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		<title>ਧਰਮੀ ਬਾਬਲ ਪਾਪ ਕਮਾਇਆ / Honorable father committed a sin</title>
		<link>http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2011/12/29/honorable-father-committed-a-sin/</link>
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		<pubDate>Thu, 29 Dec 2011 16:05:38 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Jasdeep</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Loona]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Punjabi]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Shiv Kumar Batalvi]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[feminism]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[folk legend]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[shiv kumar batalvi]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Translation]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[ਧਰਮੀ ਬਾਬਲ ਪਾਪ ਕਮਾਇਆ ਲੜ ਲਾਈਆਂ ਸਾਡੇ ਫੁਲ ਕੁਮਲਾਈਆ ਜਿਸ ਦਾ ਇੱਛਰਾਂ ਰੂਪ ਹੰਡਾਈਆ ਮੈਂ ਪੂਰਨ ਦੀ ਮਾਂ ਪੂਰਨ ਦੇ &#8230;<p><a href="http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2011/12/29/honorable-father-committed-a-sin/">Continue reading &#187;</a></p><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=parchanve.wordpress.com&amp;blog=1077823&amp;post=561&amp;subd=parchanve&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><strong>ਧਰਮੀ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਬਾਬਲ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਪਾਪ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਕਮਾਇਆ<br />
</strong><strong>ਲੜ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਲਾਈਆਂ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਸਾਡੇ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਫੁਲ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਕੁਮਲਾਈਆ<br />
</strong><strong>ਜਿਸ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਦਾ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਇੱਛਰਾਂ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਰੂਪ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਹੰਡਾਈਆ<br />
</strong><strong>ਮੈਂ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਪੂਰਨ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਦੀ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਮਾਂ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਪੂਰਨ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਦੇ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਹਾਣ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਦੀ</strong></p>
<p><strong>ਮੈਂ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਉਸ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਤੋਂ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਇਕ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਚੁੰਮਣ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਵਡੀ<br />
</strong><strong>ਪਰ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਮੈਂ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਕੀਕਣ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਮਾਂ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਉਹਦੀ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਲੱਗੀ<br />
</strong><strong>ਉਹ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਮੇਰੀ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਗਰਭ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਜੂਨ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਨਾ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਆਇਆ<br />
</strong><strong>ਲੋਕਾ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਵੇ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਮੈਂ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਧੀ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਵਰਗੀ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਸਲਵਾਣ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਦੀ</strong></p>
<p><strong>ਪਿਤਾ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਜੇ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਧੀ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਦਾ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਰੂਪ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਹੰਡਾਵੇ<br />
</strong><strong>ਲੋਕਾ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਵੇ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਤੈਨੂੰ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਲਾਜ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਨਾ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਆਵੇ<br />
</strong><strong>ਜੇ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਲੂਣਾ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਪੂਰਨ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਨੂੰ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਚਾਹਵੇ<br />
</strong><strong>ਚਰਿਤਰ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਹੀਣ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਕਵੇ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਕਿਉਂ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਜੀਭ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਜਹਾਨ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਦੀ</strong></p>
<p><strong>ਚਰਿਤਰ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਹੀਨ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਤੇ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਤਾਂ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਕੋਈ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਆਖੇ<br />
</strong><strong>ਜੇ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਕਰ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਲੂਣਾ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਵੇਚੇ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਹਾਸੇ<br />
</strong><strong>ਪਰ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਜੇ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਹਾਣ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਨਾ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਲੱਭਣ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਮਾਪੇ<br />
</strong><strong>ਹਾਣ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਲੱਭਣ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਵਿਚ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਗੱਲ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਕੀ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਹੈ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਅਪਮਾਨ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਦੀ</strong></p>
<p><strong>ਲੂਣਾ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਹੋਵੇ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਤਾਂ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਅਪਰਾਧਣ<br />
</strong><strong>ਜੇਕਰ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਅੰਦਰੋਂ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਹੋਏ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਸੁਹਾਗਣ<br />
</strong><strong>ਮਹਿਕ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਉਹਦੀ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਜੇ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਹੋਵੇ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਦਾਗਣ<br />
</strong><strong>ਮਹਿਕ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਮੇਰੀ</strong><strong> ਤਾਂ </strong><strong>ਕੰਜਕ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਮੈਂ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਹੀ</strong><strong> </strong><strong>ਜਾਣਦੀ<br />
</strong><strong>੦ </strong></p>
<p><strong>Roman Transliteration:</strong></p>
<p>dharmi babal paap kamaya<br />
larh laya mere phull kumlaya<br />
jis da IchraaN roop handaya<br />
mein Puran di maaN pooran de haan di</p>
<p>main uston ikk chumman vaddi<br />
par main keekan maan uhdi laggi<br />
uh meri garb joon na aaiya<br />
loka ve maiN dhi vargi salvaan di</p>
<p>pita je dhi da roop handaave<br />
loka ve tainu laaj na aave<br />
je Loona Puran nu chaahve<br />
charitarheen kave kion jeebh jahaan di</p>
<p>Loona hove taan apradhan<br />
jekar androN hove suhagan<br />
mehak ohdi je hove dagaan<br />
mehak meri taaN kanjak main hi jaan-di<br />
੦</p>
<p><strong>English Translation:</strong></p>
<p>Honorable father committed a sin<br />
Married me to a wilted flower<br />
Whose youth <em>IchrraaN </em>had worn out<br />
I am like <em>Puran</em>’s mother, <em>Puran</em> is my match</p>
<p>I am just one kiss elder than him<br />
But how can I be called his mother<br />
He is not born of my womb<br />
World, I am like a daughter to <em>Salvan</em></p>
<p>If a father marries his daughter<br />
World, isn’t that shameful<br />
If <em>Loona</em> desires <em>Puran<br />
</em>Why is she called characterless by the world</p>
<p>She may be called characterless<br />
If <em>Loona</em> trades in pleasures<br />
But if the parents don’t find a match<br />
What’s shameful in finding yourself a match</p>
<p>Loona would have been guilty<br />
Had her heart accepted the marriage<br />
Had her essence been permeated<br />
My essence is chaste, only I know<br />
੦</p>
<p><strong>Source: </strong>Long poem <em>Loona</em> by Shiv Kumar Batalvi is retelling of this <strong>Legend of Puran Bhagat</strong> where<em> Loona</em> is the protagonist instead of <em>Puran</em>.</p>
<p>English Translation, by <a href="http://parchanve.wordpress.com/category/shiv-kumar-batalvi/loona/twitter.com/jasdeep">Me</a> in collaboration with <a href="http://twitter.com/sepiaverse">Manpreet </a></p>
<p><strong>Legend of Puran Bhagat:<br />
</strong><em>Puran</em> was son of King <em>Salvaan</em> and Queen <em>IchraaN</em>, on his birth, astrologers told <em>Salvaan</em> that <em>Puran</em> is cursed, if he is seen by his parents he will die, so he is kept in isolation. In the mean time <em>Salvaan</em> marries <em>Loona</em> a beautiful woman in her youth. When <em>Puran&#8217;</em>s curse is over, he comes out from isolation. <em>Loona</em> is charmed by his looks. She offers carnal love to him. But <em>Puran</em> does not accept it as he considers <em>Loona</em> to be his Mother. <em>Loona</em> conspires and makes <em>Salvaan</em> punish <em>Puran</em>. <em>Puran</em> is punished to be executed, but <em>IchraaN</em> pleads mercy and he is thrown into a well, from where Naath Jogis rescue him and he  is taught mysticism so he becomes <em>Puran Bhagat</em>.</p>
<p><strong>Further Information:</strong></p>
<ul>
<li>Wikiepedia link : <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raja_S%C3%A1lb%C3%A1n">http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raja_S%C3%A1lb%C3%A1n</a></li>
<li><a href="http://www.dailytimes.com.pk/default.asp?page=2007%5C10%5C19%5Cstory_19-10-2007_pg3_5" target="_blank">Historian Salman Rashid on Puran Bhagat</a></li>
<li><a href="http://folkpunjab.com/bhupinder-mitali/shiv-kumar-batalvis-loona/" target="_blank">Shiv Kumar Batalvi&#8217;s Loona sung by Bhupinder and Mitali</a></li>
</ul>
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		<title>Saadi jithe laggi aai / let me be</title>
		<link>http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2011/12/08/let-me-be/</link>
		<comments>http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2011/12/08/let-me-be/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 08 Dec 2011 09:49:45 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Jasdeep</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Gurdas Mann]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Translation]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Punjabi]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[sufi]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[ਸਾਈਆਂ ਦੇ ਵੀ ਜਾਂਦੇ ਆਂ ਗੋਸਾਈਆਂ ਦੇ ਵੀ ਜਾਂਦੇ ਆਂ ਮੋਮਨਾਂ ਦੇ ਜਾਂਦੇ ਆਂ ਇਸਾਈਆਂ ਦੇ ਵੀ ਜਾਂਦੇ ਆਂ ਬਾਬਿਆਂ &#8230;<p><a href="http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2011/12/08/let-me-be/">Continue reading &#187;</a></p><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=parchanve.wordpress.com&amp;blog=1077823&amp;post=549&amp;subd=parchanve&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
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<p>ਸਾਈਆਂ ਦੇ ਵੀ ਜਾਂਦੇ ਆਂ<br />
ਗੋਸਾਈਆਂ ਦੇ ਵੀ ਜਾਂਦੇ ਆਂ<br />
ਮੋਮਨਾਂ ਦੇ ਜਾਂਦੇ ਆਂ<br />
ਇਸਾਈਆਂ ਦੇ ਵੀ ਜਾਂਦੇ ਆਂ<br />
ਬਾਬਿਆਂ ਦੇ ਜਾਂਦੇ ਆਂ<br />
ਤੇ ਮਾਈਆਂ ਦੇ ਵੀ ਜਾਂਦੇ ਆਂ<br />
ਕਮਲੇ ਆਂ ਥੋੜੇ ਜਿਹੇ<br />
ਸ਼ੁਦਾਈਆਂ ਦੇ ਵੀ ਜਾਂਦੇ ਆਂ<br />
ਤੇਰੀ ਹਉਮੈ ਵੱਡੀ ਐ<br />
ਤੇ ਵੱਡੀ ਰਹਿਣ ਦੇ<br />
ਸਾਡੀ ਜਿੱਥੇ ਲੱਗੀ ਐ<br />
ਤੇ ਲੱਗੀ ਰਹਿਣ ਦੇ</p>
<p>SaaeeaaN de vi jaande aaN<br />
GosaeeaaN de vi jaande aaN<br />
MomanaN de jaande aaN<br />
IsaiaaN de vi jaande aaN<br />
BabiaaN de jaande aaN<br />
te MaeeaaN de vi jaande aaN<br />
kamle aaN thorhe jihe<br />
shudaiyaaN de vi jaande aaN<br />
teri haume vaddi aai<br />
te vaddi rehan de<br />
saadi jithe laggi aai<br />
te laggi rehan de</p>
<p>I go to Sufi saints<br />
I even go to GosaeeN saints<br />
I go to Islamic muezzins<br />
I even go to Christian priest<br />
I go to Sikh Gurus<br />
I even go to Hindu goddesses<br />
I am a little mad<br />
So I even go to lunatic asylums<br />
If you consider yourself holier than thou<br />
Let it be<br />
I am engrossed in love of my beloved<br />
Let me be</p>
<p>- Gurdaas Maan</p>
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		<title>Iqbal on Guru Nanak</title>
		<link>http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2011/11/27/iqbal-on-guru-nanak/</link>
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		<pubDate>Sun, 27 Nov 2011 13:49:20 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Jasdeep</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Iqbal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[nanak]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[Butkada phir baad muddat ke magar raushan hua, Noor-e-Ibrahim se aazaar ka ghar raushan hua! Phir uthi aakhir sada tawhid &#8230;<p><a href="http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2011/11/27/iqbal-on-guru-nanak/">Continue reading &#187;</a></p><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=parchanve.wordpress.com&amp;blog=1077823&amp;post=542&amp;subd=parchanve&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<blockquote><p><em>Butkada phir baad muddat ke magar raushan hua,</em><br />
<em> Noor-e-Ibrahim se aazaar ka ghar raushan hua!</em><br />
<em> Phir uthi aakhir sada tawhid ki Punjab se,</em><br />
<em> Hind ko ik mard-e-kamil ne jagaya khwab se!</em></p>
<p>(After and age, once again the temple became radiant;<br />
Aazar&#8217;s house shone with the glory of Abraham.<br />
Once again, the call of God&#8217;s unity arose from Punjab<br />
From its dream Hind was awakened by a Perfect man.)</p>
<p>Iqbal brings Guru Nanak centre stage. The world is dark, all great teachings have been forgotten and migrated to distant land, and caste is crushing the oppressed. All of a sudden history repeates itself. Giving the analogy of Prophet Abraham&#8217;s father, Aazaar (a consummmate artist, maker of idols) in whose house Abraham, the Father of Wahdaniyat(One God) was born. Guru Nanak was thus sent to earth to spread this very Wahdaniyat. The soil of Punjab gave call for Unity and India was awakened from its deep slumber by a man who is Kamil or complete, the perfect Man, Guru Nanak.</p></blockquote>
<p>Syeda Hameed in her essay &#8216;My Rama Secular Hindu Divine&#8217; in <a href="http://www.littlemag.com/"> The Little Magazine </a> <a href="http://www.scribd.com/doc/73911249/">, Vol. VII : Issue 5 &amp; 6, Page 33</a></p>
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		<title>ਮੇਰੇ ਕੋਲ ਪੜ੍ਹਨ ਆਉਂਦੇ ਬੱਚੇ/ The children who come to learn from me</title>
		<link>http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2011/10/11/children-who-come-to-learn-gurpreet/</link>
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		<pubDate>Tue, 11 Oct 2011 11:36:17 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Jasdeep</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Gurpreet Mansa]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Translation]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[children]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[education]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Punjabi]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[ਮੇਰੇ ਕੋਲ ਪੜ੍ਹਨ ਆਉਂਦੇ ਬੱਚਿਆਂ ਦੇ ਕੁੜਤੇ ਅਕਸਰ ਪਾਟੇ ਹੁੰਦੇ ਕਾਜਾਂ ਕਾਲਰਾਂ ਜੇਬਾਂ ਕੋਲੋਂ ਇਕ-ਅਧ ਬਟਨ ਜੇ ਲੱਗਿਆ ਹੋਵੇ ਲਾਲ &#8230;<p><a href="http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2011/10/11/children-who-come-to-learn-gurpreet/">Continue reading &#187;</a></p><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=parchanve.wordpress.com&amp;blog=1077823&amp;post=525&amp;subd=parchanve&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>ਮੇਰੇ ਕੋਲ ਪੜ੍ਹਨ ਆਉਂਦੇ<br />
ਬੱਚਿਆਂ ਦੇ ਕੁੜਤੇ<br />
ਅਕਸਰ ਪਾਟੇ ਹੁੰਦੇ<br />
ਕਾਜਾਂ ਕਾਲਰਾਂ ਜੇਬਾਂ ਕੋਲੋਂ</p>
<p>ਇਕ-ਅਧ ਬਟਨ<br />
ਜੇ ਲੱਗਿਆ ਹੋਵੇ<br />
ਲਾਲ ਪੀਲੇ ਕਾਲੇ ਧਾਗੇ ਨਾਲ<br />
ਉਹ ਵੀ ਖੁਲ੍ਹਿਆ ਹੁੰਦਾ ਹੈ</p>
<p>ਇਹਨਾ ਦੇ ਪੈਰਾਂ ਕੋਲ<br />
ਕਿਸੇ ਕਲੱਬ ਵੱਲੋਂ ਮਿਲੇ<br />
ਬੂਟਾਂ ਦਾ ਮਿਹਣਾ ਹੈ<br />
ਐਸ ਸੀ , ਬੀ ਸੀ ਨੂੰ ਮਿਲਦੇ<br />
ਵਜੀਫੇ ਦੀ ਉਡੀਕ</p>
<p>ਮੇਰੇ ਕੋਲ ਪੜ੍ਹਨ ਆਉਂਦੇ ਬੱਚੇ<br />
ਕਿਉਂ ਰਹਿ ਜਾਂਦੇ ਉਹੋ ਜਿਹੇ<br />
ਜਿਹੋ ਜਿਹੇ ਉਹ ਆਉਂਦੇ ਘਰੋਂ<br />
ਬਲਕਿ ਘਰੋਂ ਆਏ ਮਾਸੂਮ<br />
ਪੜ੍ਹ ਪੜ੍ਹ ਹੋਰ ਵੀ ਢੀਠ ਹੋ ਜਾਂਦੇ<br />
ਪਹਿਲਾਂ ਨਾਲੋਂ ਵੱਧ ਵਿਗੜ ਜਾਂਦੇ</p>
<p>ਨਹੀਂ ਭਾਉਂਦੇ ਰਤਾ ਵੀ<br />
ਮੁਖ ਅਧਿਆਪਕ ਨੂੰ<br />
ਚੰਗੇ ਨਹੀਂ ਲਗਦੇ<br />
ਸਭ ਭੈਣ ਜੀਆਂ ਨੂੰ<br />
ਮੇਰੇ ਕੋਲ ਪੜ੍ਹਨ ਆਉਂਦੇ ਬੱਚੇ<br />
ਬਹੁਤ ਸਹਿਜ ਲੈਂਦੇ ਨੇ<br />
ਗਧੇ ਸੂਰ ਉਲੂ ਜਿਹੇ ਵਿਸ਼ੇਸ਼ਣ<br />
ਮਿਡ ਡੇ ਮੀਲ ਨਾਲ ਪਾਣੀ ਵਾਂਙ ਪੀ ਜਾਂਦੇ ਨੇ</p>
<p>ਮੇਰੇ ਕੋਲ ਪੜ੍ਹਨ ਆਉਂਦੇ ਬੱਚੇ<br />
ਜਾਣਨ ਕਿੰਨਾ ਕੁਝ ਮੇਰੇ ਨਾਲੋਂ ਵੱਧ<br />
ਫਿਰ ਵੀ ਸੁਣਦੇ ਰਹਿਣ<br />
ਚੁੱਪ-ਚਾਪ ਮੈਨੂੰ</p>
<p>ਜਿਵੇਂ ਕਿਤੇ ਬੈਠਾ ਹੋਵਾਂ<br />
ਮੈਂ ਵੀ<br />
ਵਿਚਕਾਰ ਇਹਨਾ ਦੇ<br />
ਪੜਾਉਂਦਿਆਂ  ਅਕਸਰ ਲਗਦਾ ਮੈਨੂੰ<br />
੦</p>
<p>ਮੇਰੇ ਕੋਲ ਪੜ੍ਹਨ ਆਉਂਦੇ ਬੱਚੇ<br />
ਕਿੰਨੇ ਭੋਲੇ ਸਿੱਧੇ ਸਾਦੇ<br />
ਆਪਣੇ ਵਰਗੇ ਆਪ</p>
<p>ਨਹੀਂ ਇਹਨਾ ਕੋਲ<br />
ਕੋਈ ਸਲੀਕਾ ਸਲੂਟ<br />
ਮਾਫ਼ ਕਰਨਾ      ਧੰਨਵਾਦ</p>
<p>ਉਹ ਮੂੰਹ ਫੱਟ ਨੇ<br />
ਜਿਵੇਂ ਜੀਅ ਆਵੇ<br />
ਬੋਲਦੇ ਨੇ     ਗਾਲਾਂ ਕਢਦੇ<br />
ਤੁਰਦੇ ਨੇ     ਪੱਥਰਾਂ ਨੂੰ ਠੁਡੇ ਮਾਰਦੇ<br />
ਖੇਡਦੇ ਨੇ     ਨਸੀਬਾਂ ਦੀ ਗੇਂਦ ਦਾ ਕੈਚ ਛਡਦੇ<br />
ਲੜਦੇ ਨੇ     ਗਲਮੇ ‘ਚ ਹੱਥ ਪਾ ਲੈਂਦੇ</p>
<p>ਪਿਆਰ ਕਰਨ ਦਾ ਇਹੋ ਢੰਗ</p>
<p>ਮੇਰੇ ਕੋਲ ਪੜ੍ਹਨ ਆਉਂਦੇ ਬੱਚਿਆਂ ਦਾ<br />
ਰਹਿ ਰਹਿ ਕੇ ਮੋਹ ਕਿਉਂ ਆ ਰਿਹਾ ਹੈ ਮੈਨੂੰ ਅੱਜ<br />
੦</p>
<p>ਚਾਹਾਂ<br />
ਦੋਸਤਾਂ ਵਾਂਙ ਤੁਰਾਂ<br />
ਮੋਢਿਆਂ ਦੁਆਲੇ ਹੱਥ ਪਾ<br />
ਆਪਣੇ ਵਿਦਿਆਰਥੀਆਂ ਨਾਲ</p>
<p>ਪਰ ਮੈਂ ਖਿਝ ਜਾਂਦਾ ਅਕਸਰ ਇਹਨਾ ‘ਤੇ</p>
<p>ਮੇਰੀ ਇਹ ਖਿਝ ਕਿਸ ਵਾਸਤੇ ਹੈ ?</p>
<p>ਉਹ ਜੇ ਲੱਤ ਮੁਕੀ ਹੁੰਦੇ<br />
ਇਕ ਦੂਜੇ ਦੀ ਮਾਂ ਭੈਣ ਇਕ ਕਰਦੇ<br />
ਬੈਂਚਾਂ ਉਪਰ ਨੱਚਦੇ<br />
ਉਚੜੀਆਂ ਕੂਹਣੀਆਂ<br />
ਗਿੱਟੇ ਗੋਡਿਆਂ ਦੇ ਜ਼ਖਮਾਂ ਨੂੰ<br />
ਪੱਟੀ ਨਾ ਬੰਨ੍ਹਦੇ</p>
<p>ਇਹਦੇ ‘ਚ ਇਹਨਾ ਦਾ ਕੀ ਕਸੂਰ ?<br />
ਮੈਂ ਕਿਸ ਤੋਂ ਡਰਦਾ ਹਾਂ ?</p>
<p>ਭਾਸ਼ਣ ਦਿੰਦਾ ਹਾਂ</p>
<p>ਚੁੱਪ ਹੋ ਜਾਂਦੇ<br />
ਜਿਵੇਂ ਕਦੇ ਬੋਲੇ ਹੀ ਨਾ ਹੋਣ<br />
ਸੁਣਦੇ ਮੈਨੂੰ</p>
<p>ਮੈਂ ਦਸਦਾ<br />
ਆਪਣੇ ਜਮਾਤੀ ਬਲਵੰਤ ਭਾਟੀਏ ਬਾਰੇ<br />
ਪਿਉ ਜੁਤੀਆਂ ਸਿਉਂਦਾ ਇਹਦਾ<br />
ਛੁੱਟੀ ਵਾਲੇ ਦਿਨ ਦਿਹਾੜੀ ਕਰਦਾ<br />
ਬਲਵੰਤ ਫੀਸ ਭਰਦਾ<br />
ਅੱਜ ਬੈਂਕ ਮੈਨੇਜਰ</p>
<p>ਤੁਸੀਂ ਵੀ ਪੜ੍ਹੋ</p>
<p>ਮੈਂ ਦਸਦਾ<br />
ਆਪਣੇ ਦੋਸਤ ਰਾਣੇ ਬਾਰੇ<br />
ਅਰਥ-ਸ਼ਾਸ਼ਤਰ ਦਾ ਪ੍ਰੋਫੈਸਰ ਵੀ<br />
ਇਹਦੇ ਪੁੱਛੇ ਪ੍ਰਸ਼ਨਾਂ ਤੋਂ ਤ੍ਰਹਿੰਦਾ<br />
ਛੁੱਟੀ ਇਹਦੀ ਲੰਘਦੀ<br />
ਬੱਠਲ ਚੱਕਦਿਆਂ  ਇੱਟਾਂ ਢੋਂਹਦਿਆਂ<br />
ਅੱਜ ਕੱਲ ਹਾਈਕੋਰਟ<br />
ਇਹਤੋਂ ਪੁੱਛ ਪੁੱਛ ਕੰਮ ਕਰਦੀ<br />
ਚੰਡੀਗੜ੍ਹ ‘ਚ ਨਿਵੇਲੀ ਕੋਠੀ</p>
<p>ਤੁਸੀਂ ਵੀ ਪੜ੍ਹੋ</p>
<p>ਮੈਂ ਆਪਣਾ ਜ਼ਿਕਰ ਛੋਂਹਦਾ<br />
ਚੁੱਪ ਕਰ ਜਾਂਦਾ<br />
ਆਖਦਾ ਮੁੜ ਮੁੜ</p>
<p>ਤੁਸੀਂ ਵੀ ਪੜ੍ਹੋ<br />
੦</p>
<p>ਮੇਰੇ ਕੋਲ<br />
ਪੜ੍ਹਨ ਆਉਂਦੇ<br />
ਬੱਚਿਆਂ ਦੇ ਸੁਪਨੇ</p>
<p>ਕਿੰਨੇ ਸਾਫ ਦਿਸਦੇ<br />
ਮੱਥਿਆਂ ‘ਚ ਵਜਦੇ<br />
ਸਿਰ ਪਾੜ ਦਿੰਦੇ</p>
<p>ਅਸਲ ‘ਚ</p>
<p>ਅਜੇ ਤਕ ਨਹੀਂ ਬਣੀ<br />
ਕੋਈ ਖੁਰਦਬੀਨ<br />
ਜੋ ਦੇਖ ਸਕੇ<br />
ਮੇਰੇ ਕੋਲ ਪੜ੍ਹਨ ਆਉਂਦੇ<br />
ਬੱਚਿਆਂ ਦੇ ਸੁਪਨੇ<br />
੦</p>
<p>ਮੇਰੇ ਕੋਲ ਪੜ੍ਹਨ ਆਉਂਦੇ ਬੱਚੇ<br />
ਸ਼ਰਾਰਤੀ ਨੇ<br />
ਸਿਰੇ ਦੇ ਸ਼ਰਾਰਤੀ</p>
<p>ਆਖਦੇ ਅਧਿਆਪਕ<br />
ਸਿਰ ਫੜ੍ਹ ਲੈਂਦੇ</p>
<p>ਮਨ ਹੀ ਮਨ ਸੋਚਦਾ ਕਵੀ-ਮਨ<br />
ਸ਼ੁਕਰ ਹੈ<br />
ਇਹਨਾ ਕੋਲ ਕੁਝ ਤਾਂ ਹੈ ।।</p>
<p>( ਨਵੀਂ ਕਾਵਿ-ਕਿਤਾਬ &#8216; ਸਿਆਹੀ ਘੁਲ਼ੀ ਹੈ &#8216; ਵਿਚੋਂ )</p>
<p><strong>The children who come to learn from me</strong></p>
<p>The children who come to learn from me<br />
often wear clothes<br />
that are torn<br />
from collars, pockets, button openings</p>
<p>if by chance<br />
a button is there in place<br />
sewn with a red,yellow or black thread<br />
it would be open</p>
<p>their feet have<br />
the curse of shoes<br />
given away by a charity club<br />
in the wait<br />
for stipend<br />
entitled for SC/BC category</p>
<p>the children who come to learn from me<br />
why do they remain the same<br />
same as they come from their home<br />
rather, they are innocent when they come<br />
but schooling makes them more stubborn<br />
more spoiled</p>
<p>head teacher<br />
does not like them<br />
women teachers<br />
do not like them<br />
the children who come to learn from me<br />
take adjectives like ass, pig, idiot<br />
like a mid-day meal </p>
<p>the children who come to learn from me<br />
know a lot more than me<br />
yet, they listen to me<br />
blankly</p>
<p>while teaching<br />
I feel<br />
as if, I am<br />
sitting along with them too</p>
<p>੦</p>
<p>The children who come to learn from me<br />
How sweet, innocent and simple<br />
They are</p>
<p>They don’t use any<br />
Salutations like<br />
Thank you, please</p>
<p>They are outspoken<br />
Straight form heart<br />
They speak, they curse<br />
They walk, kicking the stones away<br />
They play, missing the catch of fate ball<br />
They fight, they grab collars</p>
<p>This is the way they love, the same<br />
The children who come to learn from me</p>
<p>Why I am getting affectionate<br />
Today</p>
<p>੦</p>
<p>I wish<br />
I can walk like friends<br />
Keeping arms on the shoulders<br />
of my students</p>
<p>But I often get irritated at them<br />
Why this irritation?</p>
<p>If they quarrel<br />
They curse like a sailor</p>
<p>They dance<br />
on classroom benches<br />
They don’t mind to do dressing<br />
of wounds on knees or elbows</p>
<p>What is their crime in it?<br />
What am I afraid of?</p>
<p>I lecture</p>
<p>Listening to me<br />
They go silent<br />
As if they have never spoken</p>
<p>I tell them about<br />
My classmate <em>Balwant Bhatia</em><br />
His father made shoes<br />
On holidays he worked as a laborer<br />
To pay his school fee<br />
Now, is a bank manager</p>
<p>You should study too</p>
<p>I tell them about<br />
My friend <em>Rana</em><br />
Even professor of economics<br />
Dreaded questions asked by him<br />
On a holiday<br />
He would carry bricks at construction sites<br />
These days, high court<br />
Works by his whims<br />
he just got a new <em>kothi</em> in<br />
Chandigarh</p>
<p>You should study too</p>
<p>I start telling my story too<br />
But i stop</p>
<p>Tell them again and again<br />
You should study too</p>
<p>੦</p>
<p>Dreams of<br />
The children who come to learn from me</p>
<p>How bright they must be<br />
mind boggling</p>
<p>Actually</p>
<p>There is no microscope<br />
Built yet<br />
That can see<br />
Dreams of<br />
Children who come to learn from me</p>
<p>੦</p>
<p>Children who come to learn from me<br />
Are very mischievous<br />
Mischievous beyond limit</p>
<p>Teachers say this<br />
and Get tense</p>
<p>Poetic mind ponders<br />
At least, they have something.</p>
<p>( from new anthology ‘siaahi ghuli hai’ )</p>
<p><strong>Postscript:</strong> <a href="http://parchanve.wordpress.com/category/gurpreet-mansa/">Gurpreet</a> teaches Punjabi at Government school in Mansa district. <a href="http://gurpreetmansa.blogspot.com/2011/10/blog-post_05.html">This poem</a> is from his third anthology &#8216;siaahi ghuli hai&#8217; ( ink is imbued). Its interesting he has used ਙ rather than ਗ in ਦੋਸਤਾਂ ਵਾਂਙ ਤੁਰਾਂ.<br />
English Translation is mine.</p>
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		<title>ਕਲਾਮ ਨੂੰ/ to the poem</title>
		<link>http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2011/04/27/kalaam/</link>
		<comments>http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2011/04/27/kalaam/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 27 Apr 2011 16:01:14 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Jasdeep</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Harpreet Singh]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Jasdeep]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Punjabi]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://parchanve.wordpress.com/?p=514</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[ਬਹੁਤ ਸੁਖਾਲਾ ਹੈਂ ਤੂੰ, ਐ ਕਲਾਮ ਜੇ ਤੈਨੂੰ ਲਿਖਣਾ ਪੈ ਜਾਵੇ ਸਭ ਲਈ, ਬਹੁਤ ਸੁਖਾਲਾ ਹੈ ਤੂੰ, ਸਾਂਝਾ ਜਿਹਾ ਜੇ &#8230;<p><a href="http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2011/04/27/kalaam/">Continue reading &#187;</a></p><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=parchanve.wordpress.com&amp;blog=1077823&amp;post=514&amp;subd=parchanve&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>ਬਹੁਤ ਸੁਖਾਲਾ ਹੈਂ ਤੂੰ, ਐ ਕਲਾਮ<br />
ਜੇ ਤੈਨੂੰ ਲਿਖਣਾ ਪੈ ਜਾਵੇ ਸਭ ਲਈ,<br />
ਬਹੁਤ ਸੁਖਾਲਾ ਹੈ ਤੂੰ, ਸਾਂਝਾ ਜਿਹਾ<br />
ਜੇ ਤੈਨੂੰ ਕੋਈ ਇਨਸਾਨ ਲਿਖੇ;<br />
ਪਰ ਮੈ ਇਨਸਾਨ ਨਹੀਂ<br />
ਨਾ ਮੈਂ ਰਹਿੰਦਾ ਹਾਂ ਇਨਸਾਨਾਂ ਵਿੱਚ,<br />
ਨਾ ਮੇਰਾ ਪਰਿਵਾਰ,<br />
ਨਾ ਮੇਰੇ ਮਿੱਤਰ<br />
ਓਹ ਵੀ ਇਨਸਾਨ ਨਹੀਂ;<br />
ਇਨਸਾਨ ਕੀ ਹੁੰਦਾ ਹੈ, ਐ ਕਲਾਮ?<br />
ਕੀ ਇਹ ਸਿਰਫ ਉਦੋਂ ਬਣਦਾ ਹੈ ਜਦੋਂ ਤੈਨੂੰ ਲਿਖਣਾ ਪਵੇ;<br />
ਐ ਝੂਠੇ ਕਲਾਮ<br />
ਤੇਰਾ ਕੋਈ ਧਰਮ ਕਿਉਂ ਨਹੀਂ?<br />
ਤੇਰਾ ਆਲਾ-ਦੁਆਲਾ, ਤੇਰੇ ਸ਼ਕੇ ਸੰਬੰਧੀ ਤੇ ਤੈਨੂੰ ਰਚਣ ਵਾਲੇ<br />
ਸਭ ਤਾਂ ਪੂਜਦੇ ਹਨ ਬੁੱਤਾਂ ਨੂੰ,<br />
ਝੁੱਕਦੇ ਹਨ ਹੱਥ ਖੋਲ੍ਹ ਕੇ,<br />
ਸਿਰ ਢਕਦੇ ਹਨ;<br />
ਫਿਰ ਤੈਨੂੰ ਕਿਉਂ ਲਿਖਦੇ ਹਨ ਪਲ੍ਹ ਦੋ ਪਲ੍ਹ ਲਈ ਐ ਇਨਸਾਨੀ ਕਲਾਮ;</p>
<p>you are quite simple, hey poem<br />
if you have to be written, for everyone<br />
you are quite simple, common, shared, collective .<br />
in case, a human writes you;<br />
but i am not human<br />
neither do i live among humans<br />
nor are my friends<br />
they are not human either<br />
what is a human, hey poem?<br />
does he exist only when, you are to be written;<br />
oh false poem<br />
why dont you have a religion?<br />
your neighbourhood, your relatives and your creators.<br />
all of them worship idols,<br />
bow, spreading their hands<br />
cover their heads;<br />
but why do they write you, just for the time being, hey humane poem; </p>
<p><strong><br />
Source:</strong> Original Punjabi poem is by Harpreet Singh, a budding poet . An Engineering Graduate from GNE Ludhiana.  Based in  England now. He has published a book of poems “Dhupp di Chaanve” and is looking to write a novel soon. English translation is by yours truly</p>
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		<title>ਫਿਰ ਆਈ ਹੈ/Again, She has Come</title>
		<link>http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2010/09/10/phir-aaee-hai/</link>
		<comments>http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2010/09/10/phir-aaee-hai/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Fri, 10 Sep 2010 18:27:47 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Jasdeep</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Kartar Singh Duggal]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Punjabi]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Translation]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[women]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://parchanve.wordpress.com/?p=502</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[ਫਿਰ ਆਈ ਹੈ ਮੁਸ ਮੁਸ ਕਰਦੀ ਹੋਈ ਲਿਬੜੀ ਹੋਈ ਵਿਸ਼ ਨਾਲ ਕੱਜੀ ਹੋਈ, ਢਕੀ ਹੋਈ ਫਿਰ ਆਈ ਹੈ , ਚਗਲੀ &#8230;<p><a href="http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2010/09/10/phir-aaee-hai/">Continue reading &#187;</a></p><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=parchanve.wordpress.com&amp;blog=1077823&amp;post=502&amp;subd=parchanve&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>ਫਿਰ ਆਈ ਹੈ<br />
ਮੁਸ ਮੁਸ ਕਰਦੀ ਹੋਈ<br />
ਲਿਬੜੀ ਹੋਈ ਵਿਸ਼ ਨਾਲ<br />
ਕੱਜੀ ਹੋਈ, ਢਕੀ ਹੋਈ</p>
<p>ਫਿਰ ਆਈ  ਹੈ ,<br />
ਚਗਲੀ  ਹੋਈ, ਛਟੀ ਹੋਈ<br />
ਕੁਤਰੀ ਹੋਈ,  ਛਿਜੀ ਹੋਈ<br />
ਗੰਢੀ ਹੋਈ, ਤ੍ਰਪੀ ਹੋਈ.</p>
<p>ਫਿਰ ਆਈ ਹੈ<br />
ਫੁਲਿਆ ਹੋਇਆ ਅੰਗ ਅੰਗ,<br />
ਸੁਜ਼ਿਆ ਹੋਇਆ ਬੰਦ ਬੰਦ,<br />
ਆਕੜੀ ਹੋਈ, ਐਂਠੀ ਹੋਈ</p>
<p>ਫਿਰ ਆਈ ਹੈ<br />
ਪੂਰੇ ਦਿਨਾ ਦੇ ਨੇੜੇ ,<br />
ਆਲਸੀ ਹੋਈ, ਹਫੀ ਹੋਈ<br />
ਢਹਿ ਢਹਿ ਪੈਂਦੀ ਹੋਈ</p>
<p>ਫਿਰ ਆਈ ਹੈ,<br />
ਝਗ ਝਗ ਬੁਲੀਆ ਤੇ,<br />
ਮੈਲ ਮੈਲ ਦੰਦੋ -ਦੰਦ ,<br />
ਕੂੜ ਦੀ ਪੰਡ ਨਿਰੀ.<br />
ਫਿਰ ਆਈ ਹੈ ਫਾਈਲ<br />
ਹਰਜਾਈ ਔਰਤ ਦੀ ਤਰਾਂ </p>
<p><strong>Again, She has Come</strong></p>
<p>again, she has come<br />
smiling coyly<br />
doused in venom<br />
veiled, concealed</p>
<p>again, she has come<br />
disgraced, decrepit<br />
clipped , smacked<br />
sewn, stitched</p>
<p>again, she has come<br />
puffed up body<br />
swollen limbs<br />
numbed, stiffened</p>
<p>again, she has come<br />
in the last days<br />
slumberous, exhausted<br />
collapsing</p>
<p>again, she has come<br />
frothing mouth<br />
begrimed teeth<br />
like a pile of trash<br />
again, the file has come<br />
like a fallen woman</p>
<p><strong>Source  : </strong> The poem is written by Kartar Singh Duggal, It was posted by <a href="http://www.electrostani.com/2010/08/translating-from-punjabi-ks-duggal.html">Amardeep</a> asking for better translations. I came up with this one.</p>
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		<title>ਬੁਰਕੀ / breadcrumbs</title>
		<link>http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2010/06/20/burki/</link>
		<comments>http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2010/06/20/burki/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Sun, 20 Jun 2010 20:24:11 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Jasdeep</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Jasdeep]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Jaswant Zafar]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[enmity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[exploitation]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Punjabi]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Translation]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://parchanve.wordpress.com/?p=480</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[ਬੁਰਕੀ ਸਿਆਣੇ ਦੀ ਤਾਕਤ ਆਖਦੀ ਹੈ ਨਹੀਂ ਸੱਚ ਤਕੜੇ ਦੀ ਸਿਆਣਪ ਆਖਦੀ ਹੈ ਕਿ ਦੁਸ਼ਮਣ ਨੂੰ ਕਾਹਦੇ ਲਈ ਮਾਰਨਾ ਹੈ &#8230;<p><a href="http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2010/06/20/burki/">Continue reading &#187;</a></p><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=parchanve.wordpress.com&amp;blog=1077823&amp;post=480&amp;subd=parchanve&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p><strong>ਬੁਰਕੀ </strong></p>
<p>ਸਿਆਣੇ ਦੀ ਤਾਕਤ ਆਖਦੀ ਹੈ<br />
ਨਹੀਂ ਸੱਚ<br />
ਤਕੜੇ ਦੀ ਸਿਆਣਪ ਆਖਦੀ ਹੈ<br />
ਕਿ ਦੁਸ਼ਮਣ ਨੂੰ ਕਾਹਦੇ ਲਈ ਮਾਰਨਾ ਹੈ<br />
ਉਹਦੇ ਅੰਦਰਲੀ ਦੁਸ਼ਮਣੀ ਨੂੰ  ਮਾਰੋ<br />
ਤੇ ਦੁਸ਼ਮਣੀ ਨੂੰ ਮਾਰਨ ਲਈ ਕਿਸੇ ਤੀਰ ਦੀ<br />
ਸ਼ਮਸ਼ੀਰ ਦੀ<br />
ਲੋੜ ਨਹੀਂ ਹੁੰਦੀ<br />
ਬੱਸ ਘੁਰਕੀ ਚਾਹੀਦੀ ਹੈ<br />
ਗੱਲ ਨਾ ਬਣੇ<br />
ਤਾਂ ਬੁਰਕੀ ਚਾਹੀਦੀ ਹੈ</p>
<p>ਬੁਰਕੀ ਨਾਲ<br />
ਉੱਠੇ ਹੋਏ ਹੱਥ ਹਿੱਲਦੀ ਪੂਛ ਬਣ ਜਾਂਦੇ ਹਨ<br />
ਬੁਰਕੀ ਨਾਲ<br />
ਦੁਸ਼ਮਣ ਅੰਦਰੋਂ ਦੁਸ਼ਮਣੀ ਤਾਂ ਕੀ<br />
ਹੋਰ ਵੀ ਬੜਾ ਕੁਝ ਮਾਰ ਜਾਂਦਾ ਹੈ</p>
<p>ਦੁਸ਼ਮਣ ਨੂੰ ਕਾਹਦੇ ਲਈ ਮਾਰਨਾ ਹੈ<br />
ਤਕੜੇ ਦੀ ਸਿਆਣਪ ਆਖਦੀ ਹੈ</p>
<p><strong>breadcrumbs</strong></p>
<p>the might of the wise says<br />
no, actually<br />
the wisdom of the mighty says</p>
<p>we should not kill the enemy<br />
the enmity inside should be killed</p>
<p>and to kill the enmity<br />
we don&#8217;t need<br />
the arrow<br />
or the sword<br />
we just needs to frown<br />
and if it does not work<br />
we need breadcrumbs</p>
<p>with breadcrumbs<br />
the raised fists<br />
become wagging tails<br />
with breadcrumbs<br />
not only the enmity of the enemy gets killed<br />
lot more is killed along with</p>
<p>we should not kill the enemy<br />
wisdom of the mighty says</p>
<p><strong> </strong></p>
<p><strong>Source: </strong> Poem ‘Burki’   is written by poet/cartoonist <a href="http://jaswantzafar.blogspot.com/">Jaswant Singh Zafar ( ਜਸਵੰਤ  ਸਿੰਘ ਜ਼ਫਰ ) </a>‘s latest poetry book  &#8220;Ih banda ki hunda? (What a man is ?) &#8220;.  He is an Engineer by profession .<br />
English Translation is by yours truly.</p>
<p><strong>Update</strong>: Thanks to <a href="http://manmahesh.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Manpreet</a> for noticing,  a few grammatical errors have been corrected.</p>
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		<title>Lines to Our Own Insecurity/ ਆਪਣੀ ਅਸੁੱਰਖਿਆ &#8216;ਚੋਂ</title>
		<link>http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2010/04/29/lines-to-insecuirity/</link>
		<comments>http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2010/04/29/lines-to-insecuirity/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Thu, 29 Apr 2010 18:39:50 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Jasdeep</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Nirupma Dutt]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Paash]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Punjabi]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[insecurity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[justice]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[nation]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[secuirt]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Translation]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[If there be the terms for the security of a nation the precondition of life is to have no conscience &#8230;<p><a href="http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2010/04/29/lines-to-insecuirity/">Continue reading &#187;</a></p><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=parchanve.wordpress.com&amp;blog=1077823&amp;post=465&amp;subd=parchanve&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>If there be the terms for the security of a nation</p>
<p>the precondition of life is to have no conscience</p>
<p>any word other than &#8216;Yes&#8217;  be obscene to naked eye</p>
<p>the mind should bow to reverence to unjust moments</p>
<p>Then the security of the nation is a direct threat to us</p>
<p>We had thought of nation as a pious home</p>
<p>where there is no place for gloom</p>
<p>A person is free to flow in the streets like rain and thunder</p>
<p>free to sway in the fields like stalks of wheat</p>
<p>and give meaning to immensity of the sky</p>
<p>We had thought of the nation as a fond embrace</p>
<p>We had thought of the nation as joyous as work</p>
<p>We had thought of the nation as loyal as sacrifice</p>
<p>But  if the nation becomes a workshop</p>
<p>to strip us of our souls</p>
<p>if it becomes a laboratory to turn us into fools</p>
<p>Then we are threatened indeed</p>
<p>If the peace of the nation be such</p>
<p>that our identity be broken like</p>
<p>stones rolling down a borrowed mountain</p>
<p>The forever rising prices mock brazenly at our wages</p>
<p>Bathing in our own blood be our pilgrimage</p>
<p>Then we are threatened by this peace</p>
<p>If the security of the nation demands</p>
<p>that every protest be extinguished in the name of peace</p>
<p>Courage means only dying at the border</p>
<p>Art should blossom only at the despot&#8217;s window</p>
<p>Intellect should be put to use only by order</p>
<p>And labour will only be a sweeper outside the citadel</p>
<p>Then the security of the the nation is direct threat to us</p>
<p>&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;&#8212;-</p>
<p>ਜੇ ਦੇਸ਼ ਦੀ ਸੁਰੱਖਿਆ ਏਹੋ ਹੁੰਦੀ ਹੈ<br />
ਕਿ ਬੇ-ਜ਼ਮੀਰੀ ਜ਼ਿੰਦਗੀ ਲਈ ਸ਼ਰਤ ਬਣ ਜਾਵੇ<br />
ਅੱਖ ਦੀ ਪੁਤਲੀ &#8216;ਚ &#8216; ਹਾਂ &#8216; ਤੋਂ ਬਿਨਾ ਕੋਈ ਵੀ ਸ਼ਬਦ<br />
ਅਸ਼ਲੀਲ ਹੋਵੇ<br />
ਤੇ ਮਨ ਬਦਕਾਰ ਘੜੀਆਂ ਸਾਹਮਣੇ ਡੰਡੌਤ &#8216;ਚ ਝੁਕਿਆ ਰਹੇ<br />
ਤਾਂ ਸਾਨੂੰ ਦੇਸ਼ ਦੀ ਸੁਰੱਖਿਆ ਤੋਂ ਖਤਰਾ ਹੈ</p>
<p>ਅਸੀਂ ਤਾਂ ਦੇਸ਼ ਨੂੰ ਸਮਝੇ ਸਾਂ ਘਰ  ਵਰਗੀ ਪਵਿੱਤਰ ਸ਼ੈਅ<br />
ਜਿਹਦੇ ਵਿੱਚ ਹੁਸੜ ਨਹੀਂ ਹੁੰਦਾ<br />
ਮਨੁੱਖ ਵਰ੍ਹਦੇ ਮੀਹਾਂ ਦੀ ਗੂੰਜ਼ ਵਾਂਗ ਗਲੀਆਂ &#8216;ਚ ਵਹਿੰਦਾ ਹੈ<br />
ਕਣਕ ਦੀਆਂ ਬੱਲੀਆਂ ਵਾਂਗ ਖੇਤੀਂ ਝੂਮਦਾ ਹੈ<br />
ਅਸਮਾਨ ਦੀ ਵਿਸ਼ਾਲਤਾ ਨੂੰ ਅਰਥ ਦਿੰਦਾ ਹੈ</p>
<p>ਅਸੀਂ ਤਾਂ ਦੇਸ਼ ਨੂੰ ਸਮਝੇ ਸਾਂ ਜੱਫੀ ਵਰਗੇ ਅਹਿਸਾਸ ਦਾ ਨਾਂ<br />
ਅਸੀਂ ਤਾਂ ਦੇਸ਼ ਨੂੰ ਸਮਝੇ ਸਾਂ ਕੰਮ ਵਰਗਾ ਨਸ਼ਾ ਕੋਈ<br />
ਅਸੀਂ ਤਾਂ ਦੇਸ਼ ਨੂ ਸਮਝੇ ਸਾਂ ਕੁਰਬਾਨੀ ਜਿਹੀ ਵਫ਼ਾ<br />
ਪਰ ਜੋ ਦੇਸ਼<br />
ਰੂਹ ਦੀ ਵਗਾਰ ਦਾ ਕਾਰਖਾਨਾ ਹੈ<br />
ਪਰ ਜੋ ਦੇਸ਼ ਉੱਲੂ ਬਣਨ ਦਾ ਪ੍ਰਯੋਗ ਘਰ ਹੈ<br />
ਤਾਂ ਉਸਤੋਂ ਸਾਨੂੰ ਖਤਰਾ ਹੈ<br />
ਜੇ ਦੇਸ਼ ਦਾ ਅਮਨ ਏਹੋ ਹੁੰਦੈ<br />
ਕਿ ਕਰਜ਼ੇ  ਦੇ ਪਹਾੜਾਂ ਤੋਂ ਰਿੜਦਿਆਂ ਪੱਥਰਾਂ ਵਾਂਗ ਟੁੱਟਦੀ ਰਹੇ ਹੋਂਦ ਸਾਡੀ<br />
ਕਿ ਤਨਖਾਹਾਂ ਦੇ ਮੂੰਹ &#8216;ਤੇ ਥੁੱਕਦਾ ਰਹੇ<br />
ਕੀਮਤਾਂ ਦਾ ਬੇਸ਼ਰਮ ਹਾਸਾ<br />
ਕਿ ਆਪਣੇ ਲਹੂ ਵਿੱਚ ਨਹਾਉਣਾ ਹੀ ਤੀਰਥ ਦਾ ਪੁੰਨ ਹੋਵੇ<br />
ਤਾਂ ਸਾਨੂੰ  ਅਮਨ ਤੋਂ ਖਤਰਾ ਹੈ</p>
<p>ਜੇ ਦੇਸ਼ ਦੀ ਸੁਰੱਖਿਅਤਾ ਏਹੋ ਹੁੰਦੀ ਹੈ<br />
ਕਿ ਹਰ ਹੜਤਾਲ ਨੂ ਫੇਹ ਕੇ ਅਮਨ ਨੂੰ ਰੰਗ ਚੜ੍ਹਨਾ ਹੈ<br />
ਕਿ ਸੂਰਮਗਤੀ ਬੱਸ ਹੱਦਾਂ &#8216;ਤੇ ਮਾਰ ਪਰਵਾਨ ਚੜ੍ਹਨੀ ਹੈ<br />
ਕਲਾ ਦਾ ਫੁੱਲ ਬੱਸ ਰਾਜੇ ਦੀ ਖਿੜਕੀ ਵਿਚ ਖਿੜਨਾ ਹੈ<br />
ਅਕਲ ਨੇ ਹੁਕਮ ਦੇ ਖੂਹੇ ਤੇ ਗਿੜ ਕੇ ਧਰਤ ਸਿੰਜਣੀ ਹੈ<br />
ਕਿਰਤ ਨੇ ਰਾਜ ਮਹਿਲਾਂ ਦੇ ਦਰੀਂ ਖਰਕਾ ਹੀ ਬਣਨਾ ਹੈ<br />
ਤਾਂ ਸਾਨੂੰ ਦੇਸ਼ ਦੀ ਸੁਰੱਖਿਅਤਾ ਤੋਂ ਖਤਰਾ ਹੈ</p>
<p><strong><br />
Source:</strong> Original in Punjabi by revolutionary poet <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pash">Avtar Singh Paash</a>, He was gunned down by Khalistani miltants in 1988.<br />
Translation by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nirupama_Dutt">Nirupma Dutt</a></p>
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		<title>ਭਾਰੇ ਭਾਰੇ ਬਸਤੇ / are we standing still ?</title>
		<link>http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2010/03/17/baste/</link>
		<comments>http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2010/03/17/baste/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 17 Mar 2010 13:19:42 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Jasdeep</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Punjabi]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Surjeet Patar]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[children]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[education]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[school]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[the ponderous school bags longer are the paths my feet are tiresome and shoulders inflamed carry so much of load &#8230;<p><a href="http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2010/03/17/baste/">Continue reading &#187;</a></p><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=parchanve.wordpress.com&amp;blog=1077823&amp;post=453&amp;subd=parchanve&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p style="text-align:center;"><img class="aligncenter" title="The ponderous school bag" src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1409/1246320084_db6f7b706b.jpg" alt="" width="300" height="400" /></p>
<p style="text-align:center;">the ponderous school bags<br />
longer are the paths<br />
my feet are tiresome<br />
and shoulders inflamed<br />
carry so much of load<br />
are we donkeys ?</p>
<p style="text-align:center;">the teacher will come<br />
dictate his commandment :<br />
&#8220;open your books<br />
and recite after me&#8221;<br />
why to recite after him<br />
are we parrots ?</p>
<p style="text-align:center;">lets go, boy go<br />
lets get on our seats<br />
if we get little late<br />
what will it take ?<br />
the teacher will come<br />
and scold us well<br />
we are on the move of course ,<br />
are we standing still ?</p>
<p style="text-align:center;">ਭਾਰੇ ਭਾਰੇ ਬਸਤੇ<br />
ਲੰਮੇ ਲੰਮੇ ਰਸਤੇ<br />
ਥੱਕ ਗਏ ਨੇ ਗੋਡੇ<br />
ਦੁਖਣ ਲੱਗ ਪਏ ਮੋਢੇ<br />
ਐਨਾ ਭਾਰ ਚੁਕਾਇਆ ਏ<br />
ਅਸੀਂ ਕੋਈ ਖੋਤੇ ਆਂ ?</p>
<p style="text-align:center;">ਟੀਚਰ ਜੀ ਆਉਣਗੇ<br />
ਆ ਕੇ ਹੁਕਮ ਸੁਣਾਉਣਗੇ :<br />
ਚਲੋ ਕਿਤਾਬਾਂ ਖੋਲ੍ਹੋ<br />
ਪਿੱਛੇ ਪਿੱਛੇ ਬੋਲੋ ।<br />
ਪਿੱਛੇ ਪਿੱਛੇ ਬੋਲੀਏ<br />
ਅਸੀਂ ਕੋਈ ਤੋਤੇ ਆਂ ?</p>
<p style="text-align:center;">ਚਲੋ ਚਲੋ ਜੀ ਚੱਲੀਏ<br />
ਜਾ ਕੇ ਸੀਟਾਂ ਮੱਲੀਏ<br />
ਜੇਕਰ ਹੋ ਗਈ ਦੇਰ<br />
ਕੀ ਹੋਵੇਗਾ ਫੇਰ<br />
ਟੀਚਰ ਜੀ ਆਉਣਗੇ<br />
ਝਿੜਕਾਂ ਖ਼ੂਬ ਸੁਣਾਉਣਗੇ</p>
<p style="text-align:center;">ਤੁਰੇ ਹੀ ਤਾਂ ਜਾਨੇ ਆਂ<br />
ਅਸੀਂ ਕੋਈ ਖੜੋਤੇ ਆਂ ?</p>
<p style="text-align:center;"><strong>Transliteration:</strong><br />
Bhare bhare baste<br />
Lame lame raste<br />
Thakk gaye ne gode<br />
Dukhan lag paye modhe<br />
Aina bhar chukaya ae<br />
Asin koi khote aan?</p>
<p style="text-align:center;">Teacher jee aange<br />
Aake hukam sunaonge<br />
Chalo kitaban kholo<br />
Picche picche bolo<br />
Picche picche boliye<br />
Asin koi tote aan?</p>
<p style="text-align:center;">Chalo chalo jee chaliye<br />
Jake seatan maliye<br />
Jekar ho gayee der<br />
Ki hovega pher<br />
Teacher jee aange<br />
Jhirkan khub sunaonge<br />
Ture hi tan jane aan<br />
Asin koi khalote aan?</p>
<p><strong>Source :</strong> <a href="http://parchanve.wordpress.com/category/surjeet-patar/">Surjeet Patar </a> is renowned Punjabi poet.<br />
Thanks to <a href="http://punjabpanorama.blogspot.com/2010/03/blog-post.html">Jay Pee</a> for posting the original poem.<br />
English translation is by yours truly.</p>
<p>Indian Education system  (especially elementery) is in deep disarray, It needs an revolutionary overhaul not just reforms, The privatization in the name of reforms is just making education more costly rather than qualitative.</p>
<p>Image Courtesy Flickr : http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1409/1246320084_db6f7b706b.jpg</p>
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		<title>ਇੱਕ ਕਾਲੀ ਔਰਤ / The Black Woman</title>
		<link>http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2010/02/09/the-black-woman/</link>
		<comments>http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2010/02/09/the-black-woman/#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 09 Feb 2010 18:13:54 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>Jasdeep</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Nirupma Dutt]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[beauty]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[color]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[dark]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[longing]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[punjabi poetry]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[skin]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[women]]></category>

		<guid isPermaLink="false">http://parchanve.wordpress.com/?p=448</guid>
		<description><![CDATA[ਇੱਕ ਕਾਲੀ ਔਰਤ ਦੇ ਸੁਪਨੇ ਬਹੁਤ ਗੋਰੇ ਹੁੰਦੇ ਨੇ ਤੇ ਸੱਚ ਬਹੁਤ ਕਾਲਾ ਉਹ ਇੱਕ ਦਰਦ ਲੈ ਕੇ ਜੰਮਦੀ ਹੈ &#8230;<p><a href="http://parchanve.wordpress.com/2010/02/09/the-black-woman/">Continue reading &#187;</a></p><img alt="" border="0" src="http://stats.wordpress.com/b.gif?host=parchanve.wordpress.com&amp;blog=1077823&amp;post=448&amp;subd=parchanve&amp;ref=&amp;feed=1" width="1" height="1" />]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>ਇੱਕ ਕਾਲੀ ਔਰਤ ਦੇ ਸੁਪਨੇ ਬਹੁਤ ਗੋਰੇ ਹੁੰਦੇ ਨੇ<br />
ਤੇ ਸੱਚ ਬਹੁਤ ਕਾਲਾ<br />
ਉਹ ਇੱਕ ਦਰਦ ਲੈ ਕੇ ਜੰਮਦੀ ਹੈ<br />
ਜਿਸਨੂੰ ਤੁਸੀਂ ਕੋਈ ਵੀ ਰੰਗ ਨਹੀਂ ਦੇ ਸਕਦੇ<br />
ਉਹ ਦਰਦ ਪਾਣੀ ਦਾ ਰੰਗ ਮੰਗ<br />
ਉਹਦੀਆਂ ਅੱਖਾਂ ਭਰਦਾ ਹੈ<br />
ਓਹਦੇ ਸਿਆਹ ਜਿਸ੍ਮ ਦੇ<br />
ਸੂਹੇ ਜ਼ਖਮਾਂ &#8216;ਚ ਤਰਦਾ ਹੈ<br />
ਉਹ ਆਪਣੀ ਸਿਆਹੀ ਨੂੰ ਕਾਲੇ ਰੰਗ ਨਾਲ ਜੁੜੇ<br />
ਜ਼ੁਲਮ ਦੇ ਲੱਖਾਂ ਬਿੰਬਾਂ ਹੇਠ ਲੁਕਾਂਉਂਦੀ ਹੈ<br />
ਤੇ ਹੋਰ ਕਾਲੀ ਪਾਈ ਜਾਂਦੀ ਹੈ<br />
ਉਹਦੇ ਸੁਪਨੇ ਕਾਲੀਆਂ ਕੂੰਜਾਂ ਵਾਂਗ ਦੂਰ ਉੱਡ ਜਾਂਦੇ ਨੇ<br />
ਤੇ ਕੋਸੀ ਚਾਨਣੀ ਦਾ ਚੋਗਾ ਲਿਆ ਝੋਲੀ ਪਾਂਦੇ ਨੇ<br />
ਇੱਕ ਕਾਲੀ ਔਰਤ<br />
ਜਿੰਦਗੀ ਦੇ ਹਰ ਉਜਲੇ ਜ਼ੁਰਮ ਨੂੰ ਜਿਉਂਦੀ ਹੈ<br />
ਤੇ ਇੱਕ ਚਿੱਟੇ ਬੱਚੇ ਦੀ ਆਸ ਕਰਦੀ ਹੈ<br />
ਇੱਕ ਕਾਲੀ ਔਰਤ ਦੇ ਸੁਪਨੇ<br />
ਬਹੁਤ ਗੋਰੇ ਹੁੰਦੇ ਨੇ<br />
ਤੇ ਸੱਚ ਬਹੁਤ ਕਾਲਾ..<br />
<a href="http://en.girgit.chitthajagat.in/wp.me/p4wof-7e">Read it in Roman Script</a></p>
<p>The dreams of a black woman<br />
are very fair<br />
and her truth pitch dark<br />
She is born with a pain<br />
to which no colour<br />
can be assigned<br />
It borrows the colour of water<br />
to fill her eyes<br />
to swim in the red wounds<br />
of her dark body<br />
She suppressed on her lips<br />
the silent screams of<br />
every dark person and turns<br />
darker still<br />
The dreams of a black woman<br />
fly away like white birds<br />
to pick bits of moonlight<br />
and scatter them in her lap<br />
A black woman longs for<br />
a fair child..</p>
<p><strong><br />
Source:</strong> Nirupma Dutt is well known Punjabi Poet, Journalist and Translator, Her first anthology of poems was &#8220;Ik Nadi Sanwali Jihi&#8221;( A stream somewhat dark). The translation is also done by the poet herself.</p>
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