Maruti Naik

Photo by Islam Hassan on Unsplash

सकाळी चालताना
अजान ऎकत
दिवस उगवतो

नऊच्या सुमारास
शेजारच्या घरातला
शंख ऐकत
मी लॅपटॉप उघडतो
काम सुरु होतं

संध्याकाळी पाच — सहा वाजता
एक बासरी वाला
सुंदर धून वाजवत
आपल्या घरी जातो
पाखरा वाणी

रात्री ऐकू येणारा
siren चा आवाज
मी हळूच डोळे मिटतो
नमस्कार करतो
कधी काळी शिकलेली
मध्यंतरी विसरलेली
आणि
आता पुन्हा आठवलेली
प्रार्थना म्हणतो

1

मैं और मेरे टेलीप्रॉम्प्टर
अक्सर ये बाते करते हैं
सच्चाई अगर लिखी होती
तो कैसा होता
मित्र ये केहते
भक्त वो कहते
गोदी मीडिया इस बात पे हैरान होती
खाखी चड्डी भी कितनी हंसती
सच्चाई अगर लिखी होती तब कैसे फेकता
झुमलो की रोटियां कैसे सेख़ता
मैं और मेरे….

#TeleprompterPM

टैलिप्राम्प्टर ने पुछा कैमरा से
की देखा है कही
जहापनाह सा हसीं
कैमरा ने कहा
ज़ूम लेंस की कसम
नहीं नहीं नहीं

#TeleprompterPM

kabhi aar
kabhi paar
laagey teer e nazaar
bhai kisney bandh kar diya
inka
tele prompter

Photo by Eyasu Etsub on Unsplash

some days its
at my brother’s bedside
as he lies
engulfed by tubes
and machines
keeping him alive
me making a wish
for him to get up
and go fishing one last time
the doctor reaching out
and putting off the ventilator
the flat line on the screen
the beeps
wake me up…

A good friend wrote back, after reading this poem . She asked "What is your idea of an equal sky"?

this is what I wrote back -

a sky that all can look at

gasp at the colors

it reveals at dawn

marvel at the colors

it displays at dusk

a daily reminder of its

partnership

with that great artist called nature

the sky a canvas

bespoke to each beholder

a sky that allows

someone to find words

hidden in the stars it shelters

and that immortal verse

etched across the moon

waxing and waning

testing patience

teasing ability

staying just beyond

the poet's grasp

a sky that cradles hope

in a tern finding

its way home

and providing joy for a child

as it nestles the kite she holds

a sky not owned by any one

a sky that belongs to every one

Photo by Efe Kurnaz on Unsplash

once important
now abandoned
mute witness of
dreams unfulfilled
course corrected

some entries
elicit a chuckle
with the aid of hindsight
some wrench out a sigh
relief at a bullet dodged
others a regret
a tear wells up

memory struggles
to attach a face
to some names
friends then
not even acquaintances now

the past mocks
neatly stacked into
categories
memories organised
in folders
a simpler life promised
descended into chaos

first hot
then rediff
moved to g
and now proton
address and ids
changed
surrender to a
new algorithm
chasing calm
or a fresh chaos

life goes on…

Maruti Naik

Maruti Naik

I write to remember. I write to remain honest. I write to leave a bread crumb trail for my daughter. I write to relax. Trying to impress my better half, I write