काळे केस Kale Kes

लेखकाला भेटायला येणारी जुनी ओळखीची माणसे नेहमी विचारतात, 'तुमचे केस अजून काळे कसे राहिले आहेत?' या प्रश्नाची लेखकाला आता सवय झाली आहे.

Old acquaintances who come to meet the writer on his out-of-town lectures almost always ask how his hair has stayed black; he is now used to the question.

या प्रश्नात लपलेली प्रशंसा असते. स्तुती-निंदेची पर्वा न करणाऱ्या लेखकालाही ही तारीफ ऐकून बरे वाटते; तो हसतो किंवा विषय बदलतो.

The question carries hidden praise; the asker does not really want an answer, only to say it is a fortunate thing. The writer, who claims not to care for praise or blame, still feels pleased and responds with a smile or by changing the subject.

एकदा एक गृहस्थ हट्टाला पेटला आणि म्हणाला, 'विषय नका बदलू, केस काळे ठेवायला तुम्ही काय युक्ती केलीत ते सांगा.' त्याच्या डोक्याकडे पाहिल्यावर लेखकाला कारण समजले.

Once a man insisted the writer reveal his trick. Looking at the man's own oddly dyed head, the writer realised that people who use bazaar hair-dye cannot match the true shade, so they assumed the writer must have some special remedy.

लेखकाने थट्टेने सांगितले, 'केस फार विचार केल्याने पांढरे होतात; म्हणून मी विचारच केला नाही, हाच माझा उपाय!' असे म्हणून त्याने तो विषय संपवला.

Playing along, the writer joked that since hair greys from too much thinking, his remedy was simply not to think, and with that witty turn he closed the topic.

गृहस्थ गेल्यावर लेखकाच्या मनात आले, 'तुम्ही विचार केव्हा करता?' असा कोणी विचारले तर मी काय उत्तर देईन? लेखक म्हणतो, गाढ झोप सोडली तर माझे मन सतत विचारच करत असते.

After the visitor leaves, the writer faces the real question of when he thinks. A writer's mind, like his shadow, never leaves him; except in deep sleep it is forever searching for new ideas.

लेखक सांगतो की सकाळी आरशापुढे उभे राहून दाढी करण्याची वेळ ही त्याची विचार करण्याची सर्वांत आवडती वेळ आहे; त्या वेळी त्याला नवे नवे विचार सुचतात.

The writer reveals that his most fertile thinking time is while shaving each morning before the mirror in his gallery; at that very moment new ideas spring up like fountain-spray, and many of his writings were born then.

लेखकाला वाटते की त्या वेळचा एकांत वेगळा असतो आणि तो विचार करण्याचा प्रयत्नच करत नसल्याने कल्पना सहज सुचतात; कल्पना लक्ष्मीसारखी लहरी असते, मागे लागले की रुसते, पर्वा न केली की मागे लागते.

He guesses the solitude of that moment is different, and because he is not trying to think while lathering and shaving, ideas come freely. Imagination is fickle like the goddess Lakshmi: court her and she sulks, ignore her and she follows. This very essay too, he notes, came to him while shaving.