Jago, جاگو : (Urdu); Afsana; Short Story;افسانہ

 Jago,  جاگو (Urdu)

Afsana; Short Story; افسانہ 

Ay Mere Bhisham Pitamah, اے میرے بھیشم پتامہ : (Urdu/English); Shayri; Poetry; نظم

Ay Mere Bhisham Pitamah

اے میرے بھیشم پتامہ (Urdu/English)

Shayri; Poetry;نظم 

Tum ne mujh se kyun yeh poocha,

Mera Kishley* kahan hai?

Mujh ko tab se neend na aayi, 

Karwat karwat badal raha hoon,

Dil be chain hai,ankhein pur num,

Fiza bhi hai bhari bhari;

Kahan kahan na dhoondha us ko,

Galiyon galiyon basti basti,

Sehra jungle mandir masjid,

Gujrat ki bakery mein bhi jhanka,

Shayad jal kar raakh hua ho;

Ya phir Masjid ke gumband par,

Babar ko lalkar raha ho;

Kabul aur Qandhar main pahuncha,

Hosakta Yargamal hua ho;

Kargil pahuncha Drass main pahuncha,

Taboot mein shayad mara padha ho;

Phir ja kar kashmir mein dhoondha,

Be katba Qabron mein daba ho;

Lahore ki bus mein dhoondha,shayad,

Aman ka parcham le ke khada ho;

Haath abhi tak kuch bhi na aaya,

Aas magar phir bhi hai baaqi.

Phir ik din yun soch raha tha,

Kursi par tum bhi the baithe,

Panch saal kuch kum nahin hote;

Kitne Kishle apharan hue the,

Kitnon ki li gayi  supari,

Kitnon ka yun laho baha tha;

Tum us waqt bus dekh rahe the,

Bebus aur lachaar khade the,

Bhisham Pitamah khade ho jaise;

Wohi tha manzar , log wohi the,

Cheer haran ho raha tha jis ka,

Us ko Ghaur se dekha main ne,

Shayad Draupadi naam tha us ka.

___________________________________________________________________________________-

*Kishle was the name of the boy who was abducted in Bihar and Vajpayee had cried out in Patna, Where is my Kishle?

Kashmir: An Open Letter To Prashant Bhushan: (English); Deepak Budki

Kashmir: An Open Letter To Prashant Bhushan:

 (English); Deepak Budki

Dear Shri Bhushan,

At the very outset let me introduce myself. I am neither a rightist nor a leftist, nor even a centrist. I am just one out of one hundred and twenty crores of Indians, and I belong to Kashmir. I am the original inhabitant of Kashmir with history dating back to five thousand years which is older than Judaism, Christianity and Islam. Over a period of last seven centuries I have been reduced to a minuscule minority of not more than five lakh souls due to repeated invasions, proselytizing and persecution. However, I rejoiced the day my country was declared independent in 1947 though I remained in a state of fix because my brothers and sisters in Baramulla were facing genocide and rapine till such time Maharaja of Jammu and Kashmir finally decided to accede to India. From that day onwards I preferred to exist without complaint in a state of continuous deprivation and denial.The only solace for me was that I lived in my own homeland and country.

But your recent statement pained me immensely. I had heard similar things earlier from a few more self styled activists like Arundathi Roy who has taken upon herself the burden of the nation just because she has written a book in English which has won her acclaim.Had she written the same in any other language she would not be known even beyond her street for you know the fate of other writers in India. Incidentally I have written seven books in Urdu till date. Your statement came as a bolt from the blue because I had pinned many a hope upon the Anna team since I regard Anna as the saviour of the  country in modern times.

May I again emphasise that I am the original inhabitant of Kashmir which has a hindu tradition of five thousand years. Not only that, Jammu and Kashmir is not inhabited by only Kashmiri Muslims but by Dogras, Sikhs, Budhists and Christians as well. Even among Kashmiri Muslims there are differnt sects and schisms such as sunnis and shias, gujjars, Kargil and Ladakh muslims who do not see eye to eye with each other. When you talk of Plebiscite as the ultimate resolution of Kashmir problem you seem to ignore these facts.The Plebiscite carries certain obligations on the part of all the parties involved viz India, Pakistan and the State of Jammu and Kashmir. You may be aware of Pakistan having annexed parts of erstwhile J&K State like Gilgit, Skardu, Hunza, Nagar and Baltistan with mainland Pakistan and having ceded a part of the state to China for strategic purposes to encircle India. Whatever was left was assigned the nomenclature of Azad Kashmir by Pakistan which ironically never enjoyed freedom and democracy in the past six decades as opposed to the Jammu and Kashmir State, a part of India, where liberty, equality and freedom of worship is enjoyed by all the citizens. The original idea of plebiscite was that it was required to be undertaken on return of normalcy in in whole of J&K state without any attempt of ethnic cleansing in any part. Is this practicable now when whole of Pakistan occupied Kashmir has been homogenised  by the Pakistan government and no hindu, sikh or budhist can be seen in the entire Pakistan occupied Kashmir so much so they carried out this ethnic cleansing in Kashmir valley across the LOC by sponsoring terrorism in the valley.

I would perhaps still agree with you if I could understand the basis of such an opinion. Kashmiri separatist leaders have been asserting all through that they are muslims and would like to be part of a Muslim State called Pakistan or form a separate state with Islam as the state religion. That would mean that we accept the two nation theory once again in the same manner as we accepted in 1947 by default though our leaders have been continuously denying the same notwithstanding the creation of Islamic state of Pakistan. In the event we accept this secession of part of our country what prevents other inimical forces to gain strength and seek independence for states like Tamil Nadu, Punjab, Nagaland, Assam, Mizoram, Manipur, Arunachal and Sikkim.Would this situation be acceptable to you to witness this country get fragmented into small innumerable states just because we could not administer them properly and that people like you and Roy lived in posh glass houses with security given at our nation's expense.

May I further ask you whether Pakistan would also hold such a plebiscite in Sindh, Bulochistan and NWFP? I have not noticed you or Arundhati Roy taking any steps or doing anything substantial to coerce China to hold plebiscite in Tibet or grant independence to them. What action did you take when Sri Lankan Tamils were massacred and butchered by the Sri Lankan Army  recently? You and Arundhati Roy could at least have gone to Colombo, courted arrest and gone on indefinite fast to stop the army of Sri Lanka to conduct such a heinous massacre. But you would not do that because no body would care for you. More so they would have annhilated you in no time. Here in India you can get recognition and big name by speaking such things and posing as pseudo human rights activists and our mass media would give you maximum coverage because they increase their market share by such methods.

I understand your love for human rights and sympathise with you. May I know how many Kashmiri Pandit refugee camps did you visit after their exodus in 1990. How much financial help did you render to them from your personal wealth. How many Kashmiri Pandit refugees did you lodge in your house till they could find some accommodation on their own? If you have not done any of these it does not behove you to talk of human rights and human suffering.

Needless to remind you that USA and European nations, after realising what wrong they had done to the Jews in the past, atoned for it and re-established them in Israel by creating a separate home land for them notwithstanding the opposition from the middle east countries and the whole Islamic bloc. On the contrary, you are keen that Kashmir should secede from India and the Kashmiri Pandits should be deprived of their home land and not allowed to return as also perish in due course of time. I only wish good sense prevails upon you and people like you because parasites grow only at the expense of other's.

With regards,
Yours sincerely, 
Deepak Budki.

The Nest: (English Short Story): Deepak Budki

The Nest: (English)Short Story;

 Author & Translator:Deepak Budki

The Nest

Due to the sudden eruption of militancy in the valley, the office could not function in Srinagar, so it was shifted to Jammu. Being the headquarters of the entire circle, all other offices were getting affected. The orders to this effect had been obtained from Delhi. However, the problem was where to accommodate the office. Ultimately, it was decided to accommodate everybody in a departmental building next to the railway station, where some spare accommodation was available, though not sufficient for all eighty officials.

The most noteworthy thing was the cooperation received from the Staff. I, on my part, gave them a pep talk and convinced them that at such a juncture, all of us were expected to adapt to the changed circumstances and work with utmost devotion and dedication. Nobody should expect the same facilities as were available before migration. With faces crestfallen and the future uncertain, they readily agreed.

We lost no time in reorganising our office. Everyone accepted smaller tables and even occupied the corridors of the building in the absence of sufficient space. I too chose a small room for myself facing the railway track. I personally supervised the interior decoration of the room. Opposite the entrance door on the far end, a writing table and a revolving chair were placed, while a sofa set shifted from the valley, along with office records, was adjusted against the wall to the left of the table. Two more chairs were kept on the other side of the table for the guests. A large-sized photograph of Mahatma Gandhi, the father of the nation, was hung on the wall opposite the window facing the railway platform. The window was overlooking a large tract of fallow land beyond the railway track with bristly cacti everywhere, stray cattle searching for food under the scorching sun and dogs scavenging garbage and human excreta. Early in the morning, you could see some poor urchins defecating here and there.

This was a scenery which we were not accustomed to in the valley. On the other side of the Pir Panchal range, there used to be greenery everywhere, the windows of our office overlooking beautiful gardens with majestic chinars, upright poplars and fragrant magnolias. Roses, tulips, dahlias, pansies, sweet williams, lilies, foxgloves, wall flowers, antirrhinums and petunias greeted us as we entered our office premises during spring, while chrysanthemums, zinnias and marigolds bloomed in the garden during autumn. On the contrary, neither a cool morning breeze greeted us here nor cool shades were available under majestic Chinars to rest underneath after lunch. There was no cold, fresh water piped directly from the royal spring of Chashma Shahi into our taps here. It was a different world altogether.

A few glass panes of windows in my room were broken. Nobody had enough time to attend to them, as there were many more urgent jobs to attend to. Hot and dusty winds blew across them and at times produced a burning sensation on my cheeks.

One day, while sitting in my chair, I spotted a sparrow darting down from the blue expanse outside with a dry twig in its beak. It sat on the window bar for a while and then flitted across the room to deposit the twig behind Gandhiji's photograph. Following the little creature came another sparrow with yet another piece of straw in its mouth, and it followed suit. I guessed they must be male and female sparrows. God only knew when they had decided to live together and make a nest for themselves behind the photograph of Gandhiji. A nest where they would spend an entire season together, mate during the forthcoming rainy season, lay eggs, hatch them, see young chicks popping out their tiny beaks and feed them till they would take to their wings. They flew time and again in search of material for building their nest, besides collecting food for themselves. On their return, they deposited tiny pieces of straw, blades of soft grass, wool, cotton flakes and moulted feathers of other birds behind the photograph, unmindful of my presence. At times, I watched these harmless weavers closely and intensely and appreciated their skill and patience. 

The sparrows had migrated from some far-off place where they could not withstand adverse climatic conditions. They were eager to cohabit since the monsoon was fast approaching. While watching them, I felt that building a nest was as instinctive as eating, breathing or drinking among animals. Day in and day out, I saw these two tiny creatures building their nest straw by straw. They collected dry twigs, pieces of bark and straw, cotton wool, fallen dry leaves and bird feathers from places far and near and brought them along into the room with a sense of elation and anticipation. Many a time, they sat on the window rail and looked towards the nest with eagerness and urgency. In the process, more often than not, they forgot their own exhaustion. The very idea of a comfortable nest with their offspring protruding their small beaks evaporated whatever weariness they had felt, and this made them redouble their efforts. As a result, it dawned upon me that it was not only human beings who dreamt of a sweet home but birds too enjoyed the idea of a nice home of their own.

The two weavers kept weaving their nest meticulously with all finesse, intertwining the warp and the weft with dry grass blades and straw. In addition, they used cotton wool and animal hair for cushioning the interior of the nest so as to give it a soft, velvety touch. Simultaneously, they started to live in the nest, though their efforts to embellish it still continued. Gradually, I became accustomed to their presence and lost interest in their untiring activity.

Nature rewarded them soon thereafter with bounteous monsoons. The atmosphere was filled with songs of Koel, the croaking of frogs and the shrills of cicadas. There was romance everywhere. Young maidens riding on the swings welcomed the showers. Not to be left behind, the he-sparrow started petting and necking the she-sparrow with his tiny beak, often spreading his wings as wide as possible to impress upon the sweetheart his virility. After assuring himself that his female partner was ready to receive him, he rode on her back while twitching his tail. For both of them, there could be no better moment of ecstasy than this one.

After some time, I had to go on leave for about a week and could not keep track of these two little birds who had taken refuge in my room to make love. My room remained closed during the week. The two lovers had their heyday in my absence. No watchful human eyes pursued them any longer. There was no human interference whatsoever, and apparently, they had a really good time. They may have thought that I had abandoned the room forever. They sat wherever they liked - on the blade of the fan, on top of the writing table and on the arms of the chairs. Twigs, straws and feathers were strewn all over, and the room was littered with offensive-smelling droppings of these birds.

After spending the week on leave, I was eager to join my office and therefore, reached my office early in the morning. Nobody had yet come to the office except the chowkidar and the sweeper. I asked the chowkidar to open my room. As I entered the room, I was horrified to see its condition. There were pieces of straw, feathers and twigs strewn everywhere. Worse still, the excrement of the two birds was noticed in many places, especially on the upholstery of the sofa and the chairs beside the glass top of the table. I stared helplessly and did not know how to react. Slowly, the anger welled up inside me, and I was beside myself with rage. I immediately called the sweeper and ordered him to clean the room. As if that was not enough, I asked him to remove the nest from behind the photograph. The sweeper had a look at the nest and found eggs laid in it. 

He reported back to me, “Sir, the nest has many eggs inside it, and it would be a sin to throw the nest away.” He was too religious to think of destroying a nest having eggs in it. 

I could notice from his face that he was reluctant to carry out my orders and therefore did not press for the same, as it could hurt his religious sentiments. So I myself removed the nest from behind the photograph and threw it out of the window. The tiny eggs broke open as soon as they landed on the ground, and the fluid in them oozed out and spread over the surface. The chowkidar and the sweeper kept looking helplessly. So did the Mahatma from behind the glass frame.

I left the room for the sweeper to clean and mop it, besides dusting the furniture. As soon as he reported the completion of the work, I returned and took my seat in the chair to dispose of the office files.

About an hour must have passed, the she-sparrow came flying down from the heavens with some food grain in her mouth, which she wanted to share with her mate in the exclusivity of her nest. She sat on the window rail for a while with eyes radiant with hope and promise. Then she flew straight towards the nest behind the photograph, but to her dismay, she could not find her nest anywhere. She kept hovering over the place in utter disbelief, not knowing what had befallen her sweet home. All her dreams had been shattered and her plans destroyed. In frustration and deep anguish, she flitted across the room, unmindful of the rotating fan above. She had totally lost her mind. In one of the rapid moves, her body struck the fast-moving blade of the fan and in no time her wing was torn into pieces, the feathers scattered, and her body fell lifeless on the floor.

Then came the he-sparrow with mirth and joy writ large on his face. He too sat on the window rail. As he peeped into the room, all his happiness evaporated like ether, and he became sullen at the sight of his companion. Reluctantly, he flew towards the photograph to find for himself what had happened. Shocked and bewildered, he darted down to his partner and hovered over her dead body for a long time with the expectation that perhaps she might hear his calls and wake up. But that was not to be. His mate was silent as a stone. He was now convinced that she would not hear his calls any more, nor would the destroyed nest be rebuilt. Dejected and disconsolate, he flew back and sat on the window rail again where he kept brooding for a while. He had lost his mate, his home and his offspring to the wanton desire of a human being. His life had become desolate and held no promise for the future. 

Quietly, he gathered his courage slowly and flew away into the vast blue expanse towards the milky horizon, never to return. 

I kept watching him in horrified silence till he was out of sight.

*****