'अर्थपूर्ण जीवनाचा समाजात शोध' घेण्यासाठी २००६ साली डॉ. अभय आणि डॉ. राणी बंग यांनी तरुणांसाठी विकसित केलेली शिक्षणप्रक्रिया म्हणजे 'निर्माण'...

समाजात सकारात्मक बदल घडवून आणण्यासाठी विविध समस्यांचे आव्हान स्वीकारणा-या व त्याद्वारे स्वत:च्या आयुष्याचा अर्थ शोधू इच्छिणा-या युवा प्रयोगवीरांचा हा समुदाय...

'मी व माझे' याच्या संकुचित सीमा ओलांडून,त्यापलीकडील वास्तवाला आपल्या कवेत घेण्यासाठी स्वत:च्या बुद्धीच्या,मनाच्या व कर्तृत्वाच्या कक्षा विस्तारणा-या निर्माणींच्या प्रयत्नांचे संकलन म्हणजे "सीमोल्लंघन"!

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Showing posts with label कविता. Show all posts
Showing posts with label कविता. Show all posts

Wednesday, 31 August 2016

The Chimney Sweeper

               One of the greatest issues in William Blake's time, the late 18th century, was child labour. Kids as young as four were sold by their parents or were recruited from workhouses to work in mines, factories or to clean chimneys, due to their small size. A report to a parliamentary committee on the employment of child sweeps in 1817 noted that, "as the average size of a London chimney was only seven inches square, to encourage the sweeps to climb more quickly, pins were ‘forced into their feet’ by the boy climbing behind; lighted straw was applied for the same purpose. The sweep might be shut up in a chimney-flute for six hours and was expected to carry bags of soot weighing up to 30lbs (approx. 30kgs). Many suffered ‘deformity of the spine, legs and arms’ or contracted testicular cancer." The practice was not abolished until 1875, nearly 50 years after Blake’s death.
​            William Blake's poem "The Chimney Sweeper" (1789) (from his volume- Songs of Innocence) is set against this dark background of child labour that was prominent in England in the late 18th and 19th Century.
            A young chimney sweeper recounts a dream had by one of his fellow chimney-sweeper, in which an angel rescues the boys from black coffins and takes them to a sunny meadow. Interestingly, in this poem Blake uses a child's innocent and naive view and demonstrates how it allows the societal abuse of child labour. It also displays Blake's acute sensibility to the realities of poverty and exploitation that accompanied the "dark satanic mills" of the Industrial Revolution.




The Chimney Sweeper

When my mother died I was very young,                                                 
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could scarcely cry 'weep! 'weep! 'weep! 'weep!
So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.

There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved: so I said,
"Hush, Tom! never mind it, for when your head's bare,
You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair."

And so he was quiet; and that very night,
As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight, -
That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
Were all of them locked up in coffins of black.

And by came an angel who had a bright key,
And he opened the coffins and set them all free;
Then down a green plain leaping, laughing, they run,
And wash in a river, and shine in the sun.

Then naked and white, all their bags left behind,
They rise upon clouds and sport in the wind;
And the angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,
He'd have God for his father, and never want joy.

And so Tom awoke; and we rose in the dark,
And got with our bags and our brushes to work.
Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm;
So if all do their duty they need not fear harm.
                                                                     
  - William Blake

Question to the readers- Do you think the poem is relevant even today? How?

Saturday, 30 April 2016

यार हो

सूर्य केव्हाच अंधारला यार हो
या, नवा सूर्य आणू चला यार हो

हे नवे फक्त आले पहारेकरी
कैदखाना नवा कोठला यार हो

ते सुखासीन संताप गेले कुठे
हाय, जो तो मुका बैसला यार हो

चालण्याची नको एवढी कौतुके
थांबणेही अघोरी कला यार हो

जे न बोलायचे तेच मी बोलतो
मीच माणूस नाही भला यार हो

सोडली मी जरी स्वप्नभूमी तरी
जीवनाची टळेना बला यार हो

हासण्याची मिळाली अनुज्ञा कधी?
हुंदकाही नसे आपला यार हो

ओळखीचा निघे रोज मारेकरी
ओळखीचाच धोका मला यार हो

लोक रस्त्यावरी यावया लागले
दूर नाही अता फैसला यार हो

आज घालू नका हार माझ्या गळा
(मी कुणाचा गळा कापला यार हो)

                              गझलकार - सुरेश भट

Sunday, 28 February 2016

The Lost Generation

I am part of a lost generation.
And I refuse to believe that
I can change the world.
I realize this may be a shock, but
“Happiness comes from within”
Is a lie, and
“Money will make me happy”
So in thirty years, I will tell my children
They are not the most important thing in my life.
My employer will know that
I have my priorities straight because
Work
Is more important than
Family
I tell you this:
Once upon a time
Families stayed together
But this will not be true in my era.
This is a quick fix society
Experts tell me
Thirty years from now, I will be celebrating the tenth anniversary of my divorce.
I do not concede that
I will live in a country of my own making.
In the future,
Environmental destruction will be the norm.
No longer can it be said that
My peers and I care about this Earth.
It will be evident that
My generation is apathetic and lethargic.
It is foolish to presume that
There is hope.
And all of this will come true unless we reverse it. 
(now read the poem bottom to top- "There is hope/ It is foolish to presume that/ My generation is apathetic...")

 -A Poem by Jonathan Reed

Friday, 30 October 2015

त्याला इलाज नाही

धिक्कारिली तरीही सटवीस लाज नाही
श्रद्धा न पाठ सोडी त्याला इलाज नाही

देवातुनी जगाला ज्याने विमुक्त केले
त्यालाच देव करिती त्याला इलाज नाही

लढवून बांधवांना संहार साधणारा
गीता खुशाल सांगे त्याला इलाज नाही

तत्त्वज्ञ आणि द्रष्टे खंडून एकमेका
कथिती विरुद्ध गोष्टी त्याला इलाज नाही

ते भूत संशयाचे ग्रासून निश्चिताला
छळते भल्याभल्यांना त्याला इलाज नाही

विज्ञान ज्ञान देई निर्मी नवीन किमया
निर्मी न प्रेम शांती त्याला इलाज नाही

बुरख्यात संस्कृतीच्या आहे पशू दडून
प्रगटी अनेक रुपे त्याला इलाज नाही

असतो अशा जिवाला तो ध्यास मूल्यवेधी
अस्वस्थता टळेना त्याला इलाज नाही

ज्यांना अनेक छिद्रे असल्याच सर्व नावा
निर्दोष ना सुकाणू त्याला इलाज नाही

वृद्धापकाल येता जाणार तोल थोडा
श्रद्धा बनेल काठी त्याला इलाज नाही
                                                                              - विंदा करंदीकर

Tuesday, 28 April 2015

कविता

Possibilities  

I prefer movies.
I prefer cats.
I prefer the oaks along the Warta.
I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.
I prefer myself liking people
to myself loving mankind.
I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand, just in case.
I prefer the color green.
I prefer not to maintain
that reason is to blame for everything.
I prefer exceptions.
I prefer to leave early.
I prefer talking to doctors about something else.
I prefer the old fine-lined illustrations.
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems
to the absurdity of not writing poems.
I prefer, where love's concerned, nonspecific anniversaries
that can be celebrated every day.
I prefer moralists
who promise me nothing.
I prefer cunning kindness to the over-trustful kind.
I prefer the earth in civvies.
I prefer conquered to conquering countries.
I prefer having some reservations.
I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.
I prefer Grimms' fairy tales to the newspapers' front pages.
I prefer leaves without flowers to flowers without leaves.
I prefer dogs with uncropped tails.
I prefer light eyes, since mine are dark.
I prefer desk drawers.
I prefer many things that I haven't mentioned here
to many things I've also left unsaid.
I prefer zeroes on the loose
to those lined up behind a cipher.
I prefer the time of insects to the time of stars.
I prefer to knock on wood.
I prefer not to ask how much longer and when.
I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility
that existence has its own reason for being. 
                                                                                         Wislawa Szymborska


Saturday, 28 February 2015

कविता

We have come together and learnt.
And here we have dreamt...
And because we have been learners
We have dreamt of fantastic possibilities and of impossible things;
And it is in our idealism that we believed in them.
Now it is almost time for us to reach out
And even as we reach out, we will continue to learn;
And as we learn, they might tell us that what we had thought was wrong.
Then, we have to decide
Whether we wish to move out of our ideals and dreams…
Let us never be so afraid of being wrong
That we refuse to do what we think is right
And let us always be willing to put all our ideas to the test.
                                                                                               -J. Krishnamurthi


Wednesday, 31 December 2014

कविता

MAKE THE ORDINARY COME ALIVE

Do not ask your children
to strive for extraordinary lives.
Such striving may seem admirable,
but it is the way of foolishness.
Help them instead to find the wonder
and the marvel of an ordinary life.
Show them the joy of tasting
tomatoes, apples and pears.
Show them how to cry
when pets and people die.
Show them the infinite pleasure
in the touch of a hand.
And make the ordinary come alive for them.
The extraordinary will take care of itself.

-William Martin

Tuesday, 1 July 2014

कविता

सर्वात बुद्धीचा प्राणी!


खोदून काढली खनिजे
उकरून खोलवर खड्डे
शोषून घेतले पाणी
पाडून खोलवर भोके

बांधून नद्यांवर धरणे
आटवले प्रवाह अवघे
हटवले किनारे सागर
बांधले जुगारी अड्डे

देऊन ध्रुवाला चटके
ते बर्फ कवच वितळवले
फाडून हवेची वस्त्रे
पृथ्वीस भिकारी केले

अन म्हणतो आम्ही त्याला
सर्वात बुद्धीचा प्राणी
आईस करी हा नग्न
करी विनाश तो आपलाही

अनिल अवचट

Wednesday, 30 April 2014

कविता

है अँधेरी रात पर दीवा जलाना कब मना है
कल्पना के हाथ से कमनीय जो मंदिर बना था
भावना के हाथ ने जिसमें वितानों को तना था
स्वप्न ने अपने करों से था जिसे रुचि से सँवारा
स्वर्ग के दुष्प्राप्य रंगों से, रसों से जो सना था
ढह गया वह तो जुटाकर ईंट, पत्थर, कंकड़ों को
एक अपनी शांति की कुटिया बनाना कब मना है
है अँधेरी रात पर दीवा जलाना कब मना है
बादलों के अश्रु से धोया गया नभ-नील नीलम
का बनाया था गया मधुपात्र मनमोहक, मनोरम
प्रथम ऊषा की किरण की लालिमा-सी लाल मदिरा
थी उसी में चमचमाती नव घनों में चंचला सम
वह अगर टूटा मिलाकर हाथ की दोनों हथेली
एक निर्मल स्रोत से तृष्णा बुझाना कब मना है
है अँधेरी रात पर दीवा जलाना कब मना है
क्या घड़ी थी, एक भी चिंता नहीं थी पास आई
कालिमा तो दूर, छाया भी पलक पर थी न छाई
आँख से मस्ती झपकती, बात से मस्ती टपकती
थी हँसी ऐसी जिसे सुन बादलों ने शर्म खाई
वह गई तो ले गई उल्लास के आधार, माना
पर अथिरता पर समय की मुसकराना कब मना है
है अँधेरी रात पर दीवा जलाना कब मना है
हाय, वे उन्माद के झोंके कि जिनमें राग जागा
वैभवों से फेर आँखें गान का वरदान माँगा
एक अंतर से ध्वनित हों दूसरे में जो निरंतर
भर दिया अंबर-अवनि को मत्तता के गीत गा-गा
अंत उनका हो गया तो मन बहलने के लिए ही
ले अधूरी पंक्ति कोई गुनगुनाना कब मना है
है अँधेरी रात पर दीवा जलाना कब मना है
हाय, वे साथी कि चुंबक लौह-से जो पास आए
पास क्या आए, हृदय के बीच ही गोया समाए
दिन कटे ऐसे कि कोई तार वीणा के मिलाकर
एक मीठा और प्यारा ज़िन्दगी का गीत गाए
वे गए तो सोचकर यह लौटने वाले नहीं वे
खोज मन का मीत कोई लौ लगाना कब मना है
है अँधेरी रात पर दीवा जलाना कब मना है
क्या हवाएँ थीं कि उजड़ा प्यार का वह आशियाना
कुछ न आया काम तेरा शोर करना, गुल मचाना
नाश की उन शक्तियों के साथ चलता ज़ोर किसका
किंतु ऐ निर्माण के प्रतिनिधि, तुझे होगा बताना
जो बसे हैं वे उजड़ते हैं प्रकृति के जड़ नियम से
पर किसी उजड़े हुए को फिर बसाना कब मना है
है अँधेरी रात पर दीवा जलाना कब मना है
                                 -         हरिवंश राय बच्चन