N.S. Tasneem   

Niranjan Singh Tasneem (b. 1929) is better known as a novelist and literary critic. But his interest in poetry dates back to his college days. He has composed a few ghazals in Urdu and has also written some poems in English and Punjabi.

Where do we go from here?

Where do we go from here,
my dear__?
Not that we are in a hurry
the time can stand still
for sometime more.

In the meanwhile
we can look back to see
the crumbling walls of despair
that reveal frustrations
once piled up so high
even on tiptoe
we couldn't touch the crest.

Now they lie scattered
on the sandy shores of time
some dead
while others gasp for breath
their eyes glued at us
seeking recognition
of the days gone by.

Now it's difficult for us
to retreat a few steps
to provide them succour
to lift them up
to caress them
or to assure them t
hat we are still
their old admirers.

Those days are past
but my dear__
where do we go from here?                             Aitthon hai him kitthejana (2004)                                                           


The Cup

Every morning
tea is served to me
in the same cup

The day starts
when I place my lips
on its rim

The cup always full
is drained off
in slow measures

How I love
to sip it at leisure
instead of gulping it down

I always relish
this cupped warmth
in the valley of icy winds

The last draught
is taken hurriedly
lest it cools down

The time will come
when the cup cools down
awaiting the intimate touch

Could it be
the cup is left behind
brimful rather than empty ?                                 Ik Pyala (2002)

B. S. Bir (b. 1947) is postgraduate in English and Punjabi. He edits monthly journals, namely 'Mehram', 'Haar Shingar' and 'Modern Kheti' published from Nabha. He has written, besides fictional work, poems and ghazals which have been collected in Prism de Aar Poor (2002), Surmel (2002) and Roshanian de Pyramid (2004). He has an inimitable style and expresses his views without any inhibition.

The Air Hostess

Whenever I travel by an aeroplane
the air hostess
welcomes me with a smile
her face blooms like a flower
And the lips are veritable rose petals.

Sometimes she feeds me
like the younger sister of my wife
while at times
she acts like a cup-bearer
never letting my cup go dry.

...and then like a cute nurse
she wraps me up in a blanket
and while bidding me goodnight
this fairy of the dreamland
tip-toes away
scattering dreams in my eyes.

...and then at my destination
she waves a goodbye to me
'Come again', she says
this doe-eyed girl
but never meets me again.

Still, the same air hostess
if she meets me by chance
in the waiting-lounge
or at the air-port
....like a stranger
she glides past me
...this pert girl
sleepy and drowsy
the fairy of the sky.                                     Air Hostess (2002)


The Third Calamity

In the verandah
of the gynae ward
a grandmother
is lulling to sleep
her two grand daughters
lying on her knees
as she mumbles a prayer
to the great Guru.

...she opens her eyes
at times
but soon she shuts them up
engrossed as she is
in her contemplaton of the Lord.

I just interrupted her silence
and asked...
'Bebeji, what are your musings?'
she said-
'It's the third delivery
of my daughter-in-law
the last one
after the caesarian operation
so I pray to god
to be merciful to us'
I asked again
'What do you pray for?'
she replied
'Both of these
are the sweet fruits
and the divine glory
dwells in them
welcome we do
whatever is portioned out to us
but at this time
apprehensive we are
of the third calamity.

So saying
she again started patting fondly
the heads of both of them
felt soaked in the shower
of maternal blessings.

...and the lady doctor standing nearby
exclaimed, with all the reverence
for the old lady-
'Praise be to the Lord
for this wonderful universe.'                                 Teesri Museebat (2002)