Reading Books From Every Country : Aisha's List

Today I came across a treasure while scrolling through my Facebook feed. It is a booklist compiled by Aisha Arif Esbhani, a 13 year old based in Karachi, Pakistan. A rare collection it is. It isn't your usual '100 books you must read in your lifetime' collection, where every book is likely to be authored by a British or American.  Aisha's list brings together some of the best books from about 197 countries around the world, containing both original and translated works. It is a list I want to save, share and, of course, keep revisiting to pick the next book to read.

 Text below is reproduced from my post on Facebook.  Scroll a bit downwards to see the list shared by Aisha on her  Facebook page  Reading Books From Every Country

A 13 year old girl, Aisha, is on a mission : Reading books from every country in the world. She has made a list based on recommendations from people all over the world, and, a wonderful list full of promises it is.

A hot afternoon at a beach

Skies don't weep over fallen stars

You needn't take them if you do not desire;

You cannot keep what you don't deserve.

Gittering starlets fallen from sky,

touched your ground as ashes;

Chaste showers that rains over you,

Turned muddy puddles at your feet.

I get it.

You are better off

Without puddles and ashes.

You do not need

rains and glitters.

Maybe starlets should have stayed

where they were.

Maybe rains shouldn't have showered,

when your land wasn't parched.

Fallen things are lost, if, not owned.

Skies don't weep over fallen stars;

Clouds don't mourn befouled water;

Even if they did,

Shower their gifts, they will.

They won't stop.

You needn't take them if you don't desire;

You cannot keep what you do not deserve.

On Skies and Fallen Stars

'Skies don't weep over fallen stars.'

I had penned down those words in between other lines in a rush of emotions.Why skies and fallen stars? I couldn't see why I had chosen those words. Yet the line felt familiar. As I repeated the words to myself, I remembered. That half -forgotten poem from my 9th standard Hindi textbook. - Jo beeth gayi so baath gayi


Ah. Those lines...

जीवन में एक सितारा था
माना वह बेहद प्यारा था
वह डूब गया तो डूब गया

There was a star in life. Very dear it was. When it fell, it fell...

And then:

कितने इसके तारे टूटे
कितने इसके प्यारे छूटे
जो छूट गए फिर कहाँ मिले
पर बोलो टूटे तारों पर
कब अम्बर शोक मनाता है

How many of its stars have broken... how many loved ones have been lost to it...

What is lost is what it cannot get back

But, does the sky mourn over fallen stars?


The next stanza is equally beautiful :

मधुवन की छाती को देखो
सूखी कितनी इसकी कलियाँ
मुर्झाई कितनी वल्लरियाँ
जो मुर्झाई फिर कहाँ खिली
पर बोलो सूखे फूलों पर
कब मधुवन शोर मचाता है

जो बीत गई सो बात गई


I knew that old poem had created an impression on me in my schooldays. Yet, to have its lines coming back to me when I was writing what I thought something 'original'... It is intriguing and exciting at the same time. Late Shri Bachchan's poetry was about moving on despite the losses one suffers. When I wrote about fallen stars, losses, life or moving on weren't was I was thinking about. My thoughts were on a superficial level, tinged with vanity and annoyance. One thing lead to another, and 'Jo beeth gayee tho baath gayee' dawned on me.


Well. What is done is done. What has happened has happened. There's always more to do, and more things are going to happen. What has been given away doesn't make one poorer, when one's ability to give is not a finite, exhaustible entity.And there you have it : Skies don't weep over fallen stars






जो बीत गई सो बात गई -
हरिवंशराय बच्चन

जो बीत गई सो बात गई
जीवन में एक सितारा था
माना वह बेहद प्यारा था
वह डूब गया तो डूब गया
अम्बर के आनन को देखो
कितने इसके तारे टूटे
कितने इसके प्यारे छूटे
जो छूट गए फिर कहाँ मिले
पर बोलो टूटे तारों पर
कब अम्बर शोक मनाता है
जो बीत गई सो बात गई 


जीवन में वह था एक कुसुम
थे उसपर नित्य निछावर तुम
वह सूख गया तो सूख गया
मधुवन की छाती को देखो
सूखी कितनी इसकी कलियाँ
मुर्झाई कितनी वल्लरियाँ
जो मुर्झाई फिर कहाँ खिली
पर बोलो सूखे फूलों पर
कब मधुवन शोर मचाता है
जो बीत गई सो बात गई 


जीवन में मधु का प्याला था
तुमने तन मन दे डाला था
वह टूट गया तो टूट गया
मदिरालय का आँगन देखो
कितने प्याले हिल जाते हैं
गिर मिट्टी में मिल जाते हैं
जो गिरते हैं कब उठतें हैं
पर बोलो टूटे प्यालों पर
कब मदिरालय पछताता है
जो बीत गई सो बात गई 


मृदु मिटटी के हैं बने हुए
मधु घट फूटा ही करते हैं
लघु जीवन लेकर आए हैं
प्याले टूटा ही करते हैं
फिर भी मदिरालय के अन्दर
मधु के घट हैं मधु प्याले हैं
जो मादकता के मारे हैं
वे मधु लूटा ही करते हैं
वह कच्चा पीने वाला है
जिसकी ममता घट प्यालों पर
जो सच्चे मधु से जला हुआ
कब रोता है चिल्लाता है
जो बीत गई सो बात गई।।