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अरुण कोलटकर

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Nivant
Tuesday, September 28, 2004 - 1:09 am:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

Arun Kolhatkaranchi kavita kunakade ahe ka?

Sunilt
Tuesday, September 28, 2004 - 3:46 am:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

maaJyaamato %yaancao AaDnaava kÜlhTkr nasaUna kÜlaTkr Aaho.

Aqaa-t kÜNaakDo %yaancyaa kivata Asalyaa tr malahI hvyaaca Aahot...

Nivant
Tuesday, September 28, 2004 - 3:58 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

Sunilt,
Barobar, te kolatkar have hote.
kshamasv

Robeenhood
Sunday, October 03, 2004 - 1:09 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

AÉNa kÜlaTkranaI [nga`jaI va marazIt kivata ilaihlyaa .jaojaurI naavaacaa %yaancaa kivatasanga`h Aaho. maI svata %yaanaa maÜza vagaOro saÜDa pNa kvaI sauwa maanaayalaa tyaar naahI. maharaYT/at 150to 200 laÜkaMcyaa var %yaanaa kvaI maanaNaaro laÜk nasaavaot.pNa navasaaih%yaatIla kmpUXaahImaQyao yaanao %yaacaI paz KajavaayacaI va badlyaat %yaanao yaacaI KajavaayacaI va dÜGaaMcyaa p`isawIcaI saÜya krayacaI Asaa p`kar Aaho.30 ­35 vaYaa-pUvaI- AXaI ek TÜLIca marazIt yao}na gaolaI kovaL maaQyama jagatat yaaMcaI ima~manDLI psarlaolaI Aahot mhNaUna yaaMcaI dKla GaotlaI gaolaI

Dr_ashutosh
Saturday, October 09, 2004 - 5:24 am:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

kmpUXahI vagaOro izk Aho pNa malaa mauLat vaaTt ik kÜlaTkrancyaa [nga`jaI kivata AiQak caangalyaa Ahot maraizpoxaa. Aqaa-t Ê ho vyai>gat mat . ja,ojauir maQalyaa kih kivata [qao TaktÜ .

Nivant
Saturday, October 09, 2004 - 4:44 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

Arun Kolatkaranche kharetar mi naav dekhil eikale navate. Atta te gelyavar tyanche khup kautuk vachale -- mhanun ha BB ughadala.

Ashutosh, kavita taaK -- baghu ya kasha vaTatat te..Dhanyavaad.

Sanket
Thursday, October 28, 2004 - 1:22 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

malaasauwa vaacaayacyaa Aahot %yaaMcyaa kivata. Da^. yao} Va ²

Rajanishj
Thursday, December 02, 2004 - 12:00 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

AADI
KOSALA MI VACHALI AAHE. GREAT.
MARATHIMADHE AASE BOOK PUNHA KADHI YEIL
TE SANGTA YET NAHI.
NEMADENCHI HINDU KADAMBARI KADHI YENAR TE PAHAYACHE.

Sunilt
Friday, December 03, 2004 - 5:08 am:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

rjanaIXaÊ naomaaDoMcyaa saaih%yaacaI cacaa- kÜlaTkrancyaa BB var kXaalaaÆ kÜsalaakaraMcaa vaogaLa BB Aaho naa.

Rajanishj
Wednesday, December 08, 2004 - 1:35 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

sunilt
sorry.
gadbad zali
o k

Bee
Monday, October 10, 2005 - 9:08 am:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

[qao AÉNa kÜlaaTkraMcaa nausata baIbaI Aaho pNa kuNaIhI kivata maa~ ilaihlyaa naahIt. Aaho kuNaI laxaat GaoNaaroÆ

Bee
Monday, October 10, 2005 - 9:21 am:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

maI [qao kahI URLs dotÜ Aaho. KUp Cana gaV maaihtI vaacaayalaa imaLola.

http://www.hindu.com/lr/2004/09/05/stories/2004090500230300.htm


http://locana.blogspot.com/2004/09/arun-kolatkar.html


Robeenhood
Monday, October 10, 2005 - 4:20 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

Butter fly

There is no story behind it.
It is split like a second.
It hinges around itself.

It has no future
It is pinned down to no past.
It's a pun on the present.

It's a little yellow butterfly.
It has taken these wretched hills
Under its wings.

Just a pinch of yellow,
It opens before it closes
and it closes before it opens.

where is it?

-- Arun Kolatkar

Robeenhood
Monday, October 10, 2005 - 4:23 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

A Scratch

what is god and what is stone
the dividing line if it exists is very thin at jejuri
and every other stone is god or his cousin

there is no crop other than god and god is harvested here
around the year and around the clock
out of the bad earth and the hard rock

that giant hunk of rock the size of a bedroom
is khandoba's wife turned to stone
the crack that runs right across is the scar
from his broadsword he struck her down with once
in a fit of rage

scratch a rock
and a legend springs

---- Arun kolatkar from 'Jejuri'

Robeenhood
Monday, October 10, 2005 - 4:29 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

maO BaaBaIkÜ baÜlaa
@yaa Baašsaabako D\yauTIpo maO Aajaa]Ð Æ
BaDk gayaI saalaI.
rhmaana baÜlaa gaÜlaI calaa]Mgaa.
maO baÜlaa [k rMDIko vaastoÆ
calaava gaÜlaI gaaMDU....

­­­ AÉNa kÜlaTkr


Robeenhood
Monday, October 10, 2005 - 4:32 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

Yeshwant Rao

Are you looking for a god?
I know a good one.
His name is Yeshwant Rao
and he's one of the best.
look him up
when you are in Jejuri next.
Of course he's only a second class god
and his place is just outside the main temple.
Outside even of the outer wall.
As if he belonged
among the tradesmen and the lepers.
I've known gods
prettier faced
or straighter laced.
Gods who soak you for your gold.
Gods who soak you for your soul.
Gods who make you walk
on a bed of burning coal.
Gods who put a child inside your wife.
Or a knife inside your enemy.
Gods who tell you how to live your life,
double your money
or triple your land holdings.
Gods who can barely suppress a smile
as you crawl a mile for them.
Gods who will see you drown
if you won't buy them a new crown.
And although I'm sure they're all to be praised,
they're either too symmetrical
or too theatrical for my taste.
Yeshwant Rao,
mass of basalt,
bright as any post box,
the shape of protoplasm
or king size lava pie
thrown against the wall,
without an arm, a leg
or even a single head.
Yeshwant Rao.
He's the god you've got to meet.
If you're short of a limb,
Yeshwant Rao will lend you a hand
and get you back on your feet.
Yeshwant Rao
Does nothing spectacular.
He doesn't promise you the earth
Or book your seat on the next rocket to heaven.
But if any bones are broken,
you know he'll mend them.
He'll make you whole in your body
and hope your spirit will look after itself.
He is merely a kind of a bone-setter.
The only thing is,
as he himself has no heads, hands and feet,
he happens to understand you a little better.

Arun Kolatkar from JEJURI

Robeenhood
Monday, October 10, 2005 - 4:36 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

A game of tigers and sheep

Who has the tigers and who the sheep

never seems to make any difference.

The result is always the same:

She wins,

I lose.

But sometimes when her tigers

are on the rampage,

and I've lost half my herd of sheep,

help comes from unexpected quarters:

Above.

The Rusty Shield Bearer,

neutral till then,

para-drops a winning flower —

yellow

and irrelevant —

on the checkerboard

drawn on the pavement in charcoal,

cutting off the retreat

of one tiger,

and giving a check to the other;

and quickly follows it up

with another flower —

just as yellow

and just as irrelevant — except

that it comes down even more slowly;

a flower without a search warrant

that brushes past her earlobe,

grazes her cheek,

and disappears down the front

of her low-cut blouse —

where she usually keeps

her stash of hash —

to confuse her even further, with its mildly

narcotic

but very distracting fragrance.
Traffic lights

Fifty phantom motorcyclists

all in black

crash-helmeted outriders

faceless behind tinted visors

come thundering from one end of the road

and go roaring down the other

shattering the petrified silence of the night

like a delirium of rock-drills

preceded by a wailing cherry-top

and followed by a faceless president

in a deathly white Mercedes

coming from the airport and going downtown

raising a storm of protest in its wake

from angry scraps of paper and dry leaves

but unobserved by traffic lights

that seem to have eyes only for each other

and who like ill-starred lovers

fated never to meet

but condemned to live forever and ever

in each other's sight

continue to send signals to each other

throughout the night

and burn with the cold passion of rubies

separated by an empty street.

---- Arun Kolatkar'Kala ghoda'








Robeenhood
Monday, October 10, 2005 - 4:38 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

Traffic lights

Fifty phantom motorcyclists

all in black

crash-helmeted outriders

faceless behind tinted visors

come thundering from one end of the road

and go roaring down the other

shattering the petrified silence of the night

like a delirium of rock-drills

preceded by a wailing cherry-top

and followed by a faceless president

in a deathly white Mercedes

coming from the airport and going downtown

raising a storm of protest in its wake

from angry scraps of paper and dry leaves

but unobserved by traffic lights

that seem to have eyes only for each other

and who like ill-starred lovers

fated never to meet

but condemned to live forever and ever

in each other's sight

continue to send signals to each other

throughout the night

and burn with the cold passion of rubies

separated by an empty street.

Arun Kolatkar 'poems of Kala ghoda'

Robeenhood
Monday, October 10, 2005 - 4:46 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

A LOW TEMPLE

A low temple keeps its gods in the dark.
You lend a matchbox to the priest.
One by one the gods come to light.
Amused bronze. Smiling stone. Unsurprised.
For a moment the length of a matchstick
gesture after gesture revives and dies.
Stance after lost stance is found
and lost again.
Who was that, you ask.
The eight arm goddess, the priest replies.
A sceptic match coughs.
You can count.
But she has eighteen, you protest.
All the same she is still an eight arm goddess to the priest.
You come out in the sun and light a charminar.
Children play on the back of the twenty foot tortoise.



THE HORSESHOE SHRINE

That nick in the rock
is really a kick in the side of the hill.
It's where a hoof
struck

like a thunderbolt
when Khandoba
with the bride sidesaddle behind him on the blue
horse

jumped across the valley
and the three
went on from there like one
spark

fleeing from flint.
To a home that waited
on the other side of the hill like a hay
stack.


THE PATTERN

a checkerboard pattern
some old men must have drawn
yesterday

with a piece of chalk
on the back of the twenty foot
tortoise

smudges under the bare feet
and gets fainter all the time as
the children run


THE MANOHAR

The door was open.
Manohar thought
it was one more temple.

He looked inside.
Wondering
which god he was going to find.

He quickly turned away
when a wide eyed calf
looked back at him.

It isn't another temple,
he said,
it's just a cowshed.

-- Arun Kolatkar

Robeenhood
Monday, October 10, 2005 - 5:41 pm:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

kvaI tÜ ksaa Asao AananaIM
kvaI tÜ ksaa Asao AananaIM Æ

AÉNa kÜlaTkr


Bee
Wednesday, July 19, 2006 - 10:32 am:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

हा आततायी किनारा
निराधार

ज्यांनी दाखवला तुला
ती माणसंच होती का

आणि माणसं खरच एवढी दुष्टं
असू शकतात का आई

तसं असेल
तर माणूस म्हणून जन्माला येण्यात तरी काय अर्थ आहे

त्याच्यापेक्षा एक हत्ती म्हणूनच
का जन्माला येऊ नये मी ?


Bee
Wednesday, July 19, 2006 - 10:51 am:   Edit Post Delete Post Print Post  Link to this message

पेटेल आयाळ, आवरतं घे
भाजेल शेपूट, संभाळून ने
चल रे माझ्या सिंहा, जरा नमतं घे

या जळत्या वर्तुळातून उडी मारून जा
आरपार
इकडून तिकडे
नि पुनः तिकडून इकडे

ही शून्याकार आग, ही जळती मोकळीक
रोजचीच आहे
ही सर्वस्वी सर्कस तुझीच आहे




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