3 verses · ~2 min
बरफ़ पड़ी है सर्वश्वेत पार्वती प्रकृति निस्तब्ध खड़ी है सजे-सजाए बंगले होंगे सौ दो सौ चाहे दो-एक हज़ार बस मुठ्ठी-भर लोगों द्वारा यह नगण्य श्रंगार देवदारूमय सहस्रबाहु चिर-तरूण हिमाचल कर सकता है क्यों कर अंगीकार
चहल-पहल का नाम नहीं है बरफ़-बरफ़ है काम नहीं है दप-दप उजली साँप सरीखी सरल और बंकिम भंगी में— चली गईं हैं दूर-दूर तक नीचे-ऊपर बहुत दूर तक सूनी-सूनी सड़कें मैं जिसमें ठहरा हूँ वह भी छोटा-सा बंगला है— पिछवाड़े का कमरा जिसमें एक मात्र जंगला है सुबह-सुबह ही मैने इसको खोल लिया है देख रहा हूँ बरफ़ पड़ रही कैसे बरस रहे हैं आसमान से धुनी रूई के फाहे या कि विमानों में भर-भर कर यक्ष और किन्नर बरसाते कास-कुसुम अविराम
ढके जा रहे देवदार की हरियाली को अरे दूधिया झाग ठिठुर रहीं उंगलियाँ मुझे तो याद आ रही आग गरम-गरम ऊनी लिबास से लैस देव देवियाँ देख रही होंगी अवश्य हिमपात शीशामढ़ी खिड़कियों के नज़दीक बैठकर सिमटे-सिकुड़े नौकर-चाकर चाय बनाते होंगे ठंड कड़ी है सर्वश्वेत पार्वती-प्रकृति निस्तब्ध खड़ी है बरफ़ पड़ी है
इति
The Poet
नागार्जुन
Nagarjun
1911 · 1998
Vaidyanath Mishra, universally known as Nagarjun, was a literary force of nature who absolutely refused to bow before power. Born in 1911 in the Darbhanga district of Bihar, he earned the title of Janakavi or the poet of the people through decades of unyielding progressive writing. He wrote in both Hindi and Maithili, winning the Sahitya Akademi Award for his Maithili collection Patrahin Nagna Gachh. Nagarjun was a restless traveler and a committed activist who actively participated in peasant movements and went to prison several times. His poetry is stripped of all artificial elegance. It speaks directly with the raw, biting anger of the hungry, the marginalized, and the exploited. Whether he was exposing political corruption or writing tenderly about the first rains on parched village earth, his words carried the undeniable scent of the soil. He died in 1998, but he remains the ultimate benchmark for resistance poetry in India. He proved that true poetry does not reside in the palaces of kings, but in the sweat and struggle of the common folk.
Paired Painting
And We Are Laboring
Nicholas Roerich was a seeker of truth, whose soul found its home within the silent, majestic heights of the Himalayas. In this evocative piece from the Sancta series, he captures the intersection of human devotion and the eternal stillness of nature. The monasteries, perched precariously against the snow covered slopes, serve as a testament to the endurance of the human spirit. For Roerich, the act of painting these mountains was a sacred task, a bridge between the physical reality of the Tibetan landscape and the ethereal realms of the divine. The golden glow upon the walls of the dwellings symbolizes the inner light that sustains those who dedicate their lives to contemplation, existing in harmony with the frozen, crystalline world around them.
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