There is joy in rediscovery. One such was:
तुझको मुझको जीवन अम्रित अब इन हाथों से पीना है
इनकी धड़कन में बसना है, इनकी साँसों में जीना है
तू अपनी अदाएं बक्ष इन्हें, मैं अपनी वफ़ाएं देता हूँ
जो अपने लिए सोचीं थी कभी, वो सारी दुआएं देता हूँ
Amit and I have this thing going about translations, (and it has been a while since either of us translated anything) so I’ll invite his comments on this average translation of the stanza above:
You and I have to drink the nectar of life with these hands
We’ll reside in their heartbeats; live in their breath
You bestow your grace on them; I’ll pledge my faithfulness
Prayers that I had once wished for myself, I grant to them.
(The “their” and the “them” are the moments that the poet belongs to.)
A few days ago, I had posted the stanza on my Tumblr blog, and said that it was possibly one of the best expressions of commitment to life. Having played this stanza a few hundred times, since then and having marinated it long enough with the context of events in my recent past, meanings for this stanza in particular and the song in general, have evolved. It’s not about a commitment to life or the moments, it’s an expression of commitment. Period.
One theme that this stanza insists on, is that commitment is full-duplex; not simplex. Which makes sense, and overthrows a traditional belief that you commit. There is always a “commit-to”. In that sense, the full-duplex makes complete sense. It’s almost like saying, “I give my commitment”, but it’s incomplete without hearing, “I take your commitment.” Can commitment be complete if it is not accepted; acknowledged at least?
Over a period, all that you loved once gets mired with cynicism and disenchantment; the clouds float low and obstruct vision. Without getting into the obvious complications of defining love, what goes amiss is the energy and the sense of being alive, we feel when we are in love. We look at the cracked walls and we doubt the foundations. The drudgery of everyday life and continuing disappointments wear off that sense and it is replaced with zombie-like state that isn’t easy to ward off. I believe it may be so, because the zombie has neither a head nor heart nor a soul. Somehow, we manage to pay more attention to the negativity. Without warning it becomes a habit.
Along comes a song – a stanza to be precise – that you always knew but never really paid attention to; awakens you to the state that made you love something in the first place. There were words that once poured of the angst and the ecstasy of being in that state. They come back to you.
And you become what you were – a poet – a poet of the moment – a poet of each moment.