Sunday, January 27, 2013

Does That Lazy Rainy Afternoon Visit You !

Lalitya Lalit
Author of 7 poetry collections, Lalitya Lalit (Born : 27 January 1970) is an Indian poet and Satirist who writes in Hindi. His original name is Dr. Lalit Kishor Mandora. He has written widely for neoliterates. At present, He is working as Assistant Editor (Hindi) with National Book Trust and lives in New Delhi. Today is his birthday! Wishing happy birthday to lalitya lalit and presenting some poems translated by Om Gupta : Being Poet        
There are people
who will deceive you
and you will never know
it includes
and women too.
It is easy to fool them
they are everywhere
in every city
but they are not all same
How does it matter
Change their names
They will look different
but they will think the same
Yes, did you hear me?
Can I do something for you?
Driving license
School admission?
Long queues of the helpless
Sad people
unhappy people
they will keep on standing
it is their destiny
you will always find them there.
The shirkers
Deceiving themselves
Never learn
New things
Dark well frogs,
Playing cards in
government offices
reach late
every night
Thrash wife, kids
Claim ethics
Sharkari babus.
It was raining.
but the postman came, with your letter.
it smelt of my village.
I could feel those tender moments.
I burst at the seams.
by god, you left nothing for imagination—
“Reach office on time,
Eat lunch on time.
Beware of those fashionable hookers,
How much you care of me,
Or maybe you care of yourself!”
Does that lazy rainy afternoon visit you—
On the eve of our marriage. When Gainda aunty gave
Sattu and Choorrma meshed Laddoos
to you and to me,
and we ate them together.
You had brought them,
hidden in your odhni,
I can still smell them
in your letter.
Do you remember when Bittoo was born?
The whole village had sweets
Amma, Bappa danced with me,
I shared sweets at factory.
Slowly, steadily, carefully,
Lo and behold, Bittoo is ten.
How is Bimla?
Does she talk about me?
I am worried about her.
Village is no more safe
And girls grow up fast,
so sad, Puran kaka is no more!
And Hari nambardar also left us
I want to come their!
Hope I can
This city kills me every moment
Doesn’t give time and space
Even Hari coldn’t come when his baba died
Because the show must go on.
I am sad at it!
Qutab Minar often calls me.
You can’t fool me, are you listening?
Beware of the city?
Do a good job.
Remember, the boss is always right.
I want you to be happy.
Don’t came by train.
I am scared of the bombs and blasts.
That Mandi blast is still alive and kicking in my mind
Lali’s bhojai’s yellow blouse
Don’t forget.
And sweater for bittoo.
And of course odhini for Bimla
is getting long
Just come!
Last word
Come babu, come
Don’t come in kurta pyjama
Last month he was here
Kajri’s woh
He looked a hero.
Smart, dashing, dazziling
Please come in pants and shirt
And don’t forget to wear shoes
And where is that twisted cap
You looks like ‘Raj’ in that
My words have finished.
Your wife
Jamuna Devi
Near Kali Mandir 
Village and Post Office—Dhondhsa
Distt.—Aligarh, UP