Poetry in the Times of COVID-19 IV

Friends,
Here is the yet another poem, both in its Hindi and English versions on the current theme: COVID-19. Hope it would interest some of you.

  

                 FIAT

  

This is a FIAT from the State.

Stay where you are.

Those in their homes, stay locked in.

There would be no shortages.

Groceries, vegetables, fruits, milk,

bakeries, medicines in plenty.

Keep busy. Use the Internet, TV

for news and entertainment 24x7.

Be creative. Invent new pastimes. Keep fit.

Go digital in money transactions.

You’ll miss nothing, except the humanoids

who perform all your menial jobs.

Bear with this for your own safety

and to serve Mother India.

Last time you lighted the lamps of solidarity

standing in your balconies

at a propitious confluence of stars.

This time we shall ask you to do something more.

To make a sacrifice, may be.

Wait for fresh instructions.

Now, for those who are out:

Stay locked out. Wherever you are.

On the roads. In makeshift camps. Wherever else.

Men, women, old, sick, children, infants, pregnant women, all. 

You will be fed at least once a day. Dal-chawal-roti.

You will have to stand in queue. No hardship for you.

You have done this again and again.

 There may not always be enough for all.

This also you know.

We cannot send you home.

Bear hunger, heat, loneliness, separation from your families,

 indignities from the police. You are no strangers to these too.

Don’t disobey the fiat.

The police may haul you up.

We need to protect the people.

So, stay where you are.

Like jawans at the borders.

Jai Hind.

---

आदेश

राजसत्ता ने आदेश जारी किया है

जहां भी हो रुके रहो

घर के अंदर या बाहर

जो घरों में हैं बाहर न निकलें

किसी चीज़की कमी नहीं होगी

आटा दाल चींनी सव्ज़ी फ़ल दूध दवाएं ब्रैड बिसकुट

सभी कुछ मिले गा  बेफ़िक्र रहें

मनोरंजन  और  ख़बरों के लिए

ईंटरनैट टीवी उपलब्ध हैं दिनरात

 मनोरंजन के नये नये साधन खोजें

 व्यस्त रहें फिट रहें

आपको सभ कुछ उप्लबध है

आपके अर्धमानव सेबक-सेविकाओं के सिवा

धीरज ररखें यह आपका कर्त्वय है

इस का पालन करें

इस  से पहले हम  ने आप से अपनी  बालकोनी में 

खड़े हो दिये जलाने को  कहा था

नक्षत्रों के शुभ संयोग के समय

अब हम आप से कोई कुरबानी मांग सकते हैं

राष्ट्र की ख़ातिर

हमारे अगले आदेश की प्रतीक्षा करें

और  जो घर से बाहर हैं बाहर ही रहें

जहां भी हैं सड़क पर बसेरों में कहीं भी

जवान बूढ़े बच्चे औरतें बीमार गरभवती औरतें सभी

हम तुम्हें खाना खिला देंगे

रोटी-दाल-चावल दिन में एक बार

तुम्हें लाईन में खड़े रहना होगा

हो सकता है कई बार तुम्हें खाना न मिले

पर इस की तुम्हें आदत है

हम तुम्हें घर नहीं भेज सकते

भूख प्यास धूप परिवार जनों से दूरी अकेलापन पुलिस की ज़ोराज़ोरी

सहन करने होंगे अपनी जान बचाने के लिए

देश की ख़ातिर इसआदेश का पालन करना होगा

वरना पुलिस लाठी चला सकती है

जहां भी हो डटे रहो

सीमा पर जवानों की तरह तैनात

हमारे अगले आदेश तक

जयहिंद

---

Poetry in the Times of COVID-19 III

Dear friends,
 Here is another poem on the theme both in its English and Hindi versions. 
Both the versions have been composed one after the other ,almost simultaneously, each version modifying the other in the process, though here and there going its own way.

Intimations

Will I survive this knockout?

How many will die?

Do I care?

I want to live through…

Will I?

A mild backache

A coughing bout

 A sore throat

A sneeze

A nose congestion

become the intimations

My hands have become the enemy!

One touch

And there I go

And during the day

newspapers

TV channels

social media

friends and well-wishers on phone

howls of ambulance sirens ‒

keep revved up the drumbeat

for the invisible cannibal’s dance

During the night I wake up

dreading the stealth invader’s silent entry

How long will it go on?

Light at the end of the tunnel is just a pinhead

Will I reach there?

                     ---

मौन दस्तक

क्या मैं इस कठोराघात से बच पाऊं  गाा?

कितनी जानें जाएं गी ?

मैं क्यों जानू?

बस मैं जीना चाहता हूं

क्या मैं सचमुच बच निकलूं गा?

पीठ में हलका सा दरद

खांसी की एक खों-खों

बस एक छींक

गले में हलक़ी सी ख़राश

 नाक बन्द

दस्तक देनें लगते हैं

मेरे हाथ मेरे दुश्मन बन गये हैं

एक स्पर्ष और बस

और उस पर

अख़बार

टीवी चैनल

सोशल मीडिया

फोन पर दोस्त सज्जन

हऊ-हऊ करती ऐमबुलैंस

दिनभर उसअदृश्य नरभख्शी के

नाच का नगाड़ा पीटते रहते हैं

और रात को अचानक उठ बैठता हुं

उस मौन आकर्मणकारी

के चुपचप आ धमकने के डर से

आखिर यह कब तक चले गा? 

समय की सुरंग के उस पार प्रकाश

बस एक बिन्दु मात्र

क्या मैं उस तक पहुंच पाऊं गा?

                   ---

Poetry in the Times of COVID-19 - II

Friends, 
Here are two more poems relating to our critical times, both in their English and Hindi versions.

Hope you would enjoy reading them.

1. Dos and Don’ts for COVID-19 and

                That Silly Little Girl

Keep your distance

Wash your hands frequently with soap

Or use the sanitizer

Avoid touching your mouth, nose and eyes

with your hands

Cover your mouth if you cough

and your nose if you sneeze

Do not spit

Keep a mask handy 

and wear it when needed

Stay at home

To boost your immunity

eat nutritious food

nuts and green vegetables

Vitamin C

Exercise

Avoid stress

To pass time

listen to music

read books

compose a poem

watch the Ramayan and Mahabharat

If you see symptoms of COVID

ring up the Health Ministry’s emergency service

But I don’t know why

ignoring all these easy-to-follow dos and don’ts

that silly little girl

carrying a load on her head

is trudging on the Express Way

from nowhere to nowhere

          ---

कोविड-19 से बचाव और ये छोटी लड़की

दूरी बना कर रखें

अपने हाथ बार-बार साबुन से धोंए

या सैनीटाइज़र से साफ़ करें

अपने नाक मुंह आंखे

हाथ से ना छुएं

खांसी आने पर मुंह ढक लें

छींक आने पर नाक ढक लें

बिलकुल ना थूकें

मास्क लगाएं या तयैार रखें

घर से ना निकलें

अपनी इम्मयुंनिटी बढ़ाने के लिए

पौष्टिक आहार खाएं

बादाम अखरोट काजु आदि

हरी सवज़ियां

विटामिन सी

व्यायाम करें

तनाव से बचें

टाइमपास के लिए

संगीत सुनें

कितबें पढ़ें

कविता लिखें

रामायण महांभारत देखें

करोना के लक्षण दिखें

तो स्वास्थय मंत्रालय के

आपातकालीन नम्बर पर

सम्पर्क करें

पर ना जाने क्यों

यह सीधे-साधे परामर्श नकार कर

वह नादन छोटी लड़की

सर पर बोझ उठाए

ऐकसप्रैस-वे पर चली जा रही है

ना जाने कहां से कहां को

         ---  

 2. What We’re Missing in COVID Times

Outdoors, we’re missing:

Workplaces

Schools

Colleges

Restaurants

Shopping Malls

Kitty parties

Theatres

Boy friends

Girl friends

Picnic spots

Sports events

Holiday trips

in and out country…

Indoors, we’re missing these gadgets: 

Sweepers

Scrubbers

Moppers

Wipers

Dusters

Cookers

Veg cutters

Dishwashers

Linen washers

Ironers

Carriers

Hair dyers

Nursers …

     ---

 कोविट के समयों में हम क्या-कया मिस कर रहे हैं

घर के बाहर हम मिस कर रहे हैं

अपने कार्य-स्थल

स्कूल

कॉलिज

रैस्टोरैंट

शौपिंग मॉल

सिनेमा घर

किट्टी पारटीज़

गर्ल फ्रैंडज़

बॊए फ्रैंडज़

पिकनिक

खेल आयोजन

मिलन सम्मेलन

यात्राएं देश-विदेश की...

और घर पर हम मिस कर रहे हैं

झाड़ू लगाने वाली

पौंछे लगाने वाली

सफ़ाई करने वाली

सब्ज़ी काटने वाली

खाना बनाने वाली

बर्तन साफ करने वाली

कपड़े धोने वाली

कपड़े इस्तरी करने वाली

सामान इधर उधर करने वाली

बाल रंगने वाली

तीमारदारी करने वाली

मशीनें

            ---

Poetry in the Times of COVID-19 Lock-down

                                         COVID-19

Friends, We are all overwhelmed by the threat posed by COVID-19. We are all trying to make sense of it all, wondering what is in store for us, with over half a million already in its thrall struggling for survival. Millions in our country have lost their livelihoods and  have fled from their work places chased by the spectre of  the virus and confronted by hunger and starvation on the roads. And thousands of doctors, nurses and supportive staff and many others are heroically risking their own lives to save other lives.  So many of us are, however, secure in our homes confined, anxious though safe and facing no real hardship, each engrossed in their own way to make sense of this unprecedented calamity. 

I being one of those fortunate ones, so far, have tried to understand it in my own way and here is the result: a poem; rather two versions of one poem, in English and Hindi. 

Here they are.

                  The Avenger ? 

A report says: Pollution is down to zero

in cities that are locked down

where humans in fright of extinction

have retreated to hide in their holes

Earth, water and air are clean now

For how long? No one knows

Yet birds and animals are returning

to reclaim the spaces usurped by humans

Is this Nature’s revenge?

An existential alarm bell: Beware

The eco-imbalance created by them

can wipe them out too, despite their hubris

A grim reminder: there are no borders

The planet belongs to all, equally

---

                 प्रतिशोध?

ख़बर आई हैः प्रदूशन  शून्य पर पहुंच  गया है

उन शहरों में जहां तालाबन्दी है

जहाँ महांप्रलय से भयभीत मानवजात

अपनी-अपनी बिलों में जा छुपी है

धरती जलाशय और वायु  स्वछ हैं  अब

कब तक?  कौन जाने

पर पशु-पक्षी लौट रहे हैं उन स्थानों पर

जो मानव-जात ने हथिया रखे  हैं

क्या यह प्रकृति का प्रतिशोध है ?

एक भयावह चेतावनी: सावधान!

अहंकारी मानव का रचाया पर्यावरण-असंतुलन

उस के लिये भी विनाशकारी सिद्ध हो सकता है

एक कटु संदेश: हम अति संबद्ध, अविभाजित

इस पृथवी पर सभी जीवों का अधिकार एक समान

                       ---

                     

The  un-examined life is not worth living.         

  - Socrates     

Take care of yourselves and people close to you and think of  how we can contribute to help those who are totally down and out.

T C Ghai 

Pash in the Times of COVID-19

Reading Pash in the Times of COVID-19

Friends,  
The whole world is in a fright because of COVID-19. Rightly so. We have forgotten everything else in the face of this existential threat to us humans, so it seems. No one knows how long it will take to get past this threat from this microscopic yet deadly enemy. But we know it will take a long time and with catastrophic consequences, which are already manifest and will unfold over time.We must, while taking care of ourselves and those close to us, always keep in our minds thousands of doctors, nurses and supporting staff  who are doing a heroic job in  this fight against COVID-19. They are our real war heroes, staking their lives not to kill but save lives.

But should we forget everything else in this crisis? May be not.

   It is 23 March,  the day on which Pash (1950-88), the most dominant Punjabi revolutionary poet, was shot dead by Khalistani militants in 1988. And importantly, it was also the day on which Bhagat Singh, the iconic hero, and his two comrades, Rajguru and Sukhdev,  were hanged in 1931 at Lahore jail. Pash was a great admirer of Bhagat Singh, who was his role model. 

Perhaps the best way to remember Pash is to read a few of his best poems relevant to our times, COVID-19 notwithstanding.   
These are out of my book of translations of his poetry, Pash: A Poet of Impossible Dreams (2010). In contrast to the threat posed by a non-human agent, COVID-19, the poems below talk of the threat posed by human being to human beings, and their resilience to fight back and a dream to return to happy times.

Remembering Pash (9 September 1950- 23 March 1988)

A SUPPLICATION FOR INITIATION 

Dharam Guru, I have but one son -

my man and bread-earner is dead.

After your thunderous roar

no men survive far and wide.

Now there are only women,

or herbivorous bipeds

who earn bread for them.

You, Dharam Guru, are skilled in all the sixteen arts.

The faintest fold on your brow

can transform happy families into a homeless herd.

Everybody, after aligning with someone,

tries to ram his head into another,

but I have only one head, Dharam Guru,

my son’s – and my man and bread-earner is dead.

I shall worship only the gods prescribed by you

I shall sing only the hymns sanctified by you.

I shall despise all other faiths as worthless.

but I have only one voice, Dharam Guru

my son’s – and my man and bread-earner is dead.

All these days I have been a dimwit

paying no attention to the faith

professed even by my own family.

I have been committing the sin

of regarding the family as my faith.

Foolishly, on hearsay, I have regarded my husband as God.

The joys and sorrows of my family

have been my only heaven and hell.

Perhaps I was the bird-shit of Kalyug, Dharam Guru.

But now in the resounding bugle of faith blown by you

the fog of apostasy has disappeared from my eyes.

From now on this foolish woman shall hold back her own truth

and display your truth

as the only possible truth.

After all, just a woman, what am I

before your daredevil warriors?

At any time of my life,

I have always been less beautiful than your sword.

In my most shining moments,

I have been colourless before your refulgence.

I was ever non-existent.

It’s only you, and you, O Dharam Guru

Dharam Guru, I have only one son.

Had I seven

they would have been no match to you.

Your dynamite has Godly fragrance.

It lights up the night skies

and drives the heretics back on the righteous path.

I shall offer holy water to your sacred bullet.

I have only one son, Dharam Guru,

and my man and bread earner is dead

---

WHEN REVOLT RAGES 

When in the pitch-dark nights

moments recoil

and stand in terror of each other

the light in the attics

jumps from the windows

and commits suicide

When revolt rages

in the womb of such peaceful nights

I can be done to death any time

in the broad daylight

in the thick of the night

---

GRASS    

I’m grass

I shall green-wash all your misdeeds.

You may bomb the university

reduce every hostel to a heap of rubble

raze all our jhuggis to the ground …

How will you deal with me?

I’m grass, and I shall cover everything

rise from every heap.

You may flatten Banga,

decimate Sangrur,

pulverize Ludhiana into a heap of dust 

my greenness will do its act

and two or ten years hence

passengers will ask the bus conductor:

‘Where are we?

Drop us at Barnala,

where green grass grows thick like a jungle.’

I’m grass, I’ll do my act:

green-wash all your misdeeds.

----

 MA, YOU ARE WEARING OUT 

Ma, you stop worrying.

I have bid goodbye to my friends.

Do you know what they said:

Now your going back is impossible.

They are lying, ma.

Now don’t let me go back there.

And we won’t let Babloo also go.

They are the people

who took away your elder one from you.

Ma, you stop worrying,

I shall catch hold of that rascal Ashim Chatterjee

by his moustache and throw him at your feet

and you ask him to hand over your elder son’s corpse.

They spellbind young boys

using father’s bones as a magic wand.

Why do you cry, ma?

I’ll make even my elder sister

retrace her steps

and then we all, brothers and sister,

shall sit together and laugh and laugh

as in our childhood days

when we, blindfolding you,

would hide ourselves under the cot

and you groped for us spreading your arms.

Or, exactly like that

when I used to run away

after pinching your back

and you would hurl the rolling pin after me

and I used wave the broken pin

to make fun of you.

I know father’s memory still rankles in your heart.

He was very gentle – don’t you remember -

how once, having fallen off the tree

while axing a branch, and broken his arm

he had kept laughing

lest you should faint with shock.

And how very small was sister

just like a doll

who, now living in the city, has become so clever.

But ma, you stop worrying.

We shall daub her hands with the bridal paste

and then I and Babloo

shall lie in your lap and

listen to the fairy tales

and talk about that Tamluk

which was once Tamralipti

Ma, we shall go far away

where there are only birds

and the sky is not small like a tent’s roof,

where trees are like human beings

and not human beings like trees.

Ma, you stop worrying.

We shall go back to the days

when the way to the city

led through a huge forest.

---