Universal literature like universal thoughts is never bound by any country or religion; because it expresses itself in a language of the heart ...a language spoken and understood by all . This is both literature's appeal and also its need. No matter which country it came from and no matter who is reading it, whether he or she speaks the same language; good literature will always move and uplift the spirit. This is the reason that our insatiable hunger for foreign literature has kept the need of translation alive since time immemorial.Translation has served the role of a bridge between two cultures, as well feciliating the spread of knowledge to all. Even without a language at his disposal, the caveman translated his thoughts and feelings in the form of stone carvings to express his deepest thoughts.
Today English is by far the most translated language worldwide, followed by French, German, Russian, Italian, Spanish and other "major" languages.
Todays world, which is seeing the differences between mankind widened because of religion and lots of other differences, literature can not only bind these differing sects together but can also lead to a far greater mutual understanding of cultures and the differences. Lekhni in this goodwill issue of 2009 has gone beyond English and brought to you literature from all around the world. I hope you will enjoy and appreciate this extra special Christmas gift.
Wishing you all the lekhni's readers a very happy festive season and prosperous New Year.
A Japanese haiku is composed of seventeen syllables. Within this limited compass, haiku poets are able to express a great variety of feelings and thoughts, at times even catching the glimpse of eternity through the ordinary.
Four Seasons
Compilation: Yuzuru Mirza
Spring
a)
A Spring day A long line of footprints On the sandy beach.
-Masoka Shiki
b)
Butterfly in my hand As if it were a spirit Unearthly, insubstantial.
-Yosa Buson
c)
Double cherry blossoms Flutter in the wind One petal after another
-Masaoka Shiki
d)
Spring rain – A thrown-away letter Windblown in the grove.
-Kobayashi Issa
e)
Seeping, waking, And then giving a great yawn, The cat goes out for lovemaking. -Kobayashi Issa
Summer
a)
My mind Is calm and resigned As I tread on fallen leaves
-Iida Dakotsu
b)
A drop of dew Sits on a rock Like a diamond
-Kawabata Bosha
c)
A Woodpecker’s drilling Echoes To the mountain clouds.
Iida Dakotsu
d)
As I view chrysanthemums My soul and heart Are gently enticed by the floral spirit.
-Iida Dakotsu
e)
Red dragonflies Flowing like a ripple Towards the Crimsons sky.
-Miura Yuzuru
Winter
a)
Summer skylarks Dart about the heavens Above the deep mountains
- Iida Dakotsu
b)
A Fly settles On the breast A sleeping babe has forgotten to suck.
- Hino Sojo.
c)
Gargantuan clouds during dog days Take the shape of a demon, Then change into the Buddha.
-Kobayashi Issa
d)
Firefly lights Link up as a chain of beads Along the water’s edge.
-Kawabata Bosha.
e)
Like running images In a Kaleidoscope Humans grow old swiftly.
Nishijima Bakunan
Autumn
a)
An autumn eve An hour of leisure In a fleting life.
-Yosa Buson
b)
Through the branches of a tree Utterly leafless The sky deepens.
-Katto Koko
c) The sleet falls As if coming through the bottom Of loneliness.
-Naito Josho
d)
On the winter sea Sea gulls float Like fallen leaves.
- Nakamura Kusatao.
e) in vain a winter bee Went on tottering For a place to die.
-Murakami Kijo
New Year
a) The morning sun Radiantly Rises above the frosty woods.
- Iida Dakotsu.
b) A giant tree Rises up into the clouds On the withered field.
-Massoka Shiki
c) A watching crane Whoops far and wide As the dawn approaches.
-Miura Yuzuru
d) Against the bright full moon A hilltop pine tree Is the image of my rebirth.
-Oshima Ryota
e) A new year begins With the blooming Of a single frosty rose.
It was passed from one bird to another the whole gift of the day. The day went from flute to flute, went dressed in vegetation, in flights which opened a tunnel through the wind would pass to where birds were breaking open the dense blue air - and there, night came in.
When I returned from so many journeys, I stayed suspended and green between sun and geography - I saw how wings worked, how perfumes are transmitted by feathery telegraph, and from above I saw the path, the springs and the roof tiles . the fishermen at their trades, the trousers of the foam; I saw it all from my green sky. I had no more alphabet than the swallows in their courses, the tiny, shining water of the small bird on fire which dances out of the pollen.
Love Sonnet XVII
I do not love you as if you were a salt rose, or topaz or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off. I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers; thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance, risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride; So I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
Saddest Poem
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
Write, for instance: "The night is full of stars, and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."
The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.
On nights like this, I held her in my arms. I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.
She loved me, sometimes I loved her. How could I not have loved her large, still eyes?
I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.
To hear the immense night, more immense without her. And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.
What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her. The night is full of stars and she is not with me.
That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away. My soul is lost without her.
As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her. My heart searches for her and she is not with me.
The same night that whitens the same trees. We, we who were, we are the same no longer.
I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her. My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.
Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once belonged to my kisses. Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.
I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her. Love is so short and oblivion so long.
Because on nights like this I held her in my arms, my soul is lost without her.
Although this may be the last pain she causes me, and this may be the last poem I write for her.
I Like For You To Be Still
I like for you to be still It is as though you are absent And you hear me from far away And my voice does not touch you It seems as though your eyes had flown away And it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth As all things are filled with my soul You emerge from the things Filled with my soul You are like my soul A butterfly of dream And you are like the word: Melancholy
I like for you to be still And you seem far away It sounds as though you are lamenting A butterfly cooing like a dove And you hear me from far away And my voice does not reach you Let me come to be still in your silence And let me talk to you with your silence That is bright as a lamp Simple, as a ring You are like the night With its stillness and constellations Your silence is that of a star As remote and candid
I like for you to be still It is as though you are absent Distant and full of sorrow So you would've died One word then, One smile is enough And I'm happy; Happy that it's not true
It’s all in black and white This news of rape and murder Of looting and burning But those who shoot And those who die Are both my own kith and kins. Unlike our forefathers Who will accept the guilt and forfeit the heaven
We sitting smug on the top Only know ------- It’s not our turn yet, let the Eden burn and fire rage we are armed with power of number Sea of people who can kill or be killed down there---- in a Jungle.
Hear a crack in my world
Drip--drip-- drown--drown this closed box of earth and sky Its jungle of concrete Oceans of hunger and pain This rubble and shamble crushed arms and shattered skulls Sobs and fear of those broken limbs stuck again on an empty canvas
Give me a hand, a vision Not the ashes to paint the picture.
Judge me not
Judge me not Or you any longer For that matter Judging is a flawed process We change and improve all the time as we grow everyday wining or loosing Even God left the judging to the very last When we have seen and done it all Slept on our actions and repented
Deep buried wrapped in our soul Ready to take what really matters When nothing on this earth can colour or bribe us When shackles of love and hate joy and sorrow are broken
And a tear is not just a drop in the ocean But the very essence of our being .
To be a woman – single, simple and childless, could be problematic, full of pitfalls. A lonely existence where everyone tries to sympathise but when it comes to the crunch, no one is close enough. Add to the mixture a touch of greying hair, that essential incessant ingredient of old age, a perfect concoction for a catastrophic existence and now you begin to appreciate the humble scenario, which should be hauntingly simple. Cold nights, turning and twisting under the duvet in turn sipping tea and hot chocolate, interminable trips to the bathroom, chanting Hanuman Chalisa and Gayatri Mantra, consuming supposedly sleep inducing pills to no avail, poor long suffering pillow taking the beatings etc etc. Well, if that is not dramatic enough, the abrupt shrill of the telephone promptly brings visions of Sherlock Holm’s territory.
That long walk to the telephone prompts my vast fears to raise their hissing heads - my ailing mother in Delhi! It has to be bad news! The chill – the dark – the trembling hands, the shaking telephone receiver steadied itself as I heard Rani’s voice, “S-a-a-a-ry, aunty ji for disturb you, what can I do.. he haj not come back jet.” Her pronunciation of ‘z’ and ‘y’ as ‘j’ and ‘v’ as ‘b’ annoyed me, specially at this time of the night.
I was guilty of heaving a sigh of relief. Rani did sound awfully disturbed. I am used to being an agony aunt to the entire world around me. A trouble shooter for all their miniature troubles, the big issues of the day didn’t bother them!
Just ten houses away lived Rani. Her problems began and ended with her husband, Balbir. I had told Rani time and again to do away with the ‘aunty ji’ bit. It hurts my ego but even my candid explanation that in England it was not the done thing socially. You just address each other by name here. But it did not bother Rani one bit, There was no way out. I had to smile it away thinking that this minor concern was nothing in the face of the big issues of the world?
“Where else but he will be in the pub only?” was my spontaneous response. The quiver in her voice coated with impending calamity added a lot of colour to her words, “He haj not ever been this late.”
When a near and dear one is involved, we all share that undercurrent of fear and anxiety. Has he been the tragic victim of playful punishment, breathing his last on the pavement, his fading murmured pleas for help falling on deaf ears.
“He ij not eben ansering hij mobile.” Wailed Rani trying to stifle the obvious desperation in her voice, the onslaught of fear and helplessness beginning to surface.
“Has Balbir ever come back home in time, Rani? By now you should be more than used to his late comings.” I was irritable and it showed. Why can’t she accept the simple sordid facts? She could do with some sleep. So could I.
“I am sooo sarry, aunt ji,” drew no response from me. With a polite, ‘I have to go to work early tomorrow.’ I tried to wriggle out of it. Rani was no listening. She insisted. “He ij in beeg trouble. Why ij this late?”
“Listen loud and clear Rani, you have three and only three options. Firmly tell him off for his ways and insist that he comes back at a descent hour. Or be sublimely indifferent to his existence, do what you want to do, live in peace and hopefully let me have some respite. And if nothing works, separate. Be sure he will come to a rude awakening.”
I know I was rather harsh to Rani – was that my escape route? Possibly! Frustrated, definitely. It all could be condoned only if it had the desired effect on Rani. Note a chance in a million! More like wastage of critically crucial time.
“I trouble you not Aunty ji if I dribe...” she grumbled.
“Why don’t you blurt it out? Okay, Okay, let’s go, do a round of his usual haunts!” I was already slipping out of my night clothes, ready for action.
“Thank joo sooo much; let us try the Kinjbury Indian pub first.” Rani said as if that diluted his stupidity.
“As soon as I have put some decent clothes on, I will give you a missed call, come down and meet me at the door.” I was so reluctant to leave my warm bed and warm nighty. I wasn’t even halfway through changing clothes when the telephone shrilled again, “He ij come, just gone bathroom...soo saary, aunty ji, too much bother you.” That was the abrupt end to the call. I could sense fear in her abruptly cutting short her gratitude. That surely spared her a punch or two from Balbir.
It was my turn to thank lady luck and jump into my bed back again. Ouch! The bed was bloody cold as if it was not slept in for centuries. I couldn’t summon up the courage to get the hot water bottle. Hands intertwined and knees knocking against my chin, all night I fought a losing battle.
The different shades of blue, black and brown bruises on Rani’s face told their own story. In spite of her futile efforts to fool the neighbours the price she was paying for an existence with Balbir was there for all to see. In his all too frequent fits of anger, Balbir compulsively threw at her all objects within reach. Once even his mother had to sample a stinging backhander. Poor old Satya, her constant tears could not mitigate the hurt. Mother and daughter-in-law, in spite of my admonishing, could and would not change themselves. Their innate instincts were far too powerful to be interfered. I was bewildered what this paradox the Punjabi female lives with is. Known the world over for their hard work, industry, and extrovert life-style on the one hand and then when it came to husbands and sons, meekly surrendering to arrogance and physical abuse.
All the household chores were of course Rani’s responsibility. On top of it she opted for a part time job at Sainsbury’s. In spite of her faltering knowledge of English language, she had found an able ally in Lyn’s mother, her neighbour who got her the job in spite of her poor English. Rani’s ready smile and dedication to work overcome all her shortcomings. She spent hours hand washing Balbir’s stinking mud-stained clothes. She lovingly served hot meals to him for he had a weakness for fresh food. Yet, his arrogance and ego never allowed him to give her a helping hand. Not even with the heavy shopping loads. On top of it all, more often than not, Rani had to doze off without food or drink having naively waited long lingering hours for Balbir to show up. Her behaviour was no different than that of Balbir’s mother’s who had sighed away to her grave for her husband and son. The pattern was all too familiar. Rani needed help and needed it fast.
Had I dozed off? May be far too engrossed in my thoughts, valiantly knowing at my grey cells to find a liberating solution to a desperate situation. I came down to earth with a thud. Rani was there, at once guilt ridden, apologetic and full of grudges. Dear me, all this on a Saturday! My turbulent thought process took a violent turn at the very thought of Balbir blissfully snoring away the whole morning. Why were the gods so cruel?
Rani was a conformist when it came to a Saturday shopping. If I could have my way, I would tell all the neighbours including the birds and bees in my hearing distance, shop only once a month. But then as Satya would often raise that quizzical eyebrow at my face – no one but your own self to fend for! Grin and bear I must, for I myself had asked for it. In a weak moment, I had offered to help out Rani with my car. Blast my tender soul! I could not live with myself leaving Rani on her own doing rounds with those heavy bags. So much for the generosity, silly old me! Now, now, stop sympathising with yourself. All this when Balbir had not even bothered to formally introduce me to his wife.
“Aunty ji, don’t know baat (what) I do bith him!” Lamented Rani without bothering to get rid of her popping and shopping bags, sliding into the nearest sofa in the lounge itself.
“So he beat you up again?” the tell-tale bruises peeping through her makeup taunting me at my naivety.
“Aunty ji, ben he ij drunk, he knowj nathing.” Trained by Christ himself, she tried to explain it all away. I was stunned into silence. The Indian female psyche! No, no! I wasn’t adequately armed to query that line of thought. I took a deep breath, shook my head, recovered and shot back.
“Well then why not take advantage and give him a kick or two on the backside!”
“Oh, aunty ji, baat funny thought! Shocked, she tried to laugh it off.
“I am not joking Rani. Rest assured first thing in the morning, to stare back at a few stinging blue and black blotches is hard to swallow. May be this will shock him into senses; take a fresh look at his own conduct. The spectacle of going around his daily routine with colourful fancy purple patches adoring his face! You bet your bottom dollar, the very thought is worth a million or two”.
The outburst scared Rani. She had come looking for sympathy, not for a punch smack on the nose!
Doing a hasty turn-around, I offered Rani a cup of tea. Relieved she jumped at the suggestion, offering to prepare the tea. We swiftly moved to the kitchen. While the water was beginning to come to a boil, I was squirming watching Rani peeling the ginger piece with her fingers, not using the chopping board and I worried lest she chopped her finger. She added a dozen spices into the pan and left the water to boil a lot more than I would have liked but I did not want to interfere. She would not like to make Indian tea just for herself.
Sipping tea at the dining table, Rani could not help staring the electrical gadgets that I had accumulated over the years. My attempts to explain the functioning of the washing machine and the dishwasher were an exercise in futility. Probably she was yet not ready for the modern essentials. She had been exposed to the westernised ways of life only for a few months. To grasp and get accomplish so much new so quickly was probably expecting too much of her. I shall have to bridle myself. But then to see injustice right before my eyes and not to react. That surely was not me. I get annoyed and angry. Very angry. I had to curb the urge to smack her around the ears, Illegal isn’t it, in this country! Oh, I give up.
“Rani, why are you bent on ruining your life with Balbir? Take my word for it, he will not change. You will rue the day and it will be too late then.” I don’t know why I have to be so straight forward and why can’t I give up.
Like you tap on the top of the TV and it starts working, I wanted to pull Balbir’s long hair and give him a good jolt all round, it might just do the trick.
“Why don’t you leave him?” She did not expect this from me.
“How can leave him, bare I go?” Several colours came and went on her face in that one moment.
“Array, you work, the council will arrange for your accommodation.” I tried to make her see the sense.
“You beered (weird) Aunty ji, how can ju eben say that?” She could not believe what I said.
“OK, why don’t you ask him to behave and treat you with respect?” If she can’t divorce Balbir, at least bring him to some understanding.
Rani lowered her eyes and replied, “Aunty ji, he ij not even sleeping with me theej daje, he duj not taak to me, baat can do?”
“I hope he is not going out with Lynn again”. I was worried.
“I don’t know Aunty ji, if I ask him two times, this ij baat I get! She said pointing to her black and blue bruises.
“Why don’t you write everything in a letter and post it to him? He will have to read it then?” I suggested.
“That ij a good idea, Aunty ji.” She said deep in thoughts as if still mulling over my suggestion. The glow of confidence emanating from her face reflected to me the huge generational gap. Unlike Satya, she will not sacrifice her total life behind a veil of silence. She was prepared to pay the price - physical abuse - but she would not sit silent. She will fight for her rights!
After tea, we went shopping and I dropped her at her door and left quickly. I did not want to spoil my mood by looking at Balbir’s unshaven face, which he kept scratching and loose dirty turban. Rani also did not want him to see me. Neither did he help his wife, nor would he want anyone to help her. He could not stand Rani talking to their neighbours.
Before he got married to Rani, Balbir was going out with Lyn, who came to clean my flat once a week. She only told me that Balbir is going to India to get married. I was surprised that she herself did not want to marry him. She told me unashamedly that she wanted to taste a hundred men before she settles down. Like her mother, who had four children with three marriages, Lyn did not believe in a permanent relationship. I sometimes wondered how Lyn’s mum remembers whose child belongs to which father and who is visiting which child and when!
Anyway, when Balbir came back from India with his new wife, Lyn started to get close to Balbir. I thought that Rani and Lyn are of same age and they may be getting along nicely. But Rani told me that Lyn kept kissing and cuddling Balbir, besides taking money from his pocket. When Rani tried to tell her husband about her pick pocketing, instead of confronting Lyn, Balbir slapped Rani.
These days Rani was really unhappy. Not only that Balbir has stopped talking to her, he was not even beating her. He will eat whatever Rani cooked, wear whatever she kept out and go his garage for hours at end. From there he would go to any pub and return completely drunk and slept on the sofa.
When Satya was alive, he used to be like this for months. I would bed Satya not to bother with him. Once she told me off that if I had a son, would I understand what a mother goes through. I stopped talking to her after that. Really, I could never understand how and why a mother would live on to bear her only son’s misbehaviour.
Before Satya died, she called me through Balbir. She was so thin and weak, “Don’t disappoint me Gita, look after my son, OK, forgive me for what I said...” and she died the same afternoon, leaving me guilty for life for not checking on her. Balbir did not like my chatting with his mother. He knew what I would say to her but he should have at least informed me of her illness. She died suffering the husband and then the son.
Balbir was not even four when his father, Banta Singh disappeared one afternoon. Satya went to fetch Balbir home from school and found they were locked out. She did not know enough English to tell neighbours who stood watching her desperately trying to open the door. Lyn’s mom came to her rescue then who in turn called me that perhaps I could understand her language. I could hardly understand Punjabi but what I could make out was that she can’t open the door. Obviously, Banta Singh has changed the lock without telling her. Satya was not ready to accept the facts. Weeping bitterly, she kept repeating that Banta cannot leave his son and at least for his sake, he would return.
Bantasingh’s sister lived in Birmingham, whose number Satya found in her purse. When I rang her, she was reluctant to talk to Satya or me, “What can we do, this is between husband and wife. Why you are bothered?”
“We are bothered because your brother’s wife and son are standing in the bitter cold.” It was almost six in the evening I had just returned home from office when Lyn’s mom beckoned me to come.
I could hear her husband grumbling in the background, “Lo, listen to this new story of Banta. Tell whoever it is on the phone that don’t bother us. We are not responsible for Satya or her son,” she kept the phone down.
I could not leave them on the road and brought them both home. Next day, the new landlord of Banta’s house, Sujan Singh, arrived and on our insistence, showed us the documents. He also told us that Banta has left for Australia with his new wife.
For weeks, Satya kept quiet and sat like a stone. I applied for the council’s house in her name and she was relocated nearby in a two bed room house in the neighbourhood. Sujan Singh was a kind man. When he came to know about Satya’s predicament, he offered her cleaning job in his small hotel, Wembley Haven, where she worked until she died, trying her best to keep the hotel like a heaven. She wanted Balbir to become a successful man but he had no interest in studies. Sujan Singh saw his aptitude in cars so he advised Satya to send him for training as a Car mechanic. After he got his diploma, Sujan Singh helped him open a garage in the area and he did well in the business.
Although Balbir did whatever Satya asked him but he constantly fought with her for little little things and he never married during her life time. Often, she would say, “Gita you work in such a big office, there must be hundreds of girls there. Can’t you find a good girl for Balbir? If you ask him, Bablu will not say ‘no’ to you.”
After Satya died, Balbir became a vagabond. He will not bath or even brush his teeth in days. He smelt like a rat. He worked only when he wanted. His old customers took care not to irritate him as he was a blood good mechanic and cheap too.
What could I have done? He was not ready to talk to me. I tried my best. In the beginning, I sent him food and asked Lyn to clean his house but she was more interested in him and his pocket. I thought they clicked.
Anyway, since Balbir got married, he appeared to be very clean. Not wanting to I also smiled at him a few times. I could not keep the promise I gave to Satya, rather I was instigating Rani to drop him. Satya would not have liked this but I was not happy either, wasting my precious time over Balbir.
“Aunty ji, Aunty ji, I write and give him my letter!” I was ready to leave for office when Rani came in all excited.
“What did you write?” I could not believe at the speed with which she did things. I thought she would need my assistance for writing the letter. Her English was not good and as far as I knew, Balbir’s Gurmukhi was only limited to spoken Punjabi, which mostly was made up of swear words.
“I written that he at least tell me my mistake..., why he punished me like this...!” I was so angry that I could have wrung her neck.
“If you had sold this Bollywood story, you could have earned some money by selling it.” My blood boiled; I did not know what else to say.
“Aunty ji, you are a weird one.” She could not understand what I meant.
“Aunty ji, don’t know baat he saij in the ebening.” She seemed very agitated.
“Did you warn him that if he does not change for the better, you will divorce him?” Perhaps, I should have told her all this much earlier.
“No, Aunty ji, I said that I don’t mind if he bants to lib with someone.” She told me hesitatingly.
“Oh Rani!” I was disappointed. Only God can save her now. Then she fearfully, “Aunty ji, I also write that he can go lib whereber he bants, I can lib alone, but I bill not leabe this house”.
I was stunned. All said and done, she was not such a fool. Blood women, always apologising even when they are the victims. She had exceeded all my expectations. This was the first time I could not find fault with what she had done. She thought that I was not pleased with her as she tried to give her explanation, “Aunty ji, at least I bill not kick from this house that”.
“Rani, that is wonderful! What did he say?” I said, getting over my wonderment.
“He opened letter and keep in hij pocket and left.”
“May be he did not want to read it in front of you. Let me know as soon as he replies.” She promised. I had great doubts that Balbir would ever reply to her but I was sure that he will beat her black and blue.
The call came at ten at night, “Aunty ji, he haj come home just now and ij in the bathroom. I bill ring ju late...” whispered Rani and the phone went quiet.
I could only manage a disturbed sleep all night. If I were to have so many sleepless nights, I might have been better married off. Being kept awake by my own bevy of children, I would have had no cause for complaint.
Turning and twisting, I whiled away the night. There was no respite from the scary thoughts. I toyed with thoughts of making the call. I had to know that everything was in order. If Balbir picked up the phone at the first sign of anything dubious in his tone, I could call the police. All the time I was aware the police would not get into action in the absence of any solid proof, which even Rani would hide from them.
I was eagerly waiting for the events to unfold, wishing away the afternoon hours, immune to the body’s need for food and drink. Time and again I was throwing furtive glances at the telephone, even readjusted the receiver a couple of times lest it had got stuck! Has Balbir gone violent and reduced her to pulp! I found myself incompetent to handle the office routine. Disturbed, my colleagues enquired after my well-being a few times. In their own minds they were coming up with different colourful interpretations to the root cause of my anxiety.
A fleeting smile on my face was proof enough of being a lucky so and so. No weighty responsibilities to live with no noises any arguments! A little frown on my brow and the hiss of the arsenic mutterings was unifying: she alone is responsible for the choking solitude, some sordid shortcoming the obvious reason for her remaining single. Anyway I could not run the risk of Balbir answering the phone, so talking to Rani over the phone was out of the question.
On my way back home, I looked up when I was alongside their house, hoping to catch Rani at the window. In sharp contrast to my basic instincts, I peeped into some neighbourhood houses looking for obvious signs of any disturbance! When Balbir is angry he loses all self control and goes berserk .Vulgar language is usually accompanied by throwing around whatever he can lay his hand upon. There is no evidence of such behaviour today, though the air is thick with the lull before the storm!
I had just dozed off, only to be unduly awoken by the shrill of the door bell. I fumbled my way to the door. Yes, it was Rani with a thick layer of make-up on her face .We shot straight to the kitchen. I splashed a few handfuls of water on my eyes and had a good look at Rani. The make-up had not adequately disguised the dark, ugly bruises on her neck and face.
Before I could wring her neck, she chirped, “Auntie ji, eberything ij sorted out.”
“And what about these bruises?” Surprised I blurted.
“Aunty ji, this ij just...” Her black and blue face was flushed.
Only if children could learn by the experiences of others they would suffer less. But they have to go though the drill themselves to comprehend the ways of the world. Trying to counsel Satya was futile. Why should I expect anything different form Rani? At this moment, any word of advice from me would have been meaningless. No one could tell the shape of things to come. .I decided to let Rani bask under the fleeting glow!
Akbar had a learned visitor to his court. This visitor spoke many languages and all of them very well. He spoke so well that it was difficult for the ministers and wise men to guess from where he came and what his mother tongue was. They all were totally baffled and confused by his fluency and mastery over all the languages. In the end, as usual Birbal was called to find out. “You have got twelve hours to resolve this issue; as our visitor is leaving in the morning”, Akbar warned Birbal.
“Twelve hours are enough, Sir.” Birbal replied politely.
All the ministers and courtiers began to laugh at his claim;” Oh sure, we could not find out in three days and Birbal is going to find out in one night, that is also when guest is asleep!”
Next morning Birbal came to the court and told everybody that visitor belonged to the eastern province of India. Akbar called for the guest and asked,” Is it true?”
“Yes,” replied the guest. “But how did you find it out? No body knew.”
“That is easy.” Birbal replied smilingly.
“When you were asleep, I poured some water over you. You started shouting at me in Bhojpuri. One can speak many languages and master them, but when one is in real distress or unconscious of the world around him, he will only speak his mother tongue.”
Once again, Akbar was all in praise for Birbal.
Narration : Shail Agrawal
Six little ducks That I once knew Short ones, skinny ones, Fair ones, too But the one little duck With the feather in his back He led the others With a quack, quack, quack Quack, quack, quack, Quack, quack, quack He led the others With a quack, quack, quack.
Down to the river they would go Wibble wobble, Wibble wobble, To and fro But the one little duck With the feather in his back He led the others Quack, quack, quack, Quack, quack, quack He led the others With a quack, quack, quack.
हिंदी में विज्ञान के प्रचार प्रसार के लिए विगत कई वर्षों में किये गये अनेकानेक प्रयासों के लिये वरिष्ठ वैज्ञानिक अधिकारी कुलवंत सिंह को अपने व्यक्तिगत प्रयासों के लिए ’भाभा परमाणु अनुसंधान केंद्र’ द्वारा ’परमाणु ऊर्जा विभाग’ के अध्यक्ष डा अनिल काकोडकर के हाथों 22 अक्टूबर 2009 को ’राजभाषा गौरव पुरुस्कार’ से सम्मानित किया गया. डा. श्री कुमार बनर्जी, डायरेक्टर, भाभा परमाणु अनुसंधान केंद्र द्वारा हस्ताक्षरित प्रशस्ति पत्र के साथ.
हिंदी में विज्ञान के क्षेत्रों में किये गये (एवं किये जा रहे) कार्यों का संक्षिप्त विवरण - १. गत १५ वर्षों से ’हिंदी विज्ञान साहित्य परिषद’ में सेवाभाव से समर्पित. २. गत ८ वर्षों से त्रैमासिक पत्रिका ’वैज्ञानिक’ पत्रिका का व्यवस्थापन. ३. गत ८ वर्षों से प्रति वर्ष अखिल भारतीय स्तर पर ’डा. होमी भाभा हिंदी विज्ञान लेख प्रतियोगिता’ का आयोजन. ४. परिषद द्वारा प्रति वर्ष संचालित गोष्ठियों, सेमिनार, वार्ताओं के आयोजन में प्रमुख भूमिका एवं सहयोग ५. परमाणु ऊर्जा विभाग के स्कूली छात्रों के लिये हिंदी विज्ञान प्रश्न मंच का विस्तार मुंबई से बढ़ा कर अखिल भारतीय स्तर पर अपने विशेष प्रयासों द्वारा किया. ६. गत ६ वर्षों से इस प्रश्न मंच प्रतियोगिता का संचालन एवं क्विज मास्टर की विशेष सराहनीय भूमिका. ७. स्कूली छात्रों को इस प्रतियोगिता में सहायता एवं मार्गदर्शन के लिए कुलवंत सिंह ने ’विज्ञान प्रश्न मंच’ पुस्तक लिखी. ८. डा अरविंद कुमार द्वारा लिखी ’एटम्स एंड डेवेलपमेंट’ पुस्तक का कुलवंत सिंह ने अपने सहयोगी के साथ इस पुस्तक का अनुवाद हिंदी में ’परमाणु एवं विकास’ नाम से किया. ९. कण-क्षेपण (sputtering) पर कुलवंत सिंह ने पाण्डुलिपि तैयार की है
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वरिष्ठ बाल साहित्यकार एवं पर्यावरणविद शमशेर अहमद खान सम्मानित
विगत दिनों बाल दिवस के अवसर पर वरिष्ठ बाल साहित्यकार एवं पर्यावरणविद शमशेर अहमद खान को भारतीय कृषि पत्रकार संघ की ओर से वर्ष 2009 का डॉ. पंजाब राव एस.देशमुख सम्मान से उनके श्रेष्ठ बालसाहित्य लेखन एवं पर्यावरण संरक्षण हेतु सम्मानित किया गया.
पारदर्शिता ही जनसूचना अधिकार का उद्देश्य
शमशेर अहमद खान
विगत दिनों सिद्धार्थ नगर जनपद स्थित रतन सेन डिग्री कालेज, बांसी द्वारा दो दिवसीय संगोष्ठी का आयोजन बौद्ध अध्ययन केंद्र के तत्वाधान में आयोजित किया गया. इस अवसर पर विधि मंत्रालय के संयुक्त सचिव श्री एस.आर. ढलेटा स्वच्छ लोकतंत्र हेतु सूचना के अधिकार का महत्व विषय पर अपने विचार व्यक्त करते हुए कहा कि लोकहित में सरकार के क्रिया कलापों में पारदर्शिता, भ्रष्टाचार मुक्ति, प्रशासनिक अधिकारियों का उत्तरदायित्व, पूर्ण व्यवहार जनसूचना के अधिकार का मूल उद्देश्य है. उन्होंने कहाकि इस अधिकार के अंतर्गत नागरिकों को केंद्रीय सरकार के सभी मंत्रालयों/विभागों, राज्य सरकारों, उच्च न्यायालयों, निकायों, सरकार द्वारा पोषित वित्तीय संस्थानों/स्वैछिक संस्थानों आदि से भी सूचना 30 से 60 दिनों के भीतर प्राप्त की जा सकती है. श्री ढलेटा ने कहाकि इसके लिए प्रत्येकविभाग में सूचना अधिकारी नियुक्त है जो किसी भी सूचना मांगने वाले भारतीय नागरिक से यह नहीं पूछ सकते कि सूचना किसलिए और क्यों मांगी जा रही है, मांगे जाने पर उन्हें सरकार की मंशा के अनुरूप हर हाल में अपेक्षित सूचनाएं देनी ही होंगी.
संगोष्ठी के विशिष्ठ अतिथि श्री शमशेर अहमद खान ने कहाकि कपिलवस्तु गणतंत्र की जन्मदाता है, यहीं से लोकतंत्र पूरी दुनिया में गया है.उन्होंने जनता के सरकार की भागीदारी पर चर्चा की एक आदर्श तथा जिम्मेदार नागरिक बनने के लिए लोगों को प्रेरित किया.
पुलिस अधीक्षक श्री उपेन्द्र कुमार अग्रवाल ने कहाकि सूचना का अधिकार अधिनियम दिनोंदिन प्रासंगिक होता जा रहा है. शिक्षा के केंद्र इस दिशा में जागरूक हो रहे हैं जो देश के लिए शुभ संकेत है. उन्होंने भ्रष्टाचार को नासूर बताते हुए कहाकि इसे जागरूकता से ही मिटाया जा सकता है.मुख्य विकास अधिकारी श्री ताहिर इकबाल ने कहाकि परिवर्तन विकास की एक प्रक्रिया है. सूचना का अधिकार नागरिक अधिकार के क्षेत्र में मील का पत्थर है.
इस अवसर पर महाविद्यालय के प्रबंधक और पूर्व विधायक श्री जय प्रताप सिंह ने चर्चा करते हुए कहाकि जनसूचना का यह अधिकार लोकरुचि का विषय है और नागरिक अधिकारों में एक क्रांतिकारी क़दम है जिसे ऐतिहासिक उपलब्धि समझना चाहिए.
उक्त अवसर पर ए डी एम सिद्धार्थ नगर श्री एम के त्रिवेदी ने कहाकि सूचना का अधिकार आज भी प्रासंगिक है, हर नागरिक को सूचना अधिनियम 2005 से सूचना पाने के अधिकार के लिए यह एक हथियार है.
अंत में महाविद्यालय के प्राचार्य डॉ. हरेश प्रताप सिंह ने गोष्ठी में उपस्थित सभी अतिथियों, प्राध्यापकों,छात्र-छात्राओं,गणमान्य अतिथियों के प्रति आभार व्यक्त किया.कार्यक्रम का संचालन डॉ. जय नारायण मिश्र ने किया.
अगले दिन की संगोष्ठी का संबोधन भारत सरकार, गृह मंत्रालय, राजभाषा विभाग के केंद्रीय हिंदी प्रशिक्षण संस्थान, दिल्ली में कार्यरत सहायक निदेशक श्री शमशेर अहमद खान ने किया. उन्होंने कहा कि भारत बहुभाषी देश है. अनुच्छेद 343 से 351 तक राजभाषा का उल्लेख है. अंग्रेजी सहराजभाषा है. यही नहीं,राज्यों की अपनी राजभाषा है और उन्हें भी अपनी सह राजभाषाएं बनाने का पूरा संवैधानिक अधिकार है. भाषा देश को जोड़्ती है. दुनिया में लोकतंत्र की जननी भी भारत भूमि है. केंद्र की भाषा नीति और उसका क्रियान्वयन, देश की राष्ट्रीय एकता और अखंडता को मजबूत करने में अहम भूमिका का निर्वहन करता है.हिंदी देश की प्रतिनिधि भाषा है और राष्ट्र भाषा के रूप में राष्ट्रीय एकता की कड़ी है. उन्होंने कहाकि देश की भाषायी जटिलता राष्ट्रीय एकता में बाधा नहीं है. विविध भाषी देश होने के बावजूद भारत की सांस्कृतिक एकता का आधार परस्पर समन्वय ही है, जो भाषाओं के बीच विद्यमान सौम्यता का कारण है. संस्कृत अधिकांश भारतीय भाषाओं की जननी है. आज पूरी दुनिया को एकता के सुत्र में बांधने में बौद्ध धर्म का योगदान ऐतिहासिक है.
***
09 नवंबर 2009, मुंबई।
महाराष्ट्र विधानसभा में समाजवादी पार्टी (सपा) के विधायक अबु आजमी के हिंदी में शपथ लेने पर नाराज हो गए राज ठाकरे की महाराष्ट्र नवनिर्माण सेना (मनसे) के विधायकों ने हंगामा और मारपीट की। विवाद तब शुरू हुआ जब अबु आजमी ने विधानसभा में हिंदी में शपथ लेना शुरू किया।
नवनिर्वाचित विधायकों के शपथ ग्रहण समारोह के दौरान वे आजमी के साथ सदन के अंदर हाथापाई पर उतर आए। पहले अबु आजमी को शपथ लेने से रोकने के लिए मनसे विधायकों ने जमकर नारेबाजी की। अबु आजमी तब भी नहीं रुके तो मनसे विधायकों ने उनसे धक्का मुक्की शुरू कर दी। बाद में उनका माइक छीन लिया गया। मनसे के विधायकों ने शपथ ग्रहण कर रहे अबु आजमी को लात- घूंसे मारे और मनसे के एक विधायक ने उन्हें थप्पड़ भी मारा। मनसे विधायक इतने पर ही नहीं रुके। उन्होंने अबु आजमी को बुरी तरह से घेर लिया और हाथापाई की।
समाजवादी पार्टी के महासचिव अमर सिंह ने इस घटना की घोर निंदा करते हुए कहा कि कैसे किसी हिंदी भाषी को उसकी भाषा में शपथ लेने से रोका जा सकता है। सपा प्रमुख मुलायम सिंह ने इस घटना की घोर निंदा की है। महाराष्ट्र नवनिर्माण सेना (मनसे) के प्रमुख राज ठाकरे ने नए विधानसभा के सभी विधायकों से सोमवार को ‘सिर्फ मराठी में’ शपथ लेने या पार्टी के आक्रोश का सामना करने की चेतावनी दी थी। राज ने कहा था कि अगर कोई अन्य भाषा में शपथ लेता है तो सदन देखेगा कि मेरे विधायक क्या करते हैं। 288 सदस्यीय विधानसभा में मनसे के 13 विधायक हैं। गौरतलब है कि अबु आजमी ने इससे सदन का एजेंडा हिंदी में भी चलाने की मांग की थी। उत्तर भारतीय विरोधी अभियान के लिए चर्चित और आजमी की मांग से नाराज राज ठाकरे ने कहा कि अगर आजमी सदन का एजेंडा हिंदी में चलाना चाहते हैं तो उन्हें उत्तर प्रदेश जाना चाहिए। बाद में आजमी ने कहा था कि मैं मराठी के खिलाफ नहीं हूं। मैं भाषा का सम्मान करता हूं और उसे समझता हूं लेकिन बोल नहीं सकता क्योंकि मेरी मातृभाषा हिंदी है। लेकिन मैं मराठी सीखने की कोशिश करूंगा।
श्रद्धांजली
ओमप्रकाश आदित्य, लाड़सिंहगूर्जर, नीरजपुरी और अल्हड़ बीकानेरी के साथ-साथ प्रभाष जोशी, गुणाकर मुले और कमला सांकृत्यान, साहित्याकाश के कई-कई ओजस्वी सितारे विलुप्त हो गए...क्षतियां जो कभी पूरी नहीं हो पाएंगी। लेखनी परिवार की ओर से दिवंगत आत्माओं को विनम्र श्रद्धांजली।
कमला सांकृत्यायन
भारत की ख्यातिलब्ध हिंदी तथा नेपाली भाषा की लेखिका तथा अनुवादिका कमला सांकृत्यायन का जन्म 15 अगस्त 1920 को पश्चिम बंगाल के कलिंगपोंग में हुआ. वह देश के प्रचंड विद्वान तथा घुमक्कड़ प्रबुद्ध राहुल सांकृत्यायन की पत्नी थीं। उन्होंने हिंदी तथा नेपाली भाषा में तेरह पुस्तकों की रचना की. उनके करीब पांच सौ आलेख महत्वपूर्ण पत्र पत्रिकाओं में प्रकाशित हुए तथा उन्होंने अनेक रचनाओं का हिंदी तथा नेपाली में अनुवाद किया। वह लारेटो कालेज दार्जलिंग में हिंदी की विभागाध्यक्ष रहीं। वह 25 अक्तूबर 2009 को दार्जलिंग में ही दिवंगत हुईं।
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In the end a thought to take home with
Oh, Bharat Mata! Thank You O Mother. Please continue to give to the world your divine Love. Bless us that the wisdom of the Vedic Rishis will be share to all people!
This is a small contribution offered at Your Lotus Feet, by Your British children.
Many more to come.
A trickle today, a Flood tomorrow!
The parapets of Buckingham Palace from where, once messages of arrogance were sent in the World, "Rule, Britannia! Britannia rules the World!!", are reverberating now with the Celestial sounds, for the first time, of Immortal message 'Om! Shantih, Shantih, Shantih!- 'OM! Peace, Peace, Peace!'
A Precious Gift from Bharat Mata, to Her children of the World.
Universal literature like universal thoughts is never bound by any country or religion; because it expresses itself in a language of the heart ...a language spoken and understood by all . This is both literature's appeal and also its need. No matter which country it came from and no matter who is reading it, whether he or she speaks the same language; good literature will always move and uplift the spirit. This is the reason that our insatiable hunger for foreign literature has kept the need of translation alive since time immemorial.Translation has served the role of a bridge between two cultures, as well feciliating the spread of knowledge to all. Even without a language at his disposal, the caveman translated his thoughts and feelings in the form of stone carvings to express his deepest thoughts. 
To be a woman – single, simple and childless, could be problematic, full of pitfalls. A lonely existence where everyone tries to sympathise but when it comes to the crunch, no one is close enough. Add to the mixture a touch of greying hair, that essential incessant ingredient of old age, a perfect concoction for a catastrophic existence and now you begin to appreciate the humble scenario, which should be hauntingly simple. Cold nights, turning and twisting under the duvet in turn sipping tea and hot chocolate, interminable trips to the bathroom, chanting Hanuman Chalisa and Gayatri Mantra, consuming supposedly sleep inducing pills to no avail, poor long suffering pillow taking the beatings etc etc. Well, if that is not dramatic enough, the abrupt shrill of the telephone promptly brings visions of Sherlock Holm’s territory. 
Only if children could learn by the experiences of others they would suffer less. But they have to go though the drill themselves to comprehend the ways of the world. Trying to counsel Satya was futile. Why should I expect anything different form Rani? 
Akbar had a learned visitor to his court. This visitor spoke many languages and all of them very well. He spoke so well that it was difficult for the ministers and wise men to guess from where he came and what his mother tongue was. They all were totally baffled and confused by his fluency and mastery over all the languages. In the end, as usual Birbal was called to find out. “You have got twelve hours to resolve this issue; as our visitor is leaving in the morning”, Akbar warned Birbal.
Down to the river they would go
हिंदी में विज्ञान के प्रचार प्रसार के लिए विगत कई वर्षों में किये गये अनेकानेक प्रयासों के लिये वरिष्ठ वैज्ञानिक अधिकारी कुलवंत सिंह को अपने व्यक्तिगत प्रयासों के लिए ’भाभा परमाणु अनुसंधान केंद्र’ द्वारा ’परमाणु ऊर्जा विभाग’ के अध्यक्ष डा अनिल काकोडकर के हाथों 22 अक्टूबर 2009 को ’राजभाषा गौरव पुरुस्कार’ से सम्मानित किया गया. डा. श्री कुमार बनर्जी, डायरेक्टर, भाभा परमाणु अनुसंधान केंद्र द्वारा हस्ताक्षरित प्रशस्ति पत्र के साथ.
विगत दिनों सिद्धार्थ नगर जनपद स्थित रतन सेन डिग्री कालेज, बांसी द्वारा दो दिवसीय संगोष्ठी का आयोजन बौद्ध अध्ययन केंद्र के तत्वाधान में आयोजित किया गया. इस अवसर पर विधि मंत्रालय के संयुक्त सचिव श्री एस.आर. ढलेटा स्वच्छ लोकतंत्र हेतु सूचना के अधिकार का महत्व विषय पर अपने विचार व्यक्त करते हुए कहा कि लोकहित में सरकार के क्रिया कलापों में पारदर्शिता, भ्रष्टाचार मुक्ति, प्रशासनिक अधिकारियों का उत्तरदायित्व, पूर्ण व्यवहार जनसूचना के अधिकार का मूल उद्देश्य है. उन्होंने कहाकि इस अधिकार के अंतर्गत नागरिकों को केंद्रीय सरकार के सभी मंत्रालयों/विभागों, राज्य सरकारों, उच्च न्यायालयों, निकायों, सरकार द्वारा पोषित वित्तीय संस्थानों/स्वैछिक संस्थानों आदि से भी सूचना 30 से 60 दिनों के भीतर प्राप्त की जा सकती है. श्री ढलेटा ने कहाकि इसके लिए प्रत्येकविभाग में सूचना अधिकारी नियुक्त है जो किसी भी सूचना मांगने वाले भारतीय नागरिक से यह नहीं पूछ सकते कि सूचना किसलिए और क्यों मांगी जा रही है, मांगे जाने पर उन्हें सरकार की मंशा के अनुरूप हर हाल में अपेक्षित सूचनाएं देनी ही होंगी.
महाराष्ट्र विधानसभा में समाजवादी पार्टी (सपा) के विधायक अबु आजमी के हिंदी में शपथ लेने पर नाराज हो गए राज ठाकरे की महाराष्ट्र नवनिर्माण सेना (मनसे) के विधायकों ने हंगामा और मारपीट की। विवाद तब शुरू हुआ जब अबु आजमी ने विधानसभा में हिंदी में शपथ लेना शुरू किया। 
भारत की ख्यातिलब्ध हिंदी तथा नेपाली भाषा की लेखिका तथा अनुवादिका कमला सांकृत्यायन का जन्म 15 अगस्त 1920 को पश्चिम बंगाल के कलिंगपोंग में हुआ. वह देश के प्रचंड विद्वान तथा घुमक्कड़ प्रबुद्ध राहुल सांकृत्यायन की पत्नी थीं। उन्होंने हिंदी तथा नेपाली भाषा में तेरह पुस्तकों की रचना की. उनके करीब पांच सौ आलेख महत्वपूर्ण पत्र पत्रिकाओं में प्रकाशित हुए तथा उन्होंने अनेक रचनाओं का हिंदी तथा नेपाली में अनुवाद किया। वह लारेटो कालेज दार्जलिंग में हिंदी की विभागाध्यक्ष रहीं।
A Precious Gift from Bharat Mata, to Her children of the World.
