Anniversary Tribute
Usha Kiran Khan
[1945-2024]
The most illustrious name among women writers in
Bihar – Smt Usha Kiran Khan was born on 24 Oct., 1945 in a village in Darbhanga,
the centre of Mithila culture. She ber of the Acharya Shivpoojan Sahay Memorial
Trust and was also honoured by its ‘Bachchan Devi Sahitya Goshthi’ Award by the
Trust in 2015. She was earlier awarded the Sahitya Akademi Puraskar for her
novel ‘Bhamati’. A ‘Padmashri’-Awardee, she retired as Professor of Ancient
ndian History & Archeology from Patna University, and was aprolific writer
in Hindi & Maithili with over a dozen published books. [All biographical
details are available on Google and samples of her writing can be seen on
Gadyakosh.org.]
When
I had first gone to that area as an overseer, I was rather apprehensive.
Mentally I was not ready for a posting in such a remote place, so far in the
east. But I had got this job of an overseer only after my father had wagered
all his modest means for my sake. My mother, too, had distributed sweets to
share her happiness, though she had, at the same time, shed tears of joy for
the separation. My father and all my uncles would not tire of giving me
admonitions –
“Always sleep only in a mosquito
net!” – father would advise.
“And never drink unboiled water,
my dear!” –my uncle would solicitously add.
And
my aunt would jokingly interject – “O, Nunu, beware of the girls of the
shores of the Kosi river; they are very impish and bewitching. Don’t ever fall
into their net!”
But
things there proved to be much worse. I learnt that I had to report at the
Engineer’s office which was situated at a place where no transport would go. I
had first to go in a boat and then walk a small distance to reach that place,
and by the time it was already evening. The guard in the Engineer office had
been utterly befuddled to see me. He simply asked me –
“Sir, have you also brought all
your luggage?”
“Of course, because I have to
stay here”, I had said.
“Ayen…?” He kept staring
at me in wonder.
“Put all this luggage, wherever
you will”- I said as I noticed the change of colours on his face.
“But, S-i-i-r!, the quarter is
still to be constructed. I will have to take you only to the house of the
village Mukhiyaji.
“No, no – not to anyone’s house”,
my urban self immediately protested.
“Oh, then – S-i-ir! I will get a
wooden cot put up here itself for you. Hope you are alone , Sir?”
“Yes, yes, do that, and get me a
cup of tea first from anywhere”, I spoke hurriedly, drawing a chair to sit on.
I was terribly fatigued and muddled from my tiresome journey. Outside, I saw, a
small crowd of villagers that had slowly gathered. The guard shouted at them to
go away and swiftly got into his business.
‘Chaah, Sirji!”
I heard a soft female voice and opened my
drowsy eyes, as I had almost dozed off on my chair, amidst a constant murmur of
the hovering mosquitoes. Somewhere nearby a pile of straw had been set afire
and a thin cloud of smoke was swirling in the air. A girl was standing silently
by my side who had poured some tea from an aluminium kettle into a small glass
tumbler held in one hand. Due to the darkness her features remained faint,
almost merged in the smoke. I took the tea from her and sipped it slowly, as she
stood by in silence. But as soon as I finished my tea and put down the tumbler,
she tried to refill it with more tea.
“Oh, oh, what are you doing? I
won’t take any more”, I said and gave her a one-rupee note. – “Keep this, as I
don’t have change with me.”
“Dhut!” She just uttered,
and speedily vanished. I thought she must be running a tea-shop, or, perhaps,
may be the tea-shop owner’s daughter, and the shop-owner may collect the money
later.
“Go out, Sir. Get fresh. Have a
bath.” The guard had again come and woken me up for getting fresh. And by the
time I had my ablutions, I saw that all my luggage had been arranged properly
on one side in half of the room. My bed had been spread on the wooden cot and the mosquito net had been hung with the
help of bamboo sticks. On one side, my box and attaché were put up atop a
wooden plank, over a neatly-arranged pile of bricks. A brand-new lantern was
burning in one corner of the room. I felt
rather awkward about the way things had been arranged for my stay. Just then
the guard brought a big water pot and a glass – both made of brass, and,
perhaps newly purchased for the office.
“Come,
Odehul, and put Hakim’s dinner plate here”-
the guard asked that girl who had brought tea for me in the evening. She
had now come with a large plate of food covered with another larger plate.
“Oh,
my God! Who will eat so much?” I just exclaimed when I saw the contents on the
plate. In the centre, there was a big mound of rice, with a big bowl of dal
on one side, and a variety of vegetable preparations with badis and
several other kinds of vegetable dishes in smaller glass bowls.
“
But how can I eat so much?” I said, a little flustered. Seeing the
consternation on my face, the girl turned her smiling face away. But soon I
recovered my composure, took out some of the food in the other plate, and
started eating. Yet even that which I had taken in my plate was so richly
soaked in ghee that it became difficult for me to finish it all. And
just as I was trying to get up, that girl put another bowl full of creamy curd
before me – something I greatly relished and could hardly ever resist. But the
amount was quite daunting and after eating a little from that, too, I got up.
All along, the guard had been sitting there watching me in wonder, with one
hand on his cheek.
“
Hakim, you’ve hardly eaten anything!”, he said.
“How
much more could I eat? If this girl would give me so much food to eat, what
would happen to her business?” I said in jest.
“What
business, Malik?”, the guard said in amazement.
“Why,
then, from where did she bring this food?” I said equally puzzled.
“From
Mukhiaji’s house, Sarkar. Food came here because you would not go there.
Mukhiaji would have come here personally, but his samadhi has come, and
that is why the food had so much variety in it.” He tried to explain to me. To
have been served such rich food on the very first day should have been a matter
of exultation for me, but I remembered my code of conduct and started
upbraiding the guard for this breach.
“But,
Sarkar, we don’t have a hotel in such remote places. And even Bara Saheb
eats at Mukhiyaji’s place, whenever he comes.” - The guard tried to justify his
helplessness.
“That’s
all right, but how can I also do so, because I’m not here only for a few days.
From tomorrow, I’ll have to make some other arrangement for myself.” I said
sternly.
“Alright,
Malik, but till some arrangement is made, you will have to eat at Mukhiaji’s.
Otherwise he might feel bad.”
I was so tired, I didn’t even realize how I slept
through the night. Next morning the sun was not up yet. A faint white moon
looked entangled like a rabbit in a bush. Outside it looked as if the air was
filled with a hoary light and the sound of chirping birds. As I came out in the
verandah, I saw the guard coming with tea in a tumbler. The whole village
appeared to be out at work. It was all very new and exciting for me. The man
coming behind the guard, holding his own tea in his hand, was Mukhiaji himself
– very fair-complexioned and impressive. Quite politely he said that even if I
couldn’t stay in his house, at least I must accept the food from his kitchen.
Having no other option, I had to accept his hospitality.
The Engineer arrived around noon on his jeep. He
appeared to be very kind and genial as he explained the work to be done and
asked me to get his living quarters constructed speedily so that he could come
and stay there and supervise the building of the dam. While going back he was
good enough to ask me if I needed anything from the town so that he could bring
it when he came next. I felt deeply grateful for his solicitude, and he, too,
appeared quite happy that I was now staying at the site. In fact, I didn’t even
realize how the day came to an end as we were supervising the site at the dam.
The sky looked tinged with deep crimson as if a bottle of women’s
feet-colouring dye had been spilled over. A group of girls carrying bundles of
flowering grass on their heads were passing by – soft lithe bodies draped in a
single piece of cloth in the name of a sari which could hardly cover the
blooming curves of their bodies. Had it been a fashion show in a night-club
there would have been whistlings and ovations. But nothing of that kind in the
serenity here. Only the resounding melody of their song in a chorus, occasionly
punctuated by loud laughters -
Raja beta hanslai, ham
muskailiyai
Mone mon jodal hai pireet
(The
prince was laughing and I smiled back
And
love tied us up in a love-filled pack…)
“Shameless, girls, look who’s there!”, said
one of them, almost stopping the chorus.
“Hey, hey, Odehulia! You be
shameless! How’s it when you make merry with the new saheb?”
“Shut up, you! Why don’t you also
go and jostle with him? Don’t you know,
I have to break my bones working myself almost to death in the haveli?” An
irritated Odehul tried hitting that girl. In this squabble one of the overhead
bales of grass cuttings fell on the ground. I was seeing all this silently, but
refrained from uttering a word.
Odehul
would come daily with my food and had become quite free with me, though at the
site no woman worked. They worked only in the fields. But there was no purdah,
no affectation anywhere. Everything was very natural and naïve. And I, too,
felt quite at ease with the things around me. Before me lay long stretches of
sand banks, a thin stream of the Kosi river, groves of babool and jhaua
trees, with dark-skinned chiselled
bodies of Musahar youngmen and girls, and even brown glowing-skinned
Gahlaut belles passing by!
I
was now reluctant to move to or visit the town occasionally in spite of
repeated advice of my Engineer. In fact, I was now quite keen to learn as much
from my work as I could by staying near the site. And I also had the good
excuse: the quarter must come up quickly so that he and the others might join
and the loneliness could be over soon. But the Engineer would always say in a
lighter vein – “Forget it, Yar! We are quite well where we are. Why get
us into this wilderness?”
The
work had almost come to an end, when around 16-17 June I got a message from our
Flood Control unit that everyone, including the cattle, should be moved to
higher ground because the flood level was rising very fast. The work on the
northern side of the dam was almost completed and most of the machinery lay on
that side. I informed Mukhiyaji about the flood situation, and because there
was scarcely any high ground, all the people had come over to the Tilyuga dam.
Soon the whole area was under flood waters and some people were housed in our
newly-built quarters. I was living in the centre of the village. Several people
wanted their children and cattle to be transported to the other side. I gave
them our boat and helped them in transporting their belongings to the other
side till the evening. The only two persons left on this side were myself and
Odehul, who was insistent that she would go with me only in the last trip. Her
old and anaemic mother was with her. But I learnt that meanwhile the boat on
the other side had turned turtle.
It
was a bright moonlit night as if with an overlay of silver everywhere. The once
thinned river seemed now to be giggling
loudly with the swollen flood waters. It had swallowed in its sea-like spread
all the fields with their crops. The incessant chirp of the cricket,
occasionally punctuated by the howls of the jackals, was adding to the clamour
all around. Suddenly Odehul cried -
“Hakim,
hakim! Look at that snake running swiftly through the river water!”
But
there was not even the slightest trace of fear in her voice. And, indeed, I did
see a large snake swimming with tearing speed in the river water towards a
submerged house.
“Does it not frighten you,
Odehul?” - I asked her.
“What’s to fear? We are almost
used to living with such creatures in our life…This place is a Nagdeeh,
Sarkar! … like a sister of the Kosi
river…full of jhaua, crows, malaria fever, and lots of snakes – they are all
here.” She explained to me hurriedly.
“Odehulia! O, my girl, light a
lamp in the room!” her old mother told her.
“Keep quiet! Where will I find
fire here. Isn’t the bright moonlight good enough?” Odehul replied. The old
woman then said -
“Ask, Hakim. He must be smoking
cigarettes, and have a match-box”
“No, no, old Mother. I don’t
smoke cigarettes and don’t have a match-box.” I quickly said, regretting my
aversion to smoking.
“Oh, oh, our Hakin is left
behind? How will he sleep here in the night, and what shall he eat?”- the old
woman kept muttering. Sitting silently on the verandah, I kept gazing at the
moon. Suddenly Odehul came and sat with a thump, quite close to me. It gave my
body a shiver. Perhaps, I was seized by some queer sensation. Right from day
one, this Gahalaut girl had sunk in my heart like a broken arrow! Sitting by my
side, she had been playing with her feet in the water. I could see her bare
smooth white-skinned calves shining in the moonlight. Almost impulsively I
tried to pull her legs out of the muddy water, though my hands seemed glued to
them for a while. It had an electrifying effect on me, almost making me lose my
senses.
“Hey, Chhi,chhi! What’re you
doing, Hakim? Why are you touching my feet?” She said with a tinkling laughter,
and removing my clasping fingers, she almost leaned close to my chest. I felt
rather awkward about her possible reaction.
“Yet, Hakim! All this feels so
pleasant at this moment!” She almost exuded exultation.
“What is so pleasant, Odehul?” I
said in a half-choked voice.
“All this, Hakim! The flood comes
every year, but this year’s flood has something out of the ordinary!’
“ And what’s that?”
“ Come to that side, and I’ll
tell you!” She said in a whisper. And as if almost in a trance I followed her
as she took me to the back side. In that moment of passion, I just went after
her as she led me.
Next
morning, I awoke with Odehul sleeping close to my body. Her thick black tresses
were scattered all over her face. Her lips still bore a faint smile of satiety.
Her half-open eyelids were still in deep sleep. The anchal of her sari
lay askew. Ah, it was like a moonlit ocean of beauty! I was filled with
emotions – Oh,she gave me her all! Put all her trust in me! I, too, will repay
that trust through all my life.
“Chhap,
chhap” I heard the sound of oars of a nearing boat. I drew her anchal over the
sleeping girl who had slipped half away from the mat she was sleeping on. I
could not touch her body as she lay. I thought, she must be dreaming her
morning dream and I didn’t dare disturb it. I rose and went to those who had
brought a boat.
“ You are our God, Hakim! You are
living in this exile only for us!” They said, with their faces gone dry with a
sense of contrition.
“No, no! All this adversity is
only the play of time; how can you be responsible for it.” I answered them
nonchalantly, though internally I was exultant about my last night’s gain,
thinking about the opportunity that had come my way like a windfall! I was now
neck-deep in a river of love! There were many on the boat who had come to visit
their inundated homes. On the return boat I went to my newly-built quarter. But
for a whole week I had not seen Odehul which kept me quite restless there. I
couldn’t even ask anyone about her, but the idea lurked in my heart like a
thief! Just then the guard came and said –
“Hakim, you are going to the town
today, Please bring a sari-blouse for Odehulia because her husband is coming to
take her away.”
“What? I didn’t follow you!” I
said in disbelief.
“Sarkar, that girl Odehulia, who
works in Mukhiaji’s haveli, and who brings your tea and food everyday, is now
going to her in-law’s place.”
“Is Odehul already married?”
“ Yes, Huzoor, marriage and sasural-going,
everything is done! It was only because of the seasonal reverses - the washing
out of the crops - that her husband had gone to Morang. Nothing was even heard
of him for two years. We thought he had already married some Nepali woma. But,
no, he has come back. Now we will send Odehulia with him. A grown-up bride must
go to her husband!”
The
news hurt me internally, but I remained silent.
“No, I won’t go today. You ask
someone else for it!” I said dismally. They must be forcing her to go – I
thought. And just as I was struggling with my emotions, Odehul appeared. She
looked very happy and excited, with a shining complexion, as if she couldn’t hold back her felicity.
“Hakim, I’ll go tomorrow morning.
I’ve just come to bid good bye!”
“Where?” I could barely utter the
word.
“ To my sasural, with my hubby!”
“Then you will forget me?”
“Yes, of course, but you are like
our village god. How can we forget you?”
“Oh, Odehul, what will become of
all the dreams I have woven around you? I touched your body, possessed you
wholly; will you forget all that? Think at least once; I had thought of making
you my own, Odehul!”
She
was listening to all my emotional outpourings – looking at me like some
stranger!
“Oh, Hakim! Do you want me to be
declared an outcaste? I’d been married when I was only two years old, then I
had my gauna, my husband is now earning wages, how can I leave him
now?... No, no, you must marry a girl of your caste.”
I
went near her to hold her hand, but she turned back.
“Odehul, would you forget all
that happened that night…?”
“Ha-ha-ha, Hakim! Oh, God! On
your way if you are thirsty, won’t you drink from the first well you come
across? Would you wait till you reach home? It was the time of night, and the
fire and straw lying in one place – won’t they start a raging fire together?
Go, go, Babu, being a man you are behaving like a scandalous woman? Now give me
your blessings, so that I may have a happy life!”
Odehul
bowed down to touch my feet and then touched her anchal to her eyes. And
then she went away - that doe of the Kosi region, leaving her painful
foot-imprints trampled on my heart! I
only looked on totally broken-hearted.
And
since then I have been living with that unbearable agony of the season, even
though I got myself transferred from that place on special request. That agony
of that moonlit night keeps on harping on my heart: and it would just not go!
Word Notes: Odehul: hibiscus flower. The two stories are located in the basin area of the mighty river Kosi (Tibet through Nepal and India) in north Bihar, part of the Mithila region) infamous for its annual devastating floods. Most of the words are of Hindi, but in the second story the words related to festivals and celebrations have a local colour of Mithila. Nunu: a small baby (also a term of endearment for the young). Ayen: is that so? (a usual phatic word as response). Mukhia: head of a village council.Chaah:tea. Dhut: another phatic word of dismissal. Badi: a condiment often added to vegetables in cooking. Ghee: clarified butter.Hakim (boss), Malik master), Bara Saheb (senior officer): words of respect. Samadhi: bride/groom’s father.Purdah: veil. Babool, Jhaua: trees growing in sandy areas. Yar: buddy. Nagdeeh: den of snakes. Anchal: front end of a sari Indian woman’s wear). Sasural: in-law’s home.Gauna: traditional social practice of final sending oway of the bride for consummation in marriage.
Two of Usha Kiran’s short stories from her collection ‘Doob-Dhan’ or Anya Kahaniyan are translated into English by Dr Dr BSM Murty and are available in a collection of 20 Hindi short stories of mainly Bihari writers translated into English, titled I Am a Woman First published by Value Publications, New Delhi. Ph.9212235385. Among the 20 Hindi short stories are stories by Raja Radhika Raman (3), Shivapoojan Sahay(3), Ramvriksh Benipuri, Nalin Vilochan Sharma, Radhakrishna, Usha Kiran & Jayprakash Narayan (2 each), 'Dwij' & Diwakar Prasad Vidyarthy, Agyey & Himanshu Joshi(1 each), with an introduction on the modern Hindi short story & notes on authors, etc. Price:Hardbound:Rs 750;pp.180. Available on Amazon.in or directly from the publisher (with 30% discount).
नेपाल : जलती हरी घास
मंगलमूर्त्ति
उत्तुंग पर्वतों, निस्पंद झीलों और घने
वन-प्रान्तरों की तलहटियों में फैले छोटे-छोटे गाँवों-टोलों वाला प्रशांत प्रदेश –
नेपाल, जो आज विश्व-पटल पर गंभीर उथल-पुथल और घनघोर अराजकता-ग्रसित देशों की कतार
में शामिल दिखाई दे रहा है, आज भी अपने मूल भौगौलिक स्वरूप में एक स्वर्गोपम
प्रदेश ही है, सैलानियों और पर्वतारोहियों का विश्वप्रिय सर्वोच्च गंतव्य ! लेकिन
इधर नेपाल के इतिहास का एक मनोरंजक आत्म-वृत्त पढने पर ज्ञात हुआ कि एक मनोहारी
चित्रपट की तरह लगने वाले इस पर्वत-प्रदेश में इतिहास के कितने पन्ने खून से लाल-लाल
रंगे हैं | ऐश्वर्य में आकंठ डूबे राज-परिवार और सामंतवादी समाज के अमानवीय
शोषण-अत्याचार से पीड़ित नेपाल की बहुत बड़ी बहुसंख्यक जनसंख्या की कई सदियों लम्बी
कहानी में खून-खराबे की कितनी नदियाँ बही हैं, गिनना मुश्किल है |
पूरी तरह सनातन-धर्मी
हिन्दू राष्ट्र होने पर भी – भारत महादेश के माथे पर टिका यह देश, जिसका भूगोल
भारत के राजस्थान राज्य से कुछ ही बड़ा है – नेपाल की लम्बी संतापपूर्ण कहानी से
उससे सटे भारत के उत्तर प्रदेश और बिहार के लोगों ने नेपाल-भ्रमण चाहे जितना किया
हो, वे उसके दुःख और यातनाओं की कथा से लगभग अपरिचित ही रहे हैं | आज जो उपद्रव और
अराजकता नेपाल में दिखाई दे रहे हैं, उसके पीछे अनीति और भ्रष्टाचार में आकंठ डूबे
एक कुशासित देश का एक लम्बा इतिहास फैला हुआ है, जिससे उससे बिलकुल सटे भारतीय
प्रदेशों के लोग बिलकुल बेखबर ही हैं | ध्यान देने पर, राजनीतिक विकास की रोशनी भी अभी भारत के सीमावर्त्ती कई प्रदेशों में लगभग
नहीं ही पहुँच पायी है, जिनके पिछड़ेपन के लहक की धाह भारत को भी लगनी शुरू हो गयी
है | हम संपोषित टुकड़ों में विकास नहीं कर सकते; विकास को सार्वभौमिक-सार्वदेशिक
ही होना होगा |
नेपाल के इतिहास से ही
नहीं,
वहां की संस्कृति और सम्पूर्ण सामाजिक संरचना से भी हमारा परिचय बहुत अपर्याप्त
है, जिन सब की कुछ झलक हमको वहां के आज के साहित्यिक लेखन में दिखाई दे सकती है |
नेपाल की संस्कृति सबसे अधिक भारत की संस्कृति के ही निकट है | वहां का ग्रामीण जीवन भी – भाषा की किंचित भिन्नता को छोड़ दें तो – भारत
के ग्रामीण जीवन से लगभग अविच्छिन्न है | नेपाल का इतिहास जितना क्रूरतापूर्ण और
रक्त-रंजित है – उसके निर्मल शांत प्रदेश
के भूगोल के बिलकुल विपरीत – उतना ही वहां का ग्रामीण-जीवन निष्कलुष और पवित्र है
|
आज मैं आपका परिचय
नेपाल के इतिहास से सम्बद्ध एक अत्यंत सुलिखित आत्म-वृत्त और उसीसे जुडे एक
साहित्यिक संकलन से कराना चाहता हूँ - तीन अंग्रेजी से अपनी अनूदित नेपाली कविताओं के साथ, जिनसे आप जानेंगे अराजकता की
भयावह आग में धधक रहे आज के नेपाल के साहित्यिक लेखन में कविता क्या कह रही है |
माँ
हर सुबह माँ काटती है
हंसुए की धार से
पूरा जोर लगाकर
जिंदगी को घास के एक
मुट्ठे की तरह
और डाल देती है
पशुओं की भूख के सामने
दूध दूहते हुए देखती है
उसकी हर धार में
हंसते बच्चों के उजले
दांत
अचरज में पड़ जाती है
जलते चूल्हे के
इर्द-गिर्द पड़े
बर्त्तनों को अपनी ओर
घूरते देख कर
दुःख उसके सामने आकर
झूम-झूम कर नाचते हैं
जिन्हें वह चुपचाप बस देखती
है
संजोते हुए अपने अनबोले
शब्द
अपनी अविवाहित बेटी के
लिए
चाहती है छिपा ले कपडे
की सलवटों में
उगते हुए चाँद को एक
निवाला
अपने भूख को मिटाने का जिसे
उसके अकेलेपन ने और
बढ़ाया है
बेटे की वह याद जो
परदेस गया है
हजार दिन बनकर खो जाते
हैं
हर बार जब माँ उम्मीदों
को बोती है
चालीस साल की गरीबी की क्यारियों
में
लेकिन ये बीज कभी नहीं
उगने वाले
कहना कठिन है वह कब
आएगा
माँ के सीने में दरकते
हुए
उस बाँध की मरम्मती के
लिए
उसका बेटा जो परदेस गया है
सुस्मिता नेपाल की नेपाली कविता का
अंग्रेजी से अनुवाद © मंगलमूर्त्ति [प्रदेस: १९९२५]
पानी नल पर खड़ी औरतें
पानी नल पर खड़ी औरतें
पानी से ज्यादा चुलबुली
हैं
उनके होंठ ज्यादा तेज़
चलते हैं
बनिस्पत पानी के उन
पनीले
होंठों के
पानी नल पर खड़ी औरतें
अपनी बाल्टी भरती हुई
गाती हैं
असंतोष के गीत
कभी-कभी वे बन जाती हैं
पानी की गिरती लहरीली
धार से भी
ज्यादा ठिठोलीबाज़ और
कभी
पोखरे के उस पानी से भी
ज्यादा शांत
पानी नल पर खड़ी औरतें
ज्यादा से ज्यादा सब
पानी जैसी ही हैं
वे अपना ज्यादा समय
पानी की ही तरह
गुनगुनाती रहती हैं
तीर्थ श्रेष्ठ की नेपाली कविता का
अंग्रेजी से अनुवाद © मंगलमूर्त्ति [प्रदेस: २०९२५]
धान के पौधों की छावं
में
सड़क के किनारे जहां मैं
पहुंचा
धान के हरे-हरे पौधे
लहरा रहे थे
जैसे ही हवा बहती
वे हँसते-खिलखिला पड़ते
कुहनियों से एक-दूसरे
को छेड़ते हुए
जवान लड़कियां
जीवन से लबालब
पांच-सात दिन बाद
वही धान के पौधे लाज
में झुके होते
सुनहले फूलों से माथ
सजाये
नयी दुल्हनों जैसे
जो अपने नये घर आई हैं
कुछ समय बाद
धान के वही पौधे कैसे
झुक गये
फलों से लदे पेड़ों जैसे
पत्नी की तरह नये आगमन
की तैयारी में
आज फिर मैंने देखे धान
के वही पौधे
पुआल में तब्दील हो गये
और मैदान में पसार दिये
गये
प्रतिसारा सयामी की नेपाली कविता
का अंग्रेजी से अनुवाद © मंगलमूर्त्ति [प्रदेस: २०९२५]
आलेख (C) डा. मंगलमूर्त्ति (ये दोनों
किताबें अमेज़न पर उपलब्ध हैं |) मूल अंग्रेजी कविताओं के लिए आभार मंजुश्री थापा
एवं पेंगुइन इंडिया See Vagishwari blog
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