The Hidden Garden by Gopi Narang (top ten ebook reader txt) 📗
- Author: Gopi Narang
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Behind the noise of these thousand voices,
there is one and only one underlying note,
that of the invisible all-pervasive melody-maker.
bekhudi le gaaii kahaan ham ko
der se intizaar hai apna
My subliminal unconsciousness
took me to an unknown place.
I have been waiting for myself
for quite some time.
ve log tu ne ek hi shokhi mein kho diye
paida kiye the charkh ne jo khaak chhaan kar
You lost those people
in a single random playful action—
Those rarest of the rare ones
who were created by the heavens,
after straining a whole lot of particles
for centuries.
maut ik maandagi ka vaqfa hai
yaa’ni aage chalein ge dam le kar
Death is a momentary pause.
We shall move forward
after a little bit of rest.
bahut sa’ii kiije to mar rahiye Mir
bas apna to itna hi maqduur hai
If you put in great effort, Mir,
you can choose to die.
Yes, that is the limit of your power.
aa’lam aaiina hai jis ka vo mussavvir be-badal
haae kya parde mein tasviirein banaata hai miyaan
The one who holds a mirror to the world
is an artist without a comparison.
What beautiful faces He paints on the canvas, Miyan!
u’mr bhar ham rahe sharaabi se
dil-e pur khuun ki ik gulaabi se
I was inebriated most of my life.
A little pink goblet filled with blood
simply stayed on my heart forever.
ji dhaha jaaye hai sahar se aah
raat guzre gi kis kharaabi se
Alas! My heart is crestfallen
since the morning.
I wonder how awful
the night would be.
khilna kam kam kali ne siikha hai
us ki aankhon ki niim-khwaabi se
The bud opens slowly, very slowly.
Who do you think she learnt it from?
From my beloved’s half-open
And dreamy eyes, of course.
burqa uth-te hi chaand sa nikla
daagh huun us ki be-hijaabi ka
When she uncovered her face
I saw a moon rise.
The dazzle of her shimmering beauty
hit my heart and it left a scar.
kaam the i’shq mein bahut par Mir
ham hi faarigh huye shitaabi se
There was a lot to be done in love, Mir,
but my luck did not get an opportunity
and I lost everything.
saaqi tuk ek mausam-e gul ki taraf bhi dekh
tapka pare hai rang chaman mein hava se aaj
Saqi, please take a break and
look at the spring season.
The air is spraying colour
on the garden.
ham huye tum huye k Mir huye
us ki zulfon ke sab asiir hue
Whether it is you, or I,
or simply Mir,
we are all prisoners
of her tresses.
barhtein nahien palak se ta-ham talak bhi pahunchein
phirti hain vo nigaahein palkon ke saae saaye
Her bewitching sights
do not go beyond
her eyelids to reach me.
They stay veiled
under the shadow
of her eyelashes.
har qit’a-e chaman par tuk gaar kar nazar ko
bigrien hazaar shaklein tab phuul y banaaye
Look deeply and carefully
at each section of the garden.
How many beauties were scuffed?
Only then these captivating flowers
came into being.
samjhe the ham to Mir ko aa’shiq usi ghari
jab sun ke tera naam vo betaab sa hua
We knew Mir to be your lover
the moment he heard your name
and became restless.
hai junmbish-e lab mushkil jab aan ke vo baithe
jo chaahein so yuun kah lein log apni jagah baithe
It is difficult to move lips
when she comes and sits here.
The onlookers may say
whatever they want
while sitting awestruck,
wherever they are.
kya rang mein shokhi hai us ke tan-e naazuk ki
pairaahan agar pahne to us p bhi teh baithe
What brightness of colour
emanates from her delicate body!
If she wears an apparel
even that would carry
a gleam of pink.
jin balaaon ko Mir sunte the
un ko is rozgaar mein dekha
The stories of calamities
that you had only heard, Mir,
you also saw them
in the real world.
guundh ke goya patti gul ki vo tarkiib banaaii hai
rang badan ka tab dekho jab choli bhiige pasiine mein
After kneading petals of roses,
a concoction was prepared.
That is the colour of her skin
when her blouse is soaking
with her sweat.
ham faqiiron se be-adaaii kya
aan baithe jo tum ne pyaar kiya
Why do you overlook
mendicants like us?
We came and sat here
since you showed some love.
jam gaya khuun kaf-e qaatil p tera Mir zabas
un ne ro ro diya kal haath ko dhote dhote
Your blood froze
on the palm of the murderer, Mir.
She cried as she washed her hands,
yesterday morning.
zulm hai qehr hai qayaamat hai
ghusse mein us ke zer-e lab ki baat
It is oppression.
It is cruelty.
It is a doomsday.
When in anger,
she curses quietly
under her breath.
yaaquut koi in ko kahe hai koi gul-barg
tuk honth hila tu bhi k ik baat thahar jaaye
Some call them a ruby,
others call them a rose petal.
You need to say something
so that this matter is settled.
jab naam tera liije tab chashm bhar aave
is zindagi karne ko kahaan se jigar aave
When I utter your name,
my eyes fill with tears.
From where I can get the heart
to lead such a life?
mere saliiqe se meri nibhi mohabbat mein
tamaam u’mr main naakaamion se kaam liya
My discreet disposition
helped me in my love.
All my life, I faced one failure
after another.
duur baitha ghubaar-e Mir us se
i’shq bin y adab nahien aata
Mir sat at a distance
like a cloud of dust.
Without falling in love
you can’t learn this etiquette.
sakht kaafir tha jis ne pehle Mir
mazhab-e i’shq ikhtiyaar kiya
He was solidly a kafir—
the one who embraced,
from the beginning,
the religion of love.
massaaib aur the par ji ka jaana
a’jab ik saaniha sa ho gaya hai
There were other sufferings too,
but the day I lost my heart
it was an inexplicable accident.
chashm-e khuun basta se kal raat lahu phir tapka
ham ne jaana tha k bas ab to y naasuur gaya
My eyes filled with blood
once again leaked last night.
I had assumed that my unhealed wounds
had been healed.
A Deceptive Simplicity
n rakho kaan nazm-e shaa’iraan-e haal par itne
chalo tuk Mir ko sun-ne k moti se pirota hai
Don’t pay too much attention
to poets of the day.
Let us go and listen to Mir.
He does not use words.
He beads pearls in his poetry.
Mir’s simplicity is truly quite deceptive. There is an impression that simplicity of the syntactic structure equals simplicity of poetic meaning which is not correct. Mir speaks in a dialogic language that seems conversational, but his simplicity is deceptive. It is an established fact that conversational language is not poetry’s language. The poetic language infused with creative devices when removed from the language of daily discourse becomes more meaningful and durable. Mir selected a mode of expression that connected him with the people, but he
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