Azadi Ki Chaah

इंक़लाब  इक वतन था
आज़ादी का तरंग था

उम्मीदों के गुलशन खिलते थे
शहीदों ने लहू से सींचे थे

जोशीली धड़कन न समाती थी
दिलों में नई दीवानगी थी

आओ एक नया भारत बनायें
अपनापन का हाथ बढ़ायें 

सत्य मार्ग से हम ना घबरायें
अहिंसा और नेकी का कदम बढ़ाये

जहाँ भूख दर्द का कोई स्थान नहीं
जाति धर्म-भेद का कोई मान नहीं

स्त्री पुरुष अब हाथ मिलाये
साथ ही सपनों को साचार बनाये 

Rage

Rage sears,
slices my fears
with a blade,
weighed
against her heart
tearing apart
a child's veil,
innocence frail.
Mothers wail
to curtail
hatred and greed,
that seed
impotence,
and breed
evil deeds,
and transform
men into swarms
of hunting packs
who rape and ax
with rods, bottles
to throttle
laughter and light,
to spite
a few thin rays
in dark days
of despair,
where
hopeless gloom
strikes doom.
Search not,
this must be fought;
do not pray
but scheme to slay
the beast
hounding at your door,
there is no savior
for such behavior;
Rise -
daughters,
sisters
mothers
and hide not from
their shame
this is a war-game;
"We shall not surrender"
till we are free
of rape, repression
and patriarchy,
and found a society
just and fair,
with equity equality
for all, to share.

Gujarat Grief, Gujarat Guilt : Ten Years Old on 28/2/2012

The original blog contained poems reproduced from 'After Gujarat and other Poems' by Seeme Qasim - without permission. Seeme's poems authenticated my imaginations of Gujurat violence; they pained  my waking days and scattered nightmares into my dreamless nights.
With apologies to Seeme, I have now deleted her words.

Whatever caused this...
















also deliberately caused this...




           






















































------------------

Lest we forget....


...we are all born 
from ashes 
of the same stars 
that celebrate our nights, 
and are children 
of the same Sun 
that warms our days... 
We are all the same 
and also the One - 
the Universe 
and also its illusion
We are all One.                           ---- Arati Chokshi
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
** all images are taken from a google search for 'gujarat riots'

On State of Our Affairs

दम की बात

मुझे शर्म है कि

यह दशा है अपने देश की-

दबी सांसो से दबी आवाज़ 

में गरज़ने का दम नहीं

दबे सच को आकाश 

चीरने का दम नहीं

नहीं बारिश की जोश में

दीवालों को पिघलाने का दम

कायरो की बस्ती में 

नूर को बसने का भी दम नहीं

आज कल रातो में तारो

को चमकने का भी दम नहीं

-------------------------

Leaving POSCO site, Odisha

दम की बात

मुझे शर्म है कि-

दबी सांसो कि दबी आवाज़ को गरजने का दम नहीं

दबे सच को आकाश चीर डालने का दम नही

नहीं गीतों में दीवारों को पिघला देने का दम

कायरो कि बस्ती में नूर को बसने का  दम नहीं

आज कल रातो में तारो को चमकने का भी दम नहीं!

----------

Embers of imagination light a million stars in an infinite universe.

----------

Irrepressible and indomitable nature of hope keeps darkest nights at bay.

-----

Jan Gan Man and Jingoism

Last Sunday I went to the movies with my family. After a barrage of sleek, fast paced ads selling everything from love, car, condoms and food, from a mind blowing display of the theatre's latest sound technology and comfortable, reclining seats, food and beverage service inside to trailers of future movies, suddenly....

there is.....

Jan Gan Man Adhinayaka Jaya Hai ...

shuffling, fumbling, awkward off-loadings of Cokes, popcorns, masala chips; stopped mid-way mobile chats and sms queues,furtive glances at the neighbors to figure out how to respond, and by first stanza the assembly is up; quickly swallowing the last pop-corn mouthful or a long secretive slurp from the tall, cold, paper-jar of Pepsi. Then in various stages of ADD (attention deficient disorder), in nonchalance of discomfort, or slouched
uncaring disarray - a few erect old men in attention - the assembly of mainly rich youth, and a few middle-aged-older-people, like me, make it through a media show that was played out in front of us on a giant screen, Dolby surround sound and flitting images...

cold, white, towering mountains, snow blizzards, men in uniforms, tanks pointing to skies, guns, a solitary figure struggling to erect a flag - tri-colored, luminescent,  in a hostile, gray, cold peak against a gray brooding sky...flag erected, men salute, a tiny smile, music throbs, files of tanks again...Jaya Hai, Jaya Hai, Jaya Hai!

I watch and understand and hurt...who is doing this to all the foolish, young and naive that stare at it? what signals is this sending and what is getting manufactured inside to allow consent to all the horrors outside? outside the INOX cinema halls? outside on streets? in jungles where many men in fatigues and better guns hunt out few men, also in fatigues and other guns? within and across borders all over our northern to north-easterns to east-easterlies...men again in similar fatigues to the brave heroes on screen gun down children, rape women, destroy generation after generations of youths, middled aged, old, ...life itself. Men like men on screen, kill. They are trained to kill - for us - the whole nation of the comfortable, privileged class who buy out buggers like these so they leave their homes, hearths, hearts, wife, children, parents, communities, to go plunge a flag on a solitary mountain top and then run wild, amok, mad with their trained-hate that and a life that they have been trained to give up. I wonder and I grieve and I wonder again, at what the Jan Gan Man really means - what was the intention of this national anthem, what composts of ideals, dreams and hopes lead to flowering of this song? Historical context of its origin seems irrelevant, compared to its later choice to represent a new nation and its aspirations as the national song...I suppose the song (whose meaning and intention I am now exploring for the first time) is addressed to the Thou - the Nation? Here is an official english translation:

Thou art the ruler of the minds of all people,
Dispenser of India's destiny.
Thy name rouses the hearts of Punjab, Sind,
Gujarat and Maratha,
Of the Dravida and Orissa and Bengal;
It echoes in the hills of the Vindhyas and Himalayas,
mingles in the music of Jamuna and Ganges and is
chanted by the waves of the Indian Sea.
They pray for thy blessings and sing thy praise.
The saving of all people waits in thy hand,
Thou dispenser of India's destiny.
Victory, victory, victory to thee.
-------
What does the above have to do with the immense and tough show of chauvinism to which we all stood in mute inattention? What does it have to do with anything?
My daughter turned to me at the end of it as said "Cool - that was nice". Nice?? NICE??


I turn to her as we sit down and say "lets talk about it later" and the movie begins....

Fukushima

Broken atoms flood
swelling tides; Fukushima-
cherry blossoms bud.

POSCO VIRUDDH -2

They stood there
a dozen plus one in all
half-clad, determined
old, young and small;
to protect their land
with a bamboo gate
from government, corporates,
and a police state;
they stood there else
everything would be lost;
life, liberty and all
they cared for most;
their right to pursue
what they thought was right
and for this, they could not,
bow to the bullying might
of a state and centre
seizing power
grabbing land, water, resources,
for a corporate takeover.
They had been shot at -
and thrown in prisons too
thrashed by political goons
whom they could not sue.
Justice to them
is so far denied
in brotherhood, very few
share their fight
if they loose
we are all lost
dreams, ideals, hopes
for a better lot,
for all those who suffer
that you and I might gain,
so pause briefly now
to say - you
share their pain!
Join hands now
take responsibility
for their plight
and don't turn away
from their urgent fight
Or let the state
do what it may -
pillage, plunder,
do many countless wrongs
for national economic growth
and for you -
a trip to the mall,
a cup of wine
and a song.

About Us?

I got this in my mail box from a friend who cares:

Otto Rene Castillo

Apolitical Intellectuals

One day
the apolitical
intellectuals
of my country
will be interrogated
by the simplest
of our people.

They will be asked
what they did
when their nation died out
slowly,
like a sweet fire
small and alone.

No one will ask them
about their dress,
their long siestas
after lunch,
no one will want to know
about their sterile combats
with "the idea
of the nothing"
no one will care about
their higher financial learning.

They won't be questioned
on Greek mythology,
or regarding their self-disgust
when someone within them
begins to die
the coward's death.

They'll be asked nothing
about their absurd
justifications,
born in the shadow
of the total life.

On that day
the simple men will come.

Those who had no place
in the books and poems
of the apolitical intellectuals,
but daily delivered
their bread and milk,
their tortillas and eggs,
those who drove their cars,
who cared for their dogs and gardens
and worked for them,
and they'll ask:

"What did you do when the poor
suffered, when tenderness
and life
burned out of them?"

Apolitical intellectuals
of my sweet country,
you will not be able to answer.

A vulture of silence
will eat your gut.

Your own misery
will pick at your soul.

And you will be mute in your sham

JR

I.
The Minister
administered
a stunning
blow
to his own
portfolio!
Balanced
between
right & wrong
he decided
to play a
nuclear song;
to compensate
his GM rights
he decided to
appease the
developmental
mights,
of goons
and constituencies
in power,
by sanctioning
a nuclear shower-
to save the
environment
and green house effect
he revealed all
his green-defects.
Poor JR
mighty & right
doesn't know
which side to fight-
as EM his
battle is clear
to press ahead
without fear,
and rid his conscience
come what may,
to commit some
right-
another day.

II.

Minister's word
is finally out-
POSCO wins &
"Hurrah!" he shouts
But 28 more conditions
now do apply,
to keep up pretence
of environmental rights;
he now demands
an 'assurance'
of State's
Forest Act compliance,
to keep at his juggle-
another bid for his
popularity struggle
between pro-people
and forest rights
while dumping advantages
on the corporate might...
Dump those Olive Ridleys
and the silly horse shoe crabs
destroy pristine coastline
to favor developmental scabs.
Walking a tight rope
between possible rights
and many tempting wrongs
has taught JR
a new kinda song-
"I would like my cake
and to eat it too"
he whines-
"and sell some more
to Korea, because I am
allowed to!"

कविता

किनकी चीखे बरसी गरजते काले बादलो के साथ?
किसके आंसू समाये उचलती सागर की लहरों में?
कितने स्वप्न बिखरे सूखे सुनसान रेतो के सेहर?

ये जो मरे, मारे , बरबाद हुए,
उजाले की खोज में
घायल हुए आशा की चट्टानों पर
उजड़ गए आज़ादी की उम्मीदों पे

उनको बरबाद किया
इन आजाद देश के दलालों ने
तोला सोने के सिक्के से
बेचा लहू और भूखे इन्सानों से

यह नही पहचाना कि-
हम भी मरेंगे - मार उजाड़ कर
कुछ महेल, कुछ सिक्को कमा कर
अहंकार कि चोटी पर - हम भी मरेंगे!
धूल हो जायेंगे!
और नही छोडेंगे,
कोई गीत, कोए स्वप्न,
कोई उजाले कि परख-
कोई रंग, कोई सुर कि तलाश
सीर्फ खरीददार की समज,
और सोने की चमक,
बस, ...सीर्फ यह!!