Poem by Gulzar

 Such a beautiful poem. I had this poem in person from Guljar when he came to our University. Our generation has grown up with both books and computers so we can relate so well to this poem. I keep thinking that the present generation which has grown up only with computers, I pads, smart phones cannot relate to this poem.

kitabein jhankti hain band almaari kay sheeshon se

badee hasrat se takti hain

maheeno ab mulaaqat nahi hoti

jo shameein in ki sohbat main kata karti thein, ab aksar

guzar jaatee hain computer kay pardon par

badi bechain rahti hain kitabein

unhe ab neend mein chalne ki aadat ho gayi hai

badi hasrat se takti hai

jo qadren vo sunati thi

ki jin ke cell kabhi marte nahi the

voh qadren ab nazar nahi aate ghar mein

jo rishte vo sunati thi

vi saare uDdhe uDdhe hain

koi safa palat ta hoon to ek siski nikalti hai

kai lafzon ke maani gir pade hain

bina patton ke sukhe Tund lagte hai vo sukhe alfaz

jin par ab koi maani nahin ugte

bahut si istelahen hain

jo mitti ke sakoron ki tarah bikhri padi hain

gilason ne unhein matruk kar daala

zabaan par zaiqa aata tha jo in safhe palatne ka

ab ungli click karne se bas

ik jhapki guzarti hai

buhat kuch tah-b-tah khultaa chalaa jaataa hai parde par

kitabon se jo zaati rabta tha kat gaya hai

kabhi seeney pe rakh ke lait jaate the

kabhi godi mein rakhte the

kabhi ghutno ko apne rehl ki soorat banah kar

neem sajde mein padhaa karte the, chhoote jabhee se

woh sara ilm to miltaa rahegaa aainda bhi

magar who jo kitabon mein milaa karte the sookhe phool aur mehke hue ruqe

kitabein maangne, giraane, uthaane ke bahaane rishte bante the

unkaa kyaa hogaa,  woh shayad ab nahi honge!

Books peep through the closed glass doors of the cupboard

With much longing and desire, they stare through

For months now, we don’t meet

Those evenings that would be spent in their company, now often

They pass by, staring at the computer screen

The books remain very restless now

They have fallen into the habit of sleep walking

With unfulfilled desire, they stare at me

The norms and values that they used to narrate

While the cells (battery) wouldn’t die (as they did so)

Those norms are not visible in the house anymore

Those relationships they would narrate

Those have been left incomplete

When I turn a random page, it lets out a soft cry

Some words have lost their meaning

The letters and words seem like dried trees without leaves

On which nothing of meaning grows anymore,

Just many terminologies

Just like clay-pots were left scattered

When glasses made them obsolete

The taste of turning pages that could be felt on the tongue

Now, on the click of a finger, it happens in the blink of an eye (goes unnoticed)

A lot of layers are opened and peeled on a computer screen

That personal relationship that used to exist with books, has been cut off

Sometimes one could just lie down with a book on their chest

Sometimes they would be placed in your lap

Sometimes the knees would become a book stand

Sometimes they would be touched to the forehead, in a half-prayer

All that knowledge and wisdom, will surely keep coming to us, in the future as well

But those dried petals and leaves that would be discovered in the pages of a book,

Those relationships that were formed in the borrowing, dropping, picking up of books

What will happen to all of that?

That may not happen any more