aam pannaa

The Ordinary Page

[aampannaa]

The Streets of Desire

Among the plethora of popular literature available in markets such as Daryaganj, the love-letter manuals are some of the most important.

“ON SUNDAY MORNINGS, in Old Delhi, the pavements of the neighbourhood of Daryaganj and the thoroughfare of Nai Sarak are transformed into one of the largest book markets in India. All kinds of books eventually reach the footpath stalls here. I once found an out-of-print copy of Arun Kolatkar’s Jejuri, which won the Commonwealth Poetry Prize in 1977, for a pittance amid piles of test-preparation books.

Most of the books here arrive in bulk, having been discarded by their owners and lugged away by kabadiwalas. Pocket books, however, have the footpaths as their principal address. Most are published and sold locally, and are rarely found in bookshops. The Sunday market in Old Delhi can be seen as a footpath archive of the Indian pocket-book industry.

These cheap, colourful books have long served as guides on everything from cooking to medicine, astrology to sex. It was among them that I first found a copy of Prem Patra: Love Letters, a volume dedicated to the art of love-letter writing.”

[aampannaa]

An Ode to Daryagunj

[aampannaa]

[aampannaa]

an imagist poem ~ a poet on diet

[aampannaa]

मैंने रियर-व्यू मिरर में देखा जैसे-जैसे मैंने गति बढ़ाई झूमते पेड़ों के खिलाफ,

लेकिन वहाँ बस एक आदमी ही था

क्या उसने उतारे थे ‎ न सिर्फ वो टोपी, और चोली, जूते,‎ और पैंटीज और ब्रा,‎ या फिर उसने उस औरत को भी उतार छोड़ा,‎ जिसे वो पहने था?‎

या फिर वो मैं था?‎ गिराता, छोड़ता अवशेष पुराने निवेश,‎ निरंतर बस भागता उस संपूर्ण सम्पन्नता की ओर, ‎ उस जहां में जहां नग्न कुछ नहीं है, कोई जगह नहीं है ‎

(the last few lines of Ramanujan's 'Highway Stripper' as translated into Hindi)

[aampannaa]

बेहोश.

बिस्तर के एक कोने पर तकिये में धंस कर सो गयी वो. तकिये के दूसरे कोने पर उसके लम्बे बाल रक्खे थे.

[aampannaa]

Mobile phones, candies, shopping lists, stretch marks, your gaze, cash and coins, and, also, a pair of breasts — things that a bra contains.

Because there were never enough pockets in our bonnets and blouses.

[aampannaa]

आईना

मैं चनदार और सटीक हूँ. मुझे कोई विधारना नहीं है.

जो भी देखा, उसे तुरंत निगल लिया 

वैसे का वैसा, पसंद-नापसंद के परदे बगैर. 

मैं क्रूर नहीं, बस ईमानदार हूँ,

छोटे से भगवान की नज़र हूँ, चतुर्दशी हूँ. 

आम तौर पर मैं सामने वाली दीवार पर ध्यान लगाता हूँ. 

वो गुलाबी है, धब्बों वाली. मैंने उसे इतनी देर तक घूरा है कि

ऐसा लगने लगा है मानो वो मेरे सत्व का हिस्सा हो.

अब मैं एक तालाब हूँ. एक औरत मुझपर झुकती है,

मेरे फैलाव में वो जो कुछ भी ख़ुद है, उसे ढूंढती है.

फिर वो उन झूठों की ओर मुढ़ती है, वो मोम्बत्तियाँ और वो चाँद.

मैं उसे देखता हूँ, और निष्कपट प्रतिबिंबित करता हूँ.

वो मुझे आंसुओं और गुस्से का ईनाम देती है.

मैं उसके लिए ज़रूरी हूँ. वो आती-जाती रहती है.

हर सुबह उसका चेहरा ही अँधेरे की जगह लेता है.

मुझ में उसने एक जवान लड़की को डुबोया है, मुझ ही में से एक बूढी औरत

उसकी तरफ बढती है, दिन-पर-दिन, एक भीषण मछली की तरह. 

(Translated from Sylvia Plath’s “Mirror”)

[aampannaa]

words, words, words, your words are umpteen, kanu — incalculable but they mean all the same — I I I     alone. with those words, then how will you explain history to me, kanu?

[aampannaa]

मेरी जीवनी इन कविताओं में मत ढूंढो

कविताओं में ढंग होता है, समझ होती है कूड़े-कर्कट से कलात्मक दूरी होती है. मैंने पीड़ा से जो भी सीखा है मैं हमेशा से जानती थी पर कर नहीं पाती थी

Translated from Eunice de Souza's:

Don't look for my life in these poems ----------- Poems have order, sanity aesthetic distance from debris. All I've learnt from pain I always knew, but could not do.

[aampannaa]

A Letter

I am— a book kept in an attic

perhaps carrying the Word or any hymnal or a chapter from the Kama Sutra, or quackery for easy, venereal diseases.

Apparently, I am none of these. (if I were, someone would have read me)

And as it were — a proposal was passed in a meeting of revolutionaries and I am its transcript. Although it carries a police-stamp and was never enforced, passed anyway, and was preserved, for the sake of further legal proceedings.

Now only some sparrows come over with a few twigs in their beaks and they sit on my body to worry about the next generation (to worry about the next generation is beautiful indeed!) but for diligence of any sort birds have wings, but no proposal has any wings. (nor do any proposal has another generation?) Only sometimes I think of smelling out— where my future lies and in such worry my binding comes off, partly but whenever I try to smell something I smell bird-shit, only.

O the future of my earth I am— your current state

(Translated from Amrita Pritam's ਇਕ ਖਤ)

[aampannaa]

the bathroom walls

inside

      ripe with humidity the bathroom walls conceal shadows            as clouds.

exhausted eyes seek company in these fugitives while knees squat ingenuously. __

in the continuum of a routine

bathroom is temporary bathroom is not home bathroom belongs to none             and everyone __ outside there is relief despite                isolation. did i lose my shadow? unlikely, because      light      is up here. __

i am left shadow-less. of course, another fugitive lies (concealed) on the bathroom walls.

[aampannaa]

(Haiku/ Jack Kerouac/ अनुवाद)

जो सब मैं देखता हूँ वही मैं देखता हूँ-- भभक संध्या की लाली

All I see is what I see — Red fire sunset

[aampannaa]

haiku/ अनुवाद

तुम्हें हासिल होगा सिर्फ चुप्पी के शोर का ही अनुदेश

The sound of silence is all the instruction You'll get (Jack Kerouac)

[dhrupad]

[aampannaa]

Pritam.

[aampannaa]

ashtray

deadbodies lie together.

they were sucked to death, one by one. do not let the sublime smoke deceive you.

do not find beauty in it.

[aampannaa]

A Meeting

(Translated from Amrita Pritam’s एक मुलाक़ात)

 I stood silent, sober and still

Only the sea nearby bore a tempest

Then God knows what the sea thought

It packed the storm into some sort of a sachet

handed it over to me

and distanced itself, amused

I was astonished

But accepted the marvel anyway

I knew that such events

Occurred, if only, once in an era

Thousands of thoughts

Reflected in my head

But I remained standing still

wondering how will

I go to my town now?

Each street of my town is narrow

Each roof of my town is low

Each wall of my town backbites

I thought

If I could find you

Somewhere, then like sea

Placing it on our chests

We could laugh as would two banks  

And settle in the town of

rooftops so low

And streets so narrow

 But the entire afternoon was spent

In looking for you

And I had to sip

My own fire

By myself

I was a lone bank

The bank I had to shed

And when the day was nearly set

I returned sea’s tempest

To the sea itself

Now that night has started to spread

I have met you

You are sullen, silent, sober and still

I too am sullen, silent, sober and still

Only the outlying sea bears tempest

 (tr. mine)