Shriveled Flower— An Observation on Life
My attempt at translating renowned poet Mahadevi Varma’s classic poem
Shriveled Flower or Murjhaye Pushp is a beautiful poem where the great Hindi language poet Mahadevi Varma talks some hard truths about life when talking about a beautiful flower! Truths that have been often told by men and women of wisdom, yet the lessons are oft-forgotten especially when we are at the peak of our beauty and strength.
The original poem is in Hindi and is presented here as-is for those who can read the language. For the rest, please jump on to my feeble attempt at an English translation.
The original poem in Hindi
था कली के रूप शैशव में‚ अहो सूखे सुमन
हास्य करता था‚ खिलाती अंक में तुझको पवन
खिल गया जब पूर्ण तू मंजुल‚ सुकोमल पुष्पवर
लुब्ध मधु के हेतु मंडराते लगे आने भ्रमर।
कर रहा अठखेलियां इतरा सदा उद्यान में
अंत का यह दृश्य आया था कभी क्या ध्यान में ?
सो रहा अब तू धरा पर‚ शुष्क बिखराया हुआ
गंध कोमलता नहीं‚ मुख मंजु मुरझाया हुआ।
आज तुझको देख कर चाहक भ्रमर आता नहीं
लाल अपना राग तुझ पर प्रात बरसाता नहीं
जिस पवन नें अंक में ले प्यार तुझको था किया
तीव्र झोकों से सुला उसने तुझे भू पर दिया।
विश्व में हे फूल! सबके हृदय तू भाता रहा
दान कर सर्वस्व फिर भी हाय! हर्षाता रहा
जब न तेरी ही दशा पर दुख हुआ संसार को
कौन रोएगा सुमन! हम से मनुज निःसार को।
The English translation
Once you were a tiny bud, oh dried flower,
Smiled you would in breezy caresses,
And then you blossomed O beautiful flower,
Attracted Bumble-bees would buzz around you!
Oh, you were so vain when playing in the garden,
Did you not forget how things always end,
You sleep now on earth dried and lifeless,
No more are you fragrant, smooth, or rosy!
Not a single bee buzzes around you,
Nor do they shower their love on you,
The same breeze that showered you with her loving caresses,
Brought you down in few windy strokes!
But o flower! You were loved by all,
You gave everything and pleased every heart,
But when even on your sad death the world doesn’t tear up,
Who is going to shed a tear on us humans!
I don't think the poem is hard to understand. While addressing a shriveled flower, the poet is talking about the human condition.
The one certain truth of life is death — everything shall die. And yet, we forget this in our own vanity!
Edit: Dedicated to the great Hindi poet Mahadevi Verma on her birthday (26th March 1907)
