Sheeshon Ka Maseeha Koi Nahin

Moti ho kay sheesha, jaam, kay dur

jo toot gaya so toot gaya

Kab ashkon se jurd sakta hai

jo toot gaya, so chhoot gaya

Tum na-haq sheeshay chun chun kar

daaman mein chhupaye baithey ho

Sheeshon ka maseeha koi nahin

kya aas lagaye baithey ho

Shayad kay inhi tukrdon mein kahin

wo sagar-e-dil hai, jis mein kabhi

Sud naaz se utra karti thi

Sahba-e-gham-e-jaanaan ki pari

Phir duniya walon ne tum se

Ye sagar le kar phod diya

Jo maye thi baha di mitti mein

Mehmaan ka shah par tod diya

Ye rangeen rezay hain shayed

un shokh biloori sapnon kay

Tum mast jawani mein jin se

Khalwat ko sajaya kartey thay

naadaari, dafter, bhookh aur gham

un sapnon se takratey rahay

be-reham tha chau-mukh pathraav

yeh kaanch kay dhanchey kia kartey?

Ya shayad in zarron mein kahin

moti hai tumhari izzat ka

woh jiss se tumharey ijz pe bhi

shamshad qadon nay rashk kia

is maal ki dhun mein phirtey thay

tajer bhi bohat rehzun bhi kaee

ai chor-nagar ya muflis ki

gar jaan bachi to aan gai

ye sagar sheeshe, laal-o-guhar

saalim hon to qeemat paate hain

yun tukrde tukrde hon to faqat

chubhte hain, lahoo rulwaate hain

yaadon ke girebaanon ke rafoo

par dil ki guzar kab hoti hai ?

ik bakhiya udheyrda, ek siya

yun umr basar kab hoti hai ?

is kaar-gahey hasti mein jahan

ye sagar sheeshay dhaltey hein

har shaey ka badal mil sakta hai

sab daaman pur ho saktey hein

Jo haath bardhey yawar hai yahan

jo aankh uthhey woh bakhtawar

yaan dhan daulat ka ant nahin

hon ghaat mein daaku lakh magar

kab loot jhapat se hasti ki

dukaanein khaali hoti hein

yaan parbat parbat heerey hein

yaan saagar saagar moti hein

Kuch log hein jo is daulat par

Pardey latkatey phirtay hein

Har parbet ko, har saagar ko

Neelam chardhaatey phirtey hein

Kuchh woh bhi hein jo laRh bhiRd kar

ye pardey noch giraatay hein

Hasti kay utthai giron ki

har chaal uljhaaye jatey hein

In donon mein run pardta hai

Nit basti basti, nagar nagar

Har basti ghar ke seene mein

Har chalti rah ke maathe par

Ye kalak bhartey phirte hein

Woh jot jagate rehte hein

Ye aag lagatey phirtey hein

Woh aag bujhatay rehtey hein

Sab saagar sheeshay laal o guhar

is baazi mein bid jaate hein

Uttho sab khaali haathon ko

us run se bulaway aate hein

is kaar-gahey hasti mein jahan

ye sagar sheeshay dhaltey hein

har shaey ka badal mil sakta hai

sab daaman pur ho saktey hein :)

My Letters To You

Light is more important than the lantern,

The poem more important than the notebook,

And the kiss more important than the lips.

My letters to you

Are greater and more important than both of us.

They are the only documents

Where people will discover

Your beauty 

And my madness.

- Nizar Qabbani

Ye, Who Choose

Tujh ko manzoor nahin ghalba-e zulmat lekin

Tujh ko manzoor hai yeh haath qalam ho jaen

Aur mashriq ki kameenN-gah main dharakta hua din

Raat ki aahni mayyat ke talay dab jaey

Translation:

Throne of murk you grudge against; yet

Yield to severe these hands,

Surrender to the dawn breathing softly in the womb of East 

Be entombed under the metal carcass of dusk

Verse: Faiz

Inapt Translation: mine.

Quetta: That Is You, That Is Me

Bol kay lab aazaad hain teray,

Bol zabaan ab tak teri hai,

Tera sutwaan jism hai tera,

Bol kay jaan ab tak teri hai,

Dekh kay aahan-gar ki dukaan main,

Tund hain shoalay, surkh hai aahan,

Khulnay lagay qufflon kay dahaanay,

Phela har ek zanjeer ka daaman,

Bol yeh thora waqt bohat hai,

Jism-o-zabaan ki maut se pehlay,

Bol kay sach zinda hai ab tak,

Bol jo kuch kehna hai keh le

- Faiz

When Your Fears Are Your Practical Approach

It is then that when one comes across a dead spirit, one has to make a call if one wants to live with a ghost, or get a life! 

Happy are those who choose life. 

Break The Bondage!

How much do you let the media feed you?

How much?

Take Note, Please

Maikada Saaz Hoon Main, Maikada Bardosh Nahin

What follows is a part of a book over Nizam ud Din Aulia - one of the greats in the mystic history & Islamic traditions.

I do not know how many of you may find it relevant, but to me it makes great sense... mainly because I'm a soul always swinging inbetween the sufi & the sharyati aspects of the religion, a lover too afraid to lose to adoration for the fear of committing disrespect ... But yun hosh bhi qaem rakhna, aur dawa-e ishq bhi karna - na faasqi ka lutf, na aashqi ka maza! :)

Coming straight to the point: 

Ps: JazakAllah dear friend HJA for sharing the book!

Rigorous Matters Of Dilbari

Dilbari neest kay dildadah'e deedar tu neest 

Yuk Khudawund nadeedam kay paristar-e tu neest!

The mirth of love games is for the seeker of love; 

How could ye behold God, if ye believe in none!

Verse: Unconfirmed poet

Inapt translation: mine

This Is It! :)

You ask me how I became a madman.

It happened thus:

One day, long before many gods were born,

I woke from a deep sleep

and found all my masks were stolen, -

the seven masks I have fashioned

and worn in seven lives, -

I ran maskless through the crowded streets shouting,

” Thieves, thieves, the cursed thieves.”

Men and women laughed at me

and some ran to their homes

in fear of me.

And when I reached the market place,

a youth standing on a house-top cried,

“He is a madman.”

I looked up to behold him;

the sun kissed my own naked face for the first time.

For the first time the sun kissed

my own naked face

and my soul was inflamed

with love for the sun,

and I wanted my masks no more.

And as if in a trance I cried,

“Blessed, blessed are the thieves who stole my masks.”

Thus I became a madman.

And I have found both freedom and safety in my madness;

the freedom of lonliness and the safety

from being understood,

for those who understand us enslave something in us.

But let me not be too proud of my safety.

Even a Thief in a jail is safe from another thief.

~Kahlil Gibran

In The World Of Words

We dwell in the world of words, 

Your sound is the stroke 

painting contours of me,

Each blank space is the pause you make.

Deftly you play 

the play of light and shade,

with silence and syllable,

rendering color and grey.

Secretly I know 

I'm in the frame left alone,

When there's nothing more to say.

- leenah.

A Story Of Sight Beyond Sight

How about a li'll story time this weekend night? 

As the night turns cold, have you snuggled well into your blankets?

Well, lets start if you have! You just gotta hit the play button underneath and together we'll weave the sufi magic in a night out of the Arabian Nights ...

Post by Touching with fingers the naked body of dreams.

Harun al-Rashid [the caliph] gave the order, "Bring this Laila, so I might see why Majnun--out of love for her-- has cast such passion into the world and why from the East to the West lovers have made the story of his love their mirror." They went to great expense, employed much trickery, and succeeded in bringing Laila to the caliph. She was in a private chamber; at night the caliph would light candles, gaze at her for a while, and then reflect for a while. [But he could not see what was so special about her.] He said to himself, "If I get her to speak, perhaps her special quality will become more apparent in her face, by means of her speaking." He turned to Laila and asked, "Laila, is that you?" She replied, "Yes, I am Laila. But you are not Majnun. Those eyes that are in Majnun's head are not in yours. How can you see Laila with eyes with which you see other than her and which you have not cleansed by tears? Look at me with the vision of Majnun!" 

Those who look at the beloved with the vision of the lover are those whom, "He (God) loves..." [referring to Qur'an (5:54) "God will bring a people whom He loves and who love Him"] 'The defect [in most people] stems from the fact that they do not look at God with the vision of the lover; they look with the vision of knowledge and the vision of philosophy. 

The vision of love is something else. 

From the Discourses of Shams-i Tabrizi (Maqalat-i Shams-i Tabrizi)

Of The Gold Coloured Day

One hundred years 

from now,

it will not matter 

what kind of 

car I drove,

What kind of 

house 

I lived in,

How much I had 

in my 

bank account,

Nor what my 

clothes looked like.

But the world may be 

a little better place

because 

I was important

in the life

of a child.

~ anon.

The day was the first of the last month of the year and we were sitting in the front garden of the National Lace & Textiles, Mill. The sun beat down fiercely and for some time it was difficult to imagine it to be winters already. Apart from the few hiccups that are a part of the routine, it had been a smooth visit to the facility; perfectly drawing to a planned closure. ‘Alhamdolillah’, I thought with a sense of relief, ‘Another milestone successfully completed’. It was the moment when Col. Obaid Zia, CEO of the facility was winding up his farewell address to us: “Forgive me for taking so much of your time in narrating my journey of success. You people must not be enjoying the strong sun. But let me assure you once again, that it was a sheer pleasure to meet you, and host you.” Colonel sb. had been extremely gracious.

I looked at the mentors on my either side and glanced at the mentees in front, ‘Are we done?’ I thought. “Does anyone of you want to ask anything from Sir?” I probed the mentees, a group of almost 60, 15-years old girls visiting the Textile mill as part of an Exposure Trip of the Rahbar Cycle. To be honest, while relaying in my head the words of gratitude I meant to deliver on behalf of the visitors, I wasn’t really expecting to hear a reply to my question. Hence, it took me by surprise when I saw her rising from her seat among rest of the 9th graders. 

"Sir, you just mentioned about taking our time... I want to let you know that the ten minutes you've taken of our time are the most profitable investment we've made today. Years from now, when any of us would've exhausted completely and could be thinking of calling it quits, be it any field, these ten minutes would not let that happen. We will survive. And grow. And shine. Thank you for taking these ten minutes from our time."

She sat down. 

Colonel saheb was beaming, placing his hand over his chest he bowed his head in humbleness; while my spirit soared with pride! 

Nothing that I was about to say could have been more meaningful and more genuine than what had just been said.

As numerous hands automatically moved to clap, I did not know if there was a single thing I was clapping for. The inspiration in the form of Col. sb., the young mentee's honest (& eloquent) words, the gist of the entire excerice that had so well been recieved, the future that sounded so promising, and the realization that we are the today of such a bright tomorrow... it all combined to interweave an overwhelming sense of thankfulness.

The winter sun was blazing uncharacteristically, but what I'll remember this day for is the warmth of heart felt gratitude that filled the air and turned the afternoon a blissful gold.

PS: All conversations have been translated from Urdu with as much closeness to the actual as possible.

Guest Post From The Blog 'Tangled Up In Blue': "...Of The Voice Of The Rohi"

I've no words to describe the beauty of the following post. 

If anything, it's a treasure trove for anyone in love!

It is of the voice of the Rohi! 

It has the essence of Rohi, in various different voices carrying it over the sound waves...

Don't trust my word, just click on the link, and find for yourself!

" Tangled Up In Blue: ...Of The Voice Of The Rohi ": If you stopped me on the street tomorrow and asked, "What's the proudest day of your life?" I wouldn't hesitate a second before answerin...

I Sent A Letter To My Love

... And on the way I dropped it!
I dropped it, I dropped it
Yes, on the way I dropped it

The following talk touched me on so many levels... primarily because of the speaker's passion for her simple labour of love, and secondly because it reminded me of my mother - one person with whom I relate the word letter to. She wrote letters to her parents, her sisters and brothers. Laced with prayers and an oozing sense of warmth.

When I initiated this blog a couple of years back, it had the same underlying motive.

But she is right, nothing compares to that personal statement of affection, that comes from no where and asks nothing in return ...

To all you beautiful souls spread across this planet, trying to chip in their share of love ... Hats off to you! 

Much love & respect!

کھوٹی کھوج - Khhoti Khhoaj

Aik bazurg thay jo har jumay-raat ko bazar jatay thay. Mashhoor tareen kothay par ja kar, wahan ki shoala-jawala ka intekhaab kartay thay.

Khabar shehar main phelnay lagi, tou mureedon ko bhi tashweesh hoi. Kuch ne sunn gunn lenay ka irada kia, apas main bahmi mashawaret se te ye paya kay aik mureed agli jumayraat ko Sheikh ji pe nazr rakhay ga. So saheb, jumayraat aee, dars ki mehfil khatum hoi tou sheikh sahab ne dastaar sambhali aur niklay bahir ko.

Peechay peechay sharmindagi main gharq hota bechara aik mureed. Sheikh saheb k liay tou rasta shayed meel bhar ka tha lekin Mureed becharay ki zindagi bhar ki aqeedat lutt gai iss safr main! 

Khuda Khuda kar kay wo bazaar pohanchay. Kothay par Sheikh saheb ko hathon hath lia gaya. Mureed chehra aur gharqshuda emaan chuppaey peechay dabka raha.

Maloom hoa kay Sheikh saheb ne raat bhar k liay waheen qayyaam karna hai. Ab ye nai museebat! Aakhir kuch koshish k baad Mureed ko un kay kamray ka pata tu chal gaya, magr ab sawal ye peda hoa kay dekhnay ko hai kia? 

Aqeedat aur eemaan tou us becharay ka pehlay hi doob chuka tha, ab ander jhaank kar aankhon ki sharam se bhi jata! 

Wapis loatnay ko tha kay khayal aya kay aik baar jhaank zaroor lena chahiay. 'Kia pata Sheikh saheb ki mujh par nazr par jaey, aur aj ki raat wo iss gunah se bach jaen.' Bus yehi soach uskay pairon ki zanjeer bun gai. 

Mohabbat kitni zalim cheez hai na :) na-ummed nahi honay deti! 

Acha khair, kahani kahan tak pohanchi thi? 

Mureed bazurg ka peecha kartay kartay us kamray tak ja pohancha tha jahan bazurg khareedi gai khalwat main aik khatoon kay sath thay. 

'Modesty be damned', yaqeenun Mureed ne socha ho ga. 

Ab jo manzar us kay samnay tha, us se uskay rongtay kharay ho gaey. 

Sheikh aur wo larki pehlo ba pehlo juray bethay thay, is tarah kay larki kay ghair malfoof badn aur sheikh sahab kay darmayan se hawa ka guzar tak mumkin na tha. 

'Illahi, ye din bhi dekhna tha' Mureed ki aankhain bhar aeen. 

Uska dil, Maulana, mazhab, aur mohabbat, sab se yukbaargi uth gaya! 

'Hunh! ye hai haqeeqat! do kori ki tawaaif kay qadoom main apni bazurgi ka imama rakh dia hai!' us ne bari karwahat se socha!

Aray, magr, Sheikh sahab tou abhi tak mastoor thay! Mureed tootay dil kay sath phir se darwazay ki darz se jurra. 

Sheikh sahab na sirf mastoor thay, balkay larki kay sath sath wo bhi bay-his-o-harkat thay. 

'Ye kia tamasha hai?' Mureed ki nigah ne phir un dono ka pushtt se bharpoor jaiza lia. Larki malboos na thi, lekin Sheikh sahab mukammal mastoor thay. Waqaee, wahan kuch harkat na thi.

Achanak dekhtay hi dekhtay, Sheikh sahab kay badn main larzish si hoi. Aur Mureed ne dekha kay wo yakayuk bijli ki si taizee kay sath chhalaang laga kar uthay aur qibla roo lapkay. "Allah o akbar" ki awaz aee, aur wo mehv-e namaz ho gaey .... 

Mureed phatti phatti ankhon se dekhta reh gaya. 

Ye kia hoa? Ye kia tha? Ye kion tha? 

Iss main se kisi bhi cheez ka jawab uskay paas na tha. 

Uskay pass tou ab kuch bhi nahi tha. Na aqeedat, na ehtaraam, na mazboot yaqeen. Na andhi mohabbat. 

:) Becharay ki aql lay doobi usay .... 

Sheikh sahab fajr tak laraztay badn kay saath  masroof e ibadat rahay. Larki unki namaz shuroo karnay par malboos ho kar sonay lait gai thi. 

Kis ki raat sohbat main guzri; kis ki mehroomi main, kaun jaanta hai? 

Haan ye raaz zaroor khul gaya kay Sheikh sahab apni battery ko sulf kesay detay hain. Lekin is raaz ne Mureed becharay ka tamaam safr khotta kar dia!

Too Beautiful To Put Into Words

If you need something badly enough, it finds you. They say.

Look, what I found just now... Both things simultaneously flowed into my domain, as if on their own, just when I needed them the most... We all need assurances, don't we?  

"In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary." Said Aaron Rose.

If they make sense to you, be sure your need got addressed! :) 

1. "No one believes the sincere except the honest." - Kahlil Gibran
2. 
   

Fools Rush

What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

No time to see, when woods we pass,

Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass.

No time to see, in broad daylight,

Streams full of stars, like skies at night.

No time to turn at Beauty's glance,

And watch her feet, how they can dance.

No time to wait till her mouth can

Enrich that smile her eyes began.

A poor life this is if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

'Leisure' by William Henry Davies

The Zero Sum

(Original draft of October, 2010)


There was once a man; ah well, he thought he was. A man. 

As he grew, smaller, his cowardice blossomed. And in no time he was a young man ready to make a life under a thoroughly branched, shadowy and strong trunked mohagany of spinelessness.

We all know cowardice in a man is what shamelessness is in a woman. 

So that was like what it exactly was: Changing costume after costume, putting on layers of make-up, to hide beneath one form or the other. 

Every night he donned a new attire, a new avatar: One that could earn him the most applause for that night. One that could steal the show for that night.

Every night he played a different man.

And his life, thus became the sum of the shows he put up, night after night.

Till he remembered only the applause.

And forgot who he was.

What is worse than being a man who can not belong to any one? 

.
.
.

Being a man who can not belong to his own self!

Magic Moments

Have you ever noticed the magic in prayer, 'dua'?

The dua that someone makes for you. A genuine, sincere dua.

That is magic.

As the car moved close to his shabby bicycle, the silver bearded baba peddled it faster. The small tiffinbox and a dirty tool bag hanging from its handles, jolted violently. The car window rolled down, someone gently called out, "baba ji, sunnain!"

Baba looked away, clearly terrified. The car, with its hazard lights blinking now, kept its lazy pace beside his cycle. Baba peddled still harder. 

Another window, this time in the rear, rolled down. A six year old's innocent voice rang out most passionately, "baba ji, please baat sun lain!"

This worked.

The cycle slowed down, and the hazard lights parked in front of it on the left of the road.

Baba parked his cycle over its stand and walked to the car. Out of the window in front, emerged two bags weighing not more than two kgs. "Ye qurbani ka gosht hai, ye lay lain."

Unlike majority of the recipients of the evening, he didn't rush to grab the bags. He made a very slow, deliberate move. Held the bags in both hands, and peeped inside the window.

His eyes looked most earnestly at his new friends, fully aware of their interest in him, and equally reciprocating. He looked too tall to be doubled over by someone's kindness. The man knew that he was fully capable to acknowledge the kindness and return it in kind. The dignity with which he expressed his gratitude was astounding. 

And that's when the baba donned a magician's hat in place of his white namaz wali topi. His duas, murmured between his lips like a secret spell, wrapped my heart in a rainbow. 

The magician smiled a smile I'm still in trance of.

It was the smile of pure happiness. Such happiness that is a rarity to find in adults!

Every year around this time, carrying out this same simple ritual driving for a few hours, I meet a magician. A magician who gives me a few magic moments that keep one going till the next Eid arrives. 

Such simple pleasures. Such genuine expressions! 

Incidentally those were the last two bags. The job was done. All the meat had been distributed.

The hazard lights switched off and quickly the car's back lights diminished into the fast approaching night.

While the magic of gratitude remains in the air.

A Cup of Coffee On The Wall

Following is the most beautiful thing I came across today (thanks to facebook :) 

I sat with my friend in a well-known coffee shop in a neighboring town of Venice, the city of lights and water. As we enjoyed our coffee, a man entered and sat on an empty table beside us. He called the waiter and placed his order saying, ‘Two cups of coffee, one of them there on the wall.’ We heard this order with rather interest and ob...served that he was served with one cup of coffee but he paid for two. As soon as he left, the waiter pasted a piece of paper on the wall saying ‘A Cup of Coffee’.

...While we were still there, two other men entered and ordered three cups of coffee, two on the table and one on the wall. They had two cups of coffee but paid for three and left. This time also, the waiter did the same; he pasted a piece of paper on the wall saying, ‘A Cup of Coffee’.

It seemed that this gesture was a norm at this place. However, it was something unique and perplexing for us. Since we had nothing to do with the matter, we finished our coffee, paid the bill and left.

After a few days, we again had a chance to go to this coffee shop. While we were enjoying our coffee, a man entered. The way this man was dressed did not match the standard nor the atmosphere of this coffee shop. Poverty was evident from the looks on his face. As he seated himself, he looked at the wall and said, one cup of coffee from the wall. The waiter served coffee to this man with the customary respect and dignity. The man had his coffee and left without paying. We were amazed to watch all this when the waiter took off a piece of paper from the wall and threw it in the dust bin. Now it was no surprise for us – the matter was very clear. The great respect for the needy shown by the inhabitants of this town welled up our eyes with tears.

Coffee is not a need of our society neither a necessity of life for us. The point to note is that when we take pleasure in any blessing, maybe we also need to think about those people who appreciate that specific blessing as much as we do but they cannot afford to have it.

Note the character of this waiter, who is playing a consistent and generous role to get the communication going between the affording and the needy with a smile on his face.

Ponder upon this man in need….he enters the coffee shop without having to lower his self-esteem…he has no need to ask for a free cup of coffee…without asking or knowing about the one who is giving this cup of coffee to him…he only looked at the wall, placed an order for himself, enjoyed his coffee and left.

When we analyze this story, along with the other characters, we need to remember the role played by the wall that reflects the generosity and care of the dwellers of this town.

- Writer: Anon