निर्माल्य

बरेच दिवस मराठीत काही लिहिलं गेलं नव्हतं. बस मधून येता-जाताना, मनात अनेक विचार येत असतात. त्यातच एक दिवस, अण्णांची आणि मुख्यतः ते देवाला हार म्हणून वाहायचे त्या गजर्‍यांची आठवण झाली. त्याच विचाराची चटकन झाली कविता,ती म्हणजे निर्माल्य.

मी आज काल स्वतः च्या कविते बरोबर प्रयोग करावा म्हणून, एकाच कवितेचे दोन वेगळे शेवट लिहितो. कदाचित माझ्याच मनाचे दोन पैलू त्यातून उलगडतात. 'निर्माल्य' ह्या कविते बरोबर सुद्धा असा प्रयोग करून पाहिला. 

काही जणांना ही कविता आवडली नाही, जे ही ठीक आहे, माझी प्रत्येक कविता, प्रत्येक वेळी, प्रत्येकाला आवडेलच असं नाही. काहींना डावी कडचा शेवट आवडला, काहींना उजवी कडचा. काहींनी सांगितलं की ही कविता अजून अपूर्ण, raw आणि unfinished वाटते.

थोडा अजून विचार केला ह्या सगळ्या बद्दल आणि नंतर जाणवलं की दोन शेवट मुळात वेगळे नाही आहेत. त्यातून निर्माण झाली, 'निर्माल्य' ची एक नवीन आवृत्ती, ती काही अशी.

  

निर्माल्य

तुला आवडतात म्हणून, 
मी ओंजळ भर सोनचाफे  
आणि मोगर्‍याचे गजरे आणले होते

तुझ्या बरोबर त्यांचा ही घमघमाट,

घर भर दरवळला, 
सुखाने नांदला काही दिवस

पण तू जाताना...  
चाफा आणि गजरे, 
माळून गेली नाहीस.

काही दिवस ते थांबले,
शेवटी हिरमुसून,
पार कोमेजून गेले 

ते मला टाकवत नाहीत,

निर्माल्य टाकत नाही ना, 
तसंच        

तुझी मागे राहिलेली,
आठवण-स्वप्ने आहेत काही,
तशीच अर्ध-गंधीत, 
अर्ध-मेलेली

मी मानतो म्हणून ते निर्माल्य, 
तू नाही मानलस म्हणून, कचरा 
तरी ही कचरा म्हणून,  
ते टाकवत नाही 

पण मी गेलो,
की माझ्या बरोबर होईल,

निर्माल्याचं,
विसर्जन !  

- प्रतीक
5/7/2014     

Charandas Chor, a journey within - Part 1

The journey of Charandas Chor for me, started exactly a week before I appeared for the most crucial exam of my life. It started on a day when Cyclone Lusi hit Auckland.  As I look back at all of it now, it surprises me that I was thinking about not going for the auditions. I would have missed out, missed out on so much - new friends and new experiences. But more importantly I would have missed out on a journey that has made me look more inwards than any I have been on before.

So on a day that it was going to rain truck- loads and winds were promising to sweep everything away, I decided I needed to go for the auditions. I weathered that storm to make it to TAPAC, which now after a season each of Mumbai Monologues and Charandas Chor has become second home in this foreign land. I landed at TAPAC, thankfully not very drenched to be greeted by some known faces, my first directors and gurus in theatre, Padma Akula and Ahi Karunaharan and a whole bunch of unknown people who had enthusiastically turned up to audition.

We were put through the paces at the workshop-like auditions which were meant not to test you but challenge you and help you find the actor within. I remember Ahi briefing us as the auditions for Mumbai Monologues were about to begin. He told us to be fearless at the auditions, be generous but one thing that has stuck with me since then, was the thing Ahi said, quoting Beckett, "Try. Try again",  he said. " Fail again. Fail better."

That day as I auditioned for Mumbai Monologues, I must have done cartwheels after a full decade, that too in a pair of dress pants and crisp freshly ironed shirt, I must have looked like a complete idiot, but I tried.

This time for Charandas Chor, I came prepared to lay everything out,  try hard and probably fail but I wanted to fail gloriously. We did a master and servant exercise in those auditions where we alternated playing master and servant. The master was meant to rule over the servant according to his/her whims and the servant was supposed to hate the master but obey every command  and try to please him/her. I was auditioning with Bhavna (our-to-be Rani-sahib) and Amit.

The turn came for Bhavna to be the master and Amit and me to be servants, during the on-the-spot improvisation, I fell on the ground and Bhavna then told Amit to pull me along and keep walking. I let out a yelp, a very visceral groan of pain, acting because Amit had pulled me by the arm that was apparently broken. I shouted, with the most pain I could manage to summon at that time. People laughed at it, but the pain for me was real, not physically but emotionally. I was channeling all the pain, all the hurt and frustration that I had shuttered away to maintain a brave face. I couldn't access that pain for a long, long time after that but I found it, just in time for the shows and could reach that raw pain once more. I hit those notes finally as my character Satturam while getting mercilessly beaten in the play by Charandas, just to steal a few coins off me. 

Images Courtesy - Prayas Theatre, Agaram Productions and Shovik Nandi Photography.

Private Bigotry - A Major Problem

As the Loksabha elections and all the campaigning draws to a close I wanted to write about a peculiar issue I have observed. I read a similar observation on Twitter as well. It was to do with how the rise of Narendra Modi and resurgence of BJP on a public forum was increasing the private bigotry.

Before I continue, some disclaimers. One I am born a Hindu and though I have my struggles with religion and faith itself, as Javed Akhtar identifies himself culturally to be a Muslim despite being an atheist. I am 'culturally' still a Hindu. Whenever the time comes to pray I still start reciting the Ganpati Atharvasheersha probably because that is the one prayer I do know by heart. Two I went to a right-of-center school, so all my school mates, please have an unbiased read of this. Of course you may find this unpalatable and just another 'pseudo-secular' rant, which is fine as well, you are entitled to your own opinion as I am to mine.

With that out of the way let us continue. I have observed over the last few months, a growing number of opinions which are nothing but bigotry. They call people of any community other than their own as unpatriotic and will then point to statistics about how maximum 'terrorists' are from this one particular religion. I personally feel ashamed to spell these religions out because I don't want to even be a part of that discourse. Frankly, I am sick and tired of answering and engaging with people who are bigots.

Yes, bigots. I googled the definition of that word. According to Merriam-Webster online dictionary it is "a person who is obstinately or intolerantly devoted to his or her own opinions and prejudices; especially : one who regards or treats the members of a group (as a racial or ethnic group) with hatred and intolerance". You people fit this definition perfectly and have expressed an opinion to fit this definition in the confines of a Whatsapp group or to me personally.

I will not be as brash as to point out who you are or be rude enough to say what you said in those private spaces. I have let it be known to you then itself that such opinions make me highly uncomfortable and extremely sad that you share that opinion. They have ranged from your garden variety Whatsapp msg forwarded in badly written English or unending lines in Hindi about how Hindu's have been persecuted against in a country where they are a majority to absolute hate speech.

Now people reading this would think that these people are proper far right and fundamentalists who don't know any better. But that isn't the case. These opinions, I was shocked myself to know, are shared by people who are talented, extremely smart, highly educated, successfully employed. A well travelled group of individuals who have seen the world and really should know better. These are your regular blokes and gals who enjoy a drink or two over the weekends and are now settled across the globe. People who read this and are identifying some of the characteristics as your own, consider this a public naming and shaming of your private bigotry. This is me saying, I disagree with you and your disgusting opinion, about my religion and your extremely narrow world view of other religions.

Let me explain. You people point to a community and ask them to verify their patriotism according to your standards. Why? They don't need to, they are as much an Indian on account of them being born in India. You questioning their patriotism doesn't change the fact. You point to some idiotic 'secular' politicians like Mulayam Singh and his like and talk about how they are pandering to a vote bank, without realising you are merely the other side of that coin, stalking the Hindu religious flames at every chance you get. I doubt you are that stupid, to not understand that neither BJP nor SP/Congress are in it for the betterment of any community. If it was so they would have achieved it over the last 60 years, wouldn't you think. And yes here is looking at BJP too, I don't see you have done any different sitting in the opposition. All you do by mounting rhetoric against rhetoric, is fan the flames of communal disharmony over which the politicians are only happy to bake their cake.

Why should any community or person be seen through the prism of their name or which religion they were born in. Look at the person as he/she is and their actions. Just because he/she is from another religion you will squint your eyes every time? Just because you are a Hindu doesn't make you any less of a prick.

I was a part of a conversation that spoke of how everyone in the Indian sub-continent is Hindu or of Hindu origin and how they should accept it. Why? What will that achieve? I was born a Hindu, but what is it other than a passive label attached to me because I was born to Hindu parents? Thankfully I was brought up in an extremely liberal environment and I was able to shape my own thinking. Let us change the Hindu parents to any other and keep the environment same. How does that change me as a person? Not very much I hope. But it does change your view of me doesn't it? Ergo, you are a bigot.

The conversation went on to talk about how they are proud to be a Hindu and how some of the other communities are lagging behind in being progressive. Tell me, what are you proud of? The damned caste system that has been in place for millennia and still continues, refusing to go away. We treated humans like they weren't even animals, we didn't let them drink the same water, we didn't their shadow fall on us?! A proud few millennia for Hinduism. How do we treat women? As property, remind me about the importance of Kanya-daan in a wedding. And before you say about how we have moved ahead, let me remind you of a incident in Ahmednagar, not far from Pune and Mumbai where a boy was murdered because he fell in love with the 'wrong' girl, this is from just last month. 'Honour' killing indeed, Hindu and very proud.

Take your pride and stuff it where the sun don't shine. No pride in such a religion. Before you call me out for only blaming Hinduism only, all religions have issues, but I start with the one closest to me. Islam and the thugs in Nigeria going by the name of Boko Haram, Christianity and some of the far right loonies in USA. All religions have issues and yes like you, they too are bigots if only far more extremist in their views. I do hope my friends in other religions and beliefs have to deal with a pain like me - a moderate know-it-all, who just wont shut up.

Patriarchy and misogyny is an issue that plagues all religions equally and we must move to eradicate it. Inequality plagues religions equally (didn't miss the obvious irony in that sentence!). Claiming exclusive access to the big guy/girl up there another problem that plagues all religions. What are we doing to tackle these real issues? Nothing much, are we?

This Loksabhe election will come and go. All the best for the impending coronation/oath taking of Narendra Modi and the Prime Minister of India. I do hope that he is does possess the magic wand all of you so hope he has. I hope he delivers on all the promises he has made, because we need a person to deliver. But do remember owing to a secret ballot and the make up of the Indian polity, he becomes the leader of all us Indians. I only hope we aren't left suckers in the bargain and have this same conversation after 5 years.

Why the rant then? I remember the last scene from Inglorious Basterds, where Brad Pitt carves onto Christopher Waltz's forehead the Nazi Swatik. Because he says, once you take of Nazi uniform, we would still like to recognize you as a Nazi. Now I am not equating you to be a Nazi, but it would be easier to deal with people if all the private bigots just came out. Answer that question for yourself and step out of your closet. There is also the option to stop being a bigot, but that would be too much to ask right?

Me? I am what am in public and in private. I refuse to have a narrow world view about a person because he/she has a certain name or is from a certain religion. Peace!

डायरी

तेरे मेरे ना जाने कितने किस्से हैं,

और तेरी मेरी अनगिनत यादें है.

सफ़ेद पन्नों पर काली स्याही में,

छोटीसी डायरी में सुंदर लिखाई में,

मैंने उन्हे संभाल के रखा है

मैंने उन्हे नज़्म बना, रखा है.

हर साल खुद ही को पढ़ता हूँ वो नज़्मे

और ना चाह कर भी एक आध आँसू ,

आखों से, कागज पर उमड़ ही पड़ता हैं.

वो कंबखत स्याही घुला ले जाता हैं,

और मेरी नज़्म जो कभी पूरी थी,

अब बेवजह अधूरी रेह जाती है.

ऐसे कई साल हो गए हैं,

की अब देखूँ तो लगता है

पन्ने पीले पड़ने लगे हैं.

काली स्याही भी धीरे धीरे,

हल्के हल्के, फीकी पड रही है

और स्याही के साथ नज़्म भी.

सोचता हूँ, ये डायरियाँ कबाड़ में दे आऊँ,

नहीं, उन पैसों की फिक्र नहीं और ना जरूरत हैं,

बस सोचता हूँ बोझ हल्का हो लेगा.

सब समेट गया तो था मैं कबाड़ी के पास,

वो बोला “ साब, नज़्मों का कोई मोल नहीं होता

और यादों को साब, कोई नाप कोई तोल नहीं होता.”

बोझ लिये फिर लौट आया मैं भारी भारी कदमों से,

चाह कर भी पीछा छुड़ा ना पाया उन यादों-नज़्मों से.   

कल जब ना तुम होगी और ना मैं रहूँगा,

कोई इन पीले मुरझाए बुजुर्ग पन्नों की,

उम्र बता कर कहेगा, यहाँ कुछ हुआ तो था .

पर अधूरी, फीकी, उजड़ी नज़्मों का,

शायाद मतलब नहीं लगा पाएगा,

की गर कुछ हुआ था, तो क्या हुआ था?  

मैं और तुम दूर बैठे कहीं, इन पहेलियों पे थोडसा मुस्कुराएंगे

आखें मिलाये, धीमी सासों में धीरे–धीरे कहेंगे और दोहराएंगे 

"ना जाने कितनी हैं अनकही अनसूनी, तेरे मेरी कहानियाँ,

कई किस्सों की अधूरी नज़्मे हैं और उनकी अधूरी हैं डायरियाँ!"

- प्रतीक  

10/3/2014 

The idea for this poem, 'peele panne' or paper turning yellow over time came to me when I observed that some of the pages or 'foolscap' that I had written my poems on 8-9 years ago had started turning yellow. I found that concept very very interesting that with the pages wilting and turning yellow, the memories are fading away as well. I tried to explore that fading and wilting away in this poem. There is a lot more to explore in that concept and there definitely is another poem to be written. 

Some poems just happen on their own, this one happened on a bus ride back home. I read this poem to out to myself, as I was composing it in my head and then just typed it out before I forgot what I had said. Hope you all like it, let me know what you feel in the comments below. 

मी कविता का लिहितो

"मी कविता का लिहितो?" ह्या प्रश्नाला तसा काहीच अर्थ नाही, जसा "माणूस का बोलतो?" ह्या प्रश्नाला नाही तसाच. मला व्यक्त व्हावंस वाटतं आणि मी तो कवितांमधून होतो. कविताच का? गद्य ,निबंध, लघु कथा का नाही? माहीत नाही, मला कविता होते म्हणून मी कविता लिहितो. तशी असतील ही कारणं, पण आता पर्यन्त ती मी शोधायचा प्रयत्न केला नाही.

कविता मला पहिले आठवते ती बडबड गीत म्हणून. लहान असताना आई, बाबा आणि अण्णानी ऐकवलेली. तीच बडबड गीतं कुठे तरी आहेत खोल वर पेरलेली. आठवायला सांगाल तर कदाचित आठवणार ही नाहीत पण त्यांचा काही तरी अंश रेंगाळत आहे कुठे तरी. कदाचित एकदम माझ्या मुलाला, नातवाला ऐकवीन आता ती .

माझं प्राथमिक शिक्षण इंग्रजी माध्यमातून झालं. शाळेत आम्ही हिन्दी शिकलो पण मराठी नाही. त्या मुळे मराठीचा वापर घरी बोली भाषा म्हणून व्हायचा. आई मराठी ध्वनिफिती नक्की आणायची मला ऐकवायला. त्यात पुन्हा काही बडबड गीतं, लहान मुलांच्या गोष्टी होत्या, वेगवेगळ्या मोठ्या कलावंतांच्या आवाजातल्या. अश्या दिग्गज कलावंतांच्या आवाज ऐकताना मस्त वाटायचं. त्यातला जो आवाज अजूनही आठवतो तो म्हणजे सुलभा देशपांड्यांचा. त्या आवजांचे माझ्या मनावर नक्कीच ठसे राहिले आहेत, म्हणून कदाचित मी आज ही कविता लिहिताना, स्वतःशी बोलत, स्वतःला वाचून दाखवत असतो. 

इयत्ता पाचवी मध्ये मी पुण्याला शिकला गेलो ज्ञान प्रबोधिनी मध्ये. त्या शाळेत मराठी हे एक शिकवायचं माध्यम होतं. आता मराठी ही बोली भाषा न राहता, लिहायची आणि शिकायची भाषा झाली. पुण्याचं मराठी हे 'साजूक तुपातलं' म्हणून ओळखलं जातं, त्याचा माझ्या मुंबईच्या 'अस्वच्छ' भाषेवर प्रभाव झाला आणि माझ्या भाषेला अजून एक पैलू लाभला. पाचवी ते आठवी मराठी शिकलो तेव्हा कविता म्हणजे काय, हे हळू हळू समजू लागलो. आमच्या शिक्षिका, अनुराधा ताई, चारुता ताई आणि पूर्वा ताई, खूप छान शिकवायच्या. तेव्हाची जी कविता आठवते ते म्हणजे बाल कवींची 'गवतफुला'. अनुराधा ताईंनी त्या कवितेला ला छान चाल लावलेली. ती कविता अजूनही, शब्द विसरलो असलो तरीही, गुणगुणत रहावीशी वाटते. तेव्हा कधी तरी लिहायला लागलो. एकदा लिहायची म्हणून सात पानांची कविता लिहिलेली, कवितेचं शीर्षक आणि विषय, अजून काय असणार "मी"!

ह्या मध्ये सातवी-आठवी मध्ये सौमित्र आणि मिलिंद इंगळे ची 'गारवा' ही ध्वनिफीत प्रकाशित झाली. माझं, पाऊसाचं आणि कवितेचं नातं त्यातल्या कवितांमुळे आणि गाण्यांमुळे अजून पक्कं झालं. पण अजून माझी पहिली पावसाळी किंवा पावसा बद्दल ची कविता व्हायला काही वर्षं लागली, पण संस्कार हे नक्की 'गारवा' चेच आहेत.

पुढे परत कविता सुटली, कारण की व्यक्त व्हायला मी 'नाटक' हे माध्यम निवडलं. त्यात वाचिक अभिनय भरपूर केला, काही नाटकं शाळेत लिहिली व दिग्दर्शित ही केली आणि मराठी भाषेशी एक कलाकार म्हणून अजून जवळ येत गेलो.

अकरावी मध्ये कधी तरी कविता पुन्हा भेटली आणि भेटली, ती तरुण वयातलं पहिलं प्रेम वगैरे घेऊनच! तेव्हा पुन्हा शब्द, कवितांच्या मार्गे कागदा वर उतारू लागले. तेव्हाची कविता म्हणाल्या बरोबर डोळ्या समोर उभा राहिला तो म्हणजे, शिवाजी पार्क इथला राखाडी खाडी वजा समुद्र, त्याचा तो घमघमाट आणि अंगावर उडलेले काही खारट तुषार . माझ्या कविते वर माहीम च्या समुद्राच्या लाटांचे ही असंख्य फेसाळेले आणि  राखाडी संस्कार आहेत.

तेव्हाच्या माझ्या कविता, मी एका मैत्रिणीला वाचून दाखवल्या. तिने वाचल्यानंतर, कवितांची चोपून टीका केली, तिला जाणवलं की माझ्या कवितेत अजून खूप सारे प्रश्नच आहेत, उत्तरं मात्र नाहीत. बहुदा माझी तेव्हा ची कविता ही माझ्याच मनस्थिती चं प्रतिबिंब होती, ज्यात भरपूर प्रश्न होते उत्तरं मात्र मिळत नव्हती. तिची टीका तेव्हा कळली नाही पण आता मागे वळून बघतो तेव्हा पटते.  

पुण्याला बायरामजी जीजीभोय वैद्यकीय महाविद्यालयात असताना भरपूर लिहिलं. पुण्याच्या घरी माझं टेबल खिडकी ला लागून होतं. पाऊस चालू झाला की मृद्धगंध दरवाळायला लगायचा आणि मी पार मुग्ध होऊन लिहीत जायचो. माझ्या पहिल्या पावसाळी कवितेवर, 'गारवा' चा सौमित्र च्या कवितांचा विशेष प्रभाव आहे. पाऊस आणि कविता हे नातं त्या टेबला जवळच्या खिडकीने आणखी घट्ट केलं. बरसणारे थेंब थोडे ऐकत थोडे झेलत, एका अपूर्ण पण नितांत सुंदर कविते कडे मनातच बघत राहावसं वाटायचं. नकळत तीच कविता मनातून निसटून कधी कागदावर जाऊन बसायची ते कळायचं नाही. नितांत सुंदर, देखणी, ओढ लावणारी आताच पावसात भिजून आलेल्या प्रेयसी सारखी.   

मी कविता करत नाही, मला कविता होते. मला आज कविता करायची आहे असं ठरवून, मारून मुटकून लिहायला बसलो की कविता नाही उतरत कागदावर. कविता आधी मनात घर करून बसते, चटकन एखादं अत्तर दरवळावं तशी मनात दरवळत राहते. ते अत्तर केवढं सुंदर आहे, हे सांगायला शब्दांचा मात्र आधार होतो आणि मग कविता बघता बघता, होऊन जाते.

होणे, हे क्रियापद मी "मूल होणे" या अर्थी ही वापरतो आहे. कधी कधी ते व्हायला वेळ लागतो, त्रास होतो. पुरुष असल्या मुळे, जरी प्रसूती वेदना अनुभवता येणार नसल्या तरी त्या कवी म्हणून भरपूर प्रसूती वेदना अनुभवल्या आहेत आणि तसाच नवनिर्मिती चा आनंद ही!

पहिले नमूद केल्या प्रमाणे, मराठी ही माझी सर्व प्रथम बोली भाषा आहे, म्हणून मी पहिले कविता बोलतो. नाटकवाला असल्या मुळे मला कवितेतही नाट्य असणं, त्यातून एखादी गोष्ट सांगणं महत्वाचं वाटतं. कविता अशीच, स्वतःशी बोलता बोलता लिहितो. म्हणूनच माझी कविता मला वाचून दाखवायला जास्त आवडते, तिची पडती बाजू सांभाळून मी घेतो आणि काही खास जागा आणखी खुलवून मांडू शकतो. माझी कविता वाचायला कशी वाटते ते मला नक्की माहीत नाही.   

माझी कविता, वृत्तात बसत नाही. मात्रा, लघु गुरु तिला कळत नाहीत, कधी कधी ताल मात्र धरते आणि मुक्तछंद होऊन बेधुंद नाचते कागदावर आणि मी फक्त धुंद होऊन बघत राहतो .  

एक धागा ह्या सगळ्यात समान आहे तो म्हणजे मी हळवा झालो, की लिहितो. मनात काही लागलं की लिहितो. काही कवितांमध्ये लिहिताना जाणवतं की जखम वाटली होती त्याच्या पेक्षा बरीच खोल आहे आणि मग शब्द भळा-भळा वाहत येतात कागदावर. कविता कधी रडायला खांदा देते, कधी हात होऊन डोळे पुसते, मांडी ही होते कधी आणि थोपटून झोपायला लावते, कधी अनुभव होते कविता आणि चार समजुती च्या गोष्टी शिकवून जाते. मनाची खरी सखी आहे कविता गुंफून हातात हात, चालत राहते, चालत राहते.

शेवट तात्यासाहेबांच्या, वि. वा. शिरवाडकरांच्या काही शब्दांनी करतो म्हणजे अजून काही कविते बद्दल लिहायलाच नको. तात्यासाहेब म्हणतात -

मी शब्दांच्या घालून बसतो अमाप राशी,
जखमी होता धावत जातो शब्दांपाशी,
शब्दच झाले मालक आता सर्व जिण्याचे,
जानवराने काबिज केला हा दरवेशी !          

आम्हा घरी आहे शब्दांचेच धन,
खंत नाही त्याची जाणवते पण,
शब्द देता घेता झाले आता शब्दांचेच मन,
झाले आता शब्दांचेच मन !

                       

Why do I run?

Why do I run?

Because I need to run, because I have to run. 

I run away from my problems, I run sometimes looking for solutions. I run, leaving all the troubles behind, I run to find some trouble along the way. I run thinking about everything swirling in my head and then I run for that ultimate clarity that you get in the last lap - screw all these issues, how in heaven's name am I going to take the next step and the one after that? 

I run because when I warm up, my body knows that something big is going to be thrown it's way. When I begin, the run welcomes me every time, like a long lost lover, comforting me into a rhythm. I run through the first few kilometers to feel numb, to lose my self and yet in the last kilometer find myself, my true character all over again.

Then the urge to push further strikes and you kick it up a gear, your feet quicken, you begin feeling the wind in your hair, the last lap, the last kilometer, the last few steps and then the dash for supposed end line with the stopwatch ticking away on your wrist. I run to answer just one question- did you beat yourself today or did you lose to yourself?

 

I run to maintain my sanity and I run for the insanity of that last dash, the guttural groans, the shout and the scream, to keep yourself going. I run because I chose this drug to help me through my tough times and heck now I even celebrate the good times with it. 

Why do I run? Because I need to, because I have to! 

मना रे

If  रे मना was about talking to the mind, suggesting, almost urging to mend fences.This poem is about understanding that some fences once broken cant really be made whole once again. This poem has a lot to do with not expecting anyone else to come help and care for you. It is about self-soothing and helping yourself out and

This poem was written at an interesting time in my life and it changed the way I started thinking about a lot of things.

You can listen to the poem recorded in my voice here. I hope you enjoy it. Do drop a comment about what you think about it.

पाऊसवेडी

पाऊसवेडी is an old poem, i wrote in 2007. It is a poem about a girl who loves the rains.

Some poems just develop organically taking their germ from conversations and then grow out into full fledged poems. This poem too was inspired out of a conversation like this.

Hope you all like it!

You can listen to this poem in my voice here - पाऊसवेडी.

ती आणि मी

ती आणि मी is a fresh new poem about just that, Her and Me. She is very close to me and what she means to me is obvious as the poem progresses. 

The origin of the germ and the idea of this poem needs to be mentioned though. It is somewhere in the amazing poem called निरभ्र by कुसुमाग्रज. That poem some how gives me goosebumps every time i read/hear it.

The poem is almost erotic, describing the beauty of a woman and this is done with such genuine love that you feel every emotion the poet is trying to describe. Thank you for that clean yet sensual नजर, तात्यासाहेब, thank you very much.

I hope you enjoy reading this poem as much as i enjoyed writing it. You can listen to this poem in my voice here. 

Merchant of Dreams

I wanted to be a copywriter once. Make my way into the world of advertising and become a merchant of dreams. With the immense respect I have for all the copywriters and creative folk out there, today i look back to realize this. 

I spoke to a friend of mine who suggested some changes and decided to incorporate them. Keeping both of the poems up here eitherways.

You can listen to the poem in my voice here. 

गाभारा

दर्शनाला आलात?
या..पण या देवालयात,
सध्या देव नाही

गाभारा आहे,
चांदी चे मखर आहे, 

सोन्याच्या समया आहेत,
हिर्‍यांची झालर आहे.
त्यांचं ही दर्शन घ्यायला हरकत नाही.

वाजवा ती घंटा,
आणि असे इकडे या
पाहिलात ना तो रिकामा गाभारा?

नाही..तसं नाही,
एकदा होता तो तिथे
काकड आरतीला उठायचा,
शेज आरतीला झोपायचा,
दरवाजे बंद करुन,
बरोबर बाराला जेवायचा,
दोन तास वामकुक्षी घ्यायचा,
सारं काही ठीक चालले होतं.

रुपयांच्या राशी,
माणिक मोत्यांचे ढीग पडत होते पायाशी.
दक्षिण दरवाज्याजवळ,
मोटारीचे भोंगे वाजत होते
मंत्र जागर गाजत होते
रेशीम साड्या, टेरीनचे सुट समोर दुमडत होते.
बॅंकेतले हिशेब हरीणाच्या गतीने बागडत होते.
सारे काही घडत होते.. हवे तसं
पण एके दिवशी..आमचे दुर्दैव

उत्तर दरवाज्याजवळ अडवलेला
कोणी एक भणंग महारोगी तारस्वरात ओरडला
“बाप्पाजी बाहेर या”

आणि काकड आरतीला आम्ही पाहतो तर काय
गाभारा रिकामा!

पोलीसात वर्दी, आम्ही दिलीच आहे.
परत? कदाचित येइलही तो
पण महारोग्यांच्या वस्तीत,
तो राहिला असेल तर,

तर त्याला पुन्हा..प्रवेश द्यावा की नाही,
याचा विचार करावा लागेल,
आमच्या ट्रस्टींना.

पत्रव्यवहार चालू आहे.. दुसर्‍या मुर्तीसाठी
पण तूर्त गाभार्‍याचे दर्शन घ्या.
तसे म्हटले तर,
गाभार्‍याचे महत्व अंतिम असतं.

कारण गाभारा सलामत,
तर देव पचास.

- कुसुमाग्रज

ता.क. - कुसुमाग्रजांना भेटता आलं नाही हे माझं दुर्भाग्य, नाहीतर ह्या कवितेसाठी आणि त्या मागच्या विचारासाठी साष्टांग दंडवत घातलं असतं त्यांना!
असो, जिथे कुठे असाल तुम्ही, घातलं असं समजा!

हीच कविता ऐका इथे 11व्या मिनिटा पासून , खरं तर अख्खा कार्यक्रम ऐका, मुक्काम पोस्ट कुसुमाग्रज 

After the rains

पाऊस पडून गेल्यावर is a poem that has become a favorite of mine. It is written in Pune and on a study table with a window by it's side. Due to this peculiarity of the table I studied less and wrote many more poems on it. I believe half of my poems are written on that table. 

This particular poem takes me back to my bachelor/single days, which am enjoying again. In Pune I used to live in an apartment complex that was up on a slope and after the rains, little rivulets of water would flow down after falling drop by drop from the leaves. The whole atmosphere created in this poem reminds me of those पुणेरी days. 

This poem and the way i recite it does have a very सौमित्र (Kishore Kadam) like feel to it. The album गारवा is definitely among some of my influences that have inspired and affected me deeply. I hope i am able to achieve even a minuscule of what सौमित्र has with his poems. This isn't meant to be a a direct copy of his style, just saying that it has left a deep enough impact on me to imbibe it.  

I hope you enjoy the poem as much as I do. You can listen to the audio recording of the poem in my voice here पाऊस पडून गेल्यावर. 

Shikhar

शिखर (Peak) is a small poem i wrote some years back.

It was written around the time when most of my friends from Engineering, Pharmacy etc were graduating, while pursuing M.B.B.S, i had another couple of years to go. Most of them being the sincere students that they were, had done exceedingly well and now were moving to foreign lands for further studies. This little poem was meant to be a send-off gift for them. But it never got to fruition then.

I think it was meant to be combined with the amazing art of Deepti Bhadbhade, an old friend from JPP who gave it far more meaning and depth with an illustration. Eventually the whole thing came together as is when I landed on foreign shores myself to pursue further education.

Today it serves as a reminder to me, as i have completed the degree i came here for but a major exam awaits. As the poem says, अब आगे पुरा आसमान है लांघाने के लिये !

मन- भँवरा

भँवरा is a bumble bee or a black drone bee. भँवरा is a favorite device of poets in Sanskrit, Hindi and Marathi, and has been used in many ways to denote. Here it denotes the restlessness of one's mind.

As i would rather be open about my influences than hide them this poem has a highly Harvanshrai Bachchan-esque to it slant to it. Though I cannot claim to have even a percent of the understanding and grasp of शुद्ध हिन्दी as बच्चन जी does, still this attempt!  

Image courtesy - http://www.hdwallpapers.in/walls/bee_on_flower-wide.jpg

बहारें (Springs) - a love story

The road I take to walk to the University of Auckland, Tamaki campus is lined by huge trees. It is Winter in New Zealand and the trees had shed their leaves in Autumn. This particular sight and those leaves of many hues lying strewn on the ground was etched onto my mind for many days. I wanted to write something on that particular image for the longest time.

On one such walk I started mumbling to myself and by the time i got to the campus, this poem बहारें (Springs), was born. It is a love story between the Spring and the Tree.

You can listen to the audio recording here - Baharen

Hope you like it. Do drop me a comment below if you do or even more so if you don't.

Hiding from the Rain - पावसा पासनं लपत

पावसा पासनं लपत (Hiding from the Rain)  is a pretty old poem I wrote in 2005.

I used to go running in the University of Pune, which was very close to where I lived. The campus is particularly beautiful in the Monsoons. The internal roads are are lined with trees and these make for great rain shelters for the canoodling couples. This poem is about one such couple and there relationship blossoming in the rains. Being single as I was then, this poem is mostly observational not experiential. Hope you enjoy it.

This poem is also available to stream in audio form, recorded in my voice here Pavasa Pasana Lapat .

Hope you like it!

A little bit of hope!

Thought I would start posting afresh after almost 6 months with something a little more hopeful.

This is a poem called उम्मीद की बातें ( Let us talk about hope). It was inspired after I visited Gives Me Hope , as suggested by a friend. While some of the stories might be fabricated or untrue on this site, it does give a little bit of hope to people reading it. In a world where good news might often be hard to come by this sure is a great place to stumble onto.

The specific paragraphs are reflective of some of the things I experienced myself and heard some people close to me were experiencing when this poem was being written. So this poem goes out to every one who needs a little bit of hope in life, करते हैं उम्मीद की बातें !

You can listen to the audio recording of this poem in my voice here - Ummeed ki Baaten

Please do leave a comment about how you liked (or did not like) this poem.