काव्यरंग.

I hope you have eight minutes for me. I typed the message, but never pressed send. Scrolling through my phone, reading thoughts that shook me faster than I expected. Yesterday, things were okay. I was a free bird. Today I sit at home in a wheelchair, feeling like everything is done. It feels heavy to wake up. Hard to speak, so I choose silence instead. Breathing feels difficult. Walking feels like I may fall. Slowly, quietly, I realized I wasn’t well and I needed help. Time kept running. I got stuck somewhere and ended up hurt. So I typed again, asking for help, asking for eight minutes. No one responded. Finally I wrote: “I need blood. I’m diagnosed with worries and too many thoughts.” I hope you will respond. I hope you will reach out. I hope you will rescue me. I hope you are there for my last eight minutes. - Vishwanath

Hello, where are you? I received a call. A bit confused, I woke up from bed and looked around. I could hear a siren, a beeping sound, and chaos all around. My heart felt heavy, its beats running faster. I shouted to ask, “Where am I?” Was it a hospital, a dream or caffeine? The world around me didn’t seem to mind. Tears ran down my face I saw myself alone In the heavy flow of people moving around. Again, a sound came from the phone “Are you okay?” I don’t know. Right now, I’m breathing slow… and slower. I asked for help to put on oxygen. I wished I could just unplug myself, To feel okay. Hello, where are you? A call I received, And now I’m here writing about What happened to me In my unconscious mind. I hope you are okay. Wherever you are! - Vishwanath

After two years, I’m back. Back at the hospital. They’ve shifted to SSB now, but really nothing’s changed. The infusion pump still hovers, making that same sound: pi pa po, pi pa po. Someone’s checking their weight on the new digital machine. Blood transfusion happening on one side, chemotherapy on the other. A separate room for bone marrow. A washroom for seat baths. It’s the same. I can still smell Marro, Targo, Pulfurgen I know the chemo drug names by heart. Mine was arsenic trioxide with ATRA. “Hope you brought your file,” “Did you do CBC?” the sister-in-charge asks. I just nod, trying to cover myself before walking in back into the hospital cage. Two months inside. And more than a hundred chemo rounds in a year. I pause. Check my fever. Wipe at the dried trace of a nosebleed. I try to hide the scars I had buried. I already knew I had relapsed. Dad was too tired to be back. Mom sat at home with no hope. I saw traffic in their heads. I saw rain without even going out. The doctor cam...

It began with a whisper, a fever’s first breath,   Then came the blood, an unsettling sign.   Leukemia, a harsh shadow in the dark,   Admitted at 139; the night was long and cold. DNS first, a needle’s bite,   Followed by platelets, pulfurgun’s slow drip.   On the third day, a shift to 149, Welcome to oncology. Arsenic, ATRA, Pipzo, marro, targo  Their line made, bone marrow’s promise, transfusions' hope.   Platelets and time, weaving one year   Into the fabric of waiting and doubt. Now, my Hemoglobin is 5, fever is 105, shortness of breath & blood from mouth  I have let go; the journey’s end is near.   Perhaps I missed the turn along the way. Finally, I have relapsed like rain. - Vishwanath

He brought me tea at 3:00 am. His eyes looked tired yet determined. I didn't ask how he managed, for fear that he would lie. Maybe he also didn't sleep; his mind was consumed with the clock. Maybe he was watching DNS counts, wondering if the air might not go. Maybe the doctor talked about blood transfusion, worried about its side effects. Maybe it's my last bone marrow, a hopeful, sweet end. Maybe it's my last day, as the story was supposed to end. Maybe it's my last chemo, the battle that I lost. I drank a sip of thoughts with tea. Maybe it's a code red, an alarm to close the chapter. Welcome back to oncology. Finally I have relapsed. - Vishwanath

Pi Pa Po … Pi Pa Po, The machine starts its quiet song. All Chemo's done, a sigh of relief, Heavy rains, My dad tells me to wait. I close my eyes, sense the drops, Imagining rain dances through the glass. In the rain, healing finds me, Washing away cancer that I hold. A voice interrupts my dream, Time for transfusion, a snap of reality. The rain returned as I relapsed  Pi Pa Po … Pi Pa Po Pi Pa Po … Pi Pa Po - Vishwanath

 They told me they shifted Shifted from word 149 to SSB Shifted from OPD 27 to SSB I paused to shift Memories Memories of 100 chemotherapy Memories of Changing jelko daily Memories of fear of death per hour I packed the beg very strongly Nothing changed as I reached Noise of class turned to hospital cry Death was inhuman as I saw A child with chemo port jelko smiled I unpacked my bag of strength Welcome to oncology  I hope it was not relapsed - Vishwanath 

 I met a child,  A child who told me a story, A story of his brother,  Who was far away, At home with his parents, He plays football & basketball, Sometimes he skips school for the mall, He started to tell me about that whole thing, I smiled with teary eyes, He told me not to cry, Thanos snapped the child's look to fade, Doctors came, Sister's run & run, He started breathing low, very very low, I tried to hug him & he said bye, A final bye with a smile. I met a child who died with me, A child in oncology. - Vishwanath

 मानो वक्त दौड़ सा गया चुटकी में दुनिया बदल गई, अभी तो मुहॅं में लोलीपॉप था लेकिन अभी मुहॅं पर मुछ आ गई। मानो वक्त इतना क्या बदला शांत नदी में बाढ़ आ गई, अभी तो मैं हरा वृक्ष था अभी सारी पत्तियां बिखर गई । मानो वक्त इतना क्या बदला स्कूल, कॉलेज , जवानी सब छूट गई, जो पासें हमने नहीं फेंके थे उसी पासों पर जिंदगी चली गई। मानो वक्त इतना क्या बदला अभी लड़खड़ाते हुए चलना सिखा था अभी भागदौड़ कर जान निकल गई , अब मानों पैर के नीचे अब की जमीन थी अभी तो मानो वह खिसक गई । मानो वक्त इतना क्या बदला सायकल से मोटरसायकल पर मोटरसायकल से फिर सायकिल पर जिंदगी आ गई, जिंदगी के भाग दौड़ में मानो जिंदगी ही साथ छोड़ गई । मानो वक्त इतना क्या बदला मेरे बोबडे मुॅंह पर ताला लग गया, मेरे कलम की ताकद जो थी वो नाव के समान नदी में बह गई । मानो वक्त इतना क्या बदला हाथी जैसी जिंदगी चीटी बन गई, और चिटीयों की तरह दौड़ते दौड़ते मानो जिंदगी से जिंदगी हार गई। मानो वक्त इतना क्या बदला जिंदगी ने जिंदगी से जिंदगी की बात कर गई, हम तो जीना चाहते थे लेकिन जिंदगी  ने हमसे जिंदगी छिन ली । - विश्वनाथ भाटीकर

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ए तीचा लिंबू बघ ए तीच्या पपाया बघ  गर्दीत काही मित्र कुजबुजू लागले  सभ्यपणाचा ढोंग करणारे  काही मित्र गर्दीत तीच्या शरीराला नको - नको तीथे स्पर्श करु लागले  आवाज तिचा मोठा असुनही गर्दीत ती मुकी झाली मित्र - मैत्रिणी होत्या सोबत तरी गर्दीत ती एकटी झाली खिळतात पुरुषांच्या नजरा म्हणून दोन- तीन कपड्यांनी अंग तीने झाकले होते परत वार करण्याची होती तीच्यात ताकत पण गर्दीत ती पांघळी झाली माहीत नाही कुठून आली तीच्यात हिंमत त्याच्या कानफटीत तीने मारले होते गर्दीत ह्या पुरुषांच्या वासनेच्या सिंहीण, माता, देवी ती झाली होती  मी तीथेच उभा हे सगळे हतबल पाहत होतो तीनं आपलं धाडसी रुप दाखवलं होतं व  मी शेपूट गुंडाळलेलं मांजर झालो  होतो (२) कवि - विश्वनाथ पै भाटीकर