"पुरुष!"


पुरुष…

या एका शब्दामागे किती संघर्ष दडलेला असतो,

हे कदाचित त्याच्या शांत चेहऱ्याकडे पाहून

कधीच समजत नाही..


लहानपणी त्यालाही वाटत असतं

मोकळं आकाश, बेधुंद आयुष्य आणि स्वतःची स्वप्नं…

पण जसजसं वय वाढत जातं,

तसतसं त्याच्या खांद्यावर

जबाबदाऱ्यांचं ओझं वाढत जातं.


एका टप्प्यानंतर

त्याचं जगणं स्वतःसाठी राहत नाही,

ते आई-वडिलांच्या अपेक्षांसाठी,

भावंडांच्या विश्वासासाठी,

पत्नीच्या सुखासाठी

आणि मुलांच्या भविष्याकरिता जगायला लागतं.


पुरुष हा समुद्रासारखा असतो…

वरून शांत दिसणारा,

पण आतमध्ये हजारो वादळं लपवून ठेवणारा.

त्याच्या मनातही दुःख असतं,

थकवा असतो,

हार मानावीशी वाटणारी रात्र असते…

पण तरीही तो शांत राहतो.


कारण त्याला माहीत असतं,

तो जर तुटला

तर त्याच्यावर विसंबून असलेली

अनेक माणसं कोसळून जातील.


घरातील प्रत्येक व्यक्तीच्या चेहऱ्यावरचं हास्य

टिकवण्यासाठी

तो स्वतःच्या आनंदाचा त्याग करत राहतो.

स्वतःच्या इच्छा मारून,

स्वतःच्या वेदना लपवून,

तो रोज नव्याने जगत राहतो.


समाजाला नेहमी त्याची ताकद दिसते,

पण त्याग दिसत नाही.

त्याचा आवाज ऐकू येतो,

पण मनातलं मौन कुणालाच ऐकू येत नाही.


पुरुष रडत नाही असं म्हणतात लोक,

पण खरं तर

त्याला रडण्यासाठी वेळच नसतो.

कारण जबाबदाऱ्या

त्याच्या डोळ्यातले अश्रूही

शांतपणे पुसून टाकतात..


एक पुरुष म्हणजे

स्वतः जळून इतरांना प्रकाश देणारा दिवा…

वादळातही खंबीर उभं राहणारं झाड…

आणि स्वतःच्या वेदनांवर हसणारी

कधी न सांगितलेली कविता असते...


- विक्रमादित्य कल्याणराव गायकवाड

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