हम दो भाई, जन्म से संग, पर मिलते नहीं कभी।
विपरीत दिशा में मुख हैं, किस्मत की ये कैसी ठगी!
हमारा काम बस सुनना, सुनते हर बात पुरानी,
बुरे बोल या मीठी बातें, सब कानों से जानी।
हुक बन गए धीरे-धीरे, चश्मे का बोझ उठाया,
आँखों का साथ निभाने में, हमें ही दर्द में पाया।
कहते नहीं तो क्या हुआ, सुनते तो सब कुछ हैं?
बोलने वालों की जय-जयकार, क्या हम बस यूँ ही फालतू हैं?
बचपन में खींचे गए हम, जब बात समझ ना आई,
बड़े हुए तो सज गए, पर तारीफ चेहरे ने पाई।
बालियाँ, झुमके, नथनी, सब हम पर लटके,
पर सुंदरता का श्रेय, बस आँखों-होठों को भटके।
काजल, लाली, क्रीम-पाउडर, चेहरे पर ही लगते हैं,
क्या हमने कभी कुछ माँगा? क्यों हम उपेक्षित रहते हैं?
जैसे ब्याह की बची पूरी, किनारे हम चिपका दिए,
बालों से कट भी जाए तो, डेटॉल से चुप करा दिए।
दर्द बांटने से घटता है, पर किसको हम ये बताएं?
आँखें तो बस रो देंगी, नाक बहने लग जाए।
मुँह चीखने लगेगा, दर्द हमारा समझ न पाएगा,
जनेऊ, पेंसिल, गुटखा, मोबाइल, सब बोझ हमीं उठाएगा।
अब मास्क का नया झमेला, हम ही इसे सहते हैं,
कान नहीं, हम तो बस, हुक बनकर रहते हैं।
जो कुछ भी और टाँगना हो, ले आओ, भैया,
हम तैयार हैं, और सहने को, बन कर मजबूत हुक का सैया।
"I am an ear, there are two of us, twin brothers, but our fate is such that we've never even seen each other. Who knows what curse caused us to be attached in opposite directions. The sadness doesn't end there; we've only been given the responsibility of listening. Abuses or applause, good or bad, we hear it all...!!
ReplyDeleteSlowly, we started being treated like hooks. The burden of spectacles was placed on us; the frames' arms were hung on us. We endured this pain. What's the point of dragging us into the matter of eyes and glasses? Just because we don't speak, does that mean we don't listen? Why are only the speakers always at the forefront...? When someone couldn't understand something in studies during childhood, the teacher would twist us. When we grew up, men and women all got beautiful studs, earrings, jhumkas, etc., made and hung them on us. We were pierced, and the praise went to the face. And look at the makeup: kohl for the eyes, creams for the face, lipstick for the lips. Tell me, have we ever asked for anything? Has any poet or shayaris ever praised the ears? In their eyes, eyes, lips, cheeks, these are everything. We are like two leftover puris from a funeral feast, just picked up and stuck on the side of the face. And what's more, sometimes we get cuts because of hair. We are then comforted with Dettol. There's so much to say, but to whom...?
They say sharing pain lightens the heart. If I tell the eyes, they shed tears. If I tell the nose, it runs. If I tell the mouth, it cries out in agony. And let me tell you, the priest's janeu (sacred thread), the tailor master's pencil, the mechanic's leftover gutkha pouch, mobile earphones - we handle it all. And nowadays, we're also enduring this new mask hassle. We aren't ears, we're like sturdy hooks. If there's anything else to hang or dangle, bring it on, brother, we are ready...!!"