
4 verses · ~2 min
यह प्रदीप जो दीख रहा है झिलमिल दूर नहीं है थक कर बैठ गये क्या भाई मन्जिल दूर नहीं है
चिन्गारी बन गयी लहू की बून्द गिरी जो पग से चमक रहे पीछे मुड देखो चरण-चिनह जगमग से शुरू हुई आराध्य भूमि यह क्लांत नहीं रे राही; और नहीं तो पाँव लगे हैं क्यों पड़ने डगमग से बाकी होश तभी तक, जब तक जलता तूर नहीं है थक कर बैठ गये क्या भाई मन्जिल दूर नहीं है
अपनी हड्डी की मशाल से हृदय चीरते तम का, सारी रात चले तुम दुख झेलते कुलिश निर्मम का। एक खेप है शेष, किसी विध पार उसे कर जाओ; वह देखो, उस पार चमकता है मन्दिर प्रियतम का। आकर इतना पास फिरे, वह सच्चा शूर नहीं है; थककर बैठ गये क्या भाई! मंज़िल दूर नहीं है।
दिशा दीप्त हो उठी प्राप्त कर पुण्य-प्रकाश तुम्हारा, लिखा जा चुका अनल-अक्षरों में इतिहास तुम्हारा। जिस मिट्टी ने लहू पिया, वह फूल खिलाएगी ही, अम्बर पर घन बन छाएगा ही उच्छ्वास तुम्हारा। और अधिक ले जाँच, देवता इतना क्रूर नहीं है। थककर बैठ गये क्या भाई! मंज़िल दूर नहीं है।
इति
The Poet
रामधारी सिंह 'दिनकर'
Ramdhari Singh 'Dinkar'
1908 · 1974
There are poets who write of an age, and there are poets who become the age itself. Ramdhari Singh 'Dinkar' belongs entirely to the latter, a man in whom the entire volcanic conscience of a colonized and awakening civilization found its most thunderous utterance. He did not arrive at poetry. He erupted into it, carrying the red earth of Bihar's Simariya, the grief of a humiliated nation, and the primordial fire of Kshatriya rage that runs like lava beneath the crust of centuries. His verse was never merely literature, it was the psychological armature of a people learning to stand upright after centuries of bowed submission. When Dinkar wrote of Veer Rasa, it was not an aesthetic exercise. It was a consecration. His words did not describe courage, they manufactured it, pressing it into the chests of readers who had forgotten what courage smelled like. Works like Kurukshetra, Urvashi, and Rashmirathi are not books, they are monuments hewn from the granite of collective destiny. Rashmirathi alone resurrected Karna from the footnotes of mythology and placed him at the very center of moral tragedy, making the question of righteousness ache with a freshness that still draws blood. He carried the dust of ancient battlefields on his tongue and the roar of the Ganga in his lungs. Nehru wept at his verses. Parliament fell silent when he read. India named him Rashtrakavi, the poet of the nation, and it was the single most honest title the republic ever conferred. In the grand cathedral of Hindi literature, Dinkar is not a pillar. He is the foundation stone.

Paired Painting
Dark and difficult was the road
This poignant masterpiece by Nandalal Bose captures a haunting episode of the Mahabharata, where the traveler traverses the terrifying abysses of the netherworld. Accompanied by a guiding light, the human figure steps cautiously through a landscape of shadowy trials. The artist evokes the psychological weight of mortal endurance, spiritual testing, and the ultimate journey toward transcendent grace, bringing life to the eternal struggle of the soul navigating darkness.
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