Tag Archives: love

सजनी अलबेली

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2013-01-19+20.26.57 (2)राग सुन्हेरी, आशा मनसंगी
प्रियतम प्यारे, संग तुम्हारे
चल दी बिन सोचे, बिन जाने
मैं, तुम्हरी सजनी अलबेली

सुंदर चितवन, स्वप्न अनोखे
बिन बोले, बिन जाने
क्षण भर मैं चल जाते
नैनो से शब्द, हाय यह बाण नशीले

मीठी बोली, मीठी बाते
सच, भी, सुन्दर भी
तुम्हरे अधरों से आती
जीवन की हर बात रंगीली

चंचल मन के मयूर
नाचे झूम झूम, झूम झूम
भीघ जाती, सिहर जाती
तृप्त हो जाती, सावन की बदरी मैं

पंख पैसारे , बांह फैलाये
उड़ जाती उन्मुक्त गगन मैं
नए आसमान, नयी दिशाए
तुम्हरे संग की प्यासी,
हो जाती यूँ पूरी मैं

राग सुन्हेरी, आशा मनसंगी
चल दी साथ तुम्हारे
बिन पूछे, बिन जाने
हैं ना प्रियतम, यह दिन कितना अतरंगी
हूँ ना मैं, तुम्हरी सजनी अलबेली

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चेहरे

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जाने पहचाने चेहरे

उत्साह तरंगित करते चेहरे

 

गमो के साये से परेशान

कु छ भोले भाले चेहरे

मर्म को ना समझ पाते चेहरे

हाँ, यह जाने पहचाने चेहरे

 

ह्रदय की अभिलाषाओं  का प्रतीक

उत्साह की तरंगे उमडती होती प्रतीत

आशा के मोहजाल को दर्शाते चेहरे

सच यह जाने पहचाने चेहरे

 

विविध भावों का संगम

जिंदगी का तरनुम

बस एक गीत एक लय से थिरकते चेहरे

कुछ जाने पहचाने चेहरे

 

जो समझे ह्रदय की मूक भाषा को

जो दे  दे नाम इसकी परिभाषा को

वही हैं सही मायने मैं साथी चेहरे

कितने प्यारे जाने पहचाने चेहरे

 

प्रणय  प्यार स्नेह दर्शाते

आँखों के पैमाने से कुछ कह जाते

सच तो यह हैं मयखाने चेहरे

सुन्दर जाने पहचाने चेहरे

 

उजड़ने व् बसने का

प्राचीन इतिहास छुपाये

वक्त  के साथ नित नयी मूरत बनाए

इतिहास के पन्नों से उज्जवल यह चेहरे

स्वर्णिम आभा से धुले

यह जाने पहचाने चेहरे

 

सजल शुब्ध , अंगारे सी लगती हैं

इनमे एक ज्वाला भी जलती हैं

कभी शोला तो कभी शबनम

आंसुओं के मिलन का संगम

निस दिन नए राग गाते

जाने पहचाने चेहरे

 

समय के साथ बदलते

बचपन से बुढापे तक चलते

यह पावन व् निर्मल चेहरे

अंत मैं मृत्यु की गोद  मैं सो जाते

चिर निद्रा मैं मग्न जाने पहचाने चेहरे

 

कर ही रही हूँ जब  चेहरों की बात

तब क्यों कर ना बता दू मैं यथार्थ

हाँ! हैं कुछ चेहरे

ऊपर से लगाए हैं स्नेह के दिखावटी चेहरे

 

खेलते हैं ऐंसा मनभावों से, प्यार से

पर सच तो हैं,

ना देखी इतनी अमानवीयता

न देखी इतनी क्रूरता

हँसते रहंगे घिनोने चेहरे

 

उत्साह क्षीण करते चेहरे

जाने पहचाने चेहरे

Love

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Walking by the moonlight

Hand in hand, side by side

Whispering sweet nothings

Drowning in each others eyes

That sweet moment to hold

That sight, that face to behold

 

Beautiful is the moment of love

When one is lost to oneself

And gets complete at

The sight of darling beloved

Which brings joy and life

And oh! what peace of mind

 

But those sweet nothing’s

Loose their worth,

When Those deep eyes are

Nowhere to be found

With the moon in the clouds

The shadows are drowned

 

What loves gives to oneself

Is a mystery beyond

Is it love, or pleasure

Is it softness of heart

Or jewels or treasure

Is it emptiness of soul

Or just Sea of tears

Deep and so profound

Cup of tea..with a friend

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For a friend and then some more friends…

Friends…what do I say about them…they have made me laugh, they have been there for me through thick and thin and yes, they have let me down too. Just when you think everything is good, you have one of those moments.

I have been always pretty popular among my friends, and I make friends pretty easily too…I have always found it very easy to talk to new people but am also one of those who don’t get close to a person very easily, thus I have friends and then some. Since my school days and till now, when am a mother of too, a lot of faces have been part of me, and each and every face has given me lots of love, laughter, and also some sorrows.

Even before the Facebook and the orkut era, I somehow managed to be in touch with my friends from college and high school, but then when you move on with life and it’s responsibilities, you do tend to loose touch with some, and however much you want, you cannot keep up.

Such is one of my friend, whom I always remembered, and always thought how nice it would be to see and to talk to her, hear her and to laugh with her. In the past whenever I would go to India, I would want to go knock on her mom’s door and see what she is up to and how and where she is. Through social networking I have found a lot of my old classmates but not her.

And this last India trip, don’t know what came into my mind, on my way back home from some place, I asked the driver to turn around and go to the neighborhood where she used to live, not remembering, which exactly was her house, since with time the houses had changed, the bungalows had changed, many new had come up.

But gathering my courage and leaving my family in the car, I knocked on a door which looked familiar, and a teenage girl greeted me and looked at me, as to what this stranger is doing here, and then with sheer feeling of embarrassment I gathered the courage and asked her, “is this the house of….”, and the teenager in turn interrogated me as to who I was?

I told her haltingly, I am Rashmi a friend of……., does she know her, and then she called her grandfather. And one look at the gentleman, I knew I was at the right doorstep. With renewed enthusiasm I explained the situation to him, and told him my maiden name, to jog his memory of me from the past. Almost after twenty odd years, there was nothing similar left to my old identity especially when in those days I had short cropped hair, and a very slim frame…I know few of you might be giggling now.

But as usual my maiden name did the trick since they knew me more from that then my given name since their daughter and me shared our first name. Uncle welcomed me and told me about my friend, and I asked him where was aunty, and he told she was out, but gave me the directions to where she was, insisting I see her. I went o the park where a group of ladies were sitting, and for a second, couldn’t recognize the face, and then it stuck me, and all the memories came back of his loving, gentle woman came back, who had given so much love and affection to us.

I said hi, and waited for her to recognize me , but after a split second said, my name, the slow gleam of familiarity spread into her eyes and then she smiled at me, what beautiful smile. she hugged me and was so happy to see me, in fact she told all her other friends about me and how I used to come and spend time with her.

It was such a pleasant and refreshing feeling to reconnect with another gem of the past. Aunty invited me for tea, which regretfully I had to decline, she walked over to see my family in the car, blessed me and then I had to leave her, but by then I had the number and quite a few details of my friend in the current state of life.

Next morning, I called the number given, and waited to hear the familiar voice, not knowing exactly what she would think of this call and also was not sure how she would react. Would she be as reciprocative of my reaching out to her, or would she be least bothered, but my worries were short lived, after mistaking me for her two others friends, she finally connected the dots and she was as happy and excited as I was and as warm as I remembered her.

In the past I have had this experience where the person connected does not make an effort to be in touch, and one feels like a little bit of a fool, as to why did one made all the efforts But not this time, it did not happen, my friend made me proud, and our friendship proud, she called me back, she kept in touch and she filled my heart with the warmth, she is famous for.

 Can’t wait for my next India trip, for a cup of tea at her mom’s place with her.

Aside

Some time back I wrote a poem in Hindi titled “Maa”, which means mother. For my friends who do not know Hindi, here is an attempt in English, honoring my mother- who is also my best friend and also little angel- my daughter.

My little, tiny angel

Dancing in the sun

Fell down lightly

And said, “oh! Mum”

 

She came running

And hugged me tight

And two warm tears

Fell on my cheeks

And my heart cried

 

What my mom is to me

My angel found in me

My mom’s blessings

Now are mine

To share and to light

 

Few hands have lost

Their soul and guide

Hiding in the clouds

Are their mums

Watching them alright

 

My friends,

Do not loose heart

She is their, smiling

Feeling proud,

Looking at you

Living life right

 

The blessings God gave me

The biggest is my mum

My mom’s Affection

And my motherly love

Hope stays with me forever

 

My mom’s love for me

And my love for my angel

Makes me shine

To be a daughter

And to be a mother

Makes me alive.

Mother…Mum…Mom…

HOPE

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Hope is the few rays of sunshine

In my window on a dark cloudy day

HOPE is the few drops of rain

On my patio on a dry piece of wood

 

HOPE is the knock on the door

On my heart on the Silent lonely words

HOPE is the fragrance of flowers

In my kitchen vase bringing life

 

HOPE is the laughter of my kids

In my ears everyday feeling right

HOPE is the few whispering of my beloved

In my ears on a depressing sliver of time

 

For me HOPE is whatever that gives me smile

On my lips, in my heart and in my life


मौसम रूमानी

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काली घनी बदली

बाहर बरसता पानी

हवा से नाचते पत्ते

क्या मौसम हैं रूमानी

 

प्रियतम हो पास,

हो हाथो मैं हाथ,

और काँधे पर सर,

हर अधीर  मन यह चाहे

लो, मन का मयूरा नाचे

 

छिडे  दिल के तार

नयी धुन,

नए संगीत  से सजती

ठंड सी पड़ती सीने मैं

जो आज बरसात मैं

मैं तुमसे सी मिलती

 

याद हैं,  वोह बारिश

जो सिर्फ हमारे नाम हैं,

नए साथ का श्रृंगार हैं 

पहले भी कई बार बरसी

उन बूंदों मैं,

फिर भी  नया अहसास हैं 

 

जब भी टपकती हैं बूंदे

नयी पुरानी बारिश मैं

मन करता हैं भीग आये

चल आये कई कदम

इस मौसम रूमानी मैं

Choti Bua……My dad’s Aunt

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On Sunday morning the phone rang and it was my dad, which is not unusual….for those who live far away from their loved ones, they know the fear and dread of the phone ring either too late in the night or too early in the morning, but this ring was welcome…it was my dad, on a Sunday morning, I guessed for his usual chitchat, which is always welcome.

And then conversationally he tells me, “your mom and I went to the village today and Choti Bua is no more” for a second I didn’t react and then the flood gates of memories opened up.

In last few years the phone has rung late in the night quite a few times bringing bad news but this time this supposedly normal call affected me more, I am compelled to write about my Choti Bua, my thoughts and my emotions are overflowing and no words can completely describe her and her vivid personality, even I didn’t know till now how much I was awed by her.

Choti Bua was my dad’s younger aunt, even though she was my Dadi Bua (Grand Aunt), I grew up calling her Choti Bua like my dad.

Me and my brother spent each and every summer vacation in our ancestral village, more at her house then our own grandparent’s home, since hers was a Palatial Havelli, with all the amenities even the occasional appearance of electricity and the old fan breathing humid air once in a while, it was this home where all the cousins would go up to the chat (the Terrace) and count the stars..It was her house where we would look forward to pooja (prayers) because she would always have some Prashad (sweet offerings) and it was her store-room full of various grains which we would take in small hathelis (hands) and run out to get Kulfis (milk popsicles) in exchange.

There is no end to the things we did because she seemed to have everything which as kids we possibly could want. She seemed to have everything, but fate had dealt her wrong cards to begin with, My Choti Bua, got married at a very young age and got widowed shortly, came back to her paternal home stayed there throughout her life before departing  in her late eighties. She didn’t have any children and she had to stand up against her own in-laws.

Don’t get me wrong, fate might have given her, her share of tragedies,but she didn’t buckle in, neither did she spend her life crying and being dependent on others,  she was one gutsy lady, standing straight at 5 ft 8 inches, back straight, clad in a white saree, beautiful and loving, she was a figure to reckon with till the day she said goodbye.

She took care of her younger brother’s family, loved his kids and us as her own, and she was the uncrowned queen of our Khandaan (Whole family), which was quite big, she was one of the five siblings and she ruled each household with an ironclad fist,  no decision could be made without her final approval within our family as well as the whole village.

In the days when, women were illiterate and considered weak and poor, she fought a court case with her in laws for her fair share and she ran the whole village with her strong will power, she might have had a simple living, as my dad called her a “Yogini”, but she believed in Karma, she epitomized diplomacy, politics and strength to each and everyone.

It’s quite strange, I cannot visualize my own grandmother’s face but I can describe my Choti Bua’s face with the all the crisscross lines and the smiles..I have not even thought about her in the last few years, I got busy with my own kids and forgot about my own childhood, with its own people and milestones and memories. While creating and carving a world for my own kids, I forgot I had a childhood too, and then a phone call reminded me of all.

I didn’t cry a lot, though their was a void in my heart, I had more peace remembering her, remembering my antics in my village, walking through, going to anybody’s house, eating whatever came in our hands and overall enjoying carefree days with the knowledge,Choti Bua’s house is there and so are her farms and her hand over all of us.

My heart is singing the same carefree tune, I can remember my own ghar today with a lot of love and fond memories.. I hope each and everyone of you have had one such Choti Bua in your lives, who could move you to your core and be an inspiring figure….

सन्नाटा

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उठता हैं बवंडर शब्दों का

पर चुप हैं कलम

और खामोश है जुबान

सन्नाटा सा छाया हैं

जब सदियाँ हैं करने को ब्यान

 

ढूँढ रही हूँ, भटक रही हूँ

चलता हैं एक अंतर्द्वंद

कहने को, है इतना कुछ

पर छाई हैं, एक  गहरी धुंध

 

उतावले बैठे हैं इतने क्षण

कुछ शब्दों मैं गढ़ जाने को,

एक मूरत सी बनती हैं

कुछ पन्नों मैं छप जाने को

 

ऐसा नहीं की,

मन का कोष हैं खाली

हैं बहुत से सपने, ढेर सी हकीकत

इतनी खुशियाँ  जो मैंने पाली

 

अंतर्मन मैं, उठती हैं लहरें

बाँट सकूँ सब संग,

हर पल जो मैंने पाया

हर अश्रु जो पलकों पर आया

 

बनते बिगड़ते रिश्तों की

दिन रात  उलझते धागों की

मौन पलों और  कहते अधरों की

दास्ताँ हैं बयाँ करनी मुझे

मौसम के आते जाते  हर रंगों की

 

माना एक प्रश्नचिन्ह है मेरे आगे

पर क्या यह होता हैं सबके संग

क्या हैं कोई एक भी मेरे जैसा

जो चाह कर भी न बाँट सके

अपने अंदर का कोई रंग

 

आज  चुप हैं कलम

और खामोश है जुबान

सन्नाटा सा छाया हैं

जब सदियाँ हैं करने को ब्यान