Nazm: Taraazoo-e-Zamaana

नज़्म : तराज़ू-ए-ज़माना

ज़माना तोल रहा हैं मुझे
तराज़ू में,
हर एक शै का वज़न कर रहें हैं
ख़रीदार मेरे।

मेरे बदन के ग़ोश्त और मेरी
हड्डियों का;
मेरे लिबास के रेशम का और
जूतियों का।

मेरे कालेज के काग़ज़ात परखे जा रहें हैं,
मेरे सब ज़ाति वाक़िये भी चखे जा रहें हैं,
मेरी सब खूबियों पे ताली बज रही हैं और,
मेरे सब नुक़्स काग़ज़ो पे लिखे जा रहें हैं।

हर एक शै का वज़न कर रहें हैं
ख़रीदार मेरे,
ज़माना तोल रहा हैं मुझे
तराज़ू में।

दूसरी सिम्त तराज़ू में कोई और भी हैं,
मेरी तरह ही तुल रही हैं ज़माने से वो।

गर एक वज़न के हुए हम,
साथ ही बिक जाएँगे;
गर हम-वज़न न हुए,
फिर से तोले जाएँगे –
या तो हलके को वज़न देंगे ताकि भारी हो,
या फिर दोनों ही किसी और सिम्त जाएँगे।

दिलो का जोड़ना, शादी-ब्याह क्यों ए दुनिया,
बना दिया हैं खेल और दिल-बाज़ारी सा?
बहुत जुदा तो नही जिस्मफरोशी से ये।

क्या-क्या मीज़ान बनाए हैं ज़मानेवालो।

मायने :
शै - चीज़
ज़ाति वाक़िये - personal incidents
नुक़्स - बुराईया
सिम्त - तरफ
मीज़ान - standards; scale.


***


Nazm: Taraazoo-e-Zamaana

Zamaana tol raha hain mujhe
Taraazoo mein,
Har ek shai ka vazan kar rahe hain
Khareedaar mere.

Mere badan ke gosht aur meri
Haddiyon ka;
Mere libaas ke resham ka aur,
Jootiyon ka.

Mere kaalej ke kaaghzaat parkhe jaa rahe hain,
Mere sab zaati vaaqiye bhi chakhe jaa rahe hain,
Meri sab khoobiyon pe taali baj rahi hain aur,
Mere sab nuks kaaghazo pe likhe jaa rahe hain.

Har ek shai ka vazan kar rahe hain
Khareedaar mere,
Zamaana tol raha hain mujhe
Taraazoo mein.

Doosri simt taraazoo mein koi aur bhi hain,
Meri tarah hi tul rahi hain zamaane se wo.

Gar ek vazan ke hue hum,
Saath hi bik jaayenge;
Gar hum-vazan na hue,
Phir se tole jaayenge -
Ya to halke ko vazan denge taaki bhaari ho,
Ya phir dono hi kisi aur simt jaayenge.

Dilo ka jodna, shaadi-byaah kyon ae duniya,
Bana diya hain khel aur dil-baazaari sa?
Bahut judaa to nahi jismfaroshi se ye.

Kya kya meezaan banaye hain zamaanewalo.

Poem: Dream-scars

My eyes still reek
Of the dream last night.

I was
Drinking,
Eating,
Smiling,
And laughing,
Like everybody else in the room,
Until I saw you
Wearing a pink saree
– you hated pink and you hated sarees, didn't you? –
And three rings each
On both hands.

I choked.
An ulcer burst
– probably my heart –
And I vomited
Blood;
Everyone gasped,
And stared at the red on the floor.
I looked at you,
Only to see you stern,
Only to see you look away.

I did not wait,
Or look again.

I ran towards the glass windows,
Crashed into them,
And jumped.

I woke up with a start!
And scars on my face.

Fifty

It happens with me so many times in my life: I start doing something just for the heck of it – or for a trivial reason that one may easily scoff at – and then I get passionate about it and, after a while, I cannot imagine myself without it anymore. Urdu poetry is one example. This blog is another.

I started this blog in the last week of January last year. I did not know how easy or difficult writing was going to be; I did not know how a reader, who does not know me already, would connect to it. And I was nervous too. Because I knew people judge you from what you write. For the unknown, your written word becomes everything you are.

But the inhibitions faded away like morning mist. I’m happy that that happened, for if it would’ve been there, I wouldn’t have been honest with whatever I wanted to express.

The last post was my fiftieth post. And I’m happy I got this far with this webpage. I have consciously tried to be regular – there’s always a post or two every month. What has made me happier is that I have made a few friends through my blog and writing. This is surprising at the same time, because I always think the reader cannot connect to what I have to say because it is quite esoteric in a way: people who know me already may enjoy it, but the ones who don’t may not.

Khair. I have thought that I’d slightly push myself to another level. There are a few things I’m going to try out from now on. I’d try to put in at least four to five posts in a month. The length of the posts is something I’d cut short on – I need to learn the economy of words really bad, for my posts get really long at times. I’ll experiment with short Nazms, short fiction, probably give away some of my ghazals on the blog too. And I’ll write about the various musings I have on various things I read or see or observe or feel.

What I will not change, however, is that this place would still remain quite personal. If you’re there on Orkut, FB, Twitter – and if you’ve been observant enough – you’d know that I don’t give away the link of my blog in the profile details: I don’t want many people to read what I write. I want most of the people to know me only in the way I portray myself to them and not knowing about the blog allows me to maintain the difference. When I discuss about blogs with acquaintances, I don’t even tell them that I have one myself too. It is weird, I know. But then that’s how it is.

I just hope I don't give up on writing these small journals at this small, insignificant space in the cyber cosmos, for I have a tendency to give up easily. This blog's fifty now. And I wish to keep it going as long as I can. :-)