Monday, September 12, 2016



 GIVE ME PEACE AS ALMS                          

  I am a poet.I am a painter. I am a musician.I am a writer.I am the unknown common man .I am in my house. I move through paths that are deserted. A stranger.An outsider. Call me by any name . My hands are up. Up in Prayers .I stretch them out for Alms now. I knock every door. I seek no money. Not food. No shelter either.

I seek peace as Alms.I move with a begging bowl. Grant me this boon. 

I add select lines from a poem of Sahir Ludhianavi..
Saathhiyon ! mainay barson tumhaare liye,
chaand, taaron, bahaaron ke sapne buney,
husn aur ishq ke geet gaataa rahaa
aarzoo-on ke aivaan sajaataa rahaa,
Me tumhaaraa mughanni, tumhaare liye,
jab bhi aayaa naye geet laataa rahaa
Aaj lekin meray daaman-e-chaak mein,
gard-e-raah-e-safar ke sivaa kuchh nahin,.........

Har taraf shor-e-aaho-bukaa hai,
Aur me iss tabaahii ke tuufaan mein,
Aag aur Khoon ke haijaan mein,
sarnigoon aur shikastaa makaanon ke malbe se pur raaston par,
apne naghmon ki jholi pasaare,
dar-ba-dar phir rahaa huun,
Mujh ko Aman aur tahzeeb ki bheek do,
Meray geeton ki lay, mere sur, meri nai
Meray majrooh hothon ko phir saunp do,


vaadiyaan lahlahaane ko betaab hain,
kohsaaron ke seene mein haijaan hai,
sang aur Khisht bekhwaab-o-bedaar hain,
inki, aankhon mein ta’ameer ke Khwaab hain,
inke Khwaabon ko takmeel ka roop do,
vaadiyaan, ghaatiyaan, khetiyaan, auratein, bachchiyaan ,
haath phailaaye Khairaat ki muntazir hain,
inko Aman aur Tehzeeb ki bheek do,
Maaon ko unke honthon ki shaadaabiyaan,
Nanhe bachchon ko unki Khushi bakhsh do,
Meray sur bakhsh do,
meri nai bakhsh do,
Aaj saari fazaa bhikaari hai
aur me is bhikaari fazaa mein,
apne naghmon ki jholi pasaare,
dar-ba-dar phir rahaa huun,
mujhko phir mera khoyaa huaa saaz do,
me tumhaaraa mughanni tumhaare liye,
jab bhi aaya,
naye geet laataa rahoongaa.

Saathiyon Maine Barson tumhaare Liye....

My simple English rendering  would be as under ...

Friends , For you and you alone ,
For years and so many years up till now ,
I kept weaving hopes and dreams
Dreams of Stars ,
Moon and spring seasons .
I sang songs of Beauty and Love as well.
I kept decorating those palaces of Hope .
Like your Musician , As and when I came your way ,
I brought newer compositions .

But today ,
Under my shirt’s ripped color ,
I carry Nothing except
the dust of this tiring Journey .

With wails and painful noise all around,
Trapped in this storm and devastation ,
Scrambling in these flames and blood all over,
Through the paths that wind through debris of destroyed building,
Through structures still erect with bowed heads ,
I move and keep moving .

Spreading the shirt of my songs .
I beg at every entrance .
I knock at every door.
Grant me a boon of peace and civility now.
Grant some tune to my songs ,
Grant some notes to my music ,
Grant some melody to my songs ,
Return all this once more to these wounded lips .

Friends …

Desperate are these valleys to Blossom ,
The Mountains carry thrill inside their stony chests ,
Carrying dreams of construction and development ,
Sleepless and awake are these Stones and bricks .
Help them to translate their dreams into reality .

Our Valleys ,
Our Plateaus ,
Our Fields ,
Our Women And
Our Daughters
Have spread their Hands
for a boon of peace and Civility Now .
Let the lips of our Mothers sparkle once more in happiness.
To infants , Grant some reason to smile once more .
Return Me those old Tunes and old Melodies .
Grant me these as boons now .

Among beggars and homeless people all around ,
Spreading a shirt of songs ,
A vagrant like me,
Moves from Door to door,
Seeking return of the lost musical instrument .
For sure ,This musician of yours ,
Shall come once more,
with Newer songs ..
Friends ! For you and you alone ,
For years and so many years ..

(Autar Mota )                                               

Creative Commons LicenseCHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.
Based on a work at http:\\\.

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