Different Women in different roles

Different  Women in different roles

By

P.R.Ramachander

(Based on what I read in Whatsapp.Thanks to original author. I do not like  Onion Pakoras   during rain)

It was   torrentially raining   cats   and dogs ,

Ramu   some   how manged   to reach home,

Dreaming   of hot  onion pakoras and  tea,

And  praised his wife and  asked  her for them.

She who was   really   tired  due   to severe work,

Not only   refused   but  also shouted   at him,

For making that demand and  just vanished,

To  complete   her afternoon   nap and rest

Ramu felt bad  , locked   the home  and reached,

His parent’s home  in the next street and Ramu’s father,

Was requesting  for onion Rava Upma  with negative result,

And as soon his mother saw Ramu  , she asked him to wait.

She said   she will make  onion pAkoras in a jiffy,

But Ramu told her   that  he would prefer Onion Rava  Upma,

And she rushed to make them    and Ramu’s father  ,

Thanked his son   for the kind   gesture  .

Ramu returned back   to his home   to see his wife  ,

Saw her making potato  Bajji  for their son and   the self same,

Onion Pakoras  for her brother  who has  come to visit  to them,

And   just as Ramu  entered  his BIL  had the last bite  of Pakora

Ramu  thought that  our women are  best possible mothers,

Wonderful   sisters   to their   brothers who come for a visit,

But he felt that   as far  as  giving the food needed by them is concerned,

They are  not at all  good wives, May  be not true  pf all women

Harivansh Rai Bachhan's poem on FRIENDSHIP :

    कुछ दोस्त बहुत    याद आते हैं....

Memories of some friends  comes in the forefront

Translation  attempt

By

P.R.Ramachander

(Great poems by great poets  do not move   you  in a translation, The choice of the words   they use  can never be brought  in by a translator. Still I am trying because  people who do not know  Hari Vamsi Rai Bachan  other wise   will never know  about his greatness. I humbly request  my friends  who are  experts in Hindi to pardon me   for my translation  is not for them. Hear  the great poem  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vMG-bGG--UM    .You would recollect  your great friends)

___________

....मै यादों का

    किस्सा खोलूँ तो,

    कुछ दोस्त बहुत

    याद आते हैं....

If  I open  the story of my  memories ,

Memories  of some friends  comes in the forefront

...मै गुजरे पल को सोचूँ

   तो, कुछ दोस्त

   बहुत याद आते हैं....

If  I think  about  the  time which has gone by ,

Memories  of some friends  comes in the forefront

...अब जाने कौन सी नगरी में,

...आबाद हैं जाकर मुद्दत से....😔

....मै देर रात तक जागूँ तो ,

    कुछ दोस्त

    बहुत याद आते हैं....

Now  if I Go to some town ,

And get merged  in some crowd

Or if I keep  awake   day and night

Memories of some friends  comes in the forefront

....कुछ बातें थीं फूलों जैसी,

....कुछ लहजे खुशबू जैसे थे,

....मै शहर-ए-चमन में टहलूँ तो,

....कुछ दोस्त बहुत याद आते हैं

Some    words  were there , which were like flowers

Some accents were there,  which were  like perfumes

If  In some   flourishing town   , I happen to stop,

Memories of some friends  comes in the forefront

...सबकी जिंदगी बदल गयी,

...एक नए सिरे में ढल गयी,😔

...किसी को नौकरी से फुरसत नही...

...किसी को दोस्तों की जरुरत नही....😔

Every one’s  life has changed

WE have reached   a new end

For some people   due to job   they  not have time

For some people    there  is no need of friends

...सारे यार गुम हो गये हैं...

...."तू" से "तुम" और "आप" हो गये है.

All  Friends   have been forgotten,

From “you”  they have become” Sir”  and  then   :”respectable sir”...

....मै गुजरे पल को सोचूँ

    तो, कुछ दोस्त बहुत याद आते हैं....

If I think of that time  which  has passed by

Then Memories of some friends  comes in the forefront

...धीरे धीरे उम्र कट जाती है...

...जीवन यादों की पुस्तक बन जाती है,😔

...कभी किसी की याद बहुत तड़पाती है...

  और कभी यादों के सहारे ज़िन्दगी कट जाती है ...😔

Slowly and slowly  our age increases

Life becomes a nook of memories

Sometimes someone’s memory  makes  us  suffer

And sometimes with the  help of memories  life progresses

....किनारो पे सागर के खजाने नहीं आते,

....फिर जीवन में दोस्त पुराने नहीं आते...

From the nearby sea ,  treasures  do not come out,

Then in life   friends   do not  become a  thing of past

....जी लो इन पलों को हस के दोस्त,😁

    फिर लौट के दोस्ती के जमाने नहीं आते ....

Oh my friend   Take these   words with a laugh

Again the days of friendship will not come back

....हरिवंशराय बच्चन

Thoughts of a son in New York

Thoughts of a  son in New York

Translated by

P.R.Ramachander

(Translated  from a Malayalam poem  which was sent to me  inWhatsapp )

Even If I am not an old man like my father,

I  am older  than my father

For my father  does not have pressure, Sugar and anger,

And I run much before   father in all these .

I am in New York, and I am a new Person,

I am top  in the  modern knowledge,

Modern machines, modern books,

Modern diseases and  I am independent

Four people    in four rooms,

Living as   four people  is my   present  heaven,

But rven in a shade  of a banyan tree,

Without getting ashamed ,

I  used  to stay   without    any shame

Though  my father lives alone  in my village,

All good things  of those villages  with him and he says,

“Oh darling son , can you not leave   your place,

Cannot you do something  here  in this place”

Have you not earned more than  what you need,

,Needed  things and things   that  are not needed.

When I make a call to my home Father says and adds,

“Darling son , how many  more  years will I live.?”

“My  new project  is stopping in the middle,

And people who have   studied new things are in the queue,

I told him  that  which I   tell him every time,

And father, automatically blurted out 

If there is a need  Jack fruit   can be produced  even on  the root,

From next month is  vacation  and son , please   do come,

Along with  bring your son and daughter? Do they remember me?

Not mentioning about my wife  and  not mentioning her   

was  not due  to  his  forgetfulness, at all

Several   facts   which would be  in his memory,

Would not go away   , even if he   looses   his memory

I was  brought up  just like   a crow and a koel,

Always being loved   and always spoiled

But now   I am in the nest without any love,

Just like a watchman resembling a  security animal

To all those   who see  me  “I am always in the car”

And “I am also  in the top rung  of fortune”

They   murmur , How  lucky  he is  and

The  star of  luck is shining in his life

If truth  is to be   told   we know   that is not life

The life that  is always   filled with Cars   and fortune

All those  way farers  of this life   are very anxious,

To make some meaning out of all this,

Is it because   lot of wealth got   attached to me.

That  I am living   this life   which is meaningless,

When  our growing  is much beyond expectations,

Do  we forget   about the roots   which are inside the  mud?

Even that  mud which was   the support of the   growth .

Of the self same roots    forgets it and later  a thought arose ,

About why there  is a need of   that  dirty mud and

Today I am realizing    that  this root is the only  the truth.

The father   is  blindly loving me   ,much more than,

The love  of a blind king  and to understand him,

One has  to necessarily   become a father

“Who is the great architect of this story  ,which

Now appears  to be a mere  nonsense  story

Conquer anger by a smile

Conquer    anger by a  smile

By

P.R.Ramachander

(Based on a tamil folk story that  I read)

One  Rakshasa   challenged   to fight  with Lord Balarama,

Who   accepted   and jumped   to fight   with  great anger,

The  Rakshasa  became double his size  and Balaram became double angry,

It went on  like that   without an end  and Balarama asked  Krishna  to help.

Krishna agreed and asked  his brother   to sit    and relax

Krishna  threw away  all his weapons  and with a  smile   faced his enemy,

The Rakshasa took his ordinary form, Krishna  smiled   and invited,

Him to come near,The Rakshasa  became small  and further small

Balarama  asked  how and Krishna   replied   that  the Rakshasa  ,

Was anger  , others anger was food for  him and he grows eating that,

But   if you are  not angry with    him  he starves ,

Becomes   tiny and tiny   and  eventually     vanishes   

What all would get spoiled

What  all   would get spoiled

Translated by

P.R.RAmachander

Neglected   crop would get spoiled

By  too much affection  children   would get spoiled

Without asking back   loan   would get spoiled(not  come back)

When we   ask back , relation    would get spoiled

Wealth got without searching  would get spoiled

Over eating would make  feast  spoiled

Without learning   education would get spoiled

Without good conduct life   would get spoiled

Incompatible   relations    would get spoiled

The   friendship which  we did not seek   would get spoiled

The words   which do not have   diplomacy    would get spoiled

The  child  to which we are not strict would get spoiled

If we run in to debt our life would get spoiled

By separation  joy would get spoiled

By money   peace would get spoiled

By great anger   life would get spoiled

Action without thought  would get spoiled

BY laziness   growth    would get spoiled

Without selfishness , work would get spoiled

Due to passion   nature  would get spoiled

Improper  relations    would get spoiled

Due to fear  , valour  would get spoiled

By ignorance  results would get spoiled

Without ploughing   land would   get spoiled

Without  work  body  would get spoiled

Without regular use  well would get spoiled

By  spoiling nature  ,   country   would get spoiled

Without wife   clan   would get spoiled

Without  mercy humanity   would get spoiled

By attachment   detachment would get spoiled

Without support  life  would get spoiled

Without rest old age    would get spoiled

Without virtue   a lady would  get spoiled

Without limitation  desire  would get spoiled

By fear a   coward   would get spoiled

Without   destination a travel would get spoiled

Due to desire  , mind  would get spoiled

Without   truth love   would get spoiled

Without feeling, humans would get spoiled

Without wealth   our importance   would get lost

If  our words   become lie  , our name  would get spoiled

The wick which is not raised   would get spoiled

The words   which criticize   would get spoiled

The trees which do not fruit would get spoiled

If  forest  is  cut off  , rain would get spoiled

Without  proper aim , hunting   would get spoiled

If we  only find fault  , relationship would get spoiled

If we do not live  in it, the homes   would  get spoiled

If poverty comes  , everything   would get spoiled

If we do not take  bath  , body   would get spoiled

If it becomes   cold  , food would get  spoiled

Due to  make up   , beauty  would get spoiled

By telling lies  our fame   would  get spoiled

Without  being alert  youth   would   get spoiled

If  we hesitate  our victory would get spoiled
If we do not sleep  , night would get spoiled

If we sleep   day time   would get spoiled

Without  concentration all activities  would get spoiled

Without ideas  ,  writing   would get spoiled

Do everything   without  spoiling , our life   would  become a pretty spring

Humble lunatic request to the mother of the world

Humble lunatic request to the mother  of the world

By

Sri Kumar  Ramanathan

Translated  by

P.R.Ramachander

 Does   the lotus hesitate  to grow ,

In a slushy mud  feeling  it would become  dirty?

Oh mother  , then why do you  hesitate ,

To keep   your lotus like feet  on my head.   

Oh mother  of the universe  who wore  the moon,

Without  bothering to see the stain in it,

Even though you  consider me unsuitable,

Please keep your divine feet on my  Head.

Oh  Shyamala  , who made a  foolish wood cutter,

In to one  of the greatest poets ever,

Without bothering  to see my suitability,

Please keep your lotus feet   on my head.

Oh great lady, who searched, loved  and married,

A beggar  wearing animal hide  and living  in cremation ground,

I, the great ignoramus came  in search of you,

Please gave  me alms  of great   wisdom

If only soul can be transplanted

If  only soul can be transplanted

Translated by

P.R.Ramachander

Did you not introduce me to this world,

Did you not make me reach the mansion  of respectability,

By making me climb the stair case of   education,

Did you not hug   and comfort me  , when I was sad,

Did you not go far , far away , to see and enjoy, when I was happy,

 Did you  not kiss  and comfort me  when I was ugly

That kiss  oh mother  is the rarest treasure  that I have,

And this daughter of yours, is getting drowned,

In her own tears and  longing for  that love from you again.