like pots on hooks

NaPoWriMo #8

खूंटियों पर टांगते हम
कल्पना ‘मनोरमा’

खूंटियों पर टांगते हम
बेहिचक अपने उदासी।

मौन दरवाजे संजोतीं
भोर से करतीं प्रतीक्षा
स्वेदकण भी साँझ ढलते
बाँचने लगते समीक्षा

सिर झुकाए सूना करतीं
जिन्दगी की उलटवासी।

सोचतीं रहतीं न कहतीं
अनमने मन की व्यथा को
पीढ़ियों से सुन रहीं हैं
अनकही धूसर कथा को

जब अबोलापन सताता
क्लांत मन भरतीं उवासी।

रातभर करतीं छिपाकर
हर थकन की मेजबानी
सोखतीं परिधान से वे
उलझनों की तर्जुमानी

बोझ ढोतीं ख्वाहिशों का
माँगतीं दिखतीं दुआ सी।


 

like pots on hooks 
Kalpana ‘Manorama’

unhesitatingly,
we hang our unhappiness
like pots on hooks

it waits all day
embellishing the doors with silence,
when the evening falls, even the sweat
drops begin to ask questions.
head bent down, it ponders
upon the puzzles of life.

it ruminates never revealing

the agonies of a helpless heart
it hears the ancient untold saga
of an ironic-gray sort
when unsettled by the muteness

a kind of weariness takes root in the heart.

behind the closed doors of a dark night
it courts every exhaustion,
like a costume it absorbs
a preference for confusion.
for the sake of all load-bearing hopes,
it goes around begging for a little grace.

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