वह ख़ून कहो किस मतलब का
जिसमें उबाल का नाम नहीं!
वह ख़ून कहो किस मतलब का
आ सके देश के काम नहीं!
वह ख़ून कहो किस मतलब का
जिसमें जीवन, न रवानी है!
जो परवश में होकर बहता है,
वह ख़ून नहीं है, पानी है!
उस दिन लोगों ने सही सही
खूँ की कीमत पहचानी थी.
जिस दिन सुभाष ने बर्मा में
मांगी उनसे कुर्बानी थी.
बोले, "स्वतंत्रता की खातिर,
बलिदान तुम्हें करना होगा.
तुम बहुत जी चुके हो जग में,
लेकिन आगे मरना होगा.
Bole swatantrata ki khatir
Balidaan tumhe karna hoga
Tum bahut ji chuke ho jag mein
Lekin aage marna hoga
He said, "For your freedom,
you'll have to sacrifice.
You've lived enough in the world;
now death is freedom's price.
आज़ादी के चरणों में जो
जयमाल चढाई जाएगी,
वह सुनो, तुम्हारे शीशों के
फूलों से गूंथी जाएगी.
आज़ादी का संग्राम कहीं
पैसे पर खेला जाता है?
यह शीश कटाने का सौदा
नंगे सर झेला जाता है.
आज़ादी का इतिहास कहीं
काली स्याही लिख पाती है?
इसके लिखने के लिए
खून की नदी बहाई जाती है."
यूँ कहते कहते वक्ता की
आँखों में खून उतर आया.
मुख रक्त वर्ण हो गया
दमक उठी उनकी रक्तिम काया!
आजानु बाहु ऊंची करके,
वे बोले, "रक्त मुझे देना.
इसके बदले में भारत की
आज़ादी तुम मुझसे लेना."
हो गई सभा में उथल पुथल,
सीने में दिल न समाते थे.
स्वर इंकलाब के नारों के
कोसों तक झाए जाते थे.
"हम देंगे देंगे ख़ून"
शब्द बस यही सुनाई देते थे.
रण में जाने को युवक खड़े
तैयार दिखाई देते थे.
बोले सुभाष, "इस तरह नहीं
बातों से मतलब सरता है.
लो, यह कागज़ है, कौन यहाँ
आकर हस्ताक्षर करता है?
इसको भरनेवाले जन को
सर्वस्व-समर्पण करना है.
अपना तन-मन-धन-जन-जीवन
माता को अर्पण करना है.
पर यह साधारण पत्र नहीं,
आज़ादी का परवाना है.
इस पर तुमको अपने तन का
कुछ उज्ज्वल रक्त गिराना है!
वह आगे आए जिसके तन में
खून भारतीय बहता हो!
वह आगे आए जो अपने को
हिन्दुस्तानी कहता हो!
वह आगे आए, जो इस पर
खूनी हस्ताक्षर देता हो!
मैं कफन बढाता हूँ, आए
जो इसको हँसकर लेता हो!"
सारी जनता हुंकार उठी -
हम आते हैं, हम आते हैं!
माता के चरणों में यह लो,
हम अपना रक्त चढाते हैं!
साहस से बढे युवक उस दिन,
देखा, बढ़ते ही आते थे!
चाकू-छुरी कटारियों से,
अपना रक्त गिराते थे!
फिर उसी रक्त की स्याही में,
वे अपनी कलम डुबोते थे!
आज़ादी के परवाने पर
हस्ताक्षर करते जाते थे!
उस दिन तारों ने देखा था
हिन्दुस्तानी विश्वास नया.
जब लिखा था रणवीरों ने
खूँ से अपना इतिहास नया.
कवि: गोपाल प्रसाद व्यास
English Translation
Of what good is the blood
that can't come to a boil?
Of what good is the blood
that can't protect its soil?
Of what good is the blood
that's not alive with ardor?
The blood that flows not free
it's not blood, it's water!
The day blood got appreciated,
when people realized its worth
was in Burma when Subhash asked
them to sacrifice for their earth.
He said, "For your freedom,
you'll have to sacrifice.
You've lived enough in the world;
now death is freedom's price.
In the feet of freedom,
the gardland that is spread,
Listen! It will be woven
with your severed heads.
The battle for independence
isn't won on money, be sure.
Commitment to supreme sacrifice
is on barenecks endured.
The history of freedom struggle,
in black ink isn't written or read.
For its sake, bravehearts have
let loose floods of blood red."
In so saying the speaker's
eyes had become blood shot,
face had acquired blood's hue
blood-red body glowed, so hot.
He raised his hands, declared,
"Give me your blood, come.
And in fair exchange,
I will give you freedom."
There was a tumult in the crowd,
hearts couldn't contain the joy.
Rallying cries traveled miles,
reaching the hoi polloi.
"We are, we are ready to bleed"
Only these words could be heard.
To go into the battlefield,
men stood ready, undeterred.
Subhash dared, "Not like this!
For they say talk is cheap.
Seal your commitment now
by signing on this sheet.
The person signing up here
has to dedicate his all -
possessions, relations, body, soul,
whole life to this clarion call.
But this is no ordinary letter;
It's a declaration of independence.
Drop some virile blood of your body
on it, I give you the chance.
Step forward and be counted
if Indian blood's in your veins.
Step forward and be counted
if you call yourself Indians.
Step forward and be counted
by signing here in blood.
I offer a shroud, come,
to go with a smile into the mud."
Everyone shouted back,
here we come, here we come.
In the cause of the motherland,
we'll give our blood some.
The youth advanced with courage,
and they kept climbing the stairs.
With blades, knives, and steel,
they'd drop some blood of theirs.
Then in the ink of that blood,
they'd dip the nibs of their pen
and make their signatures on
the declaration of independence.
saw an Indian faith all new,
when with their blood, the braves
wrote India's history anew
Poet: Gopal Prasad Vyas
that can't come to a boil?
Of what good is the blood
that can't protect its soil?
Of what good is the blood
that's not alive with ardor?
The blood that flows not free
it's not blood, it's water!
The day blood got appreciated,
when people realized its worth
was in Burma when Subhash asked
them to sacrifice for their earth.
He said, "For your freedom,
you'll have to sacrifice.
You've lived enough in the world;
now death is freedom's price.
In the feet of freedom,
the gardland that is spread,
Listen! It will be woven
with your severed heads.
The battle for independence
isn't won on money, be sure.
Commitment to supreme sacrifice
is on barenecks endured.
The history of freedom struggle,
in black ink isn't written or read.
For its sake, bravehearts have
let loose floods of blood red."
In so saying the speaker's
eyes had become blood shot,
face had acquired blood's hue
blood-red body glowed, so hot.
He raised his hands, declared,
"Give me your blood, come.
And in fair exchange,
I will give you freedom."
There was a tumult in the crowd,
hearts couldn't contain the joy.
Rallying cries traveled miles,
reaching the hoi polloi.
"We are, we are ready to bleed"
Only these words could be heard.
To go into the battlefield,
men stood ready, undeterred.
Subhash dared, "Not like this!
For they say talk is cheap.
Seal your commitment now
by signing on this sheet.
The person signing up here
has to dedicate his all -
possessions, relations, body, soul,
whole life to this clarion call.
But this is no ordinary letter;
It's a declaration of independence.
Drop some virile blood of your body
on it, I give you the chance.
Step forward and be counted
if Indian blood's in your veins.
Step forward and be counted
if you call yourself Indians.
Step forward and be counted
by signing here in blood.
I offer a shroud, come,
to go with a smile into the mud."
Everyone shouted back,
here we come, here we come.
In the cause of the motherland,
we'll give our blood some.
The youth advanced with courage,
and they kept climbing the stairs.
With blades, knives, and steel,
they'd drop some blood of theirs.
Then in the ink of that blood,
they'd dip the nibs of their pen
and make their signatures on
the declaration of independence.
saw an Indian faith all new,
when with their blood, the braves
wrote India's history anew
Poet: Gopal Prasad Vyas
