O. Henry, who was known for his strong portrayal of simple things in his stories was truly a master story-teller. If you have read “The Last Leaf” or “The Gift of Magi“, then you’d know. I watched a classic Indian movie tonight, Raincoat, which is loosely based on “The Gift of Magi”. A simple story of two people who meet one rainy afternoon and reflect back on things that could have been. Due to my deep dwelling in the topic, I enjoy such story-telling movies with minimum actors and a feel of old-style movie making.
For those who know Gulzar (legendary Indian/Urdu Poet), here’s his outstanding poem from the movie, Raincoat.
Click on the play button below to listen to this Nazm in Gulzar’s voice.
I’m presenting my own English translation for those who don’t understand Hindi. This poem goes beyond any articulation.
‘Twas a puff of the season
That shook the portrait that hung so listlessly
In the days of yore, the walls weren’t so moist
Who knows why the moistness crept in
Don’t know why the cracks came
And the moistness shows
Like the tears on a face so blank
This rain once sang on the rooftops
It used to write on the windowpanes
Alas it weeps away behind a cage now
And the afternoons are so
Like a chess without the pieces
There’s no one to play, just no one
Neither the day breaks, nor the night comes
Everything seems still
Perhaps ’twas a puff of the season
That shook the portrait on this wall.
Gulzar says it all..
thats a real good one by gulzar saab..love the man in white……………..
paromita
What a beautiful poem! Glad I saw ur post on an orkut community abt raincoat, which brought me here!
Surely a great poem, senorita 🙂
Again an excellent peace of work by Gulzaarsaab.it go straight into heart.listening the same in gulzaarsaab soothings voice g8 experience.Also hats off for directors creativity to used the same in perfect scene in Raincoat.Ajay devgan and ash nice chemistry.love this movie too much.
May I tweak it a bit more, with your permission
Was it a puff of the season
That shook the portrait hanging listlessly
Last season the walls weren’t so moist
Who knows why it crept in now
Don’t know why the cracks came
And the damp shows
Like the tears on a face so blank
This rain once sang on the rooftops
It used to write on the windowpanes
Alas it weeps away behind a cage now
And the afternoons are so
Like a chess without the pieces
There’s no one to play, no bets laid
Neither the day breaks, nor night comes
Everything seems still
Perhaps ’twas a puff of the season
That shook the portrait on this wall.
Thanks for your rendition, Sujit.
Gautam:
Thank you for posting such a beautiful poem by Gulzar. I agree, translating Gulzars poem is a mission impossible. Having said that, I would like to take a stab at it :). Here’s my attempt and before I forget, I would like to thank a friend (you know who you are) for the finishing touch.
It was season’s
sudden gust of wind
that skewed the portrait
hung on this wall
In monsoons prior
these walls were not so damp
Wonder why this time
humidity crept in,
cracks developed,
and dampness seeped through
Dewy tears gliding over dry cheeks
The rains used to sing
on this very rooftop
And write sweet nothings
with its fingertips
on window panes of this house.
Now lamenting behind unlit lanterns
afternoons feel like an empty chess set
without pieces
There are no players for a match
and no moves to be made
Neither the day dawns nor the night falls
Everything is at a standstill.
Oh what a gust of wind it was
that skewed the portrait
hung on this wall.