Kyon yeh log har varsh tere na hone ki yaad dilaatey hain?
Kya yeh kam hai ki tum humaare beech nahin ho?
Teri chaah, teri raah.
Tera pyar, tera dulaar –
Sab yaad aatha hai mujhe
Saal bhur, har saal.
Phir kyon ‘Ma Divas’ manaakar
Mujhe yeh duniya dukhi karthi hai?
Meri bhi ichha hothi hai Ki Ma ka aanchal thaamu.
Mujhe bhi Ma ke aseem pyar ko
Unkee gothe me sirr rakhkar
Mehsoos karne ki tummanaa hothi hai.
Ai duniya, tu Ma Divas ka jashan mana, har varsh –
Mein Ma ki bhooli bisri yaadon ko jeethi jaaongi, har pal.
Why does this world make me aware of your absence every year?
Is it not hurtful enough that you are no longer alive?
Your affection, your ways.
Your love, your caresses.
I remember them all
Then, why oh why does this world celebrate Mother’s Day
and torture me so?
I too desire to hold the cozy warmth of my mother’s saree.
I too wish to feel the undying love of my mother in her lap
Wherein I can lay down my head and forget all worries.
World, you indulge in the celebration of Mother’s Day once a year.
I shall breathe her memories, live her thoughts every day of the year.
Mei patung, tu door meri.
Jahaan udaao vahaan ud jaaon mein.
Nazar na giraana door se mere yaar,
Kahin door kati tho haath na aaoongi.
Mei diya, tu baathi.
Tujhme mei, mujhme tu.
Apni baathi ko zinda rakhna-
Uski lou mey mujhe hamesha paaoge.
ENGLISH TRANSLATION FOR MY NON HINDI SPEAKING FRIENDS
I roam around like a nomad
Borrowing divinity from the sun.
Agreed that I am not attraction personified
But the garden of my life is still fragrant with life.
I am the kite, you the string.
Wherever you pull me I fly.
One glance away from the string
Could make you lose me forever.
I am the lamp, you the wick.
I am in you, you in me.
Keep the wick burning alive.
In its bright flame you shall ever find me.
Yadon ki Barsaat
yaad aathin nahin.
bhulaai nahin bhulteen.
Chod diya tha jisko
Un haseen raahon pur
Aaj bhi pahunch jaathein hain
zahen ki fariyaadon mein.
tum zinda rahe
mere dil ke tarannum mein.
Kise yaad rakhoon,
Ab thoo hi batha.
For My Friends – a Close Translation of the Above Poem in English
Rain of Memories
Some lanes, try as I might
I just don’t remember.
Some thoughts, no matter how hard
I attempt to forget, I still remember.
That someone, who I left stranded
on those beautiful paths
even today, manages
to creep into the pleas of my thoughts.
Despite a thousand endeavors
in the melody of my heart.
Who do I remember
Who do I forget
You better tell me now!
Kuchh Tuchh Ishaare
Rishte Ki Kareebee
ho gayee hai dil kee gareebee.
Mukh kee muskaan
bun gayee hai ehsaason ka kabaristaan.
Rooh se tho hum thhey jaane.
Samay ne bana diya unjaane.
Mushkil see bhee baath jo ho jaati hul
aaj ki khushi chund lumhon mein ho gayee hai gul.
Mere bezoobaan ishaare
dikha deinge tujhko din mein taare.
Oopar vaale par chod diya ab sab kuchh.
Yeh berookhi lagthi hai ab tuchh.
English Translation of the Above Poem
A Few Unwarranted Signs
The closeness of a relationship
transformed into poverty of the heart.
The smile of the face
turned into a graveyard of emotions.
United we seemed to be with our souls,
time turned us into strangers.
The problems that got solved in a jiffy until yesterday,
today’s joy vanishes in a moment.
My mute emotional signs
could show you stars in the day.
Leaving all to the Almighty
even this indifference appears naught.
Yeh Maaloom Hi Na Hua
ghar basaane ke liye
nikal pade they hum.
Kab zindagi guzar gayee
yeh maaloom hi na hua.
koshishen kaayum zaroor theen,
iraada bhi bulund tha.
kab apnoney saath chod thiya
yeh maaloom hi na hua.
Nayee munzeelen, nayee umeetheyn
saath lekar nikley tho they.
kab kaarvaan choot gaya
yeh maaloom hi na hua.
Ummeed bhari zindagi mein naya josh bharkar
seeney mein chupaakar raah par chal chukey hein hum.
Daayaron se gherey ab bhi hein hum,
Kab aapki gustaakh nazron nein besharmi sey humaara saath diya,
yeh maaloom hi na hua!
MMT Challenge. Pray, tell me what this may be.
Well, it is an unique venture, a Poetry Challenge actually, wherein one gets to write a poem a day for the whole month of May.
That’s fine. But, don’t we have a similar one in April, the NaPoWriMo?
Well, yes, it is modeled on that but there is a difference.
What is that?
You get to write a poem every day of the month but not in English.
Not in English?
Yeah, you write it in your mother tongue, whichever language that may be. Lovely, isn’t it?
Well, yeah! I haven’t heard of this before.
MMT stands for MAY FOR MOTHER TONGUE!
A lovely initiative started by Sagar Mehta.
And, to be part of this unique challenge submit your name and blog details at :
I am taking part. Why don’t you?
Blogging Challenge – Letter B
Banaras. Varanasi. Or, simply Kashi.
Now, why am I talking about these names?
Well, all the names mentioned above refer to one place and I belong to that unique place. Although my parents have lived there more than I have, there is this invisible link that I share with it that just cannot be described in words. I suppose this stands true for all people who have this connection with places that go far to their roots so to say.
The little hidden lanes, the colorful shops, the cheerful people collide with the serenity of the banks of the Ganges River, the Ghats and the flowing river of renunciation, dirt and faith.
My Mum and Dad met in the well known campus of the BHU (Banaras Hindu University) while they were studying and decided to give their hearts away (to each other) apart from giving their minds away to academics that bloomed in the beautiful territory of the University.
The evergreen language of Bhojpuri that overpowers the senses is alive all over the city. Today, it is fun to hear songs and movies made in the language – a great source of enjoyment.
I can go on and on about the place except for the fact that it tends to find a mention in my vocabulary quite often and I do not want to bore you to death. Just in case, you want to know more about the place through the eyes of a traveler, you can have a read here: Kashi Ketchup
I first learned of the angel when I was in the first standard. Our early morning assembly had us singing hymns in praise of the Lord. As time passed I came to understand the existence of another God than the one I prayed to at home. And, accompanying this new God I also understood the presence of angels, pretty, beautiful ones who accompanied God whenever He visited earth. Sometimes, he sent them to do the tasks when He was busy attending to other major problems that man so skilfully created.
I longed to be an angel someday. The little innocent dreams of a small girl wanting to be dressed in the beautiful laced white gowns with delicate wings that would make me soar into the skies with a wand to make people happy!
It was later, much later after I entered into holy matrimony that I learned of angels that were endowed with the task of being the guides to souls, all kinds of souls. Some heard their voices, many didn’t. Some felt their presence, many did not.
More than that, unlike in the literal sense, I realized how humans could don on the roles of angels as they unconditionally helped people. I have had many such angels in my life and remember them and offer my gratitude to them. Thanks to the realization, I am learning to be a much better person than I was yesterday.
I came across the A to Z blogging two years back. And joined it just for the heck of it.
Did I like it?
I loved it!!
From a HESITANT PARTICIPANT in the year 2014 I became SUCCESSFUL SURVIVOR.
I gave it a miss last year but decided to make a comeback this year.
So, here I am with the blogging challenge.
For those wanting to join, you still have a day to join at
For those who might miss out on the signing bit, you can still give it a try separately for each day of the month. Lovely isn’t it? You get to write everyday and just about ANYTHING!!
So, what is the blogging challenge all about?
- Nothing complicated. Just write something, an article, a story, your view, a poem, just about anything for each alphabet.
There are themes too where you can write one piece related to that particular theme for all the alphabets.
- And then, visit at least 5 blogs for every alphabet and make a comment. This way, you get to see what others have written,
you get to make friends
you also ensure that people visit your blog too!
Splendid isn’t it?
Visit those that visit you.
This is really important, people! If someone visits you and leaves a comment, go check out where they came from! It’s common courtesy, and also can take you to blogs that you might have missed otherwise.
Mark the blogs you like.
Click Follow, or bookmark the blogs you especially like, anything you need to do to make sure you will find your way back to them later.
Give some extra love to the smaller blogs!
We have a special list for blogs that have less than 100 followers. Make sure to check it out and help them grow!
Don’t start from the top.
If everyone stars with Blog No. 1, people at the bottom of the list will have a disadvantage, and you might miss some great blogs that have higher numbers. Start at your own name and work your way down. Or, alternately, jump around like a crazy caffeinated frog. Believe me, it is fun.
If you haven’t done so yet, sign up for the A to Z Challenge, trust me, you’ll love it.
All that I could feel was a queer emotion of vengeance for the authorities who did this.
I had been living in Chennai for a long time when suddenly, out of the blue, my husband rings me up from work and drops a bombshell.
“Pack your bags Shail. We have been transferred.”
“What? Not yet again. I am not coming. It is the middle of the academic year and Vinod is writing his 10th Public Exams. I am NOT coming.”
Silence from the other end. Those few moments of silence brought to me in flashback, the memories of my husband’s solo stint in another place and the emotional conflict that we all went through bringing forth with it unhappiness, illness and the distance of time and feelings. That decided it. And the next thing I knew was, that I was in Madurai. New place, people, newer mentality, everything.
All that I could then feel was an emotion of vengeance for the authorities who did this.
The first bait was a series of horror tales that I wrote and got published in a book with book launch and all. But, more was coming. After all, how much can a horror story capture? Like Kali Maa killing the demons and drinking their blood non stop, there was no stopping me. I couldn’t kill for real but hey man! my thoughts could, my writing could!
That was when Vengeance from WRIMO INDIA usurped my life – more so because here was a bunch of writers just like me willing to let go off their anger, hurt, frustration (real and imaginary) in the form of stories that stuck to (my loving theme by now) – VENGEANCE!!
I leaped and jumped into this disguised pool of harmony. Weaving a story out of just one emotion isn’t easy. But WRIMO helped me do it. Especially so because, as we advanced into our write-ups we came to the conclusion that the proceeds of this special anthology should go to NaNoWriMo, the mother of all novel writing across the globe!
And, how good it felt! Now, we not only had a theme to weave a dark tale around; we could also do a good deed in the process of writing something evil!! Talk of ironies!
That is how my journey with VENGEANCE began. And what a journey it has turned out to be! Would you believe me if I tell you that Vengeance brought me positivity, Vengeance brought me friendship and Vengeance brought me harmony.
Sonia, the ‘soothradhaar’ of this anthology nudged us 21 writers around whenever we faltered or delayed.
Manasi Saxena helped to filter through the huge lot of entries that were submitted. Trust me, it is not an easy task.
Varun Prabhu and Pritesh Patil helped grade the entries to generate the first shortlist.
Sujata Patnaik took up the challenge of combining her artistry with digital tools to create a cover that is gorgeous and totally apt for the theme of the anthology.
Nikita Azad, with her techno-wizardry and her inputs for the cover made it even more exciting and intriguing.
The Co-Admins of Wrimo India group: Dola Basu Singh, Rubina Ramesh and Neelesh Inamdar have done everything that needed to be done: whether it was shortlisting the stories, editing them and providing initial feedback, helping Sujata get a grip on the digital tools and fine-tuning the cover design.
Disclaimer: All proceeds from the sale of this anthology will be donated to NaNoWriMo
A reply to a perceived injustice can take many forms one of which is vengeance. An eye for an eye can only end up making the whole world blind, is what Mahatma Gandhi once said. And it seems to be coming quite true, if latest events world-wide are an indication.Is there any hope or are we hurtling towards extinction?Hopefully, the stories will explore some of these questions. But that is on the macro level. It might be easy to look at things objectively, in black and white, when it is other nations involved. Or even other people. We are able to be more forgiving of transgressions when they don’t involve us personally.But how would one react if they found themselves in the maelstrom of situations that do fall somewhere in the grey area of life? With no definite black and white answers?How would a jilted lover react in face of infidelity? Or how would a friend avenge the murder of her best friend? Or, is it fair to be punished for a crime that you were not brave enough to prevent?These and many more questions connected to vengeance have been grappled with in this anthology.
EXCERPT OF FIRST CHAPTER
Bus number 131 whirred away, pulling its own weight unwillingly. It was one of the many buses to pass through the Relief road, a busy road in the old part of Ahmedabad. Shazia had an option, the crowed 88 or the overcrowded 131. She preferred to be 30 minutes before time to board 131. Her choice was motivated by her love for the palindromic 1-3-1. Her undying infatuation with prime numbers was inexplicable. Nineteen year oldShazia loved numbers, and to be more precise, she adored Mathematics in all its form. She also loved the rules, the principles, the working theorems, the equations which tried to make sense of the majestic menagerie of numbers. She was fascinated even by the mere shape of numbers. She did not remember when or even how her romance with Maths began. But in her earliest memories, she preferred practicing her numbers over the alphabet, she remembered that she recited tables better than her nursery rhymes. She was short and a bit stocky. Also, a couple of shades darker than was acceptable in the marriage market. However, her looks never bothered her, nor did she ever yearn for fairer skin, or thinner body. What she craved was a disheveled mass of hair, for some uncanny resemblance to Einstein, the only pop icon modern science managed to have produced. But her mother plaited her hair, dashing her hopes to ground. She also longed for a pair of spectacles with glasses so thick that it blurred her eyeballs, indicating the wearer’s brilliance. But she, despite getting checked for vision from her mother’s ophthalmologist, was denied the hallowed implement. Thrice. Shazia valued her bus ride a lot. She had to convince Papa to allow her to commute to her college on her own. She had concealed her indignation about needing her father’s permission for every little trifle, even after being categorised as an adult by the Government of India. Papa consented only after he was told that Noor too would start using the bus if Shazia were to give her company.
ABOUT THE EDITOR SONIA RAO
The editor of the Anthology, Sonia Rao (writer-editor-awardwinningblogger) is the NaNoWriMo Municipal Liaison for All-India region. The stories which are part of the anthology are written by Wrimos homed in to Asia::India region. Most of them are also published writers of short fiction and novels.She blogs @ https://soniaraowrites.wordpress.com/
Find out more about Wrimo India @
Wrimo India on FB: https://www.facebook.com/NaNoWriMo.India/
Wrimo India on Twitter: https://twitter.com/wrimosindia
Wrimo India blog: https://wrimoindiawrites.wordpress.com/
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