14 verses · ~2 min
पाँवों से सिर तक जैसे एक जनून बेतरतीबी से बढ़े हुए नाख़ून
कुछ टेढ़े-मेढ़े बैंगे दाग़िल पाँव जैसे कोई एटम से उजड़ा गाँव
टखने ज्यों मिले हुए रक्खे हों बाँस पिण्डलियाँ कि जैसे हिलती-डुलती काँस
कुछ ऐसे लगते हैं घुटनों के जोड़ जैसे ऊबड़-खाबड़ राहों के मोड़
गट्टों-सी जंघाएँ निष्प्राण मलीन कटि, रीतिकाल की सुधियों से भी क्षीण
छाती के नाम महज़ हड्डी दस-बीस जिस पर गिन-चुन कर बाल खड़े इक्कीस
पुट्ठे हों जैसे सूख गए अमरूद चुकता करते-करते जीवन का सूद
बाँहें ढीली-ढाली ज्यों टूटी डाल अँगुलियाँ जैसे सूखी हुई पुआल
छोटी-सी गरदन रंग बेहद बदरंग हरवक़्त पसीने का बदबू का संग
पिचकी अमियों से गाल लटे से कान आँखें जैसे तरकश के खुट्टल बान
माथे पर चिन्ताओं का एक समूह भौंहों पर बैठी हरदम यम की रूह
तिनकों से उड़ते रहने वाले बाल विद्युत परिचालित मखनातीसी चाल
बैठे तो फिर घण्टों जाते हैं बीत सोचते प्यार की रीत भविष्य अतीत
कितने अजीब हैं इनके भी व्यापार इनसे मिलिए ये हैं दुष्यन्त कुमार ।
इति
The Poet
दुष्यंत कुमार
Dushyant Kumar
1933 · 1975
Dushyant Kumar did something that required a radical courage most artists never summon. He took a form synonymous with moonlit nights and the ache of unfulfilled romance and dragged it into the burning lanes where injustice stank and the ordinary man had no language for his helplessness. Born in 1931 in Uttar Pradesh, he dismantled the ornamental tradition of the Urdu ghazal and rebuilt it in Hindi as a weapon of the dispossessed. His singular collection Saaye Mein Dhoop became one of the most quietly devastating documents in the entire tradition of modern Hindi literature. The Emergency of 1975 gave his verses a context that proved them prophetic. Unlike mere political poetry, his words outlasted their moment to become permanent fixtures in the vocabulary of Indian dissent. He wrote not with a scholar's distance but with the shaking hands of someone who had looked injustice in the face and refused to flinch. He died at forty four, leaving behind a body of work so concentrated and incandescent that its light has not dimmed in half a century. To read Dushyant Kumar is to understand that poetry's highest function is not consolation but confrontation.
Paired Painting
Lady at her Toilet
In this evocative masterpiece, Hemen Mazumdar captures a moment of intimate, quiet beauty. The woman is lost in the delicate ritual of preparing herself, her back turned to the viewer as she observes her reflection. Mazumdar, often called the last romantic, possessed an extraordinary gift for depicting the soft texture of skin and the ethereal drape of fabric under light. This painting breathes with a gentle, hushed atmosphere, inviting us to witness a deeply private gesture that feels both timeless and fragile.
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