Me and We: a perpetual conflict. 

Why living is a war?

This morning I woke up with same old question, is there a way that human beings may actually live without making life a war of sorts, without losing or winning. And after a few hours I completed this poem which I had abruptly started as a tweet, a couple of days earlier.

The conflict between an individual and collective institutions are in perpetual conflict. Why is it so? Why can’t they work in harmony? Is it because it is inherently impossible due to its nature?

Sorry, no translation yet. Do nor recommend online translators. Tried bing but it ruined it in its half effort.

The poem in Hindi:

शोर इतना की अकेलेपन की हाहाकार है, पर जब मिलो,
मुलाक़ात सिर्फ़ ‘मैं’ से होती है ।

हम बिचारा भटकता फिरता है ख़ून की वादियों मे,
मैं सहम के हम से और दुबक जाता है मैं मे ।

मैं का दायरा है इंसानियत, पर वह घुटता है इस मे,
हम कुछ भी नहीं बिना मैं के, पर रहता नहीं मैं के विघटन के बिगैर ।

बढ़ जाता है जब मै इतना, की कर लेता है हम पर अधिकार,
उठा तलवार करें एक हुंकार और बस फिर है त्राहाकार ही त्राहाकार ।

मैं भागता है इंसानियत से, हम क़त्ल करता है इन्सानों का,
मैं रहूँ या हम रहे, क्या हम जी सकते है इस कशमकश के बिगैर ।


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