The Present - a story

Yona was standing at the corner watching intently her dearest ones coming and going and was curious to know what the fuss was about. Everyone was in a hurry and no one was acknowledging her presence. She was hardly 4 years old therefore could not comprehend the excitement brewing in the household. She could only understand that her mother had gone to hospital the previous day along with her papa promising her a present on her return. Yona was expectantly looking forward to get her cherished dream fulfilled. She saw dadi (paternal grandmother) and caught the pallu of her sari. Dadi gave her a stern look and asked her to sit. Yona’s eyes wetted. She felt that all those who had adored her, loved her till yesterday were behaving indifferently now especially dadi who loved her so much besides her mother. Yona rubbing her eyes and whipping her nose darted into her room closing the door behind her with a bang.

She woke up soon on hearing the commotion outside. She came out of the room and saw her mummy and papa coming out of the taxi to the clapping of everyone present. Curiosity took her over and she brought a small stool to stand on it to get a clear view. She was delighted and clapped as she saw a doll like package in the lap of her mother. “Mumma has brought the present for me, a Barbie.” She thought. After a while, her mother was made to rest on the bed made for her in her room by the side of a cradle. Her two little curious eyes were taking stock of the situation and wondering why her mother placed the present in the cradle instead of giving it to her as promised.

“This is my present. My Barbie. I love you mumma. You are the best.” Her girlish imagination ran riot. From bathing to combing and dressing Barbie.  Soon her mood changed when she found that her father was lifting her doll from the cradle and passing goody goody comments which she could not understand but knew by intuition that he was talking about her doll Barbie. She could not however reconcile with the fact that everyone was talking about the doll, her present, instead of giving it to her. Then she saw her dadi, bua (father’s sister)mami (maternal aunt), chichi (paternal aunt) taking turns to sprinkle sanitizer before taking her doll in their lap and kissing it while men folks were seen congratulating her father. Yona got angry and stomping hard, she started crying. Immediately her mother called her. She knew that she had got the attention of her most lovable mother. She rushed and tried to sit on her tummy when everybody present prevented her to do so including her mother and she was almost dragged from the bed. This forcible eviction surprised her. She never expected it from her mother at least with whom she had a strong bond till previous days. Tears welled out of her eyes.  Her mother noticed her shocked faced and gestured her to come to the left side of hers. She showed her the new born in the cradle. She was taken by surprise seeing a live Barbie like doll, but it was not Barbie. She asked her mother , “mumma, where is my present?”

“Which present, Yona? You have another seven months to celebrate your fifth birthday,” her dadi said.

“ No dadi, mumma promised me to bring me a present and I want that present now.” She insisted and started walking off.

“Don’t you see your present there ?.” her father fondly took her in his lap and pointed to the direction of the newborn. She did not respond but getting down disappointedly from the lap of her father, Yona lunged forward towards the cradle again and started playing with the new born rather reluctantly. Her mother was watching her every move with great interest. After playing for sometime she suddenly received a splash of water on hand. Yona was startled and started making faces. “ Eeech,” She said, “this cannot be my present. She is not Barbie. Mumma you promised me a Barbie.” Everyone in the room laughed and went outside to do their own chores leaving mother and daughter to settle the matter.

“Yona darling, this is your present. Your sister Sia. Didn’t you want a playmate. You play with her. She is your doll.” Mother tried to explain and make her understand. Yona simply listened bewildered how a small baby can become a Barbie for her.

It was getting dark. Yona was still with the new born, touching her small fingers, small feet, the face and sometimes  cupping her own face resting on the cradle and observing the new born intensely who was sleeping. Her mother could not help but make Yona more comfortable to develop a sibling relationship between the two. She was about to ask her to sleep when Yona slipped inside her bed, raised her chin, kissed her cheeks and asked, “ mumma where is my present?”

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All rights reserved/Tribhawan Kaul

Destiny of Flowers

Destiny of Flowers

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Approaching spring season

Bring ecstasy to blooms

Creating a new world

Banishing gloom

Blossoming into flowers

Sadness then overcomes

Shortened life, boon or bane

Getting plucked, time and again

Killing a living one for personal gain

For temples to adore

For deities to proffer

For hair to beautify

For bonds to testify

None can justify

Acts of fingers

Fragrance still lingers

Through the seasons

Waiting for a new beginning

Or the end

Destiny of flowers.

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All rights reserved/Tribhawan Kaul

कबाड़ीवाला Kabaadiwala

कबाड़ीवाला का आगमन
मुझे सोचने पर मजबूर करता है
बेकार की कुछ वस्तुओं को जब
घर के बाहर का रास्ता दिखाया जाता है
और एक प्रश्नचिन्ह छोड़ जाता है

मंथन करने को
काम, क्रोध, लोभ और मोह
मेरे दिलो- दिमांग रुपी घर में बसा कबाड़
बाहर क्यों नहीं निकाल सकता
कब मैं खुद कबाड़ीवाला बन गया
मझे पता ही न चला .
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सर्वाधिकार सुरक्षित/त्रिभवन कौल

Kabaadiwala (Hindi)

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Kabaadiwala ka aagman

Mujhe sochne par majboor karta hai

Bekaar ki vastuon ko jab

Ghar ke bhaahar ka rasta dikhaya jaata hai

Ek prashanchinh chod jaata hai

Manthan karne ko

Kaam, krodh, lobh aur moh

Mere dilo-dimaag roopi ghar mein basa kabaad

Bhaahar kyun nahi nikaal sakta

Kab mein khud kabaadiwala ban gaya

Mujhe pata hi na chala.

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All rights reserved/Tribhawan Kaul

God's Wrath

On 16^th June,2013 Kedarnath, Gaurikund of Uttrakhand was devastated by floods caused by cloud bursts killing approx 10,000 people and ravaging villages till Uttarkashi. Who is actually to be blamed?

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 HIS benevolence knows no boundaries

but incomprehensible is God’s wrath

thinks not twice while taking away all

forewarning always never to cross HIS path

but none heeds and who cares

nailed to cross one who dares

“never blame me,” thunders HE

blame the elements

wrecking the havoc

humans invited the wrath

what a pity !

Raping the nature’s generosity.

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All rights reserved/ Tribhawan Kaul

स्वयंनाशी

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शिव तांडव का रूप नया यह

प्राकृतिक आपदा का सवरूप नया यह

तबाही का मंज़र, कुदरती कहर है

मानवी भूलों का प्रतिशोध नया यह.

मोसमी बारिश भला ऐसी  रोद्र कहाँ थी

बाढ़ भूस्खलन जैसी त्रासदी कहाँ थी

मृतकों की संख्या हताहतों से जब अधिक हो

केदारनाथ, गौरीकुंड की ऐसी दास्ताँ कहाँ थी.

खंजर सीने में खुद भोंक चुके हैं

जंगलों को कंक्रीट बना चुके हैं

भू-ताप वृद्धि के कारण भी हम हैं

इस ताप में अब झुलस चुके हैं

व्यापारिक कारण जब प्रधान हो जाएँ

अतिक्रमणों का सामान हो जाये

पर्यावरण की जब करते हम हत्या

इसके श्राप से कैसे बच पायें .

ईश्वर को अब  दोष क्या देना

जो बोया है वही काटना

संभलो संभालो अब भी समय है

दशक उपरांत यह तो तय है

बलिवेदी पर तब देश यह होगा

माँ प्रकर्ति का आरोप यह होगा

जिसको जनम दिया था मैंने

उसका ही संहार किया है

अब मुझसे क्या आशा रखते

खुद तुमने  अपना नाश किया है

खुद तुमने अपना नाश किया है.

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सर्वाधिकार सुरिक्षित/ त्रिभवन कॉल

Swyamnaashi

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shiv tandav ki roop naya yeh

                  prakritik aapda ka sawroop naya yeh

                  tabhahi ka manzar,kudrati kahar hai

                  Maanvi bhoolon ka pratishodh naya yeh.

                  mousamibarish bhala aise rodhr kanhan thi

                  baad, bhoosakhlan jaise trasdi kanhan thi

                  mritiko ki sankhya hatahaton s jab adhik ho

                  Kedarnath,Gaurikund ki aise dastaan kanhan thi.

                  khanjar seena mein khud bhonk chuke hain

                  junglon ko kankreet bana chuke hain

                  bhoo-taap vridi ke karan bhi him hain

                  Is taap mein ab, sab zulas chuke hain

                  vyaparik kaaran jab pradhan ho jayen

                  atikramno ka saaman ho jaye

                  paryavaran ki jab karte hum hatya

                  iske shrap se kaise bach payen.

                  ishwar ko ab dosh kya dena

                  jo boya hai vhi katna

                  sambhlo sambhalo, ab bhi samay hai

                  dashk uprant yeh to tay hai

                  balivedi par tab desh yeh hoga

                  maa prakati ka aarop yeh hoga

                  jisko janam diya tha maine

                  usks hee sanhaar kiya hai

                  ab mujhse kya aasha rakhte

                  khud tumne apna naash kiya hai

                  Khud tumne apna naash kiya hai

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                  sarvadhikar surakshit/tribhawan kaul

Who am I ?

I was born in a Kashmiri Pandit/hindu family in Srinagar, capital of Jammu & Kashmir in India on 1^st January,1946. I spent the early phase of my childhood  in Srinagar till the age of seven and then migrated to Delhi with my parents. However visiting my native place often, to be with  its breathtaking natural scenic beauty, its rivers, temples, mosques etc.  sustained my love towards my birthplace. I befriended Jhelum, the river, for learning to flow constantly without stagnating, I prayed in the lap of temples and visited mosques  believing in two different faiths enriching brotherhood, peace and love. I remained in the company of flora and fauna which always surprised me witnessing the wonderful creation of that one entity, whom we call Ishwar, Allaha, or the God.

In Delhi, I was exposed to kavi sammelans/ mushairas( both poetic meets) held at various places and sufi singing by Qawwaals at Darghah Nizammudin Aullia. This exposure to varied thoughts  of different personalities and cultural ethos  remained  ingrained in my conscience. I started writing few poetic verses and then mixing them with simple one-act plays, also written by myself. At the age of 13, I got my first book ‘Nanhe Muno Ke Rupak’ published.

Joining the Indian Air Force in the logistic cadre (1967-2005) meant hibernation of my talent barring few occasions every year when I could showcase my talent and win accolades and prizes. Writing poems and expressing my feelings in verses had always been my hobby, but became my passion after retirement from the  Air Force in 2005.  Two anthologies of my hindi poems titled as ‘Sab Rang’  and ‘Mann Ki Tarang’ were published in the years 2010 and 2012 respectively. ‘Children of Lost Gods’ is my debut book in English poetry.

This poetry book ' Children of Lost Gods' is published by and available online with               www.cyberwit.net   ( in India)  and  www.amazon.com    (for USA/Canada.

The book has been hailed and reviewed by both Indian and International poets. Quote :-

The volume Children Of Lost Gods keeps the magazine touch of the poems of multiple themes concerning human life the poems of senses, of tenderness, of love and beauty , and especially of humanitarian impulse. The volume is studded with a variety of touches like the strong pulse of society with its evils affecting the precious lives of individuals, the romance as an essential bonding of the souls, and the dominating political effects as well. Instead of occupying a single label, Mr. Kaul is simultaneously the poet of society, of nature, and the poet of sense and sensibility. This is almost the fact that lends him a touch of a modern poet whose soul directly takes upon itself all the effects that affect, stir and strengthen him and his pen pours out all what his soul receives.

Unquote.