खिड़की से उड़ते परिंदे को देखते हुए
उसने अपनी थ्री बी.एच.के. फ्लॅट की गैलरी खोली,
और सोचने लगा
"ये परिंदा है कितना खूबसूरत!
सफ़ेद रंग, लाल चोंच, साफ-सुतरे पंख, घुंगराले बाल "
शायद परिंदे का नाम वो गूगल पे धुंढ़ नहीं पाया
क्युकी ऑप्शंस बोहोत आगये
वो छोड़, फिक्शन लिखने वाला ये लेखक
जिसके खयालो में पंछी-भी बाते करते है
जंगल बुक के कायदे से
अपनी मनघडन कहानी को रेटते हुए
बडी सिद्धत से पूछने लगा
“परिंदे, तुम्हारा नाम क्या है?
अच्छा छोड़ो अपना उपनाम बतावो पहले
दिखने में तो कोई देशवासी नहीं लगते
यही के हो या दूसरे देश के?"
प्रश्नार्थक आँख मीचकके
अपने फोन की स्क्रीन की तरफ देखके बोला,
“नार्थ-ईस्ट से हो?
मतलब काफी बर्ड सेंच्युरीज है वहा इसलिए पूछा
अकेले ही हो?
बाकि पंछियो की टोली नहीं है साथ?
मिया, बीवी, बच्चे, माँ-बाप, गांव-शहर..."
लेखक की कहानी को किरदार मिल गया
जियोग्राफी भी मिल गयी,
थोड़ा इतिहास,
थोड़े रिस्ते-नाते का ड्रामा,
और कुछ राजीनीति के चूनिन्दा किस्से डालो
तो कहानी के बेसिक्स पुरे
क्या पता नेटफ्लिक्स-अमेझोन वाले खरीद ले?
पंछी, एक पंछी था,
वो न बोला, ना समझा
अगर बोला तो क्या बोला?
समझा तो क्या समझा?
कुछ भी नहीं पता
न लेखक से किसीने पूछा, न समजने का सोचा
इतिहास-राजीनीति के वो फिक्शनल पन्ने,
शायद ही कभी किसी परिंदे के थे…
~ ज्ञानेश | मार्च २०१९
आयुष्यात यावा दुष्काळ,
तसा कवितेला देखील येतो आवर्त
जमीनीला भेगा पडाव्या
तश्या मनातल्या चेतनांही अर्थाच्या अभावाने फाटत जातात
शब्द, सावलीच्या शोधात दूरपर्यंत दिसेनासे होतात
पेन गळून पडतो, शाई सुकते, उन्हाच्या तढाक्याने
कवी टाकतो बालटी खोल अंधार विहरीत
पाण्याच्या अर्थरूपी शोधात
अर्थविन कविता, पाण्याविना माणूस
सापळा होऊन कुजवते मन आणि शरीर
आता उरलं काय कवींमध्ये?
आशा!?
आशा, कदाचित हीच कि
अंकुर फुटतील त्याच्या खत झालेल्या अस्तित्वावर
आवर्तानंतरच्या पाऊसाने
~ ज्ञानेश । एप्रिल २०२४
[Intro]
I was unaware of the word "mind"
Until the day, I was epistemologically muted, injured, slaved, killed, and buried;
Along with a long line of ancestry for millennia now.
Neither do I claim today that
I know about the "mind" reasonably enough.
But I have a story to tell you,
The story of "my mind and its evolution, devolution, and revolution."
[1]
I could collect some of the glimpses of me.
As once upon a time; being a child;
I was curious to find out;
What makes me moving? What keeps me driving?
Is it me who wakes up in the morning and sleeps every day?
Is it me who walks upon the floor,
climbs trees, runs into farms, swims into the river?
Is it me who speaks, sings, and who thinks?
Or is it all done by someone or something else?
Where does everything come from?
How do things move in a way in which I like them to move and not to move?
Why do things go in a way where I want them to go and not to go?
It was all the childhood, though,
The best time to articulate all silly, rather most intellectual questions,
But sadly, nobody was there to answer
[2]
I was kept confused, muted;
Moreover, my curious mind gradually stopped asking those questions
Because parallelly, as I was growing up in a social system,
Just the body was growing; with a more puzzled mind
I had been convinced to understand and accept a narrative that
I belong to a commune; which is impure, filthy, untouchable and unfit even to think or ask
Well, the name of this commune was "***"
An antijya caste, according to Manusmurti of Purusha-Sukta in Rig-Veda;
Not supposed to educate, learn or teach
A class, according to the depressed and downtrodden norms;
Not allowed to accumulate wealth or capital and meant only to serve the unclean jobs
It was being imposed on the mind, and half believed;
That my clan is not a human clan, unlike others
Where dignity; the very principle of axiological aesthetics of me being a living specie;
In a society where non-living stones are prayed and worshiped
And the ontological existence of me being a human seemed far away and unreal
[3]
As I grew up and learned to read, comprehend to relate, and self-taught to unlearn,
The mind slowly began to unfold the buried consciousness
As if it has found its own beauty in functioning, and aesthetics of its own creation
I could see and understand the differences, ironies, inequalities, and injustices
The intersections of "self" with the ideas, concepts, and theories of humankind
Have opened me new ways to undermine all the orthodoxically constructed forms
The decoding of these combat junctures like "self", "mind", and "caste";
Initiated to unravel the layers of imposed narratives
And it began to reconstruct the liberation of me and the commune
To reclaim the taken dignity, freedom, and most importantly, "the mind"
It is now on the verge of getting free
And I believe it will always remain free
~ Dnyanesh | Tuesday, 10th August 2021
*** signifies the denial of the former caste nomenclature; instead the name has been transformed into nav-buddhist in contemporary anti-caste politics.