Dr. Sandeep Kumar Kar - Page 3

He is Lone, Alone amidst Thousands

Majrooh Sultanpuri (Kabhi haan Kabhi naa)
Translated by Dr. Sandeep Kumar Kar

He is lone, alone among thousands.
Perpetually you have seen his profligacy,
never seen his ingenuity.
Never have you carved out leisure,
from your own cobwebs,
to perceive the feelings of his heart.
Whom you consider a stone,
Real diamond he is in essence
Perpetually you have seen his profligacy,
never seen his ingenuity.
Always you have glitched up the flute,
as a log of wood,
Never could you listen ,
the beauty of its tunes.
You have descried the mud
in the lamp,
never beamed the glory of its flame.
Perpetually you have seen his profligacy,
never seen his ingenuity.

The Transitions

The state of darkness
accelerates our delight in the sunlight.
The state of stagnation,
glorifies the state of motion.
The taste of nectar is achieved,
after the bee has thoroughly wandered.
The brightness of the sunlight
and their triumph in outshining,
The twinkling stars,
activates my taste
for the cosmic starlight.
The boredom at noon,
increases my delight,
for the games at twilight
The hurly burly of life,
increases my appetite,
towards the divine.
The state of isolation,
increases my inclination for
the poetic expressions.
All these phenomena hum a common rhyme.
The transition glorifies the succession.


Time moves at an unceasing pace.
The passage of time, brings in its wake,
all manner of changes.
The child grows into a youth,
and the youth into an old man.
One generation yields place to another,
but time has no time to bother.
Social, political, economic systems
and ideologies change.

There is the world to witness,
the tyranny of Idi Amin
and the diplomacy of Churchill.
Empires rise and fall,
empires thrive and dwindle,
the stars may stop their twinkle,
but time is never wrinkled.

Time moves on unabated,
bringing forth ceaseless changes.
Time is like a consuming fire,
which can destroy all monuments of glare,
burning all cobwebs,
it prepares the ground,
for the renovation of ideas.
It is the mightiest of the mighty.
Isn’t it foolish to compare the pace of time,
with the pace of human mind?


As the falling rain,
prepares the earth, for the future crops,
Sorrows, showering on the heart
prepare and mellow it,
for the sowing of the seeds of wisdom,
perfecting the mind, and
gladdening the heart.
Clouds darken the earth,
but to cool and to fructify.
Grief like clouds,
shadow the heart,
to prepare it for nobler things.
Sorrow, the hour of reverence,
death knell blow to shallow sheer,
the ribald yest,
the cruel calumny.
Sorrows soften heart with sympathy,
enriching the mind with thoughtfulness,
the real collection of it,
being the fructification of mind,
when the sorrows pass away.