GIRLS OF VILLAGE

GIRLS OF VILLAGE

On Shami tree

Growing in vicinity of village

Swing on swing

Sing songs

On ‘Sawani Teej’

Girls of village.

They have totally forgotten

For a short while

Making cow dung cakes

Sweeping house

Coating earthen stove

Making ‘Roti’

And milking cow

Girls of village.

With their friends

Totally absorbed

Discuss

Dance and hop

Return from fair

Relish Jalebis

 Girls of village.

In their eyes

Have blossomed

Vibgyor bloom

Flashing lightning

Down pouring clouds

In their heart

Sways

Zeal of happiness

Girls of village

Live their own self

Many a times.

Original poem in Rajasthani  : Shyam Maharshi ji

Translation into English         ;  Rajni Chhabra

SCHOOL

SCHOOL 

Since centuries

A difference prevails

In speed of children

Moving to school

And in gait while

Moving back home from school.

Tears flowing from

Eyes of child

While going to school

On his maiden day

And history of affection of mother

Sending him to school

Is as true as

Relation of mother and son.

Changing history

Has not gained

New identity till date

Child entrapped in sentiments of

Traditions and law

Still glances once

His mother

And once his teacher.

ORIGINAL POEM IN RAJASTHANI BY  SHYAM  MAHARSHI JI

TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH ON BASIS OF ITS HINDI TRANSLATION BY RAVI PUROHIT JI ( EXTRACTED FROM ‘KUCH TO BOL’)

RAJNI CHHABRA

WHY DO YOU THINK SO

WHY DO YOU THINK SO
Why do you think
That I don’t love you
Roads in streets
Stinking drains
Broken pipe-line of water supply
Fallen electric poles
Bare wires.

Railways crossings getting closed again and again
Traffic over riding one another
Hospitals without medical practitioners
Schools waiting for students
Deserted offices
Temples without worshipper
 Why do you think
That I don’t love.

Cane of police
Proclamation by Sovereign
 Sky touching prices
 Stocks of adulterated ration
Human beings changing their identity
Why do you think
That I don’t love.

Lush green grass in gardens
New buds on trees
 Aroma of earth
Downpours of rain
Peasants ploughing fields
Labourers engaged in work
Sunny/ bright sunshine
Moonlit night
Dunes glittering like gold
Why do you think
That I don’t love.

Factories becoming non-operational
Barren land
Dried ponds
Empty containers in house
Towering deserted havelis
Traders of human beings
Why do you think so
That I don’t love .
Supremacy of God
Agents of ruling authority
Pimps of females
Poor and down trodden
Why do you think
That I don’t love

What to do
I am soldier of pen
I am on target of violence
O! Humanity, I am your adorer.

A poem originally composed in Hindi by Rajendra P. Joshi ji and translated into English by me, with his consent.

RAJNI CHHABRA

ROAD

ROAD

I converted unmetalled pathway into

A smooth tarmac road
So that
All of us can move on itComfortablyDaily somebody Throws on itPointed stonesWith blood smeared hands And wounded feetI engage myself In picking stonesSo that Road remains clean.So many heavy stonessettled there firmly since centuriesI try to pick upPrejudice laughs Silently in lipsSlipperiness of satireAccumulates at so many spots 

Like moss

Road built my myselfPokes fun of me And seems stranger to me now.I am cleaning slippery roadBut now all around have grownPlacards‘ Hard work is meaninglessHowsoever you work hard is less’Like fish stuck in sandLike a wingless bird Restlessness Is shatteringStrong body of mindWounded hands Are cleaning Slipperiness from roadSo that For those who come after meThis road remains in perfect conditionThis road remains clean.ORIGINAL POEM IN HINDI: SANTOSH KHANNA DIDITRANSLATION INTO ENGLISH; RAJNI CHHABRA(WITH HER CONSENT)

I KNOW

I KNOW

I know very well

That I am

Just like you.

But

The only distinction

Between you and me is

That you are fraise

And myself foundation.

The whole world is acquainted

 With your pride and glory

But who listens to

My agony.

Everybody views you

But, I am foundation in this earth

Unfamiliar with all

Who knows me?

But this is a reality

You are fraise

On dint of me only

Because, I bear your utter burden

Your identity

Whole world

My identity

Dense dark life of

Deep earth.

ORIGINAL POEM IN RAJASTHANI BY  SHYAM  MAHARSHI JI

TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH ON BASIS OF ITS HINDI TRANSLATION BY RAVI PUROHIT JI ( EXTRACTED FROM ‘KUCH TO BOL’)

RAJNI CHHABRA

तपते पत्थरों पर ज़िंदगी से मुलाक़ात /

तपते पत्थरों पर ज़िंदगी से मुलाक़ात

शहर के नन्हे परिंदे
न घरौंदा
न ही शज़र का
न अम्मी का साया
ये कैसा दौर आया
ज़मींन पर ही आशियाना बनाया

रजनी छाबड़ा



तपते पत्थरों पर जीवन से भेंट

शहर के दो नन्हे पाखी
न नीड़
न तरु
और न ही

 माँ का साया
यह कैसा दौर आया
सूने फर्श पर  ही
बसेरा बनाया

उर्दू और हिंदी में मेरी रचना

रजनी छाबड़ा

TAJ MAHAL

”Darling! Do packing for tomorrow. We have to take our kids to see Grandfather”

“ What  rubbish you are talking about? You will take children to village? They won’t be able to stay there without A.C., even for two days. Moreover , might catch some infection or disease there. He is your father; you goo and meet him. Who is going to stop you?”

He moved alone to village and met his father. The first question asked by his father was—“Where are my grandchildren?”

“ Pita ji! Children have gone for a school  trip”, said he with downcast head.

Father came to realize very well that he too is now a living Taj Mahal of Affection.

A SHORT STORY ‘TAJMAHAL’  FROM ZINDA HAI

MANTO   ORIGINALLY COMPOSED IN HINDI BY KEDARNATH  JI AND TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH BY ME WITH HIS CONSENT

Devoid of Fragrance

Flower is devoid of fragrance
What sort of flower is this
Butterfly is scared of approaching it
What sort of flower is this
Orchid sheds tears on its bloom
What sort of flower is this.

Light of lantern is better
Than the light diffusing from
Tower like pole.
Earthen lamp on pathway is better still.
Which burns
Imparting meaning to light.

This air is unaware of
Problem of ozone
The air is troubled
By mutual malice
Hence, air is poisonous
Hence air is stained

How I wish
This flower to be fragrant
Sweet winds to blow
So that hearts glow.

Original poem in Hindi: Dr Dinesh Dharmpal
Translation into English: Rajni Chhabra

SHE IS NOT A SEX WORKER/ A POEM TRANSLATED BY ME FROM HINDI

She is not a sex worker
Not a decoration item of this worldly society
Not a cheer leader presented to
Hurt emotions of defeated team
She is not Nirmala of Premchand
She is not Nagarvadhu of Vishalee

She is not a salable commodity in Republic
Not a lemon to be squeezed
Not a red or green bindi
Not a poem
To be cheated in circumference of language
Nor an option to be used in lieu of an oxen

She is not a character of any popular story
She is not a figure in statistics of inequality
She is not brand of advertisement
She is not an issue of compromise
She is not an instrument of live in relation
She is a real weapon.

She is basis of change of system
If ever confronted with her
You will come to realize
These hands can arrest you with handcuffs.

A SOUL STIRRING POEM ORIGINALLY COMPOSED IN HINDI BY DINESH DHARMPALJI AND TRANSLATED BY ME WITH HIS CONSENT.