Bas Kar by Nikita

 

Desh ke liye, iss jahan ke liye

Naari tu kar prahaar apane apamaan ke liye

Naari too apane svaabhimaan ke liye

Tod de in bediyon ko apne maan-sammaan ke liye

Kar prayaas apane utthaan ke liye

Sambhaal tu kamaan apane aap ke liye

 

Mat hone de yeh prachaar tu

Ki tujhe sahana hi padega

Chup rahana hi padega

 

Raaton mein na tu aahen bhar

Na tu kisi ka intazaar kar

 

khud se tu pyaar kar

Bas aawaz ko buland kar

Uss vyavahaar ka virodh kar

Darr mat tu iss sansaar se

Dukhon ko apne swayam tu har

 

Ek baar seh liya toh jeevan bhar sahegi

Maut tu ek baar nahin, har kshan maregi

Aaj nahin kahegi toh kathputli bankar rahegi

Uss daitya se fir tu har dam darti rahegi

 

Khudpe haunsla toh rakh

Apni kabiliyat ko parakh

 

Aaj padhi likhi hai naari

Kaanoon ki hai usko jaankari

Nahin hai ‘Nikita’ ab vo bechari

Vah akeli hi hai sab par bhaari

Kaal hai woh tera paapi, atyachari!

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Beti by Prakhar Garg

 

Woh maa-maa pukarti rahi

Duniya use dutkaaratee rahi

Vah kehti rahi ke usey bhi

Dekhni hai vah duniya

 

Jo kahatee hai bojh hoti hain betiyaan

Jo kahatee hai bojh hoti hain betiyaan

 

Usey chaahiye voh baap ka laad

Jo patthar ko pighala de

Aur de duniya ka bharpur pyaar

Usey bataana hai maa ka haath

Aur kandha milaana hai bhai ke saath

Usey deni hai bhaagedaari duniya ko har haal mein

Bachaana hai lut ta hua pyaar is zaalim sansaar mein

 

Rani Laxmi Bai bankar karna hai dushmanon ka sanhaar

P T Usha bankar badhana hai desh ka maan

Sati ban bachane dharti ka praan

Jeevan mein nibhane hain kai saare kirdaar

Beti bann aayi maa lekar avtaar.

 

Mangal par parcham lehrane,

Duniya mein mamatva jagane,

Chaaro oar khushhaali failane,

Beti bann aayi, maa lekar avtaar!

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Jab Godse mile Gandhi se by Kulshagra Kulshreshtha

 

Jab Godse mile Gaandhi se

Swarg Theher gaya Saara,

Yeh kalushit iss baar fir se?

Kya yeh ab tak nahin rann hara

Firangi jab cheer haran ko aaya

Gandhi ne cheer badhaya tha,

‘Raghupati Raghav’ ka strotpaath kar

Fate samaj ko turpaya tha

Yeh madaandh mrut-raag ke

Vaadan mein itna jhoom gaya,

Bhaarti ki aadh mein

Bhaarti ka hi khoon kiya

Yeh dhaara na seh paayi

Vah pukar Shri Ram ko,

Yun mahatma laut aaye

Isi oar wapas dhaam ko

Gire Godse kadmon par

svarn-patal par bikhar gaye,

Abhay-daan ke ashru nayan se

Tod bandhan ab jhar gaye

 

“jeerah papon ki karne mein

Main aur paap karta aaya,

Vikshobh ke tivr-tapan mein

Apna dosh na samajh paaya”

“gat-kshan, tum mere mitra bann gaye akshunn

Kupit ho kiye par tum pachtaaye”,

Vegavtiyan beh gayi bhaavon ki

Lage gale, jaise rutu vasanti muskuraaye!

 

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Meri Basti by Isha Karn

 

There lay a divine village!

Where men did their morning prayers

And young ones hung and swung from massive banyan trees,

And women looked at them with deep affection

There lay a lovely village !

Where scent of Mogra and Chameli

Created a pleasing aura of tenderness ,

And every drop of the holy Ganga

Was considered to be sacred ,

There lay an enchanting village !

Where children made friends with everyone

And treated everyone equally,

Where men and women held the same position

And everyone was treated indiscriminately,

There lay a village of equals !

Where women wore traditional sarees,

Irrespective of the role they played

And men wore kurtas made of khadi,

Without forgetting their tradition and culture swayed

There lay a village full of culture !

Where no one was uneducated,

And knowledge was considered as a boon to all

 

And not a single person lay idle,

Because joblessness was considered as a downfall

There lay an enlightened village !

Where freedom was their birthright

And ahimsa their life mantra,

The place bloomed with the first ray of sunlight

When everyone woke up to perform yoga mudra,

There lay an ideal village!

Reflection by Tonishka Singh

 

The girl looks at herself

In a cracked mirror,

Hoping it would show her

Who she is,

Tell her something other

than what they say.

‘Why must she study so much,

What for does she need

A new cycle,

Why, her cousins are

Already rearing families.”

The fields don’t pay enough,

Should mother buy rice,

Or her books?

The brick kilns that

Blind her father,

 

Are blind to her school fees.

On a mountain of sacrifices,

the girl now stands

She is far beyond

Those naysayers for whom

To be poor and to be a girl

Meant ruination.

The girl looks at herself

In a gilded mirror,

Knowing that one summer noon,

It told her to dream

Higher than she could.

 

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Ubuntu- A Modern Description by Riddhi Wagle

 

When I talk about

How I grew up, I describe

None of you.

 

Not even the cranky uncle,

I used to fear to, as a child.

When I talk about what I gave

To the people I grew with,

I describe the loneliness

I’ve got as a gift from them.

When I talk about who helped me

Over my anxieties and depression,

I never talk about

The psychiatrist, but the pills I swallowed

Under the influence of my “well wisher boss”

When I mention the number of attempts

I’ve made to bake a perfect, round-bread,

I never mention the attempts that have taken me

Over a pile of papers that reach an office.

When I mention the days I took off

For a medical check-up,

I keep aside the nights I’ve cried to myself.

Or when my queries about life begin,

I condemn talking about my first Kiss

Or that incredible touch, that for once,

Made me felt secure.

When I say I’ve said enough,

I recall the slangs I’ve heard for being

The kind of being I was.

When I talk about

The burnt pages of my diary,

I never mention the burnt emotions behind it.

Because I, was taught and brought up..

That way.

 

Because I love my privacy,

More than an intimacy with the people

That surround me.

Because I, firmly and attentively,

Believe that I have a greater importance,

Than any circle of life I’ve ever lived in.

Because what I’ve been, is a result of Us,

And certainly, because of Us.

 

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