Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Shiv Kumar Batalvi's - "BuDHa Ghar - The Old House" (Presentation - Desh Ratna)

BuDHa Ghar

Hae chir hoiya,
Mera aapa mere saNg rus ke
Kite Tur gaya hae,
Te mere kol mera
Sakhana kalboot baaki hae,
Te mere ghar di har deevaar te
CHaayi udaasi hae,
Hae chir hoiya
Mera aapa mere saNg rus ke
Kite Tur gaya hae,
Te mera ghar ohde Tur jaan piCHoN
Jhur reha hae.

O aksar bahut DooNghi raat gaye hi
Ghar paratda si,
Te sooraj huNdiyaaN o
Ghar diyaaN bhitaaN toN Darda si,
O kehRe hiran laNge kar riha si
Kujh na dasda si,
Te din bhar aapne
ParCHaaviyaaN piCHe nhasda si.

Maenu ohdi devdaasi bhaTkana
Aksar DaraaNdi si,
Te uhdi aakh di vahisht
JiveN sheeshe nu khaaNdi si,
Te ohdi chup
BuDHe ghar de hun jaale hilaaNdi si.

MaeN ik din chup vich
Uhnu ghar diyaaN kaNdhaaN dikha baiTHa,
O dhup vich roNdiyaaN kaNdhaaN di gahl
Seene nu la baiTHa.
MaeN aeveN bhul kaNdhaaN di gahl
Usnu suna baiTHa
Te uhda saath kaNdhaaN toN,
Hamesha lai gava baiTHa.

O ghar CHaDan toN pehlaaN us din,
Har khooNje vich phiriya,
Te ghar vich khaNg raheeyaaN
Beemaar sab iTaaN de galeeN miliya,
Te us manhoos din piCHoN
Kade o ghar naheeN MuRiya.

Hun jad vi rail di paTaRi te koi
Khudkashi kar da e,
JaaN Tola bhikshuaaN da
Sir munaaee shehar vich chalda ae,
JaaN naksalbaaReeya koi
Kise nu katal jad karda ae,
Te mere ghar diyaaN kaNdhaaN nu
Us pal taap aa chaRda ae.
Te buDHe ghar diyaaN
Beemaar iTaaN da badan THarda ae.
Eh buDHe ghar diyaaN
Beemaar iTaaN nu bharosa hae,
O jithe vi hae jehRe haal vich hae
O bedosh hae,
Uhnu ghar te naheeN
Ghar diyaaN kaNdhaaN te rosa hae.

Hae chir hoiya
Mera aapa mere saNg rus ke
Kite door Tur gaya hae
Te mere kol mera sakhana kalboot
Baaki hae,
Jo buDHe ghar diyaaN
Hun mar rahiyaaN kaNdhaaN da saathi hae.
BuDHa Ghar - The Old House

It has been a while
Since my self became displeased with me
And left.
What remains with me
Is just an empty shell
And every wall of my home,
Is overcast with sadness.
It has been a while
Since my self became displeased with me
And left.
And my home, since his departure
Is grieving.

He often returned home
Very late into the night.
As soon as the sun rose,
He would become fearful of the crevices in the walls.
What thoughts leaped across his mind
He would never say,
But all day long
He chased his shadow.

This fruitless wandering of his
Often scared me.
The wildness in his eyes
Almost ate into the mirror
And the cobwebs in that old house
Stirred in this silence.

One day, during such a silence
I showed him the walls of the house.
The thought of those walls weeping in the sunlight
Struck him deeply.
I spoke to him about the walls without thinking,
Because I lost for evermore
His association with these walls.

Before he left the house that day
He walked through every inch of it,
He embraced every coughing,
Ailing brick in the house.
And since that ill-omened day
He never once returned home.

Now whenever someone kills himself
Across a railroad,
Or a group of monks with shaven head
Walks through the town,
Or a Naxalite
Slays somebody -
The walls of my home
Become feverish.
The ailing bricks of this old house
Shiver.
The ailing bricks of this old house
Have faith
That wherever he is, in whatever condition
He is blameless.
He is not displeased with the house,
He is just displeased with the walls of the house.

It has been a while
Since my self became displeased with me
And left.
What remains with me
Is an empty shell,
That is the companion
Of the dying walls of this old house.

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