New Leaflets

Innocence in stipules,

The novelty in its shade

Pigmented in green

Lustrous in rays from Sun,

Waves in the air

Flimsy and translucent leaflets.

Born from the old stem

Brown and rigid,

Textured with experiences

It gained in a long time.

Leaflets breeze joy,

Pacify the previous pain

Sprinkling the newness in air

Freshening the surrounding

With ambiance of liveliness,

Like notes from sitar

Played in an early morning,

Solacing our mind

Healing the anguish

Descending into our ruptured soul.

Who cares, who plucked the leaf

Who pinned the giant in pain,

New leaflets must come

And breathe in life again.

The nature and its laws

Leaflets acquaint well.

Life has to move on,

With the newness, each new day

And prosper towards future

Till the pigment stays green.

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Home!!! | Gharaonda...

घर की याद तो आती थी,

आंसू छलक भी जाते थे;

लफ़्ज़ों में हाल बयां ना करते,

पर दर्शक समझ ही जाते थे.

हमारी तेज़ और स्पर्धा को

नयी उचाइयां जो देनी थी,

कुछ अधूरे ख्वाब थे हमारे,

पुराने कुर्ते के फटे जेब थे सारे;

इनको नया जो करना था,

अम्बर से प्रकाश को लाना था.

घर की झोली कम पर जाती

तो हौसला अपने अन्दर ही भर लिए;

मैं फिर आऊंगा की दस्तक छोर कर

घर से दूर हम निकल लिए.

वर्ष कितने ऐसे ही बीते;

संघर्ष में सनी स्याही से,

हम इतिहास के नये पन्ने भरते.

घर की बिलखती यादों को शांत कर

ह्रदय कठोर, हौसला ठान कर,

मैं जल्द आऊंगा के गीत गा कर,

मंजिलों की ओर हम बढ़ते रहते.

  

अपने आंगन से दूर रह कर,

विशाल गगन में अपनी छाप छोर कर,

आज चंद सितारे तोड़ लाया हूँ;

घर से दूर रह कर

अंधकार जो हमने देखा था,

हिम्मतों की खरी लौ में आज,

अमर दीपक जला कर लाया हूँ.

मंजिलों को हासिल करके,

कुछ और नये ख्वाब देख के,

हौसला कुछ और समेट ले आया हूँ;

नए धुनों में अपने गीत भर कर,

अपनी आवाज़ में गुनगुना रहा हूँ.

माँ के पास आज लौटने,

घर वापस मैं जा रहा हूँ...

घर वापस मैं जा रहा हूँ…

(C) ANSHUL GAUTAM

/*     I want to dedicate this poem to my lovely Father. What sort of days we have seen together, living away from our own home, for consecutive five years almost, they can' be described in words. However I just tried to present a glimpse in this poem. This is for the first time in my life when I have tried to write a poem in Hindi. I can speak, but honestly, I am very weak at writing Hindi. But still, I have tried.
And my Dad; he is very happy on being back to our home town, back to our home. My mom and me; we glad on seeing him happy. :))     */

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Crinkled Pages From My Diary...

June 20, 2011
6:00 pm

It has been more than two weeks of my stay here in Gujarat, at my home on this holiday. The time flows, I realise this well when I have no work to do, no classes to attend. Here in this small room, sheltered with the hot roof, that often leaks during rain, with blistering sun above it, physically alone all the time, I never find myself alone actually. This is so because of the upheaval of thoughts in my mind, creative, supportive and those which are always difficult to share, you want to set them free but at the same time, you find yourself handcuffed and let them remain inside you.
During this period of my holidays here, today it is the first time that I pushed myself out of my blistering hot room, in search of medications for my sores, that weren’t able to heal, because of their captivity.

Its 6:30 pm, sun is still four fingers above the horizon, and I am strolling down the lanes, learning my familiarity with them, that I gained two years back. I used to come here, same streets, two years back too. But then everything was different. Today, I feel an essence of relieve all around. The feel of cool wind, surpass the somatic senses from my sores.

Breeze, without any lease,
giving me ease,
pains to cease,
modifying my crease.
My mind in muse,
body gone loose,
telling me to stop,
but with a comma, and not a full stop.
I move on, on the pavement drawn,
at the time of dusk, I am seeing my dawn,
picking up the husk, smelling of musk,
I make out, how sturdy the time was,
From Dusk, Till Dawn...

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