I feel like repeating a post I wrote on January 15, 2012.
Consider today’s post a sort of director’s cut. It is self-indulgent and not particularly well structured, but I suspect it is still fairly readable. If it is not, so be it because no one pays to read this blog. The tip jar on the left has not attracted a penny since it was shamelessly installed there by me some three years ago. So if you don’t pay, you get no say.
The following three literary constructs happened in quick succession within a span of about 20 minutes early this morning around 1.30 a.m. They just wrote themselves.The scrap of paper above is where I wrote it.
1.
The first thought was about a fictional poet called Mazoori Sana of Africa. Incidentally, Mazoori Sana means ‘I am fine’ in Swahili in response to the question “Habari gani” (How are you or what's’ up?). I have used it as the name of a fictional poet standing at the edge of the Indian Ocean on the shores of Zanzibar. Here is what Mazoori Sana wrote via me:
From the shores of Zanzibar
I trade in cloves afar
Then I wait at the ocean’s edge
For fragrances to wash ashore
By the way, Zanzibar is one of my all time favorite words and always conjures up the fragrance of cloves, something this semiautonomous part of Tanzania in Africa was once known for.
2.
That little limerick was followed by one in Hindustani. It says:
Woh le gaye gulaab merey,
Yeh kehke ke hisaab
Khushbuon mein chukayenge
Fir ek roz meri dehleez par
Itr ki do bottle chhod gaya koi
वो ले गए गुलाब मेरे,
ये कहके कि हिसाब
खूशबूओं में चुकाएँगे
फिर इक रोज़ मेरी दहलीज़ पर
इत्र की दो बोतल छोड़ गया कोई
----
(She took my roses
Saying she will pay me in fragrances
Then one day
Someone left two perfume bottles at my doorstep)
3.
The third construct is not necessarily poetic but tries to tell an ancient story my way. It is in Hindustani with translation below.
Brij pahuncha to pata chala
Ki woh to Dwarka mein baithen hein
Dwarka mein khabar mili
Woh Kurukshetra ko nikal gaye
Kurukshetra ki seema par ek yoddha ne mujhe roka aur kaha
‘Yehan se aagey jana pratibandh hai,
Aagey ghamasan yuddh chal raha hai
Woh aayenge, avashya aayenge
Parantu is yuddh ke pashchyat
Sab vyarth hi hoga’
बृज पहुँचा तो पता चला
कि वो द्वारका में बैठे हैं
द्वारका में ख़बर मिली
वो कुरूक्षेत्र को निकल गए
कुरूक्षेत्र की सीमा पर एक योद्धा ने मुझे रोका और कहा,
“यहाँ से आगे जाना प्रतिबंधित है,
आगे घमासान युद्ध चल रहा है
वोह आएँगे, ज़रूर आएँगे
परंतु इस युद्ध के पश्चात्
सब व्यर्थ ही होगा”
(I reached Brij only to find that
He was in Dwarka
In Dwarka, I heard the news that
He was on way to Kurukshetra
On the outskirts of Kurukshetra
A warrior stopped me and said,
‘Thus far and no further
There is a fierce war on
He will return, will surely return
But after the war
It will all be futile’)
After writing these three unconnected bits I went to sleep around 2 a.m.