इस बार नहीं

कल प्रसून जोशी कि 26 /11 मुंबई बम धमाको पर लिखी एक कविता पढी! हकीकत को बयान करती ये पंक्तिया इशारा करती है कि अब समय आ गया है ठोस फैसले लेने का, न कि दर्द को चुपचाप सहते रहने का, क्योंकी आतंक को चुपचाप सहते रहना भी तो एक गुनाह है.

इस बार नहीं
इस बार जब वो छोटी सी बच्ची मेरे पास अपनी खरोंच ले कर आएगी
मैं उसे फू फू कर नहीं बहलाऊँगा
पनपने दूँगा उसकी टीस को
इस बार नहीं
इस बार जब मैं चेहरों पर दर्द लिखा देखूँगा
नहीं गाऊंगा गीत पीड़ा भुला देने वाले
दर्द को रिसने दूँगा, उतरने दूँगा अन्दर गहरे
इस बार नहीं
इस बार मैं न मरहम लगाऊँगा
न ही उठाऊँगा रुई के फाहे
और न ही कहूँगा की तुम आँखें बंद कर लो, गर्दन उधर कर लो मैं दवा लगाता हूँ
देखने दूँगा सबको हम सबको खुले नंगे घाव
इस बार नहीं
इस बार जब उलझने देखूँगा, छटपटाहट देखूँगा
नहीं दौडूंगा उलझी ड़ोर लपेटने
उलझने दूँगा जब तक उलझ सके
इस बार नहीं
इस बार कर्म का हवाला दे कर नहीं उठाऊँगा औजार
नहीं करूंगा फिर से एक नयी शुरुआत
नहीं बनूँगा मिसाल एक कर्मयोगी की
नहीं आने दूँगा ज़िन्दगी को आसानी से पटरी पर
उतारने दूँगा उसे कीचड मैं, टेढे मेढे रास्तों पे
नहीं सूखने दूँगा दीवारों पर लगा खून
हल्का नहीं पड़ने दूँगा उसका रंग
इस बार नहीं बनने दूँगा उसे इतना लाचार
कि पान की पीक और खून का फर्क ही ख़त्म हो जाए
इस बार नहीं
इस बार घावों को देखना है
गौर से
थोड़ा लंबे वक्त तक
कुछ फैसले
और उसके बाद हौसले
कहीं तो शुरुआत करनी ही होगी
इस बार यही तय किया है

प्रसून जोशी

Thank you Ma!

Our first touch, first love, first care, first attachment, first lesson of life starts with her. She is the one who knows us nine months prior to the whole world. No doubt, the first word that we utter is Ma. No amount of words, no amount of celebration, nothing can compare with what she does for us. For me each and every day is mother's day. Her daily phone call is like a therapy for me, sharing recipes, gossips, she telling me about life and sometimes I advising her. Being far away from her makes me realize how much I miss her. I was never senti types but the day I left my house, food cooked by Mom, her care, I realized her importance. I know, my Mom won't be reading it and I wouldn't be able to say all these things to her face. She will definitely shush me but I can't help saying THANK YOU MA! Thanks Ma for being there, for supporting me always, for making little lies to save me from Pa when I did some mischief. Thank you for putting up with my excuses when I did not want to go to school. I still remember during my Board exams when me and my bro, both of us were down with typhoid. The way you took care of us, helped me in revision and stood by us as a pillar of strength. How I used to wake you up for my early morning studies and you got up at 4 just for me. The sleepless nights that you had to endure because of my acute bronchitis. The whole night I used to suffer from cough and dyspnoea, you would be sitting by my side taking care of my needs. The way I used to say no to food when you did not make the food according to my likings.Now, I understand the importance of those simple yet precious meals cooked by you.See, that's why I have started eating everything which I detested eating in my childhood. You sacrificed every thing for us. It was as major as forgoing your needs for fulfilling our desires or as minor as leaving your favorite TV serial for our sake. I am sorry for fighting with you, taking you for granted. I dread to think of the absence of you existence in our lives. Ma, please take care of yourself for me.
You taught me everything whatever I am today. It was your love, support and counselling that got me through everything. I can't write more..where's my phone? I need to talk to you, Ma..........

From Heaven to Ekla Cholo Re..

7th of May is Rabindra Nath Tagore's Birthday. My first memories of Tagore belong to Heaven poem read in school textbook.....

Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls
Where words come out from the depth of truth
Where tireless striving stretches its arms towards perfection
Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way
Into the dreary desert sand of dead habit
Where the mind is led forward by thee into ever-widening thought and action
Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake

It still reverberates in the deep of my heart. And I can bet, there would hardly be any student who doesn't feel inspired and proud of being an Indian. Over the years, the thought and the gist behind the words have not faded into oblivion!
Gurudev was born in the year 1861. Winning the Nobel prize in 1913 for his master piece Gitanjali, Tagore is a doyen of Indian Culture.
Another evarlasting memory associated with Gurudev is of Ekla Cholo Re. This song has some inherent energy reminding of that era and filling the mind with the belief to always move forward, come what may. These are the Bangla words of the song along with a rendition by Kishore Kumar.

Jodi tor đak shune keu na ashe tôbe êkla chôlo re,
Êkla chôlo, êkla chôlo, êkla chôlo, êkla chôlo re.
Jodi keu kôtha na kôe, ore ore o ôbhaga,
Jodi shôbai thake mukh firaee shôbai kôre bhôe---
Tôbe pôran khule
O tui mukh fuţe tor moner kôtha êkla bôlo re.
Jodi shôbai fire jae, ore ore o ôbhaga,
Jodi gôhon pôthe jabar kale keu fire na chae---
Tôbe pôther kãţa
O tui rôktomakha chôrontôle êkla dôlo re.
Jodi alo na dhôre, ore ore o ôbhaga,
Jodi jhôŗ-badole ãdhar rate duar dêe ghôre---
Tôbe bojranôle
Apon buker pãjor jalie nie êkla jôlo re.