Sharing one of Hindi poems I wrote very long ago (probably 15 years ago) that is also deeply personal to me as it was written for my maternal grandmother, where I was reminiscent of her state and some of my early (and the only happy) memories of my childhood spent at her house in India. Now, when I look back, I wonder often how winds of change do not leave anything intact. That particular house to me felt like a palace to me (as it had a big water fountain, two huge gardens, and multiple rooms) but one of the most fascinating things was that there was a small temple of Lord Shiva built in one chamber with the next chamber literally having a very deep water well. And I would often think how the God (Shiva) who was offered water droplets (on the Shivling), yet the whole water source (a big fully functional well) was literally dug next to him, and I would think about the duality of life. (Anyhow, I never had the courage to look into that well as I had a phobia of falling down from heights). I managed to find a photograph that evokes nostalgia.
This was one of the last photos (dating back to probably 18 years ago) that was taken at my grandmother's house in India. This particular photo is NOT edited or filtered, but for some supernatural reason I do not know why around this particular tree (which was the guava tree in her house around which I had many photos when I was 1 or 2 years old obviously taken by my maternal aunts) there was so much green haze like a green aura, almost like divine noor...(Also it was very hot summer afternoon so my hair was matted out). I think one of my sisters took this photo and I think the green aura supernaturally captured by a regular camera probably reflected the heart chakra love (denoted by green color) matching with my green outfit.
So, here is my poem in Hindi script:
बूढ़े पर
वो मेरी बूढ़ी सी नानी,अब
शायद और भी बूढ़ी हो चुकी होगी,
समय का पहिया चलता रहता है,
यादें सिमटी हुई जो थी,
एक पुराने खिलौने की तरह
उन्हें उठा के रखा था बरसो पहले,
आज फुरसत है तो उन्हें खोला है,
याद आता है मुझे तेरा वो चौखट पे
खड़े होके ताकना इंतज़ार में,
आँखों में मोतियाबिंद है,
बड़ी सी ऐनक भी है,
लाठी पटकती हुई धीरे धीरे
वापस चली जाती है
उस बिस्तर पे जो अब उसका
घर है,जैसे कि वो पंछी जिसके पर बूढ़े
हो गए हो तो उसे पिंजरे में
क़ैद रहने का एहसास होता नहीं है,
वैसे ही वो बूढ़ी नानी मेरी,
उस पिंजरे में रहती है
बुढ़ापे के पिंजरे में,
अकेले घर के पिंजरे में,
जहाँ नन्हे चेहरों की किलकारियां
नहीं गूंजती हैं अब,
जहाँ अब कोई राजा और रानियों
की कहानियां सुनने वाला नहीं है,
मैं अक्सर याद करती हूँ,
पर अब मैं भी तो एक अजब सी
क़ैद मैं हूँ, दूर हूँ, परदेस,
वो बचपन की मखमली यादें
नरम पैरों सी यादें,
कहीं नहीं हैं,
बस एहसास है उन पलों का,
जो एक मखमली खिलौने की
तरह मैं सोच लेती हूँ,
कभी कभी ...
- शिल्पी
