hindi poet sudama pandey dhumil kavita poems podcast by pooja prasad pur

Taste of iron

What word

Poems are made

Look it up

Fallen between letters

Read man

Did you hear that

Is the sound of iron or

Blood in the soil

Color of “

Taste of iron

Don’t ask the blacksmith

Ask that horse

Whose mouth is there.

Hi. I have brought Pooja Prasad today in the News18 Hindi podcast, some poems of Sudama Pandey Dhumil, a poet with traditionalistic attitude. The poem you just heard was titled Lohe Ka Swad. It is believed that this is the last poem of his life. If this is true, then it has to be said that while going foggy, we were told a deep thing. What is right, do not identify the right man, then ask him your questions. Dhumil is considered a realist poet. There is a lot of talk in his poems. There is rebellion against the system and society. But whether it is talk or rebellion – there is no sky or air from anywhere. Let’s listen to her next poem, titled ‘Laying next to the woman’ –

I’ve felt it for the first time

That nakedness

Against being blind

Is a strict action

Lying next to that woman

I thought hatred

And where the candles are useless

Proved and melted

Shadow of words

In the face of a creepy animal

My poems have changed

Of darkness and mud and meat

Dose is alive

Rubbing time

To erase

Only jumping bodies are not enough

While our face

Right in the kitchen

Front and night

At that time there is no way

When the watermelons are cut inside us

But on our head pillows

Turned stones

Lying next to that woman

I realized that the house

From the shame of small facilities

Is made

Inside which walking is not allowed by wearing a shoe

This is grass, that is, green fear

Who made me like this

Forced to think

At the moment it is so nice to think

That all the teeth of my neighbors

Are broken

Movement of his thighs

Frosty like peas

His eyes have lost his health

The wall is gone

Lying next to that woman

(when suddenly

In front of extinguished houses

The bells are silent)

I felt like panting

Jungle next to the marshes

Man is helpless, not helpless

And inside me is a cowardly mind

The one who protects me and the same

Heir to my buttons.

A poet like Dhumil never dies. Even if he stopped at the age of 38. By the way, he was born on 9 November 1936 in the village of Khevli in Varanasi. He had a brain tumor. He breathed his last on 10 February 1975. His writing was at its peak in the seventh decade. Most of the creators of this period were going through the pain of disillusionment. He received the honor of Sahitya Akademi 4 years after his death. Let’s hear his next poem – Dog

All his personality

Bequest of fingernails and teeth

For others

That’s a great leap

Dark nights

Jagran is against sleep

Has a blue growl

For your ease, you

Can you say dog

Between that fluffy tongue and the moving tail

Appetization of hunger

Is acting

He has something to do with your sharafat

She doesn’t have eyes

Was not there yesterday

Neither today

Out of all debate

That one piece of bone and

Mouthful

Is on the grain

Only once a year

Searching for a poison piece with his blood

To get the female out

With your chains

Complains

Otherwise, the whole year of completion

There is grass for that

Its right place is near your feet

But in your shoes

He is not interested

his look

Do not see the texture of shoes

Neither does she see the price

Just there

Sees dead cham

And till you come out of your feet

Waiting for him

(In full affinity)

Between his teeth and tongue

Greed which is you

Like a piece of savory bone

She loves

And there, there is a degree of suppleness

Has elasticity

Is soft

But don’t forget that these biggest things

She is shameless

Which in the end

Brings you on the same path

Where hunger –

That goth

Makes a pet.

It is known that both Loop and Dhumil’s attitude is very strong. But the big difference between the two is that there is no ‘middle ground’ in the eyes of the loop, while Dhumil’s poems make a statement about compromising with hunger and becoming a pet. His next poem that I am going to read is the grammar of the city. You will notice that in this poem also a compromise attitude will be seen.

City grammar

To correct the grammar of the city

A stroller

Is patrolling

Out of Election Advertisement

A man is on the road

Silence has fallen in the sky

It’s seven in the evening

In the fourth quarter of the language

With the face of ‘I am God’

That clown

Stands in front of that show-case

In which shoes –

Dressed like paan squirrels

And a snake of foreign tourist

is following

To be sung at his mouth

There is a lovely verse of jungle song

(Road closed ahead)

The red light is on

In the familiar voice of Firmashi songs

Encouragement of soldiers posted on the border

Is high

Today everything is a name

For the convenience of the people

Tradesman – is the truth

This is inflation

That has tricked the market

People are coming – going

And glad that the crowds are getting happiness

But listen! You gave your dog

Why have you opened the day

Before it gets caught

And tearing

Proving an assumption

Be halal in the hospital

If you look at it from the municipality

Want to save –

Put a strap around her neck

Really helpless

But to be alive

It is important to have a pet.

The opportunity that Dhumil has pointed out in his poems, he talks about the mixing of politics and religion, with which he has a fierce resentment, the conditions have not changed even today. Today’s vigilante generation also looks like them and they have their own reasons. She also feels that characterlessness has been transformed into the chair of ministers. Dhumil had talked about killing such a democracy in the city’s sunset poem. Listen – Sunset in the city

You in the heap of strange words

What are you looking for?

Your affinity –

That is a picture of burnt paper

The one who touches it will become ashes.

In the talkative minds of this country

Sunset of a foreign language

Is smoldering again

Red-green flag

Who were fluttering on the peaks till yesterday

Descending to the lower surfaces of time

Has become dark and depersonalized

Has been transformed into the chair of ministers

I’m sorry like you

I also told this country

Of a young man

Full of colorful desires

Had loved

But now, your face from the past

To see

Glass dusting is useless

He has gone

And now on both sides, just

The wall is

Behind which –

Autumn of political rumors

In the sky of sky

Favorite roles in the last play

Distributing

In rehearsal rooms

The dirty idioms of the windows are echoing

It is evening

At the end of the day, half in the dark

Sun shrouded

On your thighs

Breaking the catapult of lights

Color desires

The city’s best ‘show case’ ready

Still working

He and the public always

Interracial

Straight line cross

Has made the swastika symbol

And a bright round word in the air

Is thrown – ‘democracy’

Who is murdered hundreds of times a day

And every time

He lives on the tongue of wolves!

And now, on the go, I am sharing a small part of a long poem of Dhumil.

‘What is poetry ?

Have an outfit?

Kurta – pajamas? ‘

No brother

poem-

In the court of words

The innocent man standing in the court of convict

It is an affidavit.

‘What is it to build a personality

Character polishing –

To eat and earn –

Is the thing? ‘

No brother

poem

In language

There is a possibility of being a man. ‘

So, with these lines of poems of poet Dhumil, who uses the language of friends and writes an affidavit of innocent man, I leave today with these lines. Next time I will meet with the composers of another creator, till then leave the puja. Hi.

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