Monday, October 22, 2012

Scimitar Babbler: early morning boom



There is one bird that I hear quite often is Scimitar Babbler, its call is rather fine tuned Caucal. They have curved bills almost like a Scimitar, hence the name. It is rarely seen in the open so difficult to spot. Like all Babblers they are seen foraging the undergrowth mostly in mixed feeding flocks.   

Kaifi Azmi: the pinnacle of Urdu poetry 

Kar chale hum fida jan-o-tan sathion
ab tumhare hawale watan sathio

These lines are so much etched in the collective memory of Indians that it is difficult to think of any song that defines patriotism. Kaifi Azmi happens to be one of my favorite poets, his lines are straight from heart, and carry much subtlety and nuance. It is such an experience to read his lines…

Many years back I used to keep away two weeks for one poet, so that I took lot of time to read each and every line, and then ruminate over, re read so on. It was an amazing experience to enter poet’s world at its own pace. Kaifi Azmi is one the poets whom I have spend substantial amount of time.  Apart from being a poet he was an amazing human being. His concerns were always well articulated, it was a treat to listen him talk. Few months back I happen to see a documentary on him in DD. It is amazing that his close friends included some very common people in the village. We have, as a society, lost that inclusive and innocent world, it is a terrible loss. I also think that his presence in movie Naseem was one of the most endearing.   

Many of his poems are available on the Net, also I had one book by Pavan Verma translation (there is much to be desired), I am here taking two poems (one an incredibly popular song from a movie) from the Net….let’s not spoil it by translating!!    

वक्त ने किया क्या हंसी सितम
तुम रहे तुम, हम रहे हम

बेक़रार दिल इस तरह मिले
जिस तरह कभी हम जुदा थे
तुम भी खो गए, हम भी खो गए
इक राह पर चल के दो कदम

जायेंगे कहाँ सूझता नहीं
चल पड़े मगर रास्ता नहीं
क्या तलाश है, कुछ पता नहीं
बुन रहे क्यूँ ख़्वाब दम--दम

Another one, that is my favorite… 

मैं ढूँढ़ता हूँ जिसे वह जहाँ नहीं मिलता
नई ज़मीन नया आसमाँ नहीं मिलता

नई ज़मीन नया आसमाँ भी मिल जाए
नए-बशर  का कहीं कुछ निशाँ नहीं मिलता

वह तेग मिल गई जिससे हुआ है क़त्ल मेरा
किसी के हाथ का उस पर निशाँ नहीं मिलता

वह मेरा गाँव है वो मेरे गाँव के चूल्हे
कि जिनमें शोले तो शोले, धुआँ नहीं मिलता

जो इक ख़ुदा नहीं मिलता तो इतना मातम क्यों
यहाँ तो कोई मेरा हमज़बाँ नहीं मिलता

खड़ा हूँ कबसे मैं चेहरों के एक जंगल में
तुम्हारे चेहरे का कुछ भी यहाँ नहीं मिलता

From my scribble pad

Martyr

Truth is a house
without any occupant.
Innocent idealism stays as tenant
till existential realities knock the door off.
Later its a hideout
from remorse and chastening.

Occasionally someone is locked in
and called a martyr