The Unadorned

My literary blog to keep track of my creative mood swings with poems n short stories, book reviews n humorous prose, travelogues n photography, reflections n translations, both in English n Hindi.

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I'm a peace-loving married Indian male on the right side of '50 with college-going children, and presently employed under government. Educationally I've a master's degree in History, and another in Computer Application. Besides, I've a post graduate diploma in Management. My published works are:- (1)"In Harness", ISBN 81-8157-183-5, a poetry collections and (2) "The Remix of Orchid", ISBN 978-81-7525-729-0, a short story collections with a foreword by Mr. Ruskin Bond, (3) "Virasat", ISBN 978-81-7525-982-9, again a short story collection but in Hindi, (4) "Ek Saal Baad," ISBN 978-81-906496-8-1, my second Story Collection in Hindi.

Wednesday, September 03, 2014

My Friend Ajit's Poem

Ajit's Poem in Odiya

During my last visit to Bhubaneswar I met my classmate Ajit after some twenty-nine years. It was a pleasant feeling to know how accomplished he has become in the meanwhile with oodles of poetry behind him, as a producer of a few feature films and documentaries. I had promised him to translate one of his poems and now here is the English and Hindi rendering of his poem, "A life of Agony" /  "दर्द की ज़िन्दगी".

A Life of Agony
Original poem in Odiya by
Ajit Dash Mohapatra
Translated to English by
A N Nanda

Should you care a little to break me
The game could come to an end!
But instead you’ve chosen
To leave me stooped  
And in such a strange posture
I can never stand upright
Neither can I rest on the ground.
Really, I’m suffering a lot.

Like the leaning tower of Pisa
A pole of telephone
Bent to stoop by strom,
Really, I’m suffering a lot
I can never see the sky
Neither can I rest on the ground.

That day, as I inserted my hand into the gap
In my bid to unlatch the door from outside
And my hand got trapped in the process
Today, very much like my hapless hand
Suspended in the middle, bodily I’m
In an unmovable posture for ever
As per the whimsy of time.  

Very much like the cruel regime of the British
Time has nothing to do with the stories
Of pain and privations
And I’m an entity,
Age has left me lacerated and whipped
Like a politician in power
Time is mighty indeed.
Long long ago one day
I was standing erect
Talking to the sky, seated on the summit
As I dictated, the wind would stop blowing
The river flowed on as I was saying
The flower, the tree, the river and the mountain
I had my sway over one and all
But now, a blow of time has bent me down
Suspended, without letting me reach
My beloved ground.

Should you care a little kill me
The agony could come to an end!
I could be free, I could be liberated
Should you care to lay me aground
The agony could come to an end
And I could get my peace
But instead you’ve fixed me to a pose
Such a posture: I can never see clearly
Neither can I close my eyes
I’m only ogling, and ogling for ever.


 दर्द  की  ज़िन्दगी

Original poem in Odiya by
Ajit Dash Mohapatra
Translated to Hindi by
A N Nanda
आखिर तोड़ ही देते तो
ख़त्म हो जाता खेल पर  
ऐसी एक अजब-से मुद्रा में
लटका दिया है तुमने   
न मैं खड़ा हो सकता हूँ  
न डाल सकता हूँ शरीर का भार ज़मीं पर
ज़रा यकीन करो मेरी
कष्ट से तड़प रहा हूँ मैं ।

पिसा का झुका हुआ बुर्ज जैसे
तूफ़ान से टेढ़ा हुआ
टेलीफ़ोन खम्बे के सरीखे
अब हालत मेरी, ज़रा यकीन करो
कष्ट से तड़प रहा हूँ मैं ।
न आसमान की ओर ताक सकता हूँ मैं
न ज़मीन पर लेट पाता हूँ !

बाहर से दरवाज़ा की ज़ंजीर खोलने के प्रयास से
जैसे फँस गया था हाथ मेरा उस दिन
बिल्कुल उसी प्रकार
जीवन मेरा अटक गया है,
लटका हुआ हूँ मैं अब
एक ही मुद्रा में
समय के खयाली इशारे से ।

समय क्रूर है
जैसे कि अँगरेज़ी हुकुम्मत
समझे ना किसी पीड़ा या वेदना का वृत्तांत
उम्र के चाबुक की मार से घायल सत्ता हूँ मैं ।
बड़ा ताकतवर है यह समय
कुर्सी पर आसीन राजनेता की भाँति ।

एक दिन ऐसा था जब
मैं भी सीधा खड़ा हुआ करता था   
गगनचुम्बी पर्वत पर बैठा
आसमान से बातें किया करता था
रुक जाओ कहने पर अटक जाती थी हवा
चलो कहने से आगे बढ़ जाती थीं नदियाँ  
फूल, पेड़, नदी, पहाड़
सब पर था मेरा आधिपत्य
पर समय ने करवट ली
एक ही धक्के से सचमुच
झुक गया मैं पर
मुश्किल था पहुँचाना
मेरी प्रिय मिट्टी तक ।     

अगर मारना था तो ऐसे ही मार देते
मिल जाती मुक्ति मुझे  
सुला ही देते ज़मीन पर
और मिल जाती शांति
पर ऐसी ही मुद्रा में लटका रखा तुमने
न आराम से देख सकता हूँ मैं 
न आँख मुद सकता हूँ । केवल
एकटक निहारता रहता हूँ ।
A N Nanda

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