This poem is based on a video or thought by the famous Richard Feynmann. He is talking about the perspective one has about the world. He had said that we can view the world as a perpetual line of people getting up and doing this ritual of brushing their teeth.
And then it gave rise to this poem.
चक्र गतीचे फिरते फिरते
गोल पृथ्वीचा फिरतो फिरतो
एक अनोखी संध्यारेषा
आणिक दुसरी प्रभातरेषा
अंतर राखून तेच बरोबर
एकच तरीही कशा समांतर ? !
मुखमार्जन ते प्रातःकाळी
उठून करती जन ते सत्वर
रेघ जणू ती त्या सगळ्यांची
फिरत राहते सदा निरंतर!!!
किती झोपी जाती नंतर
पलंगावरी वा कातळी त्या
मागाहून संध्यारेषेच्या
त्यांची देखील रेषा कातर
कुणासाठी हंगाम विणीचा
कुणासाठी हापूस आंब्याचा
कुणासाठी तो स्ट्रॉबेरीचा
कुणासाठी डुरियन फळाचा !
हंगामी या सगळ्याचीही
रेषा तिथली तिथे उमटते
काही महिने दिवस काही वा
आपुला ठसा सोडून जाते !
कुठे वर्षते वर्षाकाठी
कुठे हिमपदे सर्व पांढरे
कुठे पानगळ लाल पिवळी अन
कुठे गुलाबी पाने नवथर
रेषांमधून उमटत राहती
असे ऋतूंचे किती सोहळे
शिशिर वर्षा कितीक नावे
जणू रंगांचे ठसेच सुंदर
सणासुदीची मजा आगळी
रोषणाईने नटती नगरे
त्यांच्या दिवशी त्यांच्या रेषा
उमटून जाती भरभर झरझर
दूर दक्षिणी वरी उत्तरी
षण्मासांचे रात्र दिनांतर
रेषा सगळ्या तिथेच विरती
परी चक्रासि ना गत्यंतर !
सजीवकर्मा दिला पृथ्वीने
या सर्वाचा सुंदर पडदा
त्यावर घडते नाट्य नित्य अन
प्रत्येकाचा प्रवेश पळभर !
This is a freeflow translation of the same poem!
Circular lines
There is a twilight line
And the other is the line of dawn
Equidistant as they travel (in time and space)
They are one yet they are parallel!
Many people get up everyday
They brush their teeth along that line
Their line revolves every moment
It goes on and on everyday
Then there are people going to sleep
Some on rosy beds some on the rocks without a home!
They have their own line
Which follows the brush-line!!
Then there is breeding season
And the season of alphonso mangoes
Some have a season of strawberry
While others have it for Durian
Every season leaves its line
With its own glory and shine
Lasting for some days or months
It leaves a temporary imprint
Somewhere it rains only for a season
Some others have snowfall
Some have the season of fall
While some celebrate the pink spring after all
Amongst the lines these all appear
The festivities of seasons in the nature
Some call it Shishir (fall) or Varsha (Monsoon)
They seem to be stamps of beautiful colors
Festivals have their own charm
Villages and town all bear lights
They have their own lines or patches
Momentary but with full of their might
At the poles the picture is different
Six months are consumed for a day or night
The lines dissolve or converge there!
But still there is constant cycle which every place has to bear!
For the karmas of all the beings
There is this backdrop of lines and colors
The play is performed on this backdrop
And everyone has an entry for just a moment!
