The whole night, I’ve been heaving boxes.
Now that it was time to go, I couldn’t decide
What to take and what to leave behind.
My heart was burdened by four years of weight.
Even the clothes looked like coffins now.
So, I just plunked the old clothes into a box –
Lots of poor beggars sat outside the temple.
When all were sleeping tonight, I dropped the box there.
Some ages ago, I’d bought a suit –
Specially tailored to my every curve and corner.
When it was new, it used to wrap around my body
The way an imaginary girlfriend on the internet,
On seeing a real lizard on a real wall, clings to me.
And today, I couldn’t even close its buttons –
I’d gathered too much love from the party buffets.
I’d dropped an email to the juniors –
There’s no dearth of rich beggars here either.
The mattress too I’ve flattened out –
Who knows how many tons of lonely nights it supports.
Some stains wouldn’t even wash away now.
After all, many nights I’ve drunk my tea on it.
That same tea-seller was saying – hundred for the mattress.
Along with it, I’d also packed a box of covers and pillows.
But the moment I stepped out of the gate,
I saw in a corner, the old lady who sold us roasted corn.
Sidestepping her snores, I left it all beside her.
And then there were those bundles of paper –
Now, under which pillow would I’ve hid them?
I never took notes of what the professors taught,
But in every class, I did note down a new daydream.
Now, who could I leave this heritage of unheard lectures?
I couldn’t even carry them around with me, could I?
I’d dreamed of being a “peripatetic poet”,
But now, I’d picked another college for two more years.
No need to plant the seeds of these poems there as well.
Or else, another box will fill up there as well.
Bro, I couldn’t keep burying dreams every two years.
So, I gave it all to the same tea-seller –
Someone may enjoy the verse while munching fritters.
And now, this final box –
Only these are my real friends.
I’d long licked my fingers off the novels,
But these Civil Engineering books remain.
The books I’d not opened in these four years,
I’d smelt them one-by-one yesterday.
I hadn’t even opened the wrapping on some.
But yesterday, I turned a few pages in the balcony sun.
Who knows when else they will get to breathe.
I’ll have to buy a new cupboard to imprison these.
I couldn’t just leave them in this box, right?
It seems, the autorickshaw has arrived.
The friends here have already left.
No ta-ta, bye-bye business needed now.
Okay, let me pick up my luggage bags.
And this final box as well.
Dude, how come this box is so heavy now?
Why does it feel there’s still a burden on this heart?
By keeping them tied to my own bosom,
Am I going to bury their dreams as well?
Even they might have dreamed of being read by many.
Then, why am I making Anarkalis of them in glass?
It seems, even these will go their own way –
I’ll have to show the driver the way to the library.
Translated from my Hindi poem, डब्बे
Dabbe
pūrī rāt Dabbe DHo rahā hūn.
jāne kā vaqt āyā to samajh nahīn ā rahā thā
kyā lūn aur kyā CHoD jāun.
chār sālon kā boJH mahsūs ho rahā thā dil par.
kapDe tak KaFan lag rahe the.
sāre purāne kapDe ek Dabbe mein bhar diye fir.
kāFī garīb BHikārī mandir ke bāhar baiTHte hein.
rāt ko jab sāre so rahe the, Dabbā CHoD āyā vahān.
ek suit liyā thā kisī zamāne –
darzī se KHas silwāyā thā har kone kā nāp dekar.
nayā nayā sā thā to badan pe yūn lipaTtā thā
jaise internet pe milī koī kālpanik girlfriend
asliyat mein dīvār ke CHipkalī se Dar ke chipak rahī ho.
āj to button bhī uske lag nahīn rahe the –
Partyon ke buffet mein kuCH zyādā hī pyār sameT liyā.
Junior logon ko mail Dālā thā –
amīr bhikāriyon kī bhī koī kami nahīn hein yahān.
gaddā bhī pichak chukā hei.
najāne kitnī akelī rāton kā boJH sambhālā thā usne.
kuCH dāG to ab CHūTne bhī nahīn wāle the.
āKHir bahut rātein chai pīkar bitāī hein us par.
wahī chaiwālā keh rahā thā – sou rupay degā uskā.
takiā aur bedsheet kā ek dabbā bānDH bhī liyā thā.
par gate se jaise hī bāhar niklā,
BHuTTe bechne wālī buDDHī ammā sote diKH gayī.
kone mein usi ke baGal mein CHoD āyā.
fir bache the biKHre Kāgazon ke wo bundle.
ab kaunse takiye ke nīche rakhtā unhein?
professor logon kī bāt to kabhī note nahīn kī,
har class mein ek nayā sapnā zarūr darj kar liyā.
wo unsune lecturon kī virāsat kisko saunptā?
sāth bhī to nahīn le jā saktā thā –
kahān ghūmte firte kavī banne kā KHwāb pālā thā
aur kahān fir ek college mein pisne jā rahā hūn.
un nazmon ke bīj ab naye college mein nahīn bone.
warnā ek Dabbā wahān bhī bhar jayegā.
har do sāl sapne nahīn daFnāne the, bhāi.
chaiwāle ko hī de āyā jākar –
bhajiye khāte khāte kisi kā man bahal jāyegā.
bas ye ek Dabbā bach gayā hai –
bas yahi aslī sāthī hein mere.
novel wagerā to sāre chāT liye hein,
par yeh Civil Engineering ki pothiyān paDi hein.
chār sālon mein jo Kitābein kholīn nahīn thīn,
kal un sab ko ek bār to sūngh liyā hei.
kuCH par se to pannī bhī nahīn haTāi thī.
kal magar balcony ke DHup mein chand safhe paDH liye –
najāne Fir kab inko sāns lene kā maukā milegā.
ek cupboard nayā lenā padegā inko Kaid karne –
kahān Dabbe mein saDte rahenge?
autowala ā gayā lagtā hei.
ās pās sab dost to pahle hī nikal gaye hein –
Tā-Tā bye-bye kā JHanJHaT nahīn hogā.
chalo, ab boriyā bistarā sameT letā hūn.
ek ākhrī Dabbā yeh bhī uTHā letā hūn.
yār, abhī yeh Dabbā itnā bhārī kyon lag rahā hei?
kyon lag rahā hei ki dil pe abhī bhī ek boJH hei?
khudke ānchal mein bāndh ke in kitābon ko,
kahīn main unke sapne bhī to nahīn gāDH rahā?
inkā bhī to man kartā hogā ki kai log paDHe inko –
inhein kānch ke pīCHe anārkalī kyon banā rahā hūn?
lagtā hei sāth inse bhī CHūTne wala hei –
autowale ko library ka rāstā batānā padegā.