(1) A CHILD’S PLAYGROUND

A child's playground is this world in my sight,
Where games are played day and night before me.

A sport is the pomp of Solomon in my sight,
Even Christ's Ascension is small before me.

Without a name, I feel that nothing can exist,
In doubts lies the veracity of truth before me.

Cloaked in dust lies the desert in my sight,
Even the river rubs its forehead before me.

Ask not what happened to me after you,
See how your countenance changes before me.

Faith holds me back while temptation pulls me on,
The Kaaba tugs while the Church pleads before me.

I am a lover but they say deception is my art,
I see Laila mocking at Majnoon before me!

Though my hands have become weak, my eyes aren't weary,
Let the goblet and the wine remain here...before me.

(2) RESPONSE TO ALEXANDER POPE


THE ODE BY POPE

How happy he, who free from care
The rage of courts, and noise of towns;
Contented breaths his native air,
In his own grounds.
"Whose herds with milk, whose fields with bread,
Whose flocks supply him with attire,
Whose trees in summer yield him shade,
In winter fire.
"Blest! who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years slide swift away,
In health of body, peace of mind,
Quiet by day
"Sound sleep by night; study and ease
Together mix'd; sweet recreation,
And innocence, which most does please,
With meditation.
"Thus let me live, unheard, unknown;
Thus unlamented let me die;
Steal from the world, and not a stone
Tell where I lie.

MY REPLY

To be happy how much I try,
From birth to this day but why,
Have I have not been able to,
Succeed in my efforts -- I sigh...
I am not fascinated by this world,
Its temporal gains I don't desire,
I shun the falsehood on which it thrives,
And the vanity of folks with fingers curled.
To me contentment is not peace,
The restless mind and heart don't cease,
To engage the soul and body in tasks,
Till the day when my blood will freeze.
For, what if I am lamented or not:
Nothing is mine, aught is naught,
I was better off when I didn't come here,
Does it matter if I am remembered or not?
To live for others is the greatest good,
Which I found out after years had passed,
And to make our loved ones happy, carefree,
Is all that matters for now, for good.

(3) ANYBODY, PLEASE?

I look at the souls that are seeking peace,
I know not why God is so silent.
I watch the nightbird, how it shrieks with a shrill,
Perhaps this is a reply of the Divine Will.
I look at a little girl who says she is hungry,
She comes and begs for an Iftaari*,
Oh my Great Lord, I thank You for the favour,
It is through me that You do what You will.
I wonder why somebody has lost a father,
The pain of losing him is visibly greater:
On the contours and features of the smiling face,
How artfully is pain hidden beneath grace!
Is it right for me to wander off like Siddharth*,
To seek real peace in caves by running away?
Or is it better to stay on in this hearth,
And do everything that through me He fulfils?
The hours are passing by, so tells the clock,
Why should I care or wander off with the flock?
Let my Good Lord do what He deems best,
Let me forget I exist and take some rest.

*Iftaari: The fast breaking meal usually served in the Islamic month of Ramadan.
* Siddharth: Buddha’s real name.

(4) ANYTHING?

What has the sea to hide,
Or to give;
When I can't be with the one,
For whom I live.
Take the waves and dry it up,
This sound and fury makes me laugh,
This sorry scheme of things I scoff.

(5) ARE WE LIVING?

Minds, greedily growling,
Hearts -- petrified stones;
Desire hungrily seeking,
More, more and more.
Platter after platter,
On the table of disaster,
These folks are always starved:
For them it doesn't matter,
The beings have to be carved.
Is this our living?
Is anybody out there,
Without endless desire,
Without undying craving?
Jesus the Messiah said,
When temptation shone,
That man doth not live,
By bread alone.
We have pot bellies,
But, are we living,
For bread alone?

(6) AS MY EYES SEE

Walking down the dark streets,
Cats dart with ferocity,
Where does my purpose hide?
Cars with couples and families come,
Time to relax with burgers, snacks,
Am I a stranger to this town?
My friend and I talked for a week,
About life, death and eternity,
Now it is so quiet, where is she?
The daily circle of the stars,
Orion leads the entire team,
On earth it is only me.
Everybody has a hidden sword,
Conspirators abound in this town,
I am used and then they flee?
O Kuku*, if this is living,
Let me find peace near graves,
Even the mosques are no more free.
Yesterday a great man turned sixty,
Today -- another's death anniversary,
Scattered sand shines near the sea.
My wife talked about Flintstones*,
Says our life is also like theirs,
Tears are waves of a swelling sea.
Who will ever understand,
What needs to be understood,
Or will it be only me?

* Kuku: American poetess Deborah Russell’s nickname
* Flintstones: Popular American cartoon

(7) AT TIMES

At times I feel like tearing apart the sky,
So that the world sees how my heart bleeds,
Sometimes I want to implore the angel of death,
To return the one whose love I need.

(8) AUTUMN

The brown leaves fall,
The time of spring is over,
My heart waits,
When will its hope thus wither!
Come hither says the poet,
Go where, asks the soul,
Where is the greenwood tree?
Why is everything quiet?
Ambition? this heart had some,
Everything has died as the sun,
Descends to cast long shadows:
All around me there is autumn.

(9) BE MY REALITY

O that you could be not just a dream!
Not just a vision,
Of what may be my imagination!
Do not encircle me with lights and rays,
Appear before me in real and whatever one says,
Give reason to my action...
O my beloved of the other world!
Come here and be mine or else,
Make me yours forever, in your world.

(10) BE?

Green, yellow, brown,
Colours and life,
And a void above,
Leave me wondering,
What? When? Why and how?


(11) BEFORE THE STORM

Clouds gather,
Dark and foreboding,
A tumultuous today.
Melancholia,
Looms above,
Very few agree with me.
Why not wait,
For Nature to strike,
And cleanse all the pollution.
I look calm,
Just like the harsh storm,
Waiting to lash at the city.
Who is there,
To prevent us both?
Who wants to be sincere?

(12) BLACK AND WHITE

O floating denizens of domains, unseen,
Vampires surround my whole being,
O guardian angels of the Holy God,
Wherefore have you vanished from the scene?
O my beloved, when you look at me,
With a questioning stare in your starry eyes,
I am desperately lost, I seek support,
To come up with what you want as replies.
I picked up a fallen petal of a plucked rose,
And found a dewdrop hidden inside,
The mysteries of Nature are beyond reach,
An unwept tear in every flower glows.
A term has to be endured on this land,
Bearing everything flung by time's hand,
A result of red hot passion I am,
Moulded and fashioned in the form of man.
The murky hearted of this scum filled place,
Have forgotten the worth of spiritual grace,
Hiding their darkness they think they are fair,
Their black and white fighting to be in place.

(13) CARAVEL OF TIME

It sails away like a caravel,
On a voyage of no return,
Taking away my good moments,
Never ever to return.
It sailed away with my childhood,
I knew not why and when,
So will it one day, for good,
Take youth to its haven.
I have quite a few good friends,
As good as a man can have,
It will disperse them at different ends,
Leaving me alone to crave.
The good times that I have with them,
Will vanish completely,
On its misty tides will they all go,
To an unknown entity.
So, gone forever, down it goes,
Borne by the winds that close,
Some reflections cherished by me,
Will I see them again… who knows!

(14) CHANGING COURSE

Through long and tedious paths I have come,
In search of the Truth that is only One,
Even the water of life I disdained,
Longing to be a part of the Eternal One.
Many saints and savants on the way I met,
And jokers and jugglers who laughed and said,
Here is someone at whom we can laugh,
Here is a pilgrim on whom we can't bet.
Then came some maidens, as fine as silk,
Fresh and ravishing like honeyed milk,
For a while they bewitched me with their charms,
Short-lived was their spell, soon did I flee.
Now I am at the point where the worlds meet,
Tired but hopeful, at Your great seat*.

*Your great seat: God’s seat.

(15) COLERIDGE AND ME

"Flowers are lovely, love is flower-like,
And friendship is a sheltering tree;
Where no hope is, life is but thought,
That only serves to make us grieve
When we are old..."
- S.T. Coleridge

O wise Coleridge, may I, with due reverence,
Urge you to come from your state of disappearance.
If not, pray listen, up there in the heavens:
I came not into this world of my own desire,
To go away from here I cannot conspire.
Flowers are lovely, I completely agree,
Love is not flower-like, at times it's ugly.
Friendship is a shelter only when it's spring,
In seasons of deception, no hope does it bring.
Where there's no hope, there's no life at all,
When the soul's free, what's left, to grieve?

(16) CONSPIRING

Let's seek a place, somewhere, my heart,
Somewhere, where no soul belongs,
Let's speak out the pains we share,
The thousand and one wounds we have got.
Let the waves come and wash our words,
Let the clouds hide the sun above,
Let the sand bury the marks we leave,
Let no one hear the thoughts unheard.
Let's try to spend some days, carefree,
Without disturbance, without worry,
Let the body and mind blend with us,
Let the spirit be freed from agony.
I have dreamt that we can do it somehow,
Let's disappear for a while, let's flee,
Let those who claim they care about us,
Let them do so till eternity.


(17) CONTRASTS

Silence, at times, sends shudders through me,
It is as if I can hear Hell hiss,
I am afraid of keeping such company,
Which to others is like bliss.
Solitude and sea waves,
City lights and plazas,
O, what a constrast,
The undefined path paves.
I tried my best to reshape,
The course of my destiny,
But I slipped, fell and got hurt,
As the Writer pulled a cape.
I came here to serve you,
But the tidal wave prevailed,
You just did not need me,
So all my efforts failed.
Oh, please let me be,
Let the noises hoot and shout,
Let darkness let loose its ghosts,
I have my Saviour beside me.

(18) CONVICTION (Translation of a ghazal by Faiz Ahmed Faiz)

O heart of mine, if I want,
Every hurdle will clear away,
In front will be destination,
With only my will to guide my way.
O gnawing pain, come, refresh the wounds,
At least I burn in my passion's flame,
But right at the time this flicker dies,
My love will shine around these mounds.
O my friend, ready I am,
To walk with you all the way,
But distract and drive me astray,
When darkness overwhelms the light ray.

(19) COPING…

It is yet another half-hearted moonlit night,
Another bout of agonising thoughts of yore,
Who would have wanted all this to happen,
Ah, who will understand why I am awake all night?
The breeze is gentle and laden with the fragrance,
Of Jasmine, just like it used to be once,
But now I don't see the sweet smelling flowers,
Nor do I see her, who was my being's essence.
So what else should I be found doing,
Apart from puffing cigars and inhaling,
A dreaded poison wondering why I am immune,
Why doesn't the stuff set fire to my being?
Let the talk about prayers remain with the faithful,
Let me not be wracked with the discourse on beliefs,
Let me be in the state of the forgetful,
And let the night be kind not cruel or vengeful.
Soon, just like the ones I loved and have lost,
I too will join the list of the doleful,
A spot and a stone will indicate where I may be,
Some tears will be shed without a why or a what.
And high up on the hill where I once used to go,
A friend will gather the others and show,
How I used to laugh and sing in the hope,
That the one I loved would be waiting below.
And he would also tell all about how I spent nights,
Talking about her who ruled my heart,
For hours and hours till the sun rose and shone,
How my beloved eclipsed my thoughts on the heights.
How I never came close to the cigar or the pipe,
How I shunned liquor and all avarice,
How her happiness only meant to me most,
He will explain why I smoke and laugh at the wise.
He will also tell why I liked Marilyn Monroe*,
And why I adored Madhubala* so much,
Why I started believing that fate can't be changed,
Why I live for today and not for tomorrow.
After having listened to whatever he will say,
Some people may reflect and pause on the way,
Some may even think I was but a fool,
But I don't care because this is my way.

*Marilyn Monroe: American actress whose real name was Norma Jean.
*Madhubala: Indian film star regarded as the most beautiful actress of her time.


(20) ME DAPHNE, DAPHNE ME

The nights have become long again,
Amid sprawling fences and barren trees,
I pause in my walks more than often,
As Nature seeks to lose and gain.
It's been years since I 've been loved,
And yet, at times it doesn't seem so,
Because whenever I stop, I can hear,
Daphne* calling out my name.
In the laughs I share with Adnan*,
Or during a chat with colleagues,
I feel she's still beside me,
Trying to heal my hidden pain.
Or, when I am alone in my room,
With a heart which just can't forget her,
Her ethereal presence I keenly feel,
And the past its rhythmic chord does stir.
In the midst of song and dance-filled times,
Her resonance floats like a chime,
And whenever Ronnie* plays old tunes,
I long to drown myself in wine.
Only those who really know me,
Can fathom how much I miss her,
So, when the heart and mind can't sleep,
I am trying, in vain, to be merry.
Let the canopy above keep circling,
Let the whirlpool of time move wildly,
Whatever happens, my soul will cry,
I am Daphne and Daphne me.

*Daphne: My schoolmate whom I cannot forget.
*Adnan: Adnan Jaffar, my friend in Karachi.
*Ronnie: Another friend in Karachi.

(21) DAWN AND DUSK

Pale dawn looms,
Starry shades deceive eyes,
Blinking, uncertain day begins.
Green, fresh deception,
Silver-lined blades cut deep,
How long is this walk?
Evening, a silhouette,
Rotting fruit smell suffocates me,
Am I near home?

(22) DAWN OF LIFE?

It looks like I may redden the dawn of life,
By bringing home the killer with his knife.
For a lifetime I sought the realm of love,
All that I could find was a void above.
In my hands is a balm, on my back goblets,
Lo, Now I know how to drown sorrow!
I wouldn't have returned to these old idols,
To cope with a wound I broke my vow.


(23) DEJA-VU (With thanks to British pop singer Al Stewart)

"It seems to me as though I've been upon this stage before
And juggled away the night for the same old crowd
These harlequins you see with me, they too have held the floor
As here once again they strut and they fret their hour
I see those half-familiar faces in the second row
Ghost-like with the footlights in their eyes
But where or when we met like this last time I just don't know
It's like a chord that rings and never dies
For infinity..."
-- Lines from Al Stewart’s “On Stage Before”

It seems as though even I have been,
Upon this stage before,
Laughing and whiling away the hours,
I cared the least about my fears
For a thousand months and more:
And having doffed the masks and shoes,
I chose to disappear:
Embarking myself on a flight in space...
And yet, while on my cosmic way,
I landed here again...
With everything locked inside my head,
The secrets of pain and gain...
The past, the present and the future threads:
Of every moment gone…
Now I am trying to figure out how,
I happened to lose it all,
When I and my loved one weren’t alone -
And never did our lives stall...
O, why this space confounds me now!
How did I drift here again?
Is a thought that keeps raking inside,
Forever in my brain,
And I see that I have nowhere to go,
Without her -- not one mile…
At nights I find that all my fears,
Enshroud me and don’t let go...
And I pine for her who smiled and said:
"Fear naught, for I with my sway,
Will love you and whatever life offers,
Will be with you, wherever you go..."
Ah, how I miss her now at every step,
Her assurance and her grace!
And even though time now connives with fate
And keeps her hidden somewhere,
I shan't give up...not for a day,
My quest to relocate her:
This is a vow made with my self,
And find her, come what may...
Well, why doesn't some voice with harp and song,
Refill the gaping void?
Recreating that which seems no more:
The colours in all their shades…
Tell me, can't I, like Khidr*,
Turn the tables on Hades?
And do what none, they say, can do,
Or succeeded before...
Why not free all that's trapped inside,
Within me for all these years?
Why not revel with death again,
And mock this sad encore?
Ah! That I had not fallen here,
To drift between life and death,
And to suffer Karma's pangs:
In body and mind and soul!
How I seek an escape route,
From this vast, unending whole...
O, where's Eden, will the Guide* tell me please?
Or at least give me a clue;
To the paradise I once shared with her,
And wanted nothing more...
A song sung on this stage before,
May it resound yet again,
And bring back all that I have lost,
My soul-mate – my only gain…
And return us both to the blissful realm,
Forever, for all the while -
For infinity....

1) Khidr or Khizr*: The angel who is believed to have sipped the Water of Life as mentioned in the Holy Bible and the Holy Quran.
* Green Guide -- the Arabic description of Khidr.


(24) DIANA, THE PRINCESS OF HEARTS

The years have so quietly slipped by,
When a fatal car crash claimed Princess Di:
Born among royals but simple in her bearing,
Lady Diana was like a fresh rose of spring.
Growing up, acquainted with the facts of life,
Fate had destined for her struggle and strife.
Demure and charming in an enchanting way,
Happily teaching children read and play.
She was not after riches, nor did she seek fame,
Knew nothing of power, the game for a name.
Many were the men whose hearts did flutter,
When in attendance, in company or beside her.
One of such men was Prince Charles of England,
Who was stunned by her beauty and sought her hand.
The Prince wooed her in all the ways he knew,
She fell for him thinking that his love was true.
The royal wedding was the talk of the lands,
A royal romance turned into a ceremony - grand.
Many assumed that they were made for each other,
Nobody thought that it would end in disaster.
It is surprising to witness storms in smooth seas,
And so it was to see the ruin of a family.
Charles and his Princess were drifting apart,
Tempting women and men were playing their part.
The Princess was loved and admired by one and all,
Those who hated her - they planned her downfall.
They spread scandals and gossips and rumours -
Was she 'faithful or not' to the man who was hers.
That she did not fit in with the ways of the royal,
But her endearing manners won the hearts of people.
Wherever she went folks thronged to see her,
None in her circle that could compare with her.
The Prince was busy in another romantic encounter,
He was spending his time with Camilla Parker.
The heartbroken Princess did try her best,
To make her marriage work - she failed the test.
The flower spreading its fragrance all around,
Diana, like an autumn leaf, fell on the ground.
Sad and unhappy she was simply helpless,
Unable to do anything to sort out the mess.
She sought solace helping the downtrodden souls,
Desperately seeking refuge from royal ghouls.
It was sad to watch her wrecked phase of life,
All that was piercing her heart like a knife.
It was then heard that a man called Dodi,
Had come to save her and make her happy.
The people who liked her were glad to see,
That she was once more joyous and carefree.
But some devils who were masters of fraud,
Were plotting to sever their frail life-cord.
And it happened in 1997 -- August's last day,
The Princess of hearts met death on her way -
On the way to reclaim the joy she had lost,
In a crash did she and Dodi die on the spot.
Millions wept for her and mourned her loss,
And the royalty revealed its artificial gloss.
To this day her cause of death is not known,
Was it fate's act, or some plot unknown?
The name Diana Spencer shall be adored for long,
It will take ages for like-her to be born.

This poem was first written on the fourth death anniversary of Princess Diana on August the 31st 2001.

(25) I CAN’T LOVE YOU LIKE BEFORE
(Inspired by a ghazal by Faiz Ahmed Faiz)

Don't ask me to love you, like I loved you once,
Don't ask me beloved, not like before.
Heartbreaks can be healed,
But not again; and again.
You played with my feelings,
Time and time again.
I was the fool, you knew it too well:
I was charmingly entrapped, again and again.
You were by my side in the face of storms,
But when we saw the rainbow you ran away,
While I came for you, time and time again.
Things would have been different,
If I had been an angel,
But I told you I wasn’t one,
Time and time again.
There are other griefs in life than the aches of love,
And other pursuits than just the bliss of love.


(26) A DIALOGUE WITH NATIONS

In the Name of Allah (God) do I begin,
In the Name of the One Who is,
The Compassionate, the Merciful,
There is nothing like unto Him.
Then I humbly offer my salutation of peace,
To Prophet Muhammad, the harbinger of peace.
It's through him that souls are defined,
It's through him that souls are refined,
It's through him that all mankind,
Has received the Message of peace.

Sincere is my appeal to my fellowmen,
In all the wide, spread out land,
May my Lord give flow to my words,
So that you all may understand.
I appeal with a passage from the Quran,
Addressed to us all as a whole,
"O mankind, adore your Gaurdian Lord,
Who created you from one soul."
And from that soul create its mate,
And from the two, made nations, whole."
Some are humble and some are great,
But it is up to us to remember,
That all of us have been made equal,
That in God's sight nobody is great.
We have become tribes and nations,
So that we may learn about civilization.
Some belong to Asia, some to Europe,
Some to Africa, some Australia,
Some come from the Americas,
Some even live in Antarctica.

But it doesn't matter where we come from,
We are all humans with the same form,
Our ancestral strains are all similar,
Be we at the two Poles or the Equator.
This is my plea to all men and women,
Who make the communities of all nations:
Let's not work mischief in the land,
Be it on the hills or the desert sands.
Let's help each other in doing good,
Let one and all earn their livelihood.
Let the rich share their wealth with the poor,
And be kind to the wayfarer.
Let us strive against exploitation,
Be it of a man, a child, or a woman.
May all of us who are far and near,
Spread the message of peace and vanquish fear.
Let us pledge on every occasion,
That we shalln't be lured by lust and passion.
That we shall strive against poverty and hunger,
And eliminate lawlessness on every border.
Let us all agree with determination,
That we all shall become one great nation.
United in the bonds of harmony and peace,
So that hatred and war-mongering seize.


(27) EVEN I AM A LOVER, O GOD!

The night like a venomous snake,
Hisses at me... to devour me,
The stars are stones drifting in space,
And the monsoon wind a raging fire.
Every support has collapsed O God!
Who will heal my broken heart?
If a temple crumbles it's rebuilt,
Can anyone mend this soul of mine?
You have taken my beloved from me,
Yet You say I follow Your guidance?
You shouldn't have created love O God,
Nor should You have made hearts that pine.
O come on my Lord! I am hurt... shattered!
What if I drown myself in wine?
Baffle me not with Your scriptures,
To me only my love was mine.
You made all out of love for someone,
You made paradise because You too loved,
Then why place blocks in my path?
Am I too not a lover O God?

(28) FEBRUARY BLUES

Snow on hills
Cold biting winds snap
Where to go, where O my heart?
City folks laugh
They have tuned themselves
To the humdrum of living.
Green boughs smile
Yet I ignore them
What is spring without Daphne!
I forget
That I too exist
As I pull darkness on me.
Dreams come
And in them she comes
Ah if sleep had not ended!
I am dazed
Yet I cannot stop
Carrying on for my needy.
Adnan* says
Go to where she is
High up there waiting for you.
I want to
But there is a chain
Which does not let go of me.
The bondage
Of body and soul
Continues to shackle me.

(29) FOR HOW LONG?

How long will innocents be fooled,
The innocents of this world, you and me,
How long will the tyrants rule,
There must be a way out to be free.
These big men and women on their thrones,
Enjoying the taste of our blood and sweat,
I must find the means to topple them,
To rise against them, haven't I sworn?
O God, make me firm in my resolve,
Strengthen me and lead me on,
Make me brave like Ali* and Hussain*,
So that I wipe out fear, tears and pain.

* ALI: The fourth caliph of Islam and the son-in-law of Prophet Muhammad (Peace be upon him)
* HUSSAIN: The second of Ali and the grandson of Prophet Muhammad (Peace be upon him) who preferred martyrdom in Karbala, Iraq.

(30) FRAGRANCE

Far and wide did the gossip of our love affair abound,
Like fragrance did my man long to be around.
Ah, the peace I felt, when my messiah touched my head!
But for him I would have since long been dead.
He wandered everywhere with his heart and his chatter,
But would return to me and to me this mattered.
In the end he left me for someone else -- it is true --
But to talk about it would ruin me through and through...
EPITAPH:
Far and wide the pathos of Parveen's poetry abounds,
How could she carry on when true love couldn't be found!

The late Parveen Shakir was arguably the best known woman poet of Pakistan. She was a batchmate when I was a probationary officer undergoing training at the Civil Services Academy in Walton, Lahore. Her poetry is a blend of feminine idealism and realism. Parveen always longed for true love...she died in a road accident in 1997.

(31) WITH MIRZA GHALIB

With Ghalib in Balli Maraan,
I too should have spent some days,
With poetry, music and literature,
Forgetting every sin of our ways.
Perhaps the drudgery of present life,
Would not have been unbearable then,
When Ghalib's ghazals and wise advice,
Would have taught me more of women and men.
Perhaps the dark Qasim Jan Street,
Where the poets lived on borrowed time,
Would have been somewhat less arduous,
If there had been no Shams to cheat.
Perhaps Mirza and the dancing girl,
Would have found some meaning in their lives -
Some verse of hope playing on her lips,
Some poem of woe between wine sips...
EPITAPH
God knows best but He separated us all,
And a century passed to divide our sighs.

Inspired by the life and poetry of Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib the greatest Urdu poet (1797-18969). Shams was his cousin and a cunning man who is believed to have cheated Ghalib in getting his share of the pension amount left for his family. It is well known that Ghalib spent a lifetime of poverty and died in penury. Today, the whole world of literature owes a lot to him and his remarkable poetry.

(32) NO ATTACHMENTS

My heart is no longer attached here,
In this desolate garden where evil conspires,
Has any true soul ever found true peace,
In a place of inconstancy, doubt and fear?
Tell my desires to seek a new abode,
For the heart is ablaze in a scorching fire,
The realm where forlorn souls found joy,
Has now been burnt down by flaming spears.
How unkind has fate been to poor Zafar* --
The king who ruled over a great empire --
He has been finally found dead in a distant land,
And deprived of a grave near his dear and near.

Translation of a famous ghazal by Mughal Emperor Bahadur Shah Zafar. He was overthrown by the British after the 1857 revolt by Indians against the Englishmen who had come to India as merchants but connived and plotted against its own people. The British sent Bahadur Shah Zafar into exile in the Andaman Islands (A place where only convicts and prisoners of the state were deported) and his family was massacred. Ghalib, who was a contemporary of the Mughal emperor has written about this in his letters. Here the king, a poet himself, has lamented on his misfortunes.

(33) GOD AND ME

When nothing else existed there was but God,
What would I have been if I had not been!
After my creation have I been cast down,
Ah, the greatness, if I had never been!
When this head has become so inert to pain,
Then, why grieve and sigh, if it is beheaded,
If this hadn’t happened on a lap it would have slept,
Many ages have passed since Ghalib died,
Still, the greatest poet is often envied,
People still speak of his oft-quoted saying:
Ah that if jusy this and not that had been!

This is a translation of a famous ghazal by Mirza Ghalib.

(34) GOD KNOWS BEST

Husky night,
Men gather at mosque,
Along with some worshippers.
All rush in,
Congregation time,
Lines are formed and verses read.
A cat sleeps,
Peacefully outside,
Alms-seekers converge there.

I smoke on,
Fag after fag comes,
As the prayer time goes by.
God knows best,
Who loves Him more,
Those inside or the lone soul outside.

(35) WHEN GOD SAID AMEN

Ah, the talks I had, with several old men,
About years spent, about how, what and when,
Till the present echoed with my beloved’s wisdom
And in her loving gaze did I see God's Amen!

(36) WHERE HAS EVERYTHING GONE?

Ah, where has the sweet pain of parting gone?
Ah, where has the joy of meeting her gone?
Once filled with visions of her beauty,
Ah, where has now my imagination gone?
How can I shed tears of blood now,
When the heartache and the grief is gone!
Now, the days are filled with life's worries,
O, what has happened? Where’s the poet in me gone?


(37) GORY TIMES

What kind of people am I living with!
They say they like me, love me and care about me,
But they don't spend even three rupees,
On a phone call to ask how I am doing.
I have felt like this since I was born,
Alone, left-out, aloof, forlorn,
Save for a soul who somehow shook hands,
And for my happiness prayed on and on.
Childhood went and when youth came,
I began to see past the hidden, the plain,
And save for my schoolmate I found none,
Who knew me and loved me for what I was.
Then in the midst of youth's stormy swings,
She was snatched away from me on fate's wings,
Two souls who were meant but for one another,
Were severed to suffer seperation's stings.
Life tried to find meaning in some other friends,
And one of them was true to the core but his end,
Also came before winter welcomed Spring,
In an avalanche his death knell did ring.
Then there came one, jolly and carefree,
Full of verve and boundless energy,
May God bless him with long life and health,
May peace be his fate and joy his destiny.
But this friend of mine is no longer nearby,
For greener pastures he preferred to fly,
To an alien land and now he lives there,
He remembers me still but I can just sigh.
Then came a woman who said she loved me,
Fooled me all along with her impunity,
Wrecked me through and through and went away,
To seek wealth and fame in a strange country.
I was left with a bleeding heart and three souls,
Who suffered with me, had none to console
Them in their silent suffering,
But who seemed lost with a life without goals.
Now they have grown up and may grow on more,
Be healthier and live strong evermore,
May peace and success embrace them all along,
May joy and laughter be their dinner song.
I had a father who loved me a lot,
But who was so strict that I forgot,
To see through his fits of great rage,
What fatherly love meant at that small age.
Only my mother understood me somewhat,
But now she is missing her husband a lot,
I don't blame her, my father is lucky,
To have been blessed with a wife such as she.
But even after four decades and more,
My childhood agony still remains sore,
I find myself alone wherever I am,
Crowds or caves, no soul to share more.
And even when I trip into nowhere,
The face of my schoolmate comes out and stares,
As if telling me to be like the brave,
Because nobody has been able to catch a wave.


(38) WHEN THE EARTH SHOOK!

Earth trembled,
Then it heaved and shook,
Everybody believed in God!

(39) HAIKU

Autumn morn,
Camouflaged moments,
Creation floats in locked time.

(40) HANDS TIED AND TOLD TO SWIM

Thrown into the sea with both hands tied,
And told to keep struggling against the great tide,
Al Hallaj spoke thus and Naveed listened,
Fate and effort to us appear predestined.
It was not just Adam, Eve or Satan, who fell,
In our spiritual forms we chose our own hell.
The question of our future has also been answered,
In faithful submission shall we be gathered.
Out of unseen we came to be known,
Back into unseen shall we be flown.
Nothing is a myth that has fooled us all,
The Truth resides in us, forgetting caused our fall.
It is the nirvana, it is the salvation,
It is the paradise and the Garden of Eden.
For years I endeavoured to discover the secret,
In the unseen I found Him and said God is Great!

This poem is inspired by the mystic Hussain bin Mansoor Al Hallaj who was crucified by the Abbasid rulers for not conforming to mere rituals and for gaining a deeper insight into the truth.

(41) THE BEST GREETING

Happy New Year!
The world greeted itself,
Why not the happiest,
She said, as she kissed me.
Everything brightens up,
When the beloved,
Understands the importance,
Of every special moment.
Even the cold winter,
Cannot kill the warmth,
Of a smile in the eyes,
Or a New Year's Day kiss.

(42) HE AND I

How many more deaths must I die?
How many more lives must I live?
How many more dreams must I see?
How many more “mes” must I be?
Body, mind, soul or spirit,
Why must I be trapped endlessly?
Isn't my creation the best ever?
If I am so then why is He?
Why is He unseen to me,
Why's He the greatest mystery?
In the mind my friend says He exists,
Then, after my last sleep where is He?
He is the ocean and I the drop,
Seen and unseen in one being be,
Isn't that what my Creator meant,
When He commanded all to worship me?

(43) HEAR ME, O FRIEND

You want me to talk of love and rain,
When my heart and soul bleed with pain,
Forced to pass my days with vampires,
How can you expect me to be sane.
Passing by the sea I sigh with the waves,
How ugly has become Earth's face,
You want me to cajole and laugh,
I want the Trumpet to end my race.
You talk of dinners and banquets,
I see hungry kids begging,
You want just to dine and dance,
Have I got time for romance?
You love to shop and be frivolous,
Like Cossette and Marius,
Know you not that I am Jean Valjean,
My torn and tattered coat is famous.
They raped a wronged girl today,
And yet your eyes want me to play,
They said she must be punished,
Won't my heart and head turn gray?
You say you are just one of the crowd,
I say I am the defiant one,
One who can't forget the sword,
If a soul is victim of the proud.
Even I long to live and love,
Sing my songs of Spring with doves,
Recite poems to nightingales,
And with my heart's joy revive my vows.
But I have very little time,
My pen is the sword that rhymes,
I am never without my weaponry,
To erase evil artistry...
So, when I pass by the sea and gaze,
Everything is covered with haze,
Let my heart and mind pause and think,
Let my blood colour my quill and ink...

Composed on July 4, 2002. Inspired by Deborah Russell's replies to some of my poems. This is an appeal not a rebuttal. Jean Valjean, Cossette and Marius are characters of Victor Hugo's famous novel Les Miserables. Jean Valjean is the central character who suffers throughout the story for the sake of the ones he loves. Cossette is his adopted daughter and Marius is Cossette's lover.

(44) A HEART IS A HEART

A heart is a heart, not a brick or stone,
Why should it not brim up with pain?
Weep I shall a thousand times,
Why come and harass me again?
It is not your home, nor a harem,
It is not your birthright to claim,
It is a thoroughfare meant for all,
Why tell me, “Don’t sit here again”.
Yes she does not worship God,
Yes, she is faithful to none,
But to you faith and fealty are dear,
Why come and pine in her street again?
Nothing has stopped without Ghalib,
Ghalib, the drunkard, the poor old man!
So why does one shed tears for him?
And why should one lament again?

This is a translation of one of Mirza Ghalib’s well known poems.

(45) HEARTRENDING ANGUISH

Have we paused to reflect where we are going,
Wandering here and there, aimlessly drifting.
The holocaust is near, our hour is approaching,
Yet we go unconcerned about the doom threatening.
Threatening to wipe us off from the pages of existence,
And we are deaf and blind like creatures without sense.
I wish I wouldn't be here, disappear with a wish,
That I witness not this heartrending anguish.


(46) HELP ME PLEASE

Shakespeare wants me to read sermons in stones,
He wants me to read books in flowing brooks,
He says I should see good in everything;
I ponder to grasp his words and their meaning.
Will you, my beloved, spare some of your time,
So that we can talk when the day declines?
Will you, please, give me a chance to confide,
Without lashing back like an uncontrollable tide?
Help me in fathoming the wisdom of the wise,
So that I too can be fresh at sunrise.

(47) POETS AND A NIGHTINGALE

"Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget
What thou among the leaves hast never known,
The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here,
where men sit and hear each other groan;
Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,
Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;
Where but to think is to be full of sorrow
And leaden-eyed despairs,
Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,
Or new Love pine at them beyond tomorrow."
- JOHN KEATS "Ode to a nightingale"

That was John Keats, my friend of yore,
Who, fed-up with woes, sought no more,
Seeking recluse with the Nightingale,
Wrote a rapturous song at death's door.
And long before him, another old friend,
Called Omar Khayyam, he too did lend,
His time to this melodious bird,
And wrote a rubai for a dead friend.
After Keats came Oscar Wilde who,
Penned a story of love,
The nightingale, the rose, the morning dew,
And a young scholar's futile vow.
O symbolic creature of purity,
I too, when lonesome,
Search for you in the hope,
Of finding lost eternity.

(48) NOT IN MY FATE

It was not in my fate that I should ever join my beloved,
Even if I had lived longer my agony would have prolonged.
What sort of friends are these that have become advisers,
Would that some had eased my grief? Would that some had shared my sorrow?
To whom should I explain that my gloomy nights are demons,
Wouldn’t I have embraced death if it had been only once?
If you think I believed your vow, know I knew you were lying,
Wouldn't I have died of joy if I had known you to be so true?
Ah, that I had drowned in the sea than die in ignominy,
There would have been no mourner, no coffin or undertaker.

(49) MY GULLIBLE HEART

O my gullible heart, do tell me what ails you?
Tell me what’s the panacea of your pain and misery?
You long for fealty being rejected constantly,
O God, reveal to me, the cause of this anxiety.
I pine for the soul which I know is fed up of me,
O Lord! Pray tell me, what is this strange apathy?
When there is no one beside You, then O Good Lord God,
What is this hue and fuss that is gathering around me?
My life of mine I offer, trust in me O beloved!
Is there anyone who can outdo my fidelity?

The two poems above are translations of Mirza Ghalib’s famous ghazals.

(50) CLOTHED IDOLS

Every cup is good for the one who wants to drink,
It is not Jamshed's rare goblet that I prize;
My beloved thinks I am not ill that I am quite well,
If her soothing gaze makes my sad face glow;
Let’s see what clothed idols have to offer us,
A Brahmin soothsayer says this year will be fine.

(51) HIS GRIN

Stone Age man
Disguised in today's grins
How he makes me laugh!

(52) HOPE AND LOVE

New moon hope,
Ripples of joy float,
In ocean of hopelessness.
Light is dim,
And sunspots emerge,
Journey home yet to begin.
Dull weather,
Sand dunes and ditches,
Amid unexpected events.
Springs are dry,
For rains do I wait,
Love and hope flicker faintly.

(53) HOUSE OF GLASS

How more will you keep testing the house that I made of glass,
This frail house that I have built with glass?
For diamond-like precious fingers did I make a ring of glass.
Yet it cut my soul’s core, the ring that I made of glass!
Hidden by the stormy sea there is a very small island,
On it does it stand… oh my frail house of glass!
All that my shanty needs is a well-built shelter,
To survive the storms and save my house of glass!
How I watch out for stones, how scared I am of gales,
Worried I am constantly about saving my house of glass.
How could even you be cruel, why do you test my will,
Isn’t on your fingers too a delicate ring made of glass?

(54) HOW COULD YOU?

Where have you gone?
Nothing is like,
The way it used to be,
When you were there -
- Everything forlorn.
Tell me,
O please tell me,
From somewhere - anywhere,
At least give a clue:
Where are you.
Like a bolt from the blue,
When nobody knew,
You left, quietly,
And I wish I knew,
Where to find you.
It was hard to believe,
When I was told,
That you had departed:
All I could say was,
It can't be true.
And till the time I saw,
Your being wrapped in sheets,
All that I wanted was,
For you to get up...because
...You knew how I love you.
You left without a word:
No farewell, no goodbye,
Leaving me to bear all,
Till death - quite absurd -
How could you?

(55) HOW I LAUGH WHEN I SHOULD WEEP!

White sand on the sea,
Lashed by foamy froth,
Gray matter called the brain,
Directs the eyes to smog.
So much filth and scum,
Litters this world of mine,
Sometimes it sends shudders,
Of horror through the spine.
Men with hardened hearts,
Women with greedy eyes,
Children with none to care,
Play with dragonflies.
Kites soar up in the air,
Sorrows rent TV screens,
How can joy be felt,
When life blows to smithereens.
Mice, rats and lizards dart,
In the kitchens at night,
Cats no longer care,
They prefer sleeping tight.
Old men with lusty eyes:
Odious gazes all around;
Young men with no jobs,
Seek treasures unfound.
How I laugh and laugh,
Making all stare at me,
They know not how my grief,
Seeks ways for me to be.
I gaze at the heavens too,
And watch stars that float,
Every satellite and planet,
Is a traveller on a boat.
Noah built his ark,
To save the good of all,
Who will rescue these people,
Heading towards fall?
The Green One called Khidr,
Has no Moses for answers,
The bells of the Last Hour,
Toll louder and louder.
Come down Jesus, once more,
As we heard you will come,
Cleanse these lands of pigs,
And the scum along the shore.


(56) HOW MY SLEEP SUFFERS!

Your dream will never disturb you,
It's my sleep that suffers...
O saint: how my sleep is suffering:
Ah, how my sleep is suffering!
The cuckoo flaps its night-like black wings,
And the jungle is echoing,
O saint, how the jungle is echoing!
And my sleep is suffering...
O saint, how my sleep is suffering!
Reward and punishment are but God’s Will,
While man’s share is toiling --
O saint, how mankind is toiling!
And my sleep is suffering...
O saint, how my sleep is suffering!
Your longing for Him is like seasons,
While ‘union’ rests on fealty,
O saint, isn't it just fealty?
Yet, my sleep is suffering,
O saint, how my sleep is suffering!
Your greatness O God, is your uniqueness,
And Hallaj-like my being,
O God, Hallaj-like my being!
But my sleep is suffering,
O saint, how my sleep is suffering!

This poem is a translation of a popular Urdu ghazal.


(57) HOW, WITHOUT YOU?

Seasons change,
Night-scent of flowers,
Rekindles my world of dreams.
Songs of love,
Echo in forgotten place,
A swish, a sash, dance.
How we waltzed!
Wishing it would never end,
What more did I want?
Living on,
To work, work and work,
Not the other way around.
When you went,
You wished me just happiness,
But how, without you?

(58) HUSHED BREATH

It's autumn as I and the bared tree,
Shake hands with barren destiny;
The stiff air enshrouded by vacuum,
Chokes our throats with impunity.
How many seasons have both of us seen,
How many sighs that were sung on the green;
How many a heart has vanished unseen,
Gulped by the storm of a muffled scene.
Even today the tree and I ponder,
On spring's ecstasy that made us wander,
The restlessness and the sleepless nights,
When our unfulfilled hopes took us yonder.
The lake with its lotus wonders is dry,
The enthusiasm of teenaged lovers,
Everything is sunk in autumn's depth,
Life is just a whisper on fate's hushed breath.

(59) HUSSAIN VS. TYRANNY

It is once more the month of Muharram*,
Once again a time to reflect,
Upon all that led to the Karbala* clash,
The battle between good and evil.
On one side was defiant tyranny,
On the other was valiant Hussain,
One was the offspring of Satan,*
One the grandson of the Prophet*.

Muharram: First Islamic month.
Karbala: A place in Iraq where Hussain, the son of Ali bin Abu Talib and his followers embraced martyrdom while battling the forces of tyranny and falsehood coming from Kufa in Syria.
Hussain: The son of Ali and the grandson of Prophet Muhammad (Peace be upon him).
Prophet: Prophet Muhammad (Peace be upon him).


(60) I AM TIRED

I am tired, oh, how I want to rest,
I am tired of your summer fest,
Tired of waking up to alarms,
Tired of listening to old psalms.
Tired of getting up and going,
Tired of trying, trying, trying,
Tired of knowing there is nothing,
That really matters to my knowing.
Tired of rushing off for work,
Tired of enduring hours of waking,
Tired of this sick and creeping feeling,
Tired of talking and arguing
Tired of struggling for a living
Tired of living... for a living.

(61) I SEEK

Tide's music blends
Breeze hums quiet song
Where’s the one I seek?

(62) IF I KNEW

If I knew how you feel,
Would I ever go away,
Ah, the pain that makes you call,
How much that cry has to say.


(63) IF NOT LOVE
If not love, O let it be!
Woe-filled angst and misery,
And may this state of mine,
Forever the cause of your fame be.
Please don’t sever our ties,
Please, I beg of you
Even if nothing remains,
Hostility will content me.
If in my 'shameful' presence
Your reputation suffers so much,
Let our affair pay the price,
And become a famous mockery.
How can I, O my beloved!
Be my own enemy?
How can I even though,
Your heart has no room for me.
Let me play with the heart,
Even if it's for a while Asad,
If there is nothing to be found there,
Let my craving grow and kill me...

(64) LIFE, LOVE AND SORROW.

For what cause should I disown my fealty?
If not a life of love, let it be of grief and sorrow be.
Give me something to live for, O you unjust world!
If nothing else, at least a respite, from my anxiety.
Even I, will one day, prove my loyalty to you,
Though it’s now your habit to ignore and insult me.
Let us also be busy O poetic soul,
If not peace or love, let it be fear and worry.

These two poems are translations of Mirza Ghalib’s ghazals.

(65) TO A LOVELY CREATURE

Everlasting mourning,
In the memory of a friend,
Tears giving life,
To the beginning of an end.
High treetops stare,
At the deep depths below,
The road keeps winding,
As the travellers go.
Perched on a branch,
You chortled and chirped,
Like a nightingale,
Whose song, I heard.
From whence did you come,
O lovely creature,
My grief fades away,
When I listen to your rapture.
Who will understand,
The language that you speak,
Save poets like me,
Whose hurt hearts you seek!


(66) AN IMPERFECT MAN

When the blemishes in the mirror,
Stare at me,
I am hurt:
Because I see who I am.
Nobody else knows, no one can,
But I am face to face with the man,
The man outside, the man within,
The man whom God calls a man.

(67) IN SEARCH OF PEACE

Liars, deceivers, plunderers stare,
Humanity likes naked, rendered bare,
Tell me, is this all fair?
One day, God willing, I shall rise,
And cleanse this world of wars and vice,
Will you O friend, be as wise?
Haiku and venting one's wounded heart,
Has no effect on these wild dogs,
Why not lure them into a sea of sharks?
Doomsday is a day that tyrants shall bring,
when there won't be autumn, winter or spring,
Remember that we are but hay in this wind.
No, defeat is not a way of mine,
Battling the odds is my rhyme,
O Lord, be there at the right time.


(68) IN SYMPATHY WITH THE PEOPLE OF THE USA

O, affected Americans, one and all!
My heart sheds tears for the fall,
Not just for the twin towers that fell,
But for all engulfed by terror's spell.
I live in a land across the seas,
Where many like me believe in peace,
The doom that struck on Black Tuesday,
Is a blot on mankind I must say.
But O my affected fellowmen,
Remember the guidance in our scriptures,
Repel evil with that which is good,
While rooting out mischief and mayhem.
You blame Bin Laden, you have the right,
But beware of the one-eyed anti-Christ,
He lurks behind the garb of good,
It is HIM that we all have to fight.
He is leading a nation astray,
Bringing catastrophes every day,
Wrapped in cloaks, he's mysterious,
Yet his fake eye gives him away.
I have found out this evil man,
Who preaches good but spreads terror,
Let us launch our battle to catch this one,
This one-eyed, disguised mischief monger.

This was written after the gory incident in New York on September the 11th, 2001.

(69) IN THE DARK

Past the midnight hour, when it's dark,
Come, let's once more walk in the park,
Come, let's rekindle the anonimity,
When I didn't know you, or you me.
Perhaps, once more you will trip and fall,
Perhaps, I shall once more heed your call,
The call, like old times, long ago,
When I was your friend, not your foe.
There shall be no moon to light the way,
The stars will appear, we cannot say,
The intensity of the hidden path,
Will be greater than your heart's wrath.
Why bother about the worldly jokes,
Why care about disdainful folks,
The matter concerns just you and me,
The warmth of my love, your cold fury.
The lake and its water will be still,
A second will be like climbing a hill,
Past the midnight hour, in the park,
Just the two of us, let's once more walk.

(70) JUST A NIGHT OR TWO

This place is neither yours, nor mine,
Our lifetimes span just a night or two.
Why this sadness lingers by my side,
Do I really appear to be so alone?
Let the folks say what they like,
What I foresee will one day be.
Have you seen a house come crumbling down,
What happened to all the birds that flew?
The dry twigs also have some tales to tell,
Like the torn soles of my worn-out shoes.
Don't go out hunting on your own,
Pitfalls lurk under the grassy hue.
One day I saw a fish inside a stream,
Perplexed at the hooked worm that I threw.
So note down all that's disclosed here,
Our lifetimes span just a night or two.

This poem was inspired by a famous Urdu ghazal.

(71) SOME QUESTIONS

Some people don't like the sea,
Some don't like the evening stars,
Some don't like the lush green hills,
Some, like me, don't like scars.
I stand near the seashore and dwell,
On the mysteries of life, heaven and hell,
Sometimes I sit on the sand and wait,
Wondering which one of us came here late.
I have been here often whenever I could,
With evergreen memories of childhood,
I have watched the waves and swam with them,
Deep in dreams gleam many a gem.
I have also been seen with the evening stars,
Seeking answers to why I came from Mars;
Pondering why these heavenly floats,
Have so much to do with our life boats.
I have also been high up in the hills,
Experiencing excitement and thrills,
With friends sometimes, at times with none,
Wishing that a heart like mine would come.
A heart that doesn't like scars on the sun,
That understands the finiteness of wisdom,
A heart that loves to live for love,
A heart like mine, from somewhere, somehow?
And so this span of years does pass,
I look at the sea yet walk on the grass,
For, I know, as the clocks tell me,
Time and tide wait for no he or she.
Sometimes I look at a cheerful lass,
Whose young heart is like smooth glass,
Sometimes I read lines addressed to me,
Expressing the hope of love and glee:
Then I come again at the seashore,
Mystified why fate wants to hurt me more,
Hasn't my tide of love appeared late,
Why always me who has to wait?

(72) JUST ONE GLANCE

Like Samson chained, grinding the daily grind,
I have lost interest but must work entwined,
The ugliness of this world is too apparent,
And my life here a rolled parchment.
No desire to live, nor to carry on,
Yet, I know, I have to pull on,
Like Orion and others around Polaris,
I too must revolve on a daily basis.
O heart and mind, at least flash a dream,
Of the world I long for, just show me one scene.
Let me have a glimpse of my promised paradise,
Just one glance, so that the hope survives.

(73) KARMA & PRAYER

There was a time,
When I struggled with fate,
In a bid to rewrite a line.
Then I realized it was too late,
That it was futile,
To attempt revisions.
It is better to accept,
And reconcile:
For, what is destined will happen.
However, they say, there is a key,
Which unlocks the door to heaven,
And makes what we wish, to happen.
That some soul's prayer becomes a pen,
That revises a line of a destined rhyme.
That the reward of good is but good,
And nothing is unjust in the Maker's book.
Faith and good deeds shape our end:
What we receive is what we send,
To shape our karma in the cosmic pattern.


(74) THE TRUTH LIES HIDDEN…SOMEWHERE

I seek God's refuge from Satan,
Just because he has been given the leave?
The reprieve allowed till Doomsday,
To lie in my wait and ensnare me?
Making me the Khalifa* on Earth,
And with all angels prostrating,
Knowing about me which even I know not,
And breathing in Adam Your breath and glow:
Why did You give power to Iblees*?
Who taught him all his evil ways?
And then made a pact with him,
Permitting him to mislead me?
Saying You will fill Hell with those,
All that couldn't bear to resist him,
Making Eden for Adam and Eve,
And then planting a forbidden tree:
When the angels asked You, my God,
That this creation of dust and clay,
Would work mischief on this world,
You replied You were the Lord:
You taught Adam all the Names*,
And showed him as better than them,
Was the devil hiding in an unseen place,
Why didn't he see Adam's greatness then?
Then You gave Eve and Adam everything,
All that their hearts could desire,
But, you knew there was that tree of loss,
Why didn't you uproot it from Eden?
Why was Satan allowed in that Garden?
Who gave him permission to be there?
The devil who had disobeyed You,
Why was he shown how to mislead them?
You, my God, made Adam and Eve,
The best creation till that time,
You assert that You loved them most,
Yet, made the Serpent* seduce them?
Then You banished then from Your Grace,
Even though you know each and everything,
Were my first parents made to be thrown?
And the evil one made to wear a crown?
No, my Good God, I cannot understand,
The reason behind this purpose,
Save that even You create and destroy,
And on your puppets blame the fuss.
You sent prophets from time to time,
Why were they always the chosen ones,
Who gave one the mind and strength to kill,
And made the other's sacrifice sublime?
What is the meaning of all this God?
Will you, please, satisfy me?
You showed Abraham how dead will relive,
Will You end my curiosity?
I have pondered; I have thought and thought,
You, Adam, Satan and the chosen lot,
Appear to be making fools of us,
Else, this chaos doesn't have You O God!
O, the promises of Your Last Day,
How they clash with my night and day,
If I deny it's by Your decree,
Would I be on Your Path or astray?
Why this stress on the commandments?
Kill Satan, make this the Last Day?
What are You waiting for O God!
Can't You hear what my heart and soul say?
End this creativeness of Yours,
Destroy and find a better way,
Where no power belongs to anyone,
To lead or mislead, guide, waylay...
There is no God besides You,
Let the truth of glisten and shine,
Why this mayhem of confusion,
When You are the Truth as You say!
I often pause by the beach and watch,
Then fall down on my knees and pray,
I feel that Truth lies hidden somewhere,
Not in this world’s chaotic fray.

Khalifa is an Arabic term which means successor - Adam and Eve and their progeny are successors of a previous generation that inhabited and ruled Earth. Iblees is also an Arabic term used for Satan. Eden's use is also allegorical and metaphorical in some lines here. Forbidden fruit is alluded here as the weaknesses instilled in man by God as forgetfulness, disobedience and sin...Many instances in The Holy Bible and The Holy Quran corraborate this statement of mine.The Serpent is the form taken by Satan to seduce Adam and Eve in Eden. It is also a metaphor defining the hideous evil inside every man and woman. Readers are requested to read this poem as an allegorical one instead of trying to understand or explain it in its literal sense.

(75) LAST NIGHT

About last night?
How can I explain,
About last night!
But I have to say,
It was quite plain,
As the soul felt,
It was indeed,
The last night.
My poetic muse,
By my side,
Making me believe -
like I once used to -
when I was young:
It wasn't night -
Her smiles and her songs:
Rapturous delight -
The hours went by,
Like Pegasus,
Taking strides:
Across the sky.
My muse, my joy,
My inspiration,
Made me oblivious,
Of damnation.
And I grew fond,
Of our spiritual bond,
Like watching Orpheus,
Growing more strong:
Though not with the living,
But I found love,
With my God-sent muse,
Ah, the joy and warmth,
Of being loved while loving!
Did I not long,
For such a grand night?
O, how I wait,
For another such flight!

(76) LAST PLEA

The night is pitch black, dark and intense,
Inside too there is smoke, no incense,
The turbulence is great, the waves are angry,
The heart is filled up with grief that's immense.
I look up above and my gaze goes quite far,
But there is silence, as still as a jar,
Filled with water, you add one more drop,
And the overflow will refresh the scar.
Whirlpools are great to watch and be reminded,
This galaxy of ours is similarly winded,
The Creator says he is quite close to me,
Then why is it I am walking blinded.
I read Roomi and Hallaj and all the sufis,
They claim they sought God and found real peace,
Why does not my Lord look upon me,
What wrong have I done to see pain increase.
The stones are quiet and the world is asleep,
There is mayhem going on that makes me weep,
Chaos and barbarism with innocents wailing,
Deep in the heart the cries are deafening.
O Lord, I accept I am not perfect,
I seek Your forgiveness and long for Your response,
Reply O my God when you know what my heart wants.
There is a wound that has not been healed,
There is a stab that has not been sealed,
There is no grass visible on the empty field,
Why don't You O Lord, then be my shield?
In this solitude I pray to You my Maker,
Reply to my pleas and be my Caretaker,
Let me just remember there is only You,
The rest, erase it, and make me anew.
O my Lord, O my Benefactor,
You have showered Your mercy in times of disaster,
I thank You for everything You have given me,
But make me Thine is my last plea.

(77) LET GOD’S WRATH DESCEND

Does the man who rapes his daughter,
Deserve to live as a man?
Shouldn't he be cut up, chopped,
And thrown in the garbage can?
Shouldn't incest and abuse be wiped,
Shouldn't evil diminish?
The Sodomites, I 'm told
How God made them vanish.
Fire must rain once more,
To cleanse this world of sins,
Brimstone must bury,
All the sin-filled dust bins.
If Sorchna has suffered,
All of us should be blamed,
We allowed a beastly father,
To walk about unchained.
Let the wrath of God descend,
On this Jekyll-like hidden beast,
Let us all rejoice, not mourn,
When Hell and this sinner meet.

This poem is inspired by the tragic and horrifying life story of the brave Irish girl Sorchna McKenna, who was raped and molested by her own father from childhood to teenage.

(78) LET ME BE ME

How I want to quit this boring task,
About which I cannot fully talk,
How I want to weep and cry,
Till my soul is totally dry.
How I want to laugh at all,
That seems to have been made for all,
How I want to sit, sigh and sing,
Ranting about nothing and everything.
In childhood my days were spent,
Worrying a lot about my parents.
Why there was no joy at home,
Why we were all feeling alone
At school I had Daphne and Josh,
And time for a while faced a loss,
The school time and the lunch break,
Under the great tree and forget ache.
Often I gave Daphne a flower,
And Josh my friend was her brother,
Who used to smile, clap and laugh,
Play and dance in the grassy splash.
Evenings were sometimes quite tough,
As a ship struggling in seas too rough.
Let me stop this episode now,
Ere the grief inside me does overflow.
Let me while the minutes of another night,
With cigarettes, pipes, some moments light.
Let me sit under the moonless sky,
And watch the stars roam more high.
Let me hear a friend talk of love,
Or hear a bird cackle from a branch above.
Let me be, please let me be….
For sometime at least….let me be me.
Let me be myself and search,
The one whose love I miss so much!

(79) FLASHBACK

Let me listen to the songs of yore,
Let me read the poetry of bygone times,
Let me look around inside that old bookstore,
Where I spent my years two score and more.
Let my imagination recall my beloved,
The woman who only wanted to be loved;
Let me ponder on why she left me,
Was I too young and she bold for me?
Let me relive that grand afternoon,
When her loving smile sent me in a swoon,
Let me not forget the day when she said,
Let what should not be said remain unsaid.
Let me believe that she is still mine,
Like the old books and songs of my time,
Let me go back to the years of my youth,
Let me make a call from that telephone booth.

(80) LET ME UNWIND

No day dawns but to increase my sadness,
I am drawing near to the edge of nothingness;
No sun sets without leaving me lonely,
Even though there are many around; many.
Fluttering the birds fly back to their nests,
The insects crawl on the flap of old texts,
The clamour and rush on the streets of the city,
Reminds me that I too am needy.
I am in need of complete peace of mind,
Let me, my beloved, in your arms, unwind.

(81) LET’S GO O MY HEART, ERE IT’S TOO LATE

In this age of debauchery and lies,
Will true love thrive?
In this land of gun-toting goons,
Can peace survive?
Bearded and half-learned clerics,
Are defaming Islam,
Brainwashing the unitiated,
And destroying calm.
How can I think of living on here,
In this mischief and mayhem?
How can my loved ones be without fear,
In this terror dungeon?
My motherland is being raped,
By militants from abroad,
The land of the pure* is being ruined,
By descendants of Gog*.
Hope in my heart is a withering flower,
Because I have found,
How the Quaid* and his sister did suffer,
At the hands of bloodhounds*.
Sincerity and truth have no value here,
Nor can honesty live,
Dishonesty is now the official code,
Just "grab" and "don't give".
Corruption is rampant all around me,
All conscience has died,
From the top to the bottom there's just greed,
And no end to "need".
Poor children I see toiling for food,
On the roads and the streets,
While the rulers and the rich are enjoying,
Comforts through deceit.
Let us go O my heart, ere it's late,
To a much much better place,
Where life is still sacred, where people matter,
And where God showers His Grace.

*Gog: Mischief makers described in the Holy Bible and the Holy Quran. *Quaid: Meaning leader and is used as a title for Muhammad Ali Jinnah, the founder of Pakistan. Fatima Jinnah was his sister.

(82) LINES WRITTEN ON THE LAST EVENING OF 2008

And it is dawn again,
Of the last day of an year,
That will be wrapped up,
In the scrolls of eternity.
So much has happened,
To rewrite history,
As wails of innocents,
Rent apart Gaza city.
Violence and mayhem,
Chaos, insurgency,
Have mocked the harbingers,
Of peace and amity.
Killing the blameless,
Has become a hobby,
And sanctity of life,
Has become meaningless.
Some of us reached out,
And searched the stars,
To find some clue,
On and beyond Mars.
Some played in China,
Vying for glory,
In games, while others,
Revelled in anarchy.
I and my loved ones,
Cannot breathe in peace,
So I too must look out,
For better galaxies.
In the east the sun shines,
But how can I rejoice,
To welcome the new year,
What have I got, save a tear?
It's all I can offer,
To those who are striving,
Like me, for preserving,
Our children's laughter.

(83) LOSING MYSELF

Let me lose myself Naveed,
As I do most nights,
Let me smoke, drink and sing,
Once more till I am no more.

(84) OF MEN, AN OWL AND WISDOM

Even among a crowd a man is all alone:

A child fell into a manhole,
While lost in the world above,
His entire self absorbed in a kite...
His brother cried for help,
Implored one and all with all his might,
To rescue his sibling,
Nothing worked...
Rescuers came,
With ladders and equipment,
For 13 long hours they stunned,
Those gathered around,
Near the deadly pavement...
But the fallen little one,
Could not be found,
They tried their best - they said,
But he was feared dead...
And on the other road I was told,
Somebody whisked a baby girl away,
After hitting and killing the mother,
While driving recklessly;
The lawmen said they were doing all they could,
To trace the culprit, the newsman told...
I heard the owl flap its doleful wings,
Perched on a high branch above,
As if mocking us with its wisdom -
Even among his own...a man is all alone.

(85) OF YEARS AGO

I cannot forget the flower,
I gave Daphne* years ago,
I cannot forget her smiles,
That beamed on her years ago.
I cannot forget father's calls,
At the dinner table, years ago,
Asking me to join him there,
For supper many years ago.
I cannot forget ma's lullaby,
Sung to me when I was a child,
Sweeter than Lata's* it was,
At that time many years ago.
I can't forget the train journey,
With my pa several years ago,
From Madras to Tiruchirapalli,
Slow and steady, several years ago.
I cannot forget Joshua John*,
And the times we shared years ago,
With him, Daphne and Ramola*,
During Xmas several years ago.
I cannot forget Tiger* and Nick*,
Nor Malir* of several years ago,
How pa and ma suffered for us,
Me and my siblings several years ago.
I cannot forget Commissioner Sa'ab*,
And his sweetness and kindness,
Nor can I his Cadbury bars,
Or ice cream flasks many years ago.
I cannot forget that bicycle rides,
With my pa singing all along,
Raj Kapoor's* famous film songs,
Or Do-Re-Me*... several years ago.
I cannot forget Children's English School*,
Or the rain-soaked walks with friends,
Trudging on to school or back home,
So many times several years ago.
I cannot forget the kites we flew,
On the clean and sandy shores,
Of cities in the East and West,
Or in the parks many years ago.
I cannot forget the comics I read,
And all the books I had with me,
Tarzan, Phantom, Gold Key, Archie,
Blyton, Doyle, Hugo and Christie.
I cannot forget my childhood friends,
And I cannot forget my special ones,
Daphne and father head the list,
Of those I miss since years ago.
I miss Rita-Yank* of Ohio,
I miss Becky* of the '70s,
And I miss dignified Iona*,
My English teacher of years ago.
I miss every moment of my past,
Be it joyful or full of pain,
And all those "times of torture"*,
Afflicting me several years ago.
And I won't talk of those times,
When love meant everything to me,
When days and nights were paradise,
Forever they 'll be a mystery.
Today I was alone at dawn,
Though God is there with me always,
But tears like blood-drops in the heart,
Hide aches which the world won't know.
This very day last December,
My loving pa left me with Saigal*,
And with all the memories,
Of him and the rest...of years ago.

I know not what to say to whom,
I know with whom to share my time,
Shehzad* and Adnan* are also far,
With whom to talk of all those years ago!

DAPHNE*: My schoolmate and the one girl I cannot forget...ever. 2) LATA*: Lata Mangeshkar, famous Indian playback singer. 3)JOSHUA JOHN*: Daphne's elder brother and my classfellow...at school. 4) RAMOLA*: A neighbour and a friend. 5) TIGER AND NICK*: Pet dogs we had in our childhood days. 6) COMMISSIONER SA'AB*: A family friend named Ghulam Mohammad Badshah and a very kind and generous person... 7) RAJ KAPOOR*: A famous Hindi film actor of India whose songs sung for him by Mukesh were a favourite with me and father... 8) DO-RE-ME*: Famous song from the movie THE SOUND OF MUSIC. 9) CHILDREN'S ENGLISH SCHOOL*: One of my first schools abroad where I learnt much...and where I made friends DAPHNE AND JOSHUA JOHN. 10) RITA-YANK*: My friend and admirer of my poetry and short stories who lived in Ohio, USA, and who like Daphne, is no more in this world. 11) BECKY*: School-friend and one year my senior. 12) IONA*: My first and favourite English teacher...unforgettable! 13) "TIMES OF TORTURE"*:1986-2002...which I cannot discuss with everybody. 14) SAIGAL*: Kundan Lal Saigal...India's most-famous singer who is still my favourite among those in the South Asian region. 15) SHEHZAD*: Shehzad Latif or SHAZI...my best friend so far among all those blessed on me by God Almighty. 16) ADNAN*: Adnan Jaffar, a friend since 2007...and a friend indeed...without doubt. 17) Other names are of cities like Madras and Tiruchirapalli (India) and the names mentioned with comics and books are of well known comic heroes and authors of famous books...some of my favourite ones.


(86) ON MOVIES

Barefoot in the Park*; Dancer in the dark;
What all strange titles the movie men offer!
How can we be amused when agony's around us,
How can we ignore the suffering that surrounds us.
How can I be in a mood to sit, relax, enjoy,
Mel Gibson's Braveheart* and Rob Roy*.
How can we while our time with problems abounding,
With Zorro* and the Dancer fencing and prancing.
It is true we too need rest but are movies the answer?
Tell me my dearest, before tuning to Godfather*.
Marilyn and Lamarr, Brook Shields and Lopez*,
They surely look ravishing, but then, I must confess.
This world is afflicted with pain and misery,
It's not a fairyland as described by Disney*.

Names of some famous movies, famous actors, actresses and producer-cartoonist Walt Disney.


(87) ON THE STATE OF THE WORLD’S MUSLIMS

Ah, the state of the Islamic world!
How it makes me laugh...and laugh;
While the tears inside, long to gush out,
At the insults being hurled!
Enmeshed in rivalries are we,
And ethnic enmity,
How can we defend ourselves,
And defeat the enemy?
This worldly life has lured us away,
From the noble aims that held a sway,
For petty gains have we sold our souls,
And have wandered far astray.
There is a fool who stares at me,
And laughs at me incessantly,
Perhaps he thinks I am the one,
Who has, in fact, gone crazy.
O God! Let not the flickering flame die,
Let Islam's glory shine once more,
It is to You I address my sigh,
May the flag of truth always fly high.

(88) PRISM PHASE

Sunday morning looms,
Different shades,
Cast their effect on the heart.
A bird glides above,
Seeks support,
To land and nestle among dreams.
Mary Hopkins sings,
Recalls past,
In "Those were the days my friend".
Adnan Jaffar* glad,
Facebook friend,
Wants him to come more closer.
Moon has descended,
Stars remain,
And I keep thinking of you.

Mary Hopkins: A famous Welsh singer. *Adnan Jaffar: My friend in Karachi.

(89) SOARING

Bleak afternoon,
Weary heart and mind,
Cosmic blankness stares at world.
Sullen looks,
And dismal laughter,
Remind me of an old film.
Bergman*-like,
In a gas-lit street,
Your presence still pervades.
Liz Browning*,
And her fine love poems,
Lend life to a bygone theme.
Future stares,
Like a bright rainbow,
As you wave at me to soar.
Nothing now,
Seems important than,
You and me in sky’s caress.


Bergman: Actress Ingrid Bergman.
Liz Browning: English poetess and wife of Robert Browning.

(90) MYSTICAL MUSINGS

Let me vanish into eternity
Where I can be invisible
Where time and seasons don't exist
Where He* is, where I can "be"*.
Let no one come and preach here,
My prayer is a sincere tear,
Unlike the rituals of people,
My heart beats with love not fear.
My God and I are true not false,
Every sip I drink His Name calls,
The wine-cup draws me more nearer,
And I revel with my Creator.
So when the worldly day fades,
And when darkness everywhere pervades,
I bare my being to my God,
And denounce this world and Hades.*

He*: Refers to God Almighty.
Be*: God’s command.
Hades*: Death, underworld as mentioned in Greek literature.

***************THE END***************

Impressum

Texte: ALL RIGHTS RESERVED BY THE AUTHOR MUHAMMAD NAVEED AHMED (EMMENAY). NO PART OF THIS BOOK CAN BE REPRODUCED IN PRINTED, RECORDED, HANDWRITTEN, PHOTOCOPIED, OR OTHER ELECTRONIC FORMAT INCLUDING DIGITAL MEANS OF ANY FORM WITHOUT THE SOLE, SIGNED PERMISSION OR APPROVAL OF THE AUTHOR. (COPYRIGHT MARCH 22, 2009).
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 22.03.2009

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Widmung:
To my mother Fatima Qudsia without whom I wouldn't have been where I am today. May God bless her...always.