One of my favorite poems is “Parichay”(Identity) by Ramdhari Singh Dinkar. I still remember parts of the poem:
It starts off as :
“Salil kann hoon ya paravaar hoon main?
Swayam chaya, swayam aadhar hoon main;
bandha hoon, swapna hoon, laghu vrut hoon main;
nahin to vyom ka vistaar hoon main.”
(Am I a dew drop or an ocean?
I am both the shadow and the origin (of the shadow);
I am tied down, a dream, enclosed in a small area,
or else, I am the expanse of the sky.)
The poem ends with the lines
“Bandha toofan hun, chalna mana hai,
bandhi uddaam nirjhar-dhaar hoon main;
kahoon kya kaun hoon, kya aag meri?
Bandhi hai lekhni, laachaar hoon main.”
(I am a captive storm whose movement is forbidden,
I am a captive waterfall,
Shall I tell you who I am, what the fire in me is ?
My pen is constrained, I am helpless.)
It’s a beautiful poem, and I think of it often now, it seems so appropriate. I am still exploring my new identity as an aspiring writer. My mind is full of stories, waiting to come out into the open. They stand like first-time skydivers at the door of the aircraft, afraid to look down, postponing the moment when they will leap out into the unknown.
Yes, I would like to tell you a lot more, but like the poet, I cannot find the words. My thoughts move in an awkward, erratic dance and my fingers refuse to give form to my rambling thoughts. I hope the words will flow smoother in days to come. I would like to watch the stories unfurl their parachutes and begin their colorful descent. I think you will like them too…