वाट पाहताना Vat Pahatana

होळीनंतर थंडी कमी व्हायची, आंब्याला मोहोर यायचा आणि परीक्षा जवळ यायची. मार्च-एप्रिलमध्ये लेखिकेला गॅलरीत झोपायला मिळायचं. झोपताना एकच विचार मनात असायचा, उद्या कोकिळेचं ‘कुहू’ ऐकू येईल का? पहाटे तो आवाज कानावर पडायचा आणि वाट पाहिल्याचं सार्थक व्हायचं.

After Holi the cold faded fast, the mango trees were heavy with fragrant blossom, and exams drew near. In March and April the writer got to sleep in the gallery. Falling asleep, one wish rose in her mind: would she hear the cuckoo's call tomorrow? When at dawn the call came, all her waiting felt fulfilled.

अभ्यासाचा कंटाळा नव्हता, पाठांतर आवडायचं; पण पुस्तक बाजूला झालं की सुट्टीची आठवण मनात उसळायची. अंगणातलं मोगऱ्याचं झाड, बकुळीची फुलं, वाळा घातलेलं थंड पाणी, कुरडया-पापड्या, कैरीची डाळ, पन्हं, बर्फाचे गोळे, उसाचा रस आणि नवी गोष्टींची पुस्तकं, या सगळ्यांसाठी ती किती वाट पाहायची.

She was never lazy about study and loved memorising; but the moment her books were set aside, memories of the holidays surged up. The jasmine tree in the yard, the bakul flowers gathered at Shaniwar Wada, cool vetiver-scented water, the rush of papads and savouries, raw-mango dal and panha, ice golas, fresh sugarcane juice, and above all new books of stories and poems, for all of these she waited eagerly.

वाड्याचा माळा हे लेखिकेचं आवडतं ठिकाण. तिथे पुस्तकांमध्ये बसून ती न पाहिलेले देश, न पाहिलेली माणसं, नवे प्रसंग अनुभवायची. पुस्तकांतून तिला भाषेची आणि लेखकाच्या प्रतिभेची ताकद कळत गेली. म्हणून पुस्तकं वाचण्याची वाट पाहण्यात उन्हाळ्याआधीचा काळ तिला वेड लावायचा.

The single loft of the big mansion was like a world of her own. The very thought of sitting there amid books made her heart bloom. There she met unseen lands, unseen people, experiences never lived, strange yet somehow her own. As she read, she came to understand the magic of words and the power of language and of a writer's imagination, which is why that season of waiting for books so enchanted her.

घरामागे मोठं उंबराचं झाड होतं. उन्हाळ्यात पोपटांचे थवे त्यावर उतरायचे आणि पिकलेल्या उंबरांनी व हिरव्या पंखांनी झाड सुंदर दिसायचं. लेखिका त्या थव्यांची वाट पाहायची. पुढे कवितेशी तिची घट्ट मैत्री झाली; पण कविता हवी तेव्हा यायची आणि कधीकधी खूप वाट बघायला लावायची.

Behind the house stood a large cluster-fig (umbar) tree. As the days grew hot, flocks of parrots would settle on it, and with ripe figs and green wings the tree turned beautiful. The writer waited for those flocks, for the sweet figs, and for the poems stirring in her mind. Later she held poetry's hand firmly and they became friends; but poetry came only when it pleased, and sometimes made her wait a very long time.

आत्या उरुळीकांचनच्या शाळेत नोकरी करायची. तेव्हा वाहनं कमी होती, त्यामुळे ती परत यायला रात्र व्हायची. भावंडं दिंडी दरवाज्यात उभं राहून तिची वाट बघायची, रडू गळ्याशी दाटायचं. ती आली की भाऊ तिला लोंबकळायचा आणि सगळ्यांना शांत वाटायचं. नोकरी करणं तिला भाग होतं आणि मुलांचं वाट पाहणं अटळ.

Her aunt then worked at a Marathi school in Uruli Kanchan. With no easy transport she left at eight in the morning and, by bus and passenger train, often returned only by nine or nine-thirty. The children would stand at the mansion's gate waiting for her, tears welling in their throats. When she arrived, the youngest brother would leap and cling to her, and everyone felt calm. She had no choice but to work, and the children's waiting was unavoidable.

लेखिकेने ‘पोस्टमन इन द माउंटन’ हा चिनी सिनेमा पाहिला. एका वस्तीत एक अंध म्हातारी राहायची, जिचा मुलगा तिला कधीच पत्र लिहीत नसे. तरी म्हातारीला आनंद वाटावा म्हणून पोस्टमन दर वेळी कोरं पत्र, मुलाचं प्रेमळ पत्र असल्यासारखं वाचून दाखवायचा. आता त्याचा तरुण मुलगा हेच काम पुढे चालवणार होता.

The writer watched the fine Chinese film 'Postman in the Mountains.' Standing in for his ill father, a son sets out to learn the postman's route. At one hamlet a blind old woman sits by her hut; the postman reads her a loving letter from her son, and contentment spreads over her face. Then the son sees that his father's hand held only a blank sheet. In truth the old woman's son never wrote; but to give her joy the postman had always read out a blank letter from memory.

त्या समजूतदार पोस्टमनने मुलाला फक्त पहाडातल्या वाटा नव्हे, तर माणसं आणि माणसांपर्यंत पोहोचण्याचे पूल दाखवले. लेखिका सांगते, वाट पाहणं सोपं नसतं; त्यात दु:ख, काळजी, भीती असते. पण वाट पाहूनच गोष्टीची किंमत कळते. आपण संयम, धीर आणि श्रद्धा शिकतो. म्हणून जे हवं ते थोडी वाट पाहूनच मिळावं, तरच सुखाची चव वाढते.

That mature, understanding postman showed his son not only the mountain paths and villages but people, and the bridges that reach people. Waiting, the writer says, is rarely simply pleasant; it is full of sorrow, worry, fear and restlessness. Recall the farmer waiting for rain, or the saints waiting for a glimpse of Vithoba, and you realise that only by waiting do we learn a thing's worth. In waiting we learn patience, endurance and faith; so what we want should come only after some waiting, for that is what deepens the taste of joy and success.