3 verses · ~1 min
वो गया वो गया बिल्कुल ही चला गया पहाड़ की ओट में
लाल-लाल गोला सूरज का शायद सुबह-सुबह दीख जाए पूरब में शायद कोहरे में न भी दीखे! फ़िलहाल वो डूबता-डूबता दीख गया! दिनान्त का आरक्त भास्कर जेठ के उजले पाख की नौवीं साँझ पसारेगी अपना आँचल अभी-अभी हिम्मत न होगी तमिस्रा को धरती पर झाँकने की! सहमी-सहमी-सी वो प्रतीक्षा करेगी उधर, उस ओर खण्डहर की ओट में! जी हाँ, परित्यक्त राजधानी के खण्डहरोंवाले उन उदास झुरमुटों में तमिस्रा करेगी इन्तज़ार दो बजे रात तक यानि तिथिक्रम के हिसाब से, आधी धुली चाँदनी तब तक खिली रहेगी फिर, तमिस्रा का नम्बर आएगा! यानि अन्धकार का!
1984 में रचित
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
Benares, the banks of the Ganges
In this evocative masterpiece, Tancrede Bastet captures the eternal rhythm of Varanasi, a city that breathes through its ancient ghats. The painting invites us to stand upon the sun-warmed steps of the Ganges, witnessing a timeless intersection of the human and the divine. The golden light of the subcontinent pours over the terracotta spires, reflecting the deep devotion of those who gather at the water's edge to perform their sacred rites. Bastet handles his brush with a profound sense of reverence, honoring the quiet dignity of the pilgrims and the weight of history that hangs heavy in the humid air. It is a work that transcends mere observation, acting instead as a humble bridge between the Western academic tradition and the vast, uncontainable soul of India.
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