Insight Stories

लातूर मधे मृत्यू होतायत
पाण्याच्या रांगेत तिष्टत असलेल्यांचे
आणि मुंबई न्हाऊन निघतेय रंगांनी
तुम्हा सर्वांना हॅपी होळी

विरोधकांना अजून एक संधी मिळालीये
सरकारवर तोफ डागण्याची
अजून एक अपयश माथी मारण्याची
तुम्हा सर्वांना हॅपी होळी

आपलं माणूस नसणं कसं कळणार
पैसे देऊन पाणी विकत घेणार्यांना
जाऊदे आपल्याला काय त्याचं
तुम्हा सर्वांना हॅपी होळी

विदर्भात २००० शेतकरी गेले
न मोजलेल्यांची संख्या माहित नाही
"अच्छे दिन" येणारेत, डोंट वरी
तुम्हा सर्वांना हॅपी होळी

देव सापडेल एकवेळ
आपल्यातला माणूस दगड झालाय
गोड लागत नाही आज पुरण पोळी
तुम्हा सर्वांना हॅपी होळी


- हेरंब
ISupportNAAM

Light of the moon
Sparkling on your silver shivering body
As my fingers come closer to feel you breathe
The farther you move

Speaking of the way
You enchanted me with those lovely eyes
And you teased me by coming and going
As every moment my parched feet sink in with thirst

I know you are too vast
For me to call you my own
O ocean, my ocean of love
A drop of your love is all I have been waiting for


- हेरंब
ISupportNAAM


Glad to share with you my recently self-published book

मेंढी, वॉचमन व इतर लघुकथा (Short Stories in Marathi)
Get your copy: http://imojo.in/4kzao4

Untold Stories of Love
Get your copy: http://bit.ly/1Lok7NM

I have always felt something romantic and mysterious about the act of buying an used book from an old paper mart. Ridiculous as it may sound, I'm sure many will have had some similar experience.

There are plenty such old paper marts in Mumbai, mostly located outside railway stations or near colleges, having books which you can't imagine would exist covered with dust in this most unlikely place.

It happens like this - you enter the shop to buy a recent best seller or a book by your favourite author. While the shopkeeper is busy locating it in the dangerously piled book towers, you happen to notice a different book. Or does the book draw you towards itself? You have never heard the book title, sometimes it is a book published before you were born by an author unheard of. Not that the book has an attractive cover, but somehow it is able to draw you. You read the back cover blurb and open the book. The traffic on the road is crazy- honking horns and autorickshaws, but the din doe…

If you assume literature is a world of best sellers, dignity, the elite and Pulitzers, Man Booker or Sahitya Kala Akademi, think again. There are streaks of struggle and muffled voices which are very much present in this field too. One such happening is banning of books containing purportedly derogatory or defamatory work.

The works are banned because the sentiments of a section of society have been hurt. The over all situation seems so brittle that sometimes I wonder writers, filmmakers, painters or any creative individual for that matter may stop expressing through their work out of this fear.

If you think this is a imaginative paranoia I am sharing, here is an incident.

Perumal Murugan gives up writing
“Perumal Murugan, the writer is dead. As he is no God, he is not going to resurrect himself. He also has no faith in rebirth. An ordinary teacher, he will live as P. Murugan. Leave him alone,” '

“Those who have bought my books can consign them to the flames. I am also ready to pay …