know something of modern Hindi, and I am glad to commend this translation. Bachchan is a well-known Hindi poet and I like this. Madhushala of his. 19 मार्च Download Madhushala by Harivansh Rai Bachchan Hindi Book PDF by one of the most popular poet and writer Harivansh Rai Bachcchan. poet of the Hindi Kavi Sammelan. He is best known for his early work. Madhushala (???????). He is also the father of Bollywood megastar, Amitabh. Bachchan.
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A masterpiece poem by the great hindi author terney.infonsh Rai Bachchan. One of the Download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd. The poet known to the Hindi literary world as 'Bachchan' was born as 'Harivansh Rai' . 'Bachchan is a well-known Hindi poet and I like this Madhushala of his'. Dr Harivanshrai Bachchan is India s leading Hindi poet a confidante of the . the place which provides is Madhushala The poem endorses life, not alcoholism.
He made sure that the line of parallels is never broken.
Just beautiful. I recommend you to search about the metaphors before reading it and rather do a contemplative reading for every couplet. A great poet and of course, father to the legendary Bollywood superstar makes him a household name across India.
My first exposure to Harvansh ji was during my IIT prep days. Now that I think about it, I believe it was the exposure of Hindi poetry for me. I would read the poem every day on my way to mess, getting motivated and To live in India and be not knowing of Harivansh Rai Bacchan would be blasphemous. I would read the poem every day on my way to mess, getting motivated and further determined, every single time.
What a great man he would have been, who could inspire and motivate millions through his few words. Madhushala is his most famous work — one that got famous before it even got published. The book beautifully uses metaphors to explain the complexity of life and the circumstances surrounding us, with four common words recurring in almost every quatrain - madira wine , saaki server , pyaala cup or glass and madhushala bar.
Ah, Beautiful, your lovely face is like a crystal bowl, Whose precious gem is your beauty, sparkling like sweet, intoxicating wine.
I am the wine-maiden and I am the guest. Where sit we together, there indeed is the tavern. A mere two days she served me but the young maiden is sulking now. She fills my goblet and passes it curtly to me. Her coquetry and charms are lost arts; All the tavern wishes now is to fulfil its obligations. Life is short. How much love can I give and how much can I drink?
They say, "He departs," at the very moment that he is born. While he is being welcomed, I have seen his farewell being prepared. They started closing the shutters of the tavern, as soon as they were raised.
O maiden! Which burning heart has been pacified by drinking? Every drinker repeats only one chant, "More! Of how many such hopes is this tavern a tomb?
Yama will come as the wine-maiden and bring his black wine, Drink, and know no more consciousness, O carefree one. This is the ultimate trance, the ultimate wine-maiden and the ultimate goblet. O traveller, drink judiciously, for you will never find the tavern again.
Each day, O companion, spills more wine from my life. Each day, O fortunate one, this goblet, my body, is burnt. Each day, O lovely woman, this wine-maiden, my youth, distances itself from me. Each day, O beauty, this tavern, my Life, is drying up. When from the earthen jar of my body, the wine of life is emptied, When the final wine-maiden comes with her bowl of poison, When my hand forgets the touch of the goblet, and my lips the taste of wine, Whisper in my ears, "the wine, the goblet, the tavern!
Touch not my tongue with the Ganga's waters, but with wine, when I die.
When you bear my corpse, pallbearers, remember this! Call not the name of God, but call to the truth that is the tavern. Weep over my corpse, if you can weep tears of wine.
Sigh dejectedly for me, if you are intoxicated and carefree. Bear me on your shoulders, if you stumble drunkenly along. Cremate me on that land, where there once was a tavern. Pour on my ashes, not ghee, but wine.
Tie to a vine of grapes, not a waterpot, but a wine-goblet.