For believing equality isn't a lie?
If that is true, then punish me now --
For tonight is a good night to die.
Should I sit in blissful comfort
And ignore common mercy's cry?
Then take from me my palace of dirt --
For tonight is a good night to die.
Should I keep silently chanting my prayers
Without questioning who, what or why?
If this is so then take my rosary --
For tonight is a good night to die.
Should I stand before an indifferent government
And let blood paint the sky?
Then let my blood give the first stroke --
For tonight is a good night to die.
Though it takes great strength to fight a war,
It takes more strength to forgive;
So, I honour the dead as I do the living --
For today is a good day to live.
My fanciest pen by Debanjali Adhikary
When you are fighting the war on the border of the country,
Then a mother fights with her emotion,
A wife fights with her fear,
And a daughter fights for her bright future;
Whenever your blood sheds,
Then and again my pen weeps bitterly,
Yes, you are also an ink of my medicine.
Whenever there is darkness in some place,
Then only those dreams and my pen live in the same darkness,
Yes, you are also an ink, my medicine.
The day you decide to make your parents' dreams come true,
Then my pen wishes for your bright future,
Yes, you are also an ink of my medicine.
When your children leave your old age home by saying 'will take you back home in a few days',
Then she becomes the hope of returning home, my pen,
Yes, you are also an ink of my medicine.
the day you fell in love,
At that time my pen also did love,
Yes, you are also an ink of my medicine.
With the night he left,
then your heart was broken
And my pen also stopped while writing his name,
Yes, you are also an ink of my medicine.
The night those wolves hunted you,
Then the soul of my pen also trembled,
Yes, you are also an ink of my medicine.
When your body was weighed with money,
Then my pen had forgotten its value,
Yes, you are also an ink of my medicine.
The quilt that brings relief in the winter of December,
The same relief becomes my pen,
Yes, you are also an ink of my medicine.
your cries,
your childhood,
your first love,
your youth,
your old age,
My pen goes on making all the statements because you are also an ink of my medicine.
Yes, you are also an ink of my medicine.
जीवन कीं पहेली by Surendra Narayan Saraf
पसीना पसीना बदन मैं जल रहा हूँ
न जाने किस किस से मैं लड रहा हूँ ।।
वक़्त के साथ हादसों में पल रहा हूँ
बढ़कर उम्र से कुछ साल चल रहा हूँ ।।
ख़ाली पेट चूल्हे पर पानी पका रहा हूँ
बच्चों की नजरों में खुद को छुपा रहा हूँ ।।
सातों आसमान में ख़ुदा को ढूँढ रहा हूँ
करिश्मे कीं उम्मीद में ज़िद्द निभा रहा हूँ ।।
वक़्त की चिंगारियों से समझौता कर रहा हूँ
जीवन कीं पहेली में सुबह शाम मर रहा हूँ ।।
