Dad’s Love – जाणवते पण दिसत नाही…

I believe, that poetry is an experience, it should not be explained or elaborated. Interpretation of a poem is always and should remain personal. For instance, even though, I wrote this poem on Dad’s love my thought behind writing it might differ from your understanding. Perception is something, very personal and not necessarily two person’s perception may match. However, in my last two poems, I have had request from many of my listeners (who do not understand Marathi much) to throw light on it’s meaning.

Love has many beautiful shades. Colour of love changes in every relation but its form remains the same. Mother and father both love their child equally however the way of expression varies a lot. I feel as woman we are never shy of expressing love in any relation and men are always hesitant and uncomfortable in expressing.

I would like to narrate a small story emphasis my thought. Another day, I went to play area in a park. There was a tube shaped slide in that play area. Aarav, my elder son, shouted from the top of the slide and asked me to watch him slide. Aarya heard him and peeped inside the slide from the bottom and waited for him. I was worried that as this is a closed slide, Aarav won’t be able to see Aarya and he might get hurt. In order to prevent him from getting hurt I was pulling him back. At the same time, there was another lad as old as Aarya, who was also peeping in and I was worried that he too might get hurt. Strangely, his father was looking at him and took no action in spite of anticipating the consequence. Soon Aarav came sliding and the young child got hurt and fell down as expected, and Aarya was fine as I had held his hand. I felt sad for the little child but his father was not upset. Now I understood that he deliberately let him get hurt. His father affirmatively told him that I had already warned him but you paid no heed to my warning therefore you are responsible for your wounds. I realised, probably this is the difference between Mother’s compassionate love and and Dad’s strict love. I also sensed that it is difficult for me to behave in a way that father behaved.

My New poem is on the same emotion of Dad’s Love. This is the special very endearing form of love that we all experience in our life. the poem talks about how our Dad is sometimes strict, sometimes fun, but seldom expressive. Although you feel it but still it is not explicitly evident. He is the one who fulfills all our needs who supports us in thick and thin, who teaches us self-reliance and being independent but still never turns his back on us! Such is his selfless and unconditional love. I agree everyone’s relation and experience of this relation is different but still if you relate to my rendition pls let me know and do comment.

आईची माया तर जग जाहिर आहे…
पण वडिलांची माया…
वडिलांची माया जाणवते पण दिसत नाही…

स्पर्शापासून आंग चोरते…
अश्रूंना डोळ्यातच लपवले…
सख्तीचं फक्त आवरण ओढते…
अशी ही माया जाणवते, दिसत नाही..

आपल्या गरजांना जो आपल्या आधी ओळखतो…
स्वतःच्या आकांक्षाला जो सहज विसरतो….
आयुष्यभर जो खंभीर पाठीशी उभा असतो…
त्या वडिलांची माया जाणवते पण दिसत नाही..

एका दाट वृक्षासारखा जो शाश्वत आहे…
ऊन पावसात जो नियमित छायादेत आहे…
सूर्य नाही जो निळा अंबर आहे…
त्याची छाया जाणवते पण आपणच ती ओळखत नाही..

फुलं पडली, पानं पडली… घरटं सोडून पक्षी उडाली…
आत्मसाद करून पण जो भिन्न आहे….
स्वतंत्र करून पण जो सर्वत्र आहे…
अशी ती निःस्वार्थ माया.. जाणवते पण दिसत नाही…

Meenal

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