Posts tagged poem on dureghi

Mask (मास्क)

Brushing my hair
Wearing the pair
of ill-fitting footwear
I step out

A broad smile on face
Worry I less(?)
Go to the same place

I greet them nice
in sweet little voice
Everyone should think
“She is so great, or Harmless(?)”

All-day long, I type, type, type
I scroll, scroll, scroll
I click, click, click
Rarely I click
With Someone real

As the Sun goes down
Darkness starts to frown
I come back to the place
I call home

And as I undress
Break down in pieces
For the outfit was nothing
but a mask

I collect the parts falling
Go to him crawling
And he glues me back

He looks at me with
a little love, a little pity(?)
Don’t know
Probably just empathy

He is getting tired though
And I really don’t know
How to fix this

And everytime I shatter
Lose tiny bits of me that matter
glued back together like
a modern art

The piece of art
that’s disturbed at heart
I color it in new shade the next day
A shade that ‘they’ might like

Again Next day I dress up
and brush my hair
Then wear the pair
of my ill-fitting footwear

Putting a smile
I Step outside
and drag myself
To the world of Masks


She started it all over again.
Though she knew it won’t turn out to be good.

Now, she stares at that thing lying in front of her.
Why can’t she make it, she thinks, makes it to the end.
Or is this the end? It has to be.
She can’t keep doing this over and over again.
It has to end. Should it?

Looking at her hands covered in blood-red,
she swears she won’t do it again.
She gets upholding that chair, again.
Again she has to wipe that stain clear.
Why does she have to, always, hold that chair?

Cursing herself she washes her hands in the sink
White ceramic fills up with red.
Red, they say, the colour of love. Seriously?
They should really look at that mess.

She dries her hand, wipes the chair.
Stains on the floor. All over. Ugh! Again!
She takes the mop and mops the stains away.

She is tired, tired of all this urge of having things perfect!
“Try to love that imperfection”, she tells herself.
Try and try more. But she doesn’t feel like doing it.
All over again.

With a sore sigh, she looks out of the window.
Lilies are looking at her, she feels, they are always cognizant.
Yet they never judge her, just look at her innocently. Rather invitingly.
They are telling her not to give up. Give up on her love so soon.

And she starts it all over again.
She lays another creme white sheet. Takes a deep breath.
Sweeps a fine and smooth stroke dipped in blood red.



I lost the connection
Finally and completely
I don’t know when it happened.
Maybe some time ago,
when the voice was breaking,
I should have taken a hint.
But dumb that I am,
I dialed the number again.

My heart ached in the night,
after that call, as I could taste the bitterness
Now that I think… It was always there.
It was there when we held hands when we sang songs
when we laughed and cried together
It was there… just sugarcoated

I overthink and realize,
I might too have sowed these bitter seeds
In someone’s life
Sugarcoated them layer by layer.
Till the time we held hands
Till the time we had a connection

And as I waved a ‘bye’… maybe I was saying “Goodbye”
By now… they too must have realized…
It was never a candy, it was a pill. A pill of truth.
Truth tastes bitter, doesn’t it?

With a grudging heart, I pull my blanket
Deciding never again… will I try to bridge the gap
between our parted hands
My hands may itch, to hold on to theirs
But never again… will I outstretch my arms
‘Cause I’ve lost a connection
Finally and completely.


I want to write something
that will touch your soul
I want to write something,
To make you fall In love…

Maybe I will write about love
Or how I love him
Or how he makes my life,
a better story written on pink pages.

But I know nothing of love…
As good, as I know of anger
The fire of red and yellow,
coming from my stomach,
about something unjust and unbearable
or something truly imaginary.

Or maybe, maybe I will write
about helplessness, hopelessness,
and of that gloomy realization

Knowing my hands are tied and my mouth sealed
I have come to learn,
That I cannot write to touch your soul
For mine is caged behind the bars
Of responsibility and reality


She stole his heart.
And kept it in a box,
Together with her own
In a pretty wooden box
that she always carried around

Locking them together
She smiled to herself,
She knew what’s gonna happen
The hearts are gonna grow
Their beats will rhyme,
Their arteries will merge
It will be an art to look at,
It will be a soothing harmony…
One of its kind.

Little did she know
In that pretty wooden box
Her heart was branching out
Smothering his heart
With its wine-red tentacles

She carried the box around
All proud of herself
That she had finally found the one
The one to take care of ‘her heart’

His heart was getting bluer
As the days passed
The oblivious lady just swayed
Her skirt whirled as she twirled
And His blood curdled
She never knew

One day when she got over herself
She took the fancy key
To open the lock
She did find them merged,
Into one.
Only to realize
It was an artist’s worst nightmare
The beats were beating loud
Her ears cracked open
She wanted to scream
But couldn’t hear herself
She wanted to cry but her eyes bled themselves

She took the key in haste
Shut the flap with all the strength
Locked the pretty box
Wiped her eyes with her flowy skirt
She swayed her way out into the world
With a smile on her face
And a vile heart in the case

चित्र (Chitra)

कोणे काळी एक चित्रकार एका राज्यात आला
त्या राजाचा म्हणे होता बोलबाला
कलावंतांवर आहे राजा मेहेरबान
म्हणून चित्रकाराने त्याच्यासमोर मांडला प्रस्ताव
“उत्तरेकडे तुमच्या वेशीजवळ पाहिले एक मंदिर,
प्रशस्त दिसते बाहेरून पण आतून बेरंग
परंतु दिसली माझ्या दृष्टीला त्या भिंतीवर
चित्रं, रंग आणि राधा, श्यामच्या प्रेमात दंग”
राजाज्ञा मिळताच चित्रकाराने बांधली पेटी
रंग, कुंचला आणि रंगफळी घेऊन चालला चित्रांच्या भेटी

भव्य अशा द्वारातून प्रवेश करत तो पायरीवरच थांबला
दगडांचा काळा रंग त्याने डोळेभरून पाहिला
आवाराच्या मधोमध छोटेसे मंदिर सुबक
समोरच्या तळ्यात एक मुकाट कासव
चमकणारी कृष्णाची मूर्ती एक संधीप्रकाशात
ना पुजारी ना तेलवात

जवळच्या वृक्षावर पक्ष्यांचा कळप
त्यांच्या किलबिलाटात मिसळलेले कसलेसे सूर
आवाजाच्या दिशेने तो चालत गेला
कोपऱ्यात एक ‘फकिर’ गाण्यात गुंग झालेला
सुरावटीत त्याच्या चित्रकाराला गवसली प्रेरणा
लयीत सुरु केलं चालवण्यास कुंचला

निळा-सावळा श्याम, हाती घेऊन बासरी
त्याच्या शेजारी उमटली राधिका लाजरी
रात्री उलटल्या दिवस उपजले
रासलीला, नंदलाला, गोपिका
सारे नंदनवन फुलून आले
गोपिकेची एका सुंदर टुमदार झोपडी
त्याच्या बाहेरच उभी तिची लोण्याची मडकी
फकिराच्या गाण्यावर गोपिका डोलते
ताक घुसळते, पाणी आणते, गायीला गोंजारते
सुरांच्या तालात तिच्या परकरावर उमटली नक्षी
भिंतीवर अवतरली कुंचल्यातून
गोमट्या-नाकेल्या गोपिकेची कहाणी

मंदिर न्हाऊन निघाले रंगात
चित्रकाराने फकिराचा हातात घेतला हात
“परत येतो भेटीस” म्हणाला, राजास निमंत्रण द्यायला निघाला
रंगाच्या सुवासात, तारे मोजत फकीराची संपली रात

दुसरे दिवशी नेमलेला एक पुजारी आला
उगाच दाखवून राग, त्याने फकीरास पिटाळला
म्हणे “राजेसाहेब येणार उद्घाटनास,
त्यांच्या नजरेस नको तुझे हे बस्तान”

त्या संध्याकाळी चित्रातली गोपिका सैरभैर झाली,
रोज येणारी सुरावट का नाही ऐकू आली
तिने आपल्या गायीला गोंजारलं
लोणी काढलं, मटक्यातून पाणीही आणलं
पण तिचं कशातच मन रमेना
गोमट्या गालावर रंग काही चढेना
रेखीव ओठांवरचं हसू झालं गायब
टोकदार नाकावर उगाच उतरला डोळ्यातून ओघळ
मंदिर पूर्ण झाल्याची राजास खबर मिळाली
मुहूर्त ठरला, हत्ती, घोडे आणि पालख्या उठल्या
हत्तीवर राजा, घोडयावर चित्रकार स्वारी निघाली
दारातली सेविका आरती घेऊन आली
नाम ओढून राजाच्या कपाळी बाजूला झाली

‘हरे कृष्ण हरे राम’ झाला नामाचा गजर
राजाने उंबरठयावर केले श्रीफळाने उद्घाटन
रंगात न्हालेले मंदिर पाहून राजा झाला आनंदित
चित्रकाराकडे पाहून दिली मानेनेच पसंती
थांबा म्हणाला इथेच, “मी येतो सैर करून,
तुमचे कौशल्य बारकाईने पाहून”

सर्वप्रथम राजाने मूर्तीपुढे हात जोडले
पुजाऱ्याने पंचामृत हाती दिले
प्रदक्षिणेला राजा निघाला,
स्वतःशीच ‘वाहवा’ उद्गारीत चित्रे न्याहाळू लागला
चालता चालता मात्र एके ठिकाणी थबकला
चेहरा त्याचा किंचित हिरमुसला

प्रदक्षिणा पूर्ण करून तो द्वारापाशी आला
काहीच न बोलता त्याने सुवर्णमुद्रा उचलल्या
चित्रकाराने समोर केले उपरणे
पण राजाचा हात देता देता थांबला
आढ्यतेने त्याने चित्रकाराला प्रश्न केला
“तुमचा रंग होता का संपला?”

तत्क्षणी चित्रकाराने उपरणे केले खाली
त्वेषाने म्हणाला, “देऊ नका मुद्रा, परंतु कलेची हेटाळणी का केली?”
राजा त्याला म्हणाला “चला दाखवतो तुम्हाला”
तिथे घेऊन गेला जिथे तो आधी होता थबकला,
“सांगा आता याचा अर्थ काय झाला”

भिंतीकडे बघून क्षणभर चित्रकाराला भोवळ आली
“माधवा! हि काय रे कथा?”
नुसतीच मडकी, झोपडी, गाय आणि गोठा
भिंतीभर काळ्या आकृत्या पाहून त्याला खात्री झाली
नाकेली गोपिका अदृश्य झाली,
चित्रातून उतरून फकीरामागे निघाली!


“Why are you staring at me?”
I asked her.
“Why was Medusa cursed again?”
She asked back.
“But first decide what do you want?
Hakka noodles or Schezwan?”
“Oh… noodles!” she shrieked.
And I could hear a train whistle,
Train of her thoughts
‘Noodles–Chinese–Chinese eat snakes– snakes yuck–
snakes– Medusa must be hideous’
She was still staring at menu,
and I was losing my patience

Sitting with my computer,
I was singing my heart out
I looked up and she was standing there
Giving me the death stare
I knew the answer yet I asked,
“Why are you staring at me?”
Putting her hands on her waist
She said, “Remind me why I love you
or prepare to die”
I pulled her near, kissed all over her face
Then I continued with my song, she sat there helpless

That one serene morning, I was running my hands
Through her soft hair, over her warm back
and her sleepy cheeks
She lay beside me smiling
And I needed no words to know
Why was she staring at me
Her eyes so eloquent, talk most of the time
They were telling me a love story, of her and mine

And the other night, I was looking at the sky
Deep, dark sky filled with stars
Taking the cold air inside my lungs,
Holding the balcony railing,
I gazed at a star, shining with glee
And I heard her say,
“Why are you staring at me?”