MY MOTHER'S PROFILE

MY MOTHER'S PROFILE

¼ekr`eq[k& yhyk/kj txwM+h English translation by GPBahuguna½

At twelve thirty five in midnight

There is no sign of any season around,

Any season which is free from the grip of darkness.

There is only cold

Deflected by doors and windows

Forcing its request to stay in my lungs

knocking every thread of my body.

Taking seize on every pore of my skin,

It is making me realize

How a day passes into another

Changing a person altogether by next day

Million stars are spread beyond my reach

In night's labour room

I stand fastened in the grip of wanton cold

Hitting at the doors of my lungs

Can I remember my mother?

Who died of small pox.

The trees are blowing whistle

Who they want to fight with in this solitariness?

Whether it is I?

Because the memory of my mother haunts me this moment.

Having seen thousand faces I can imagine

How the Disease had dug holes into her face

Gazing at stars on the face of night

Why a picture is emerging in my mind?

I can still remember the tresses of jet-black hair covering her face

To me the memory of those dark hair tresses only

Stand for the visage of my mother's face.

The wait rotted men for thousand years past

I am also waiting to see

If ever I am able to carve out an image of

my mother's Pox-infected face.

But at twelve thirty five in midnight

how can I designate time to say "this moment"

At this instant I have around me

Hair tresses which covered the face of that moment

The color and memory of which breathe in my hazy lungs

with a sweep of affection.

At twelve thirty-five in the night

Could I find an object to stand for my mother ?

The shroud piece draped around her like sari,

was symbol of belly before consigning to earth

The origin of my birth in this world.

From that day onward the darkness of my home

represents the face of my mother

keeping awake all night pressed close to my cheeks.

The pock-marked image of night dripping from my mother's hair tresses

has moved slowly down to the Pacific Ocean.

Oh! Night,image of my mother's visage!

Plead with this menacing darkness

It is another child of your like me

you had given birth to it from your locks

It should not be whistling around when I recall you.

Translation into English by Govind Prasad Bahuguna

A conversation between man and God

A conversation between man and God

¼bZ'oj vkSj vkneh dh ckrphr- yhyk/kj txwM+h English translation by GPBahuguna½

Do you know this is my idol ?

Some people are coming to worship it.

What do you want here? Are you on ritual fasting too?

No! No! This statue is mine

And it has been sold out.

I know myself better than you know me.

Incidentally which the fifth Plan could not provide

How can you promise to give that?

Although I am not on fasting but I remain hungry.

The question is not about the image only

it relates to my dwelling also.

Tell me, where should I reside?

Oh! Why should you move away frequently

From your place in the books?

We have already allotted you space in the

wall hanging calendars

Now you go and find your place in the Foot Wears and Watches

The humanity is in peril now.

Translation into English by Govind Prasad Bahuguna

A TETE-A-TETE WITH LOVE

A TETE-A-TETE WITH LOVE

¼^I;kj ls ckrphr yhyk/kj txwM+h: English translation by GPBahuguna½

Call it lewd but it was instinctive

Though rude but realistic

However over used yet lively

The Love I received in one corner for a brief moment

It was my luck that I met my Love

I wanted to say thanks

I wanted to feel grateful

I wanted to own it everywhere and forever.

My Love, first whispered something

Then started crying.

But the next moment, as if nothing had happened

It pronounced- I love you

Have you chosen me finally?

Because you choose and drop

You again pick up and leave.

Having chosen me to be your own

You sometimes-pickup anger, sometimes-intense dislike

Or asceticism.

Sometimes you choose monotony, sometime aloofness

Sometime you choose your mother

Sometimes your wife

One day you prefer your ideals

The other day your country.

Whereas I know

None of your nights

Are morally sound.

Since you need me

You want to possess me

I also need you.

Save your own life what other assets do you possess?

The relationship, which you call friendship

I want that to secured in your eyes, in your ears, in your nose,

And in your speech all-together.

I want the core of your heart and the spirit

Your loveliest thoughts

In nutshell I want to possess everything of yours.

In the last but not the least,

I want you to die for me also

Whether for small causes in my name

Or a total merger for my cause

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Translation into English by Govind Prasad Bahuguna

MODERN PHRASE

MODERN PHRASE

¼vk/kqfud 'kCn & yhyk/kj txwM+h-English translation by GPBahuguna½

There is stumble like in modern phrase,

which changes gait and brings alert in look

Before any village,town,shop or a market place

I saw it first in business enterprise

than in any vision

Not by deal but before its mass production

I wanted to introduce it in my philosophy

Even then something got altered by my stumbling

My desperation kept me pushing into hopefulness.

Settled as domes of waste in cities

The migrated community from villages

brought sweep stick grass technology in every home

To sweep off dust from their destiny

Which got collected from all corners to settle in their life

in this era of super -modernity.

If a village had developed within village

Something could be felt had changed

Vacated frequently though a change could be reflected

in village still.

Not even one fourth part of natives ever return

To pay casual visit to village

They keep exploring new horizons within city

To seek entry in some other destinations.

The advancement formed new alliances with sources of earning

Not to leave even false coin to be utilized for winning toss.

Some got mixed up with elements

To register their interference everywhere.

The countries and people got divided in their separate identities.

Every word and stuff need to be seen

For its make and manufacturing

To be throughly checked for its technicalities

The localities and people need to be understood

as symbols

Though the machines may be found more genuine than the human beings here.

When I came from village

I used to call change for going better

together with going spoiled for lack of words

But across the square towards northeast

where powerful and affluent people reside

Success is the only symbol of change

where the less corrupt are seen more honest in comparing.

Man may turnout to be quite different from your imagination there

A bargainer, a broker,a hired killer

A real brother of the killed abductor

Surprisingly simple yet successful rogue

May seem dispenser of social justice.

Each one of them know their tools best

To operate in the hell of their making.

This area does not belong to the producers but to

the top consumers

Things may be produced at any place or distance

But they are sold in this area only.

Get getting sold out is the success of any product.

In every household here

Broomstick worth rupees three thousand is used.

But the broomstick ranging between twenty to thirty rupees,

Has secured its place in middle class life

like any buffer zone between war and peace.

The electric brooms can never be used as tool

For sending right message to the people

by calling abuses.

But suppose it is used in near future

The pace of life will change automatically without kick.

Translation into English by Govind Prasad Bahuguna

WANING BEAUTY

WANING BEAUTY

¼ lkSUn;Z dk 'kks"k.k yhyk/kj txwM+h: English translation by GPBahuguna ½

In this world afflicted with consumption

the yellowed face of moon

Lay encircled in the closet of my palm.

Awakened by arrival of dawn

Collected herself and disappeared into western slope before saying adieu to every one.

I cannot arrest dawn in the hollow of my palm

It is getting cheerfully red with progress of day

While my moon is becoming pale and paler everyday.

Translation into English by Govind Prasad Bahuguna

I REMEMBER

¼^ esjh Le`fr esa a¥ yhyk/kj txwM+h English translation by GPBahuguna½

(The amazing glow reflecting your face

is shaking whole forest with reasoning

in remembrance of me)

Upset by fears unmistakable in your eyes

Every particle making the air moist.

Many doubts terminated into reality in the past,

But we ended unfulfilled whenever we tried it

Unblemished

We kept rushing into each other scared.

How to understand those relations one by one now.

The trees have quietly put on new leaves

But I have to stay on single path

To come out free from the obscurity of family

I have to grow up in my profession.

I am content

As if this obscurity supports my untold happiness

I am watching my dreams turning into dark.

By going deep into roots

The time is coming out through leaves

If this were my destiny only

Then this will not match the color of your lifestyle,

The colour of your eloquent mood.

The malady accompanied by remedy on spears,

And the flowers accompanied by airs on trees

will never cease to attract

The morning is again moist with dew after dust storm.

The smoke of your hearth

Has changed the color of your coat.

Moving you extreme back and extreme forward with continuity

In a span of one year

Who is that reflect you into those unhesitating eyes, tell me.

Toady again the drama of past regret repeats its show.

I continue to think in this limp light

Walk steadily into my darkness

I shall not burden your simple head with poems but place my hand on it

All the lost paths ultimately terminate into your home

In gossips

Within ourselves we try to cover-up each other by blots

Whatever may be the truth but

It is not in decency,

It is better to bear blame or carry bad name

Than to live in ordinary happiness

So that the old women could blame the times

You can treat me as your convenient problem

But I have come to remind you

What has become of that manly courage now?

Wandering for two days in the shine of our innermost desires

We had explored the jungle

By visiting our condemned places like prisoners.

Without assigning any title in my name

Whatever may be the unknown punishment

It all goes together without surprise these days

As if to enjoy celebration.

Translation into English by Govind Prasad Bahuguna

HariDutt Bhatt Shailesh -the face of Garhwal

It is painfully shocking to learn that Dr Hari Dutt Bhatt Shailesh is no more.It is great loss to the literary world.He was one of the tallest literary figures of Uttarakhand .He was eminent poet,story writer,lexicographer,linguist and prolofic author of many books besides being a celebrated teacher at Doon School.A through gentleman at heart and most humble at his demeanor he was very active in creative field and social concerns till the last moment of his life.He was the first to bringout Garhwali Shabdkosh and traced the philological history of garhwali phrases.His contribution to the Hindi and Garhwali literature will be remembered by posterity.

A Village of Memories

A Village of Memories

¼;knksa dk xkao&yhyk/kj txwM+h: English translation by GPBahuguna ½

In the glow of neon lights

A drowsy loneliness is spread on the

Benares ghats.

Running away from the embraces of Uttarkashi

Ganga came down splashing stairways here

Just too say hello to me!

Devoted to the memories past today in evening

when you must have filled your vessel

Your overflowing heart beats

Must have given you some hints,

you understand the helplessness complete

The Ganges will not flow reversibly

And my physical touch will not reach you!

Splashing water with the cup of your hands

You must have washed your face delightful

like tea poured in cup.

The waves reaching beyond your calves

drenching creamy your legs fed with mother's milk.

Reaching home

You must have read my letter old.

The village of memories

Should have gone into shivers of joy.

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Translation into English by Govind Prasad Bahuguna

† The term Ghat in Hindi refers to stairways leading to riverbed, a kind of river platform on the bank of a river where believers and regular visitors take ritual baths on religious occasions, offer prayers and perform last rites of the departed soul.

TEXT BOOK IN DREAM-2

TEXT BOOK IN DREAM-2

¼lius esa ikB~; iqLrd &2 yhyk/kj txwM+h English translation by GPBahuguna½

The father opened the schoolbag

And made him sit down near oil lamp, saying-

You fool.Now Read your lesson!

See where is Maldives, and where is Honolulu

See we live on this planet just as the Russians and

Americans do.

But I want to point out where Piparia and Pilibheet are located,

One is your birthplace and the other is your mother's birthplace

The self-contained and generous hands of his dream

Carry him away to his mother's birthplace along with its geography

The moon comes out of the textbook

And begins to borrow light for itself

He starts remembering his mother's kin, his uncle

Who is often vexed by the money lenders

Snatching away the glow of lamp

The moon goes out to hide behind the trees.

To spread its ghostly smile.

The boy goes there

Where glowworm were twinkling like thieves

The moon had receded to the mountain peak

The boy followed the moon up to mountain peaks

The moon moved further than the clouds

The boy reached beyond the clouds

But the moon disappeared into the world of darkness.

While following the moon, the boy noticed

There was nothing moonlike in the moon

An endless night is stretched there filled with hoary dreams

The wishes turned into lump of earth

There was not a single leaf, which could be plucked

And secured in the textbook

The moon did not have that color, glow and fragrance

Which a flower has in it.

In the night where the moon appeared on the crest of forest

The morning was approaching,

Many dew drops hung in suspense one by one

The textbook lay open on the moist earth where boy was sleeping

With the extinguished lamp.

Translation into English by Govind Prasad Bahuguna

NOSTALGIC MEMORIES OF UTTARKASHI

NOSTALGIC MEMORIES OF UTTARKASHI

¼mÙkjdk'kh ds ;knhys lanHkZ& yhyk/kj txwMh+-English translation by GPBahuguna ½

The mountain ranges extending up to far end of horizon

Flags of white clouds fly high in the sky like cotton rolls

Time cascading down the waterfalls like bellowing of conch shells

The village seems to me an abode of Gods on earth

The village- beauties stand in cohort of love mates on the fields

The mountain ranges extending up to far end of horizon .

Many sad stories echo in the whistles of pine forest

The footpaths are lay crouched on thighs of the mountain- slopes

Lusty desire dance on the hints of jungle-trees

The mountain ranges extending up to far end of horizon

The rows of rainbow bow down as if in mass prayer

The rays of the morning sun begin to fill

Deep gorges of the valley below.

The whiff of harvesting corn travel in the air

with the swish of innumerable arms of wind

The mountain ranges extending up to far end of horizon

On the shining slate- rooftops

And the corners of courtyard

I feel your invitation every moment

your beckoning in all places

Which rising buds doesn't hold imprint of sweet memories

The mountain ranges extending up to far end of horizon.

Translation into English by Govind Prasad Bahuguna