Mera Pind--- ਮੇਰਾ ਪਿੰਡ

ek poem likhi hai Punjabi mein-----

ਮੇਰੇ ਪਿੰਡ ਦਿਯਾਂ ਕੰਧਾਂ ਬੁਲਾਉਂਦੀਆਂ ਨੇ ਮੈਨੂ,
ਹਰ ਕੋਨਾ, ਹਰ ਮੋੜ ਬੁਲਾਉਂਦਾ ਹੈ,
ਹਰ ਓਹ ਸਡ਼ਕ ਬੁਲਾਉਂਦੀ ਹੈ,
ਜਿਸ ਤੇ ਚਲ ਕੇ ਮੈਂ ਆਪਣੀ,
ਮੰਜਿਲ ਤੇ ਅਪੜਨਾ ਚਾਹੁੰਦੀ ਸੀ!

ਅਜ ਵੀ ਯਾਦ ਨੇ ਮੈਨੂ,
ਓਹਨਾਂ ਬੇਰਿਯਾੰ ਦੇ ਬੇਰ,
ਚਖਣ ਵਾਸਤੇ, ਜਿਨ੍ਹਾਂ ਨੂੰ,
ਚਰੀਠਾਂ ਲਾਵਾਯਿਯਾੰ ਸੀ ਕਈ ਵਾਰ!

ਖਟੇ ਅੰਗੂਰਾਂ ਨੇ, ਖਟਿਯਾੰ ਅਮ੍ਬਿਯਾਂ ਨੇ,
ਜਬਾਨ ਨੂ ਚਟਖਾਰੇ ਦਿੱਤੇ ਕਈ ਵਾਰ!
ਤਿਨ ਰੁਪਏ ਦੀ ਮੈਗ੍ਗੀ,
ਵੰਡੀ ਸਹੇਲਿਯਾਂ ਨਾਲ ਹਰ ਵਾਰ!

ਯਾਦ ਹੈ ਹਰ ਗਲ, ਹਰ ਚੀਜ਼,
ਆਪਨੇ ਪਿੰਡ ਦੀ ਮੈਨੂੰ!
ਅਜ ਪਤਾ ਨਹੀਂ ਕਿੰਨੀ ਪਿਛੇ ਛੁਟ ਗਯਾ ਹੈ ਓਹ ਸਬ,
ਯਾਦ ਕਰਕੇ ਦਿਲ ਚ ਇਕ ਹੂਕ ਉਠਦੀ ਹੈ!

ਕਹਿੰਦਾ ਹੈ ਮੇਰਾ ਦਿਲ,
'ਆ ਚਲਿਏ ਆਪਣੀ ਉਸੀ ਦੁਨਿਯਾ ਚ,
ਜਿਥੇ ਪਯਾਰ ਸੀ, ਆਪਣਾਪਣ ਸੀ,
ਨਾ ਕੋਈ ਵਲ-ਖ੍ਲੈਨ੍ਵ ਸੀ,
ਨੀ ਕੋਈ ਦਿਖਾਵਾ!
ਨਾ ਦੁਖ ਸੀ, ਨਾ ਗ਼ਮ,
ਬਸ ਪਯਾਰ ਤੇ ਭਾਈਚਾਰਾ ਸੀ!'

the same poem in Roman script-- for those of my friends who can not read Punjabi-

Mērē pinḍ diyān kadhā bulā'undī'ān nē mainū,
har kōnā, har mōd bulā'undā hai,
har ōh sadak bulā'undī hai,
jis tē chal kē main āapaṇī,
manjil tē apadnā cāhundī sī!

Aj vī yāda nē mainū,
ōhanān bēriyān dē baēr,
chakhaṇ vaāsatē, jinhāan nū,
charīṭhāan lāvāyiyāan sī ka'ī vār!

Khatṭē angūrāan nē, khaṭiyāan ambiyaan ne,
jabaan nu chatkhaare ditte kai var!
tin rupaye di maggie,
wandi saheliyaan naal har var!

yaad hai har gal, har cheez,
aapne pind di mainu!
aj pata nahin kinni pichche chut gaya hai o sab,
yaad karke dil ch ik hook uthdi hai!

Kahinda hai mera dil,
'Aa chaliye aapni usi duniya ch,
jithe pyar si, aapnapan si,
na koi wal-khalainw si,
na koi dikhawa!
na dukh si, na gam,
bas pyar te bhaichaara si!'

(November 8, 2014 at 10.56 P. M.)

CRACKED MIRROR-- A Short Story

Lata could not believe it but it had happened. Lightning had fallen on her head--the same lightning that had fallen on many of her friends--but she had thought that such a calamity would not befall her. Alas! It had! Her soul lay battered and bleeding before her and she could do nothing about it. She wanted to run away, severe all ties, put an end to everything but her legs seemed to have no life in them. All of a sudden, it was as if all life had been sucked out of her and she was helpless. She was the victim, who lay bleeding on the road after the accident, yet, at the moment, she felt herself to be a mere spectator.

       Her husbanad was snoring next to her, sound asleep ,unaware what turmoil was going through Lata's mind. Mohan, Lata's husband of twenty-one years, had just ended up raping his own wife. And, Lata could not come to terms with it. Mohan, the gentlest and the kindest man she had ever known, had ended up doing something which was beyond explanation. Her friends had always envied Late because Mohan was such a loving and caring husband. And, look what had happened now! Lata was numb with disbelief.

       What had started as their usual, gentle act of love had, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, erupted into an act of force .Lata kept pleading with Mohan not to hurt her but Mohan was beyond listening to reason and kept at it relentlessly. And, the words---the words, which burned Lata's very soul--of Mohan which had scorched her and scarred her forever. Mohan had said, "Hurting is enjoyable. This is why rape is so much more fun."  Lata could not believe her ears. She was dumd-founded.

        She did not want to continue in the act of love. She tried to wriggle from under him. But, Mohan was in a world of his own. He would not let her go. He just would not let off. She even told him that he should be ashamed of himself but, of course, Mohan was not listening. "You should be ashamed of yourself. I am your wife. And, you are thinking of raping me and enjoying it too! Let me go Mohan. How can you even think of raping your own wife with whom you have made such gentle love for the past twenty-one years? Please Mohan, please let me go. Please do not subject me to this shameful treatment. Please Mohan, I beg of you."

        Lata's Mohan was not there. This was someone else in Mohan's body who kept on pounding and pounding at her. Her words fell on deaf ears. He was not concerned with Lata's feelings. He was not bothered that he was hurting her .He was merely concerned with releasing his pent-up emotions and his hidden desires/fantasies. Once he had released all his evil in her ,he turned on his side and went off to sleep imeediately not bothering about what he had subjected Lata to!

        Lata could not fathom what had come over her loving and gentle Mohan. This was a side of her husband she had never come across in all the years of her married life. Not even once had this animalistic side of Mohan reared its head .Lata did not ever think that Mohan could be capable of such an act--a dastardly act which had been committed by Deepak, who was in the habit of raping his wife Deepa and by Suresh, who had not only raped his own wife, Sushma, many a time; but had raped his younger brother, Sonu's wife, Gayatri, too.

        Of course not! These women had never gone to the police. How could they! What would the society say? They were married to these men,weren't they? The men had a right to do with them as they pleased. They had to bear them quietly.

        When Deepa had told Lata about the atrocities meted out to her by her husband, 3ata would not believe it. When Sushma had similar tales to tell, Lata still would not believe it. She always maintained, "Within a loving marriage,rape has no place.   No man can do that to the woman he has married and loves with all his heart."

         Now, the same tragedy had befallen her. Twenty one years of love and caring had gone up in smoke in a jiffy. Lata kept thinking to herself: "Two children, two abortions, twenty one years of love, care, affection! I have given the marriage my all. Is this what I get in return? Was this to be my fate? Did God have this in store for me?"

         No answers were forth coming. There was no help from any quarter. Her marriage, built on love and tenderness, was rocking now as a consequence of this one act of brutality. Her body felt unclean. Her heart was broken. Her soul was battered beyond repair.

         She could not forgive Mohan ever, that she knew in her heart. A crack had appeared in the mirror-like relationship of Lata and Mohan. She knew, deep down, that that crack would always remain. It would never heal. Mohan may beg on his bended knees to forgive her in the morning and be more loving and caring than ever before; but Lata knew that she would never be able to have the same trusting and loving relationship with her husband that she had enjoyed earlier. She knew that something would always be missing and nothing and no one could help her clear the crack in her mirror.

September 16, 2010 at 7:55 A.M.

इस्तीफ़ा.......

ख़त्म हुई फौज़दारी,
ताज भी न रहा सिर पर,
घूमते थे वाइस-चांसलरी का डंडा लिये हाथों में,
अब तो इतनी भी इज़्ज़त नहीं बची,
कि माफ़ी माँग लें,
अपने दुष्कर्मों की।

चुप है आज ज़ुबाने खंजर,
जानती है--नहीं बचा कोई, रक्त बहाने को।

24 June, 2014 at 4.26 P.M.

written after the resignation of the Vice Chancellor of the University of Delhi

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