलने देना, शाम के समय,
अपने से दो कदम पीछे।

फिर लोग कहेंगे
"इस रास्ते पर हमने देखा था इक राजकुमारी को
जाते हुए अपने प्रेमी से मिलने (बस रात होने
ही वाली थी) और उसके संग, लंबे और मूर्ख दास।"

trans. from English by Akhil Katyal, 28th April, 2009

Lie down in the park

2009-04-18T15:35:00.000-07:00

Lie down in the park
so that your hair
play with grass
an' with your hand
shield your eyes
from the sun;
then turn around
a little for ease,
sinking in the green,
your shirt slipping
on your waist, an'
through your fingers
sunshine tripping in.