World Poetry Month: Day Twelve

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World Poetry Month: Day Twelve

World Poetry Month: Day Twelve
World Poetry Month: Day Twelve

Today’s poetry is “The Frog And The Nightingale is a poem by Vikram Seth. Vikram Seth is an Indian poet, novelist and librettist whose work has been translated into more than twenty-five languages. 

The poem tells the story of a frog living in a pond who becomes jealous when a nightingale begins to sing and attract an audience. The frog challenges the nightingale to a singing competition, promising a prize if the frog wins.

With much difficulty, the nightingale is able to win against the frog, who eventually leaves feeling humbled.

This poem is a beautiful metaphor for the power of perseverance and finding one’s own strengths in order to succeed.

It also speaks to our need to recognize and support the talents of others, as well as our desire to be appreciated for our own accomplishments. 

The nightingale’s hard work and dedication paid off despite the odds, and the frog’s lesson is clear: sometimes it is best to leave one’s ego at the door. 

Through this poem, Vikram Seth shows us that we have much to gain if we can learn to appreciate the gifts of others and find our own inner strength. 

In conclusion, “The Frog And The Nightingale Poem” is a powerful reminder that with hard work and dedication, one can overcome any obstacle. 

It encourages us to pursue our own dreams and recognize the talents of others. By working together, we can all find success in life.

“The Frog And The Nightingale” by Vikram Seth ▶️

Once upon a time a frog
Croaked away in Bingle Bog
Every night from dusk to dawn
He croaked awn and awn and awn
Other creatures loathed his voice,
But, alas, they had no choice,
And the crass cacophony
Blared out from the sumac tree
At whose foot the frog each night
Minstrelled on till morning night

Neither stones nor prayers nor sticks.
Insults or complaints or bricks
Stilled the frogs determination
To display his heart’s elation.
But one night a nightingale
In the moonlight cold and pale
Perched upon the sumac tree
Casting forth her melody
Dumbstruck sat the gaping frog
And the whole admiring bog
Stared towards the sumac, rapt,

And, when she had ended, clapped,
Ducks had swum and herons waded
To her as she serenaded
And a solitary loon
Wept, beneath the summer moon.
Toads and teals and tiddlers, captured
By her voice, cheered on, enraptured:
“Bravo! ” “Too divine! ” “Encore! “
So the nightingale once more,
Quite unused to such applause,
Sang till dawn without a pause.

Next night when the Nightingale
Shook her head and twitched her tail,
Closed an eye and fluffed a wing
And had cleared her throat to sing
She was startled by a croak.
“Sorry – was that you who spoke? “
She enquired when the frog
Hopped towards her from the bog.
“Yes,” the frog replied. “You see,
I’m the frog who owns this tree
In this bog I’ve long been known
For my splendid baritone
And, of course, I wield my pen
For Bog Trumpet now and then”

“Did you… did you like my song? “
“Not too bad – but far too long.
The technique was fine of course,
But it lacked a certain force”.
“Oh! ” the nightingale confessed.
Greatly flattered and impressed
That a critic of such note
Had discussed her art and throat:
“I don’t think the song’s divine.
But – oh, well – at least it’s mine”.

“That’s not much to boast about”.
Said the heartless frog. “Without
Proper training such as I

And few others can supply.
You’ll remain a mere beginner.
But with me you’ll be a winner”
“Dearest frog”, the nightingale
Breathed: “This is a fairy tale –
And you are Mozart in disguise
Come to earth before my eyes”.

“Well I charge a modest fee.”
“Oh! ” “But it won’t hurt, you’ll see”
Now the nightingale inspired,
Flushed with confidence, and fired
With both art and adoration,
Sang – and was a huge sensation.
Animals for miles around
Flocked towards the magic sound,
And the frog with great precision
Counted heads and charged admission.

Though next morning it was raining,
He began her vocal training.
“But I can’t sing in this weather”
“Come my dear – we’ll sing together.
Just put on your scarf and sash,
Koo-oh-ah! ko-ash! ko-ash! “
So the frog and nightingale
Journeyed up and down the scale
For six hours, till she was shivering
and her voice was hoarse and quivering.

Though subdued and sleep deprived,
In the night her throat revived,
And the sumac tree was bowed,
With a breathless, titled crowd:
Owl of Sandwich, Duck of Kent,
Mallard and Milady Trent,
Martin Cardinal Mephisto,
And the Coot of Monte Cristo,
Ladies with tiaras glittering
In the interval sat twittering –
And the frog observed them glitter
With a joy both sweet and bitter.

Every day the frog who’d sold her
Songs for silver tried to scold her:
“You must practice even longer
Till your voice, like mine grows stronger.
In the second song last night
You got nervous in mid-flight.
And, my dear, lay on more trills:
Audiences enjoy such frills.
You must make your public happier:
Give them something sharper snappier.
We must aim for better billings.
You still owe me sixty shillings.”

Day by day the nightingale
Grew more sorrowful and pale.
Night on night her tired song
Zipped and trilled and bounced along,
Till the birds and beasts grew tired
At a voice so uninspired
And the ticket office gross
Crashed, and she grew more morose –
For her ears were now addicted
To applause quite unrestricted,
And to sing into the night
All alone gave no delight.

Now the frog puffed up with rage.
“Brainless bird – you’re on the stage –
Use your wits and follow fashion.
Puff your lungs out with your passion.”
Trembling, terrified to fail,
Blind with tears, the nightingale
Heard him out in silence, tried,
Puffed up, burst a vein, and died.

Said the frog: “I tried to teach her,
But she was a stupid creature –
Far too nervous, far too tense.
Far too prone to influence.
Well, poor bird – she should have known
That your song must be your own.
That’s why I sing with panache:
“Koo-oh-ah! ko-ash! ko-ash! “
And the foghorn of the frog
Blared unrivalled through the bog.


Suddenly the daughter grew up

अचानक बड़ी हो गई है बेटी

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  1. अचानक बड़ी हो गई है बेटी

    अचानक बड़ी हो गई है बेटी
    ये ही सोच रही मैं बैठी- बैठी l
    जब यह पैदा हुई , मेरी आँख खुली थी बाद l
    पहली झलक जब सुबह उसको देखा,
    देख देख हो गई निहाल,
    ईश्वर ने दिया सुन्दर उपहार l
    दिन महीने की गति तेज l
    तुतलाती बतियाती बिटिया
    नर्सरी से कब सेकेंडरी पहुंची
    सकेंडरी से पकड़ी कॉलेज की राह,
    जहाँ मिला उसे ज्ञान अथाह l
    पता ही न चला समय किधर गया
    उच्च शिक्षा प्राप्त कर के वह
    औरों को राह दिखाती है l
    सुख – दुख मुझसे साझा करती,
    सुन्दर,सुशील और गुणवान है l
    मेरे घर की शान ही नहीं, वंश
    का वरदान है l
    समय की गति ही ऐसी,
    अचनाक बड़ी हो गई है बेटी l

  2. #rntalks


    जिन्दगी है बड़ी अजीब
    दिखती है जितनी सरल ,
    उतनी ही है उलझी – उलझी
    जहाँ एक तरफ हैं अच्छे लोग
    वहीं धुर्तों की नहीं है कमी
    अच्छों की अच्छाइयाँ सदैव कुचली जाती
    जब धूर्त अपने धूर्तता का परचम लहराते
    जिन्दगी अगर जीना है , तो
    सावधानी को तलवार बनाना होगा
    हर कदम हर पग पर , फूंक  फूंक कर रखना होगा
    अपने दिमाग के दरवाजों को संजीदा रखना होगा
    लोभ – इर्ष्या से दूर रह , एक नया जहाँ बसाना होगा
    तभी दुष्टों पर भारी हम होंगे
    सुन्दर नया जहाँ बसा हम सकेंगे।

  3. #rntalks

    अचानक बड़ी हो गई है बेटी

    बेटी — संसार का सबसे खुबसूरत तोहफा
    जिसके आने से ही घर महका – महका सा होने लगता
    उसकी किलकारी से घर गूंजता
    सारा जहाँ हसीन दिखने लगता

    नन्हीं सी बिटिया ठुमक – ठुमक कर जब चलती
    जैसे धरती – अम्बर एक सा हो जाता
    उसके उस नन्हें रूप में
    सारे जहाँ की खुशी  दिखने लगती

    अचानक एक दिन बड़ी हो जाती  बेटी
    सारे घर की जिम्मेदारी अकेले ही संभालती
    रसोई से लेकर सबके सोने – बैठने का ध्यान वो रखती
    लक्ष्मी – सरस्वती रूप लिए वो फिरती

    सारा घर उसके पग – ध्वनी से गूंजता रहता
    सबकी लाडो राजकुमारी सी दिखती
    उसके आंसू का एक बूंद घर की नींव हिला देती
    वहीं उसकी मुस्कान घर में नई जान डाल देती

    जब दुल्हन बन पिया की जीवन संगिनी बनती
    उस घर को अपने चरणों से पावन बनाती
    खुद को परिवार की खातिर समर्पित कर
    एक सुखद इतिहास की रचना करती ।।

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