The Cartographer : नक़्शानवीस

 The Cartographer

नक़्शानवीस

[ Poetry collection ]
Published By : The Poetry Translation Centre
London
Published November 2020
ISBN: 978-1-9161141-4-2
"What gives Rana’s poetry its magnetic quality is that, despite its philosophical profundity, his work is vividly accessible."
-Lucy Rosenstein
Mohan Rana’s intricate metaphysical poems are subtle, like water they define through transparency. His poems undertake the deceptively simple process of understanding things as they are, in their ordinary brilliance. This selection of profound, contemplative verse – so often concerned with memory and time – is an excellent introduction to one of Hindi poetry’s most enthralling voices.
With an afterword by Alison Brackenbury
-------------------
Available to buy :

https://www.poetrytranslation.org/shop/the-cartographer

 

 

A poem translated from Hindi /// To the Lost Children

कविता  - खोए बच्चों के नाम

To the Lost Children

I want to write to the lost children,
those whose clothes hung from the branches
of the mulberry tree, getting smaller
as the branches grew.
The tree gets thicker and thicker
until years later I see the old tree
bent over its own shadow.
The clothes turn to shreds;
their memories mix in the wind,
dissolve in water, sink under the seasons,
fade like a forgotten poem.
I set out to write about myself
but I start talking of someone else.
My contemporaries are growing older.
One day they too will go missing
like the lost children: one day.
One day will go missing out of many.
I want to write a letter
to the lost children
posted from their lost childhood.


Translated from Hindi to English

Lucy Rosenstein /// Bernard O’Donoghue
https://www.poetrytranslation.org/poems/to-the-lost-children

 =================================

Poem 'Khoye Bachchon ke Naam' 

A poem translated from Hindi into Bengali. 

Translation  by Preetha Roy Chowdhury

As the Past Approaches

As the past approached,
the future, even when you've lived it,
remains to be seen.
Behind that door
there is life. But guess!
Out or in?
This side or the other?
Closed or open?
Who's waiting for me there?
Who am I waiting for?
I have still to discover.
One foot forward,
one backward.
The truth is
neither key nor lock.

2005
Translation from Hindi  Lucy Rosenstein,
Bernard O’Donoghue
From  Chapbook  "POEMS"
Published by Poetry Translation Centre , London ; 2011

Selected from poetry collection "Patthar Ho Jaayegii Nadii",  Stone-River ; 2007

© 2020   Mohan Rana

आता हुआ अतीत 

 

आता हुआ अतीत,
भविष्य जिसे जीते हुए भी
अभी जानना बाक़ी है

दरवाज़े के परे ज़िंदगी है,
और अटकल लगी है मन में कि
बाहर या भीतर
इस तरफ़ या उधर
यह बंद है या खुला !
किसे है प्रतीक्षा वहाँ मेरी
किसकी है प्रतीक्षा मुझे
अभी जानना बाक़ी है

एक कदम आगे
एक कदम छूटता है पीछे
सच ना चाबी है ना ही ताला

(पत्थर हो जाएगी नदी, 2007)



© 2020  मोहन राणा  ।  Mohan Rana

Out of the womb -गर्भ से बाहर

Let me write something in the dark with ink
For a new birth in the world of light that can be read,
Poetry has to cut  mother tongue's umbilical cord

Stanza extract [Out of the womb] from 'Ret ka Pul' 2012

© Mohan Rana

कुछ लिख दूँ अँधेरे में स्याही से

जो पढ़ा जा सके रोशनी की दुनिया में एक नये जनम के लिए,

कविता को काटनी है भाखा की गर्भनाल

काव्य अंश [गर्भ से बाहर] 'रेत का पुल' ;  2012, संग्रह से

© मोहन राणा

The Cartographer

The Cartographer

Between the lines it’s you,
absent, but a silent presence
just as the rain is absent in the passing clouds.
There you are, absent, in every empty space
of life. In every gap of time
on these panic-stricken roads.
I don’t look out any window,
I don’t stop at any door
I don’t watch the clock
I hear no one’s call.
As geography changes its borders,
fear is my sole companion.


From Ret ka Pul (Bridge of Sand, 2012)

Translation from Hindi
Lucy Rosenstein, Bernard O’Donoghue

नक़्शानवीस

पंक्तियों के बीच अनुपस्थित हो
तुम एक ख़ामोश पहचान
जैसे भटकते बादलों में अनुपस्थित बारिश,
तुम अनुपस्थित हो जीवन के हर रिक्त स्थान में
समय के अंतराल में
इन आतंकित गलियों में ।
मैं देखता नहीं किसी खिड़की की ओर
रुकता नहीं किसी दरवाज़े के सामने
देखता नहीं घड़ी को
सुनता नहीं किसी पुकार को,
बदलती हुई सीमाओं के भूगोल में
मेरा भय ही मेरे साथ है ।


(रेत का पुल, 2012)

©  मोहन राणा

The Cormorant < Mohan Rana>

The Cormorant

Soon a new season will start
If there is spring in this latitude
I'll change my clothes
And stroll around guided by maps
Trees will come into leaf
Birds fly back from near and far
I hope there will be no news
Of a new war
I'll clear my throat to say the half-spoken but fall silent
May this spring be so long that the memory of
Autumn does not return to the solitude of words

Spring is getting shorter each year
Each year grows shorter in spring,
So short that sometimes
Only two seasons seem to be left now -
Good and bad
Joy and sorrow
Love and fear
You and I
May spring and autumn be divided between us
And the withering rain remain all year long

I thought, let's catch the fragrance of a taste coming from the kitchen
On my sleeve and write it down
Wishing to understand something in the quiet back yard
Searching in a tiny space for a corner to stand,
Time may come soon
To divide the world
All has to be forgotten in order to remember
Alone with the inventory of necessary baggage,
Life requires not just breath
But flames of love in mind's shadows -
The hand which breaks the fall

Small change in the abacus adding the loan of drudgery
Nervous in the decrepit present, feeling my dry cheeks,
I haven't yet seen the past
From inside the mirror
When I leap in its luminous unknown
I lose one thing to gain another

 

 [2009} From collection 'RET KA PUL' 2012

Translation from Hindi by Lucy Rosenstein 

©  Mohan Rana 2019

प्रतिक्रिया

 प्रतिक्रिया

यहाँ जमकर बारिश हो रही है यानि बाहर भीतर धुलाई ,
अच्छे मौसम की आशा में हम कपड़े धोते हैं
 पर समय के निशान शायद प्रकृति भी नहीं मिटा पाती
और वे और गहरे और पक्के होते जाते हैं। 
इन पंक्तियों के संस्‍कारों की संवेदना पुर्नभव हो घनीभूत  होती जाती है
लिखकर धोते धोते उन शब्दों को जो अप्रयास लौटते
सायास भूलने पर भी उन्हीं के सहारे।

©  28.8.16

रेत का पुल/ RET KA PUL

Mohan Rana's poetry is always tuned to sounds from near and afar. At the same time it captures in its images the essence of close and distant sights. In his poetry memories too play an important role. Weaving together all of these, it connects us with experiences which are very rare. They expand our vision and their subtle connections hand us some invisible strings of perception. Passing through these experiences is pleasant, yet often the questions and the sting of pain present in them provoke us to appraise reality anew. Reading his poetry acquaints us with the intimate side of daily life in a new way. At the same time, it takes us along at the speed of lightning and makes us travel through new dimensions of everyday social and family life. Written in accomplished language, his poetry attracts us also with its natural charm.
These qualities are abundantly present in Mohan Rana’s new collection. Moreover, it is notable that in it he has also invented a new poetic language for himself. These poems have a new cadence. Urdu poetic forms have been included and this naturally reminds us of the poetic range of a lyricist like Shamsher.
These poems have wide concerns. They are not only restless in their search for life-values in a changed global world; there is also a dreaminess about them. They enter the deepest folds of the psyche in a new manner, and at the same time look at the happenings in the outside world with a piercing gaze; world which is flooded with scraps of language yet language itself has to overcome this deluge to regain its pure form. This collection has made the terrain of Mohan Rana's poetry more fertile and given Hindi poetry itself a personal expression which will attract the attention of many.

Prayag Shukla   18/7/12

मोहन राणा की तीन कवितायें

मोहन राणा की तीन कवितायें

मोहन राणा

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Time Zone

Who is time?

कालः सुप्तेषु जागर्ति कालो हि दुरतिक्रमः ।
कालः सर्वेषु भूतेषु चरत्यविधृतः समः ।। १/२५०॥[महाभारत /आदिपर्व]

Acacia

Acacia

On waking each body assumes my guise
Pressures of everyday worldliness abound all around me
As I begin the quest for the real
Wearing yet another mask of mine
I have hung my trophies on the wall quite systematically
I have found many missing ones lending them my identity
Having occasionally posted their “gone missing” notices
Kept their memories hanging on Acacia branches, flip flops
And my socks, both were stung by nettles of the prickly clime
Now let it end, at every sigh I am more replete with the humid air
In the inertia of walking to the corner of earth, I slowly become
A winged creature void of flight, thrust into a glassy alcove
Who, with the changing directions of light
Keeps revolving on a clamp for endless revolutions
The gathering of dust on my trophies is a triumph in itself
While trying to lose the coming ones
While trying to forget written words
Dejected my falsehood was not so real
Despite my daily identifications of the invisible Aeyaar*




Translation from Hindi by Arup K Chatterjee.

*A mystical raconteur with talismanic powers to shapeshift.