An unsung melancholia...

That  ghetto of thoughts...

Stinks with the unwashed-

emotional lesions,

Spread around the darkness-

Deep in that dying heart.

The walls of veins-

all scratched and tattered.

An urge. 

For the freedom from self.

Coyly smiling at the pain-

That assaulted the tears.

Who is butchering the light?

A hope that once existed!

When all beings rise up 

With that rising sun.

 A fear hides behind that corner.

In that isolated-

Ghetto of thoughts.

Sanjeeta Sharma Pokharel "Hridayaninadini"

Pictures credit:

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/08/be/c0/08bec012215319df438f06f5a1d58b03.jpg

http://41.media.tumblr.com/8e928bb4dfdc49912c83e655fd0d02ce/tumblr_nrp9ejMPgD1ssite1o1_250.jpg

Reading your mind!

How narrow a mind can be?

When you are worried about a few droplets,

In front of that enormous sea!

And secretly, keep a coin in that pocket-

Inside the vaults of gold ingots, till your knee! 

Still! You complain of no good sleep-

On that bed of linens, warm and cozy!

That discomfort you grow, in that coffin,

Of that narrowness inside you- blur and hazy!

You faked your life-

Of being broad, a sucking flea!

Yes, how narrow a mind can be?

To trespass that narrowed lane.

And boast of being free!

Trapped in that insanity of being sane!

Well, how narrow a mind can be.

When a thread of thousand thoughts gets stuck!

And the vast Universe passes free!

Sanjeeta Sharma Pokharel "Hridayaninadini"

Photocredit:

http://images.fineartamerica.com/images/artworkimages/mediumlarge/1/bounded-and-the-blinded-m-jf.jpg
http://www.cuded.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/04/1-Watercolor-Painting_by_adelenta.jpg

ಭಾಷೆ (Language): A Kannada Poem

“ಅಮ್ಮ”!

ಎಡವಿದ ನಂತರ ಬರುವ ಮೊದಲ ಶಬ್ಧ

ಈ ಒಂದು ಶಬ್ಧ

ಎಂತ ನೋವನ್ನು ಗುಣ ಮಾಡುತ್ತೆ…

ಯಾವ ದೇಶ ಬೇಕಾದ್ರೂ ಸುತ್ತಿ ಬನ್ನಿ, ಓ ಗೆಳಯರೇ,

ಆ ನೀಲಿ ಬಾನಿನ ಕೆಳಗೆ,

ಈ ಬೀಸುವ ತಂಗಾಳಿನಲ್ಲಿ

ಬೆವರು ಒಣಗಿದರೂ…

ಆ ಪ್ರೇಮ ಸಿಗಲ್ಲ…

ನಿಮ್ಮ ಜೀವನದ ಒಂದು ದಿನ- ವೇದೇಶದಲ್ಲಿ,

ಕುಳಿತು ಯೋಚನೆ ಮಾಡಿ

ಆ ಶಬ್ಧ

 “ಅಮ್ಮ” ಎಂದ್ರರೇ

ಬದಲಿಸಲು ಸಾಧ್ಯವಾಗದ 

ಆ ಸ್ನೇಹ 

ಈ ಪದದಲ್ಲಿ ಇದೆ 

ಈ ಮಣ್ಣಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಇದೆ..

ನಿಮ್ಮ ಹೃದ್ಯದಲ್ಲಿ ಇದೆ…

ಅದಕ್ಕೆ ಮನಬಿಚ್ಚಿ ಉಚ್ಚರಿಸಿ

ನಿಮ್ಮ ಮುಖದಲ್ಲಿನ ಆ ಮಂದಹಾಸ

ನೋಡಿದ ನಂತರ

ಅಮ್ಮನ ಹೃದ್ಯಕ್ಕೆ ತೃಪ್ತಿ ಆಗುತ್ತೆ…

ಇನ್ನೂ ಏನು ಯೋಚನೆ ಮಾಡ್ತಿದೀರಾ, ಓ ಗೆಳಯರೇ?

ಮನ ಬಿಚ್ಚಿ ಮಾತಾಡಿ!

ನಿಮ್ಮದೇ ಭಾಷೆಯಲ್ಲಿ!

ಸಂಜೀತ ಶರ್ಮ ಪೊಖರೆಲ್ "ಹೃದಯಾನಿನದಿನಿ"

Translation:

“Mom!"
When you hit that hurdle and fall-
This single word
Cures all the painful aches!
Go around the world, oh my folks….
Under this blue sky,
When the breeze of this land-
Dries up your sweats!
You won't find this love…
One day in your life, in that foreign land,
Park and ponder about…
This word-
“Mother”
Nothing can replace it!
This affection-
This language has…
This soil has…
Your heart has…
So, open it up-
That adorable smile on your face-
Shall adorn-
Happiness in your  mother's heart!
What  are you thinking, oh my folks?
Speak up!
In your own language!

Sanjeeta Sharma Pokharel "Hridayaninadini"

Photocredit:

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/236x/5e/15/db/5e15db2686448487be88f71199bc7b3b.jpg

To the land where no drops fall!

“A drop- 
Falls from the distant blue-
Whirling and twirling-
Hits that window-pane…
And another follows- its rule-
And hits again that window-pane,
And finally, many of them fall-
Like the tap-dancers in the rhythm tap!
And washes the blemish in that window-pane!
She observes the drops sliding down the glass!

Holding that china-cup-
And freshly brewed coffee in it!
She blushes-
After smelling the wild fragrance of the mud!
As many of those droplets
Hit that window pane…
That window pane made up-
Of the crystals- so brilliant and precious…
After all- 
It is this first rain-
That visited her mansion!
She, again, fell in love!
With those clouds…
Deadly and dark!

Alas—
Once they shall fly-
Fly as far and as high-
Beyond the walls of her mansion,
And across this city of price-tags!
Following the road of shimmering lights,
That shall-
Reach far beyond the comfort,
They shall meet
This land-
Of the tiny huts and hamlets.
The harshness peeps in through-
The roofs that used to leak-
The charred land-
Where once…
The gush of winds played…
With the verdant contentment!
Lies dead and dried!
Their parched lips and throats!
And hearts-
Cannot barely blush under the blazing heat!
No drops fall here-
And hit the window pane!
The ragged curtains convey the dust-
And only dust!
When the dried hot wind traverses…
Through them…!

When those clouds shall reach here!
I fear-
If these hamlets will have the souls in it!
Buried in the hunger and thirsts,
Their existence will be forever concealed!

Whilst-
She still enjoys the rain!
A drop!
Stumbling down from the petal-
In her posh backyard…
Awaits for her love to come home!
Sigh!
There are few who ended up their lives-
With a promise to never return!
To the land where no drops fall!

Sanjeeta Sharma Pokharel "Hridayaninadini"

Photo-credits:

https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/4b/85/48/4b85486335ab36fedeb79632f9291436.jpg

She is real...

The white curtains with feather-prints on them flutter like a dove, a symbol of freedom, as this morning breeze gently traversed through them. The rain has stopped by now. Another dawn of contentment filled with splendour. The aroma of dampened soil makes the air- worth breathing. In the northern corner of this wonderful small house- sleeps a princess. A princess of many worth.  As always- she got up when that first beam of the sun hit that windowpane in her backyard. The backyard- where lies a row of bud vases with stunning flowers in them. She softly keeps her blanket aside. Her lovely hair meanders over her shoulder; the perfect tributaries over her mesmerizing dark-dusky skin as cavernous as the soil of this earth. Those feel of being a mother earth. She tenderly gathers them together. And stretches her arms up, along with her arms- stretches her most gorgeous lips and brings in that most beautiful smile. Her morning is here! She is not a woman of a fair-skinned. Neither a woman who love physical dimensions of bodily beauty. She is- who she is. She is a woman who loves herself. And, loves what she does. She looked like a Goddess again, that confidence in her eyes, as she enters to dress-up after the shower. She wraps herself in a deep blue sari and brushes her cascading hair. A tiny blue bindi between her two brows symbolized her beauty. A perfect lady. She walks tall against what people say- odds and adversities. She is a woman. A woman with a heart. A heart that serves other women like her in maternity wards. She is a nurse.  Many women run behind the wagons of cosmetics to look good, to feel dazzling and beautiful. But to her- beauty walks along, like her shadow!  In the race of being beautiful- we forget that the beauty lies in us and in what we do. She is one amongst them who is not lost on her way. She is beautiful, she is perfect and she is real!

ಈ ಭೂಮಿಯ ಮಗ… (A son of this land…)

ಪರಿಪೂರ್ಣ ದಿನದಂದು

ಹೊಂಬೆಳಕಿನ…

ಕಾಂತಿ ಹರಡಿತು…

ಎಲೆ ಕೊಂಬೆಗಳಲಿ…

ಚಿಟ್ಟೆಗಳು ಹರಿದಾಡಿದವು…

ಗಾಳಿ ಬಳುಕುತ್ತಾ..

ಧ್ವಜದ ಕೆಳಗಿನ ಆತ್ಮ

ಜೀವಿತವಾಯಿತು

ಆ ದೇಹ ಈ ಭೂಮಿ ಮೇಲೆ!

ಎಲ್ಲಿ ಅವನು ಶೌರ್ಯದಿಂದ ಹೋರಾಡಿದನೋ!

ಆ ಕೊನೆಯ ಉಸಿರಿನ…

ವಿದಾಯದವರೆಗೆ…

ಈ ಭೂಮಿಯ ಮಗ!

ಆದನೀಗ-

ಹುತಾತ್ಮ!

ಸಂಜೀತ ಶರ್ಮ ಪೊಖರೆಲ್ “ಹೃದಯಾನಿನದಿನಿ”

A son of this land…

A perfect day-

A perfect sunshine,

Radiance traversing…

The leaves and the branches,

Butterflies fluttering…

This wind ambling through…

The flag that kept his soul-

Alive!

His body laid on this land…

Where he fought valiantly-

Until his last breath bid him-

Adieu…

A son of this land!

He is-

A martyr!

Sanjeeta Sharma Pokharel "Hridayaninadini"

I dedicate this poem to Lt Col Niranjan Kumar and others who fought valiantly in Pathankot attack, India. I salute them on behalf of Nepal. 

Disclaimer:

I tried to write in a local language "Kannada".

Kindly apologize if there are any grammatical errors.

A special thanks to Mrs. Padmavathi Subramani Raju for correcting this poem.