[Deewan] Fwd: [Reader-list] The Sampaati Club

Ravikant ravikant at sarai.net
Tue Jan 24 15:54:25 IST 2006


एक और फ़ॉरवर्ड. सम्पाती कविता मुझे तो अच्छी लगी. 

रविकान्त

----------  Forwarded Message  ----------

Subject: [Reader-list] The Sampaati Club
Date: Sunday 22 Jan 2006 4:54 pm
From: rahul pandita <rahulpandita at yahoo.com>
To: reader-list at sarai.net

  The Sampaati Club

  Life is so difficult in Delhi. Sometimes I feel there are more vehicles on
 roads than human beings. Everyone is rushing everywhere. Some people live on
 Bread, Butter, Maggi and Pepsi. Some live on Royal Stag and Chicken Tikka
 Masala. And some people live on credit cards. So much so that their life
 becomes a loan; each day an instalment. That is why probably call centres
 are booming. Tele marketing is thriving.

  I left a conventional job three months ago. People asked why and I claimed
 to be working on a novel. Some are still asking but now I answer depending
 upon how good they look and what mood I am in. Some people thought that I
 was planning to live on my wife’s earnings and few even asked. But
 thankfully, I now have the Sarai contract to flash in front of their eyes.

  So, yes, I was sitting one day, in front of the computer, staring at the
 empty computer screen. The cursor seemed to say, Sir, come on, I am ready
 for any word. And I said, Shut Up. I was trying to think. Think of those
 words, which would fill my novel. And just as I thought a few were coming,
 my cell phone rang. Hello. Hello Sir, am I speaking to Mr. Rahul Pandita?
 Yes. Good afternoon Sir, this is Shweta from ICICI Bank limited. Do you have
 any requirement of a loan? No. Sir, we are really offering it a very low
 interest rate. I said I am not interested. Bang.

  Words. Where did thee go?

  I sought solace in Poetry, inspired by a friend Tanzan Senzaki. He has been
 tolerating my nonsense verses for quite some time and just a day ago, he
 suggested, in an exasperated tone, a book by American poet Ted Kooser. It is
 called The Poetry Home Repair Manual.

  Finally I wrote a poem about Sampaati, the vulture from Ramayana. The
 brother of legendary Jatayun, who while trying to save Sita from the
 clutches of Ravana, became a victim of his sword. It went like this (English
 translation provided at the end of the poem, kindly edited by Tanzan):

  Haan, mein hi Sampaati hun
  Jeevan ki andheri gufa mein rehne wala giddh

  Wo mera hi anuj tha
  Jisne Ravan ke parakram ki parvah nahi ki
  aur uski talvaar ki bhent chadkar taara ban gaya

  Samay ki sui kai nashtar chubo gayi
  lekin mein data raha, kyunki Ram aane wale the

  Muje patniyon ke mehatv ka gyaan nahi tha
  aur na hi mujhse kisi ne prem kiya

  Pur Ram ke chehre par chaaye peelepan ne
  Mere lahu ko aur arun kar diya

  Mujhe pata tha ki mein Lanka mein jaakar aag lagane se to raha
  Lekin maine apne shareer ke taap se Hanuman ki poonch mein jwar bhar diya

  Maine jeevan bhar udaan bhari
  Na jaane kitne parvat, saagar
  mere pankhon ka graas bane

  Aur aaj in boodhe pankhon mein koi jaan nahi hai
  Lekin Jatayun ke praanon ko mein vyarth nahi jaane dunga
  Mein jeevan ki isi andher gufa mein
  eik naye Ram ki prateeksha karunga

  Yes, I am the one
  Who is Sampatti, the vulture
  Living in the dark caves of life

  Jatayun was my borther,
  Ignoring the valor of Ravana
  He fell victim to his sword
  And turned into a star

  The daggers of time
  Piecred me many times,
  But I stood tall
  As Rama was coming

  I didn’t know
  What wives meant to men
  As no one ever loved me once,
  But the pallid face of Rama
  Boiled my blood to redness

  I knew I couldn’t set Lanka ablaze
  But my body’s heat set tail of Hanuman on fire

  I flew high all my life
  How many mountains and oceans
  My wings devoured, only God knows!

  Today my wings are lifeless.
  But I won’t let Jatayun’s life go as waste,
  In this dark cavern of my life
  I will wait till a new Rama comes.

  And then this thought stuck my mind. Like a thunder, I tell you. After a
 series of consultations with a like-minded (read mad like me) friend, we
 formed ‘The Sampaati Club’. And what would be the primary task of The
 Sampaati club? To help the humankind get rid of unwanted calls for car
 loans, bank loans, mobile service change etc etc.

  A day after, our first victim called.

  Hello. Good afternoon Sir. This is Anuj from ABN Amro Bank. Am I speaking
 to Mr. Rahul Pandita?

  No, I am Sampaati.

  Sampaati?

  I began shooting from the hip. I roared:

  Haan, mein hi Sampaati hun
  Jeevan ki andheri gufa mein rehne wala giddh

  Wo mera hi anuj tha
  Jisne Ravan ke parakram ki parvah nahi ki
  aur uski talvaar ki bhent chadkar taara ban gaya

  A silence of almost three seconds. And then I get to hear: Sorry Sir. And
 Anuj disconnects the phone. Since yesterday, I have not received any
 unsolicited call. I think the word has spread.

  Ps: Membership to Sampaati Club is open for fifteen days. Those who wish to
 join are required to mail me at rahulpandita at yahoo.com. Every member will be
 called Sampaati and shall introduce himself/herself to the telemarketing
 executives as Sampaati. Those who fail to join in fifteen days will
 nevertheless be made members, but only after they agree to listen to my
 fifty-one poems.









Rahul Pandita
  www.sanitysucks.blogspot.com
  Mobile: 9818088664


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