“𝐓𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐤𝐢 𝐂𝐡𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐞𝐢𝐧”

“𝐓𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐤𝐢 𝐂𝐡𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐧 𝐌𝐞𝐢𝐧”

— ᴢᴀᴋʜᴍᴏɴ ᴡᴀʟɪ ᴀᴢᴀᴀᴅɪ | ᴇᴋ ᴅᴇꜱʜ; ᴀɴᴇᴋ ᴅᴀꜱᴛᴀᴀɴ — 

𝐈𝐬 𝐤𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚 𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐚, 𝐤𝐚𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐩𝐧𝐢 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐡 𝐤𝐨 𝐯𝐲𝐚𝐤𝐭 𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐲𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐡 𝐤𝐞𝐡𝐧𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐡𝐭𝐚 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢, 𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐚𝐝𝐢 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐟 𝐞𝐤 𝐣𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐲𝐚 𝐠𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐤𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐡𝐢, 𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐫 𝐞𝐤 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐚𝐧 𝐤𝐢 𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐠𝐢, 𝐮𝐬𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐚𝐮𝐫 𝐮𝐬𝐤𝐢 𝐪𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐲𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐢 𝐡𝐮𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐢. 𝐇𝐚𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐡𝐫𝐞 𝐤𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐤 𝐤𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐢, 𝐣𝐨 𝐚𝐤𝐬𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐡 𝐣𝐚𝐚𝐭𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐢, 𝐚𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐢 𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐝𝐢 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐡𝐢 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐠𝐢 𝐣𝐚𝐛 𝐡𝐮𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐚𝐡𝐢 𝐝𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 𝐤𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐣𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐡𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐬 𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞. 𝐇𝐮𝐦 𝐬𝐚𝐛 𝐞𝐤 𝐡𝐢 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐤 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐥𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐢 𝐤𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐢 — 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐢 𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐲𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐢 𝐤𝐢 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐢, 𝐭𝐨𝐡 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐢 𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐲𝐞 𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐢. 𝐘𝐞 𝐤𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚 𝐢𝐬𝐢 𝐤𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐡 𝐬𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢 𝐤𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐚𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐚 𝐞𝐤 𝐣𝐚𝐳𝐛𝐚 𝐡𝐚𝐢, 𝐣𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐤𝐢 𝐜𝐡𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐛𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐡 𝐣𝐚𝐚𝐭𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧.

“Kai chehre, alag peshe, ek mulk, be-suni dastaan,

Magar in raahon pe bikhre, kitne be-naam qurbaan.”

 

Tirange ke saaye tale,

Har rang apni dastaan sunaye,

Koi shaheedon ka lahu sajaye,

Koi mazdoor ka paseena bahaaye,

Koi maa ki palkon tale aansoo chhupaye.

 

Har gali mein ek kahani, har chehre pe ek raaz hain,

Kisi ke haathon mein kitaab, kisi ke haathon mein saaz hain.

Koi sipahi, sarhad pe kai raaton, apni neend se ladta raha,

Toh koi mazdoor, dhool-mitti mein apna wajood khota raha.

 

Sheher ke chaurahon par,

Tiranga aaj bhi muskurata hain,

Magar kuch dilon mein khamoshi ka samundar,

Bechain lehron se ghabrakar lehrata hain.

 

Sheheron ke shor mein bhi, gaon ki khaamoshi rehti hain,

Koi likhta qismat apni, toh kisi ke haathon sirf roji roti hi aati hain.

Koi doctor zakhmon ko bharne ka kaam karta,

Koi shayar lafzon mein apne mulk ko salaam karta.

 

Kuch doctor, kuch engineer, kuch maalik hai dukaan ke,

Har ek ki zubaan alag, par dil mein Hindustan hain.

Chalte hain raaston pe laakhon, hausle bikhre hue,

Koi andar hi andar rota hai, lekin bahar fake hasi ka daur hain.

 

15 August aata-jaata hai ek jhooth ke sath,

“Unity in Diversity” ka vaada haathon main leke tham.

Par haqeeqat  main, footpath pe so rahe kitne bhookhe qatal-e-aam.

Daliton ke haathon tak paani bhi naqab pehanta hain,

 

Zameer ka zehar piyo —

Ye tiranga kaunsi azadi laata hain?

Magar jab tiranga hawa mein lehrata hai shaam ke baad,

Sab ka dil, ek sur mein dhadakta, bina kisi faasle ke saath.

 

Phir bhi —

 

Kuch dastaan labb tak aa karke ruk hi jaati hain,

Kuch sapne tirange ke saaye mein bhi dhundhle ho hi jaate hain.

Azaadi ka matlab sirf geet, parade ya jashn nahin hota hain,

Kabhi khoon-e-gulistan bhi iska farishta hota hain.

 

Kabhi yeh un aansuon ka farmaan bhi hota hain,

Jo maa ke galo pe behte, jab uska beta laut ke na aata hain,

Aur wo mazdoor, jo sapno ka kafan bichha kar so jaata hain,

Jab shehar uska naam tak bhool jaata hain.

Yeh azadi kaunsi hai jo laashon pe rangoli sajaati hain?

 

Azaadi ka matlab sirf “swatantra desh” se nahi tha,

Ye toh wo jazba tha,

Jisme log ek doosre ke dard ko apna samajhte the.

 

Lekin aaj —

 

Har zakhmi dastaan apna ghaav chhupane mein masruuf hain,

Har kahani apne hi zakhm sil rahi hain,

Aur yeh silayi ke dhaagey,

Roz-B-Roz kamzor hote nazar aa rahe hain.

 

Kitni ajeeb baat hain na —

 

Ek watan ek hi parcham ke neeche,

Hazaron roopon mein jeeta hain —

Kahin ek kafan main beta ghar laut aata hain,

Toh kahin ek sapna adhura reh jaata hain,

Aur kahin ek naujawan apni rozi-roti ke liye,

Apna desh tak chhod jaata hain.

 

Hum kehte hain — hum sab ek hain,

Magar yeh hothon ka bas ek jhootha naara hain.

Kyuki Ameeri — Gareebi ki rekha, aaj bhi khadi hai.

Kaun tod payega ise?

Kaun chir payega yeh parda?

Kaun sun payega in be-awaz dilon ki khamosh fariyad?

 

Ek jhande ke neeche hum sab ek jaise lagte hain,

Par haqiqat main har insaan apni dastaanon mein uljhe rehta hain.

 

Kai chehre, alag peshe — Magar ek hi matti ka pyaar,

Aur is pyaar ke beech chhupein hain —

Lakhon be-naam aansu, Hazaaron adhure khwab,

Aur har subah ek naye sawal ka izhaar.

 

Waqt be-rukhsat guzarta hain,

Tarikh ke rangeen panne palat-te rehte hain,

Magar dil ke safhe pe likhi kuch dastaan,

Kabhi feeki nahi padti hain.

 

Woh kahaniyan jo —

Mitti ki khushboo mein lipti hain,

Galiyon ki awaazon mein uljhi hain,

Aur shaam ke aasmaan tale bandi hain.

Zinda rehti hain.

Jaise koi maa apne bachchon ka khat

Apne anchal mein chhupa kar rakhti hain.

 

Magar phir bhi hum manate hain,

“Aazadi ka yeh Mahotsav” —

Kyunki yeh din yaad dilata hai humein,

Ki abhi baaki hai ladai hamari,

Aur abhi badal sakti hai taqdeer hamari.

 

Ek din jab hum parcham ko dekhenge,

Shayad hum uske rangon mein sirf fakhr nahi;

Balki un dastanon ka bojh bhi mehsoos karenge,

Jise humney kabhi sunaa hi nahi.

 

Woh qurbani jo kitabon mein nahi likhi gayi,

Woh ansu jo kisi maa ne chupa kar pi liye,

Aur woh sapne jo qabristanon mein dafan ho gaye —

Sab jhadiyon ki tarah jhuk jayenge,

Jab haqiqat ka toofan nazar aayega.

 

Azaadi ka matlab sirf “Jana Gana Mana” gaana nahi,

Balki un cheekhon ko sunna bhi hain,

Jo zinda toh hai, magar zanjeeron main qaid hain.

 

- By HARDIK JAIN. ©

Indore || MP
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