Poem by a Fluke - II
It is not necessary that poetry has to be always spontaneous; a lot of tweaking must go into it to endow it with readability and poetic essence. At least that is my experience. But there are occasions when it comes just like that. One such occasion I have earlier narrated about in my blog is under caption “Poem by Fluke”, recapitulating how I was able to scribble something as I was being video graphed for a programme on the local television. But then again, what I wrote there in my first attempt had to undergo a lot of polishing before I could bring it on my blog. And yet I can’t say it ultimately turned out to be a wholesome poetic recipe.
Yesterday something as serendipitous as that happened just in front of me. On this occasion, though, the poet imbued with rhapsodic surge was not me.
Bharatiya Yuva Sahityakar Parishad, a literary society in
I was just guessing if the impact of that poem was same upon all listening to that. Yes, maybe, if the silence of the audience was to be taken as their compelling attention...no, it may not be, for by this time I had gathered that all present there were poets, patiently waiting for their turns to recite. And in the mean time the recital reached its concluding moment. At that very spur, as the presiding person at the dais invited if anyone else was still left to recite, I saw a young man, Zishan by name, came with his poem. From his introductory brief it became clear that the poem he was going to recite was freshly written, right on the spot, inspired by the same poem that deeply affected me a little while ago. And what was more, it happened to be the maiden attempt of Zishan in trying something poetic.
Let me reproduce it:
§ÉÚhÉ ½þiªÉÉ ( By VÉÒ¶ÉÉxÉ +½þºÉxÉ)
बेटी, करके मैं तेरी ह्त्या, तुझपे कर रहा हूँ उपकार
बरना ये दुनिया, रस्मों रिवाज से जकड कर, कर देता तेरा जीना दुश्वार
बेटी, मैं भी करता हूँ तुझसे बहुत प्रेम और तुझसे भी है ममता
पर क्या करून इस दुमुहें समाज से बचाने की नहीं है क्षमता ।
Now, I’m going to translate it for those readers who would have difficulty in reading Hindi. It goes something like this:
Daughter, the apple of my eye
I’m only doing you a favour killing you
The world is full of deadly rituals
They would make your life only abysmal.
Daughter, the apple of my eye
I still love you despite this
Undone, I’m trapped in the realm of sham
Incapable of saving your life, at last.
The idea behind the poem may or may not be great. Like one may decry it saying that the poem does not speak of love, nor does it articulate a father’s helplessness; it is only an attempt to justify the heinous crime called female foeticide. Some may say that the poem depicts the virulence of a society where future of human race is sacrificed for the safety of a lethal present. But despite everything, there is a good dose of poetic prowess in Zishan’s instant verse. It has a perfect rhyme and it has a feeling integrated in expression. It has emotions intensified. Top of all it is instantaneous, a poem by fluke.
A. N. Nanda
Photo credit: Puja Nanda: visit link here