Tuesday, March 19, 2013

The children who come to learn from me



The children who come to learn from me
often wear clothes
Torn
from collars, pockets, button holes
if by chance
a button is there in place
sewn with a red,yellow or black thread
it would be open
their feet have
the curse of shoes
given away by a charity club
in the wait
for stipend
entitled for SC/BC category
the children who come to learn from me
why do they remain the same
same as they come from their home
rather, they are innocent when they come
but schooling makes them more stubborn
more spoiled
head teacher
does not like them
women teachers
do not like them
the children who come to learn from me
take epithets  like ass, pig, idiot
like a mid-day meal
the children who come to learn from me
know a lot more than me
yet, they listen to me
blankly
while teaching
I feel
as if, I am
sitting along with them too
The children who come to learn from me
How sweet, innocent and simple
They are
They don’t use any
Salutations like
Thank you, please
They are outspoken
Straight form heart
They speak, they curse
They walk, kicking the stones away
They play, missing the catch of fate ball
They fight, they grab collars
This is the way they love, the same
The children who come to learn from me
Why I am getting affectionate
Today
I wish
I can walk like friends
Keeping arms on the shoulders
of my students
But I often get irritated at them
Why this irritation?
If they quarrel
They curse like a sailor
They dance
on classroom benches
They don’t mind to do dressing
of wounds on knees or elbows
What is their crime in it?
What am I afraid of?
I lecture
Listening to me
They go silent
As if they have never spoken
I tell them about
My classmate Balwant Bhatia
His father made shoes
On holidays he worked as a laborer
To pay his school fee
Now, is a bank manager
You should study too
I tell them about
My friend Rana
Even professor of economics
Dreaded questions asked by him
On a holiday
He would carry bricks at construction sites
These days, high court
Works by his whims
he just got a new kothi in
Chandigarh
You should study too
I start telling my story too
But i stop
Tell them again and again
You should study too
Dreams of
The children who come to learn from me
How bright they must be
mind boggling
Actually
There is no microscope
Built yet
That can see
Dreams of
Children who come to learn from me
Children who come to learn from me
Are very mischievous
Mischievous beyond limit
Teachers say this
and Get tense
Poetic mind ponders
At least, they have something.

Sunday, March 17, 2013

Maqbool Fida Hussain


A child
Throws
A colorful ball
Towards me

It bounced thrice
Went away
Afar

I laugh at myself
To catch the ball
I will have to be a child again.
The bare feet journey
Will not end
It will be forever Young

An end of the long brush
Places chimneys on the sky
The other end colors the earth

Whenever he closes eyes
The mud sparrow begins  to fly
The girl drawn on paper
Begins to smile



In the bare feet journey
It’s mixed, the essence of earth dust
Beneath burning feet
It spreads the shade of green color
 In the cold winter days
It spreads, the sunshine in the path

Bare feet can’t be put in a cage
Every step of the bare feet
Is a free character of a free script

One needs to get bare to read
I fear.
Once a friend gifted him
Two pair of shoes
Leather as soft as cotton swab

He said
Wearing it
Let’s go to the bazaar

He wore
Black in one foot
Brown in the other

This is the journey of an artist.
He began with colors
And at last
He got immersed
In colors

Nobody can sue the colors
What does borders and boundaries mean for colors

In any part of the world
Just now,
A child might be drawing
With his ink riddled hands
Blue black
Absurd figures

The colors don’t have a grave.

Tomato


Take a look
God’s miracle
Tomatoes are crimson red

This is not mine
This is nature’s poem

This is being sung by
The vegetable seller
For his livelihood

Take a look
A man’s miracle
Tomatoes are crimson red…

LOVE


Wherever I go
It is spread beneath my feet
The Earth

I love the Earth
Or Earth does
Is it what we call love?

Wherever I go
My head is stout
Sky

I love the Sky
Or Sky does
Is it what we call love?

Earth loves the Sky
Sky loves the Earth

Who am I…
In between these two

Am I the love of these two ?