Sunday, 21 September 2014


~ Woh manzar,
Jab ek sendh lagi deewar,
Munh utha kar,
Dekhti hai,
Uss tezz chamakte taare ki taraf …
Ya wo' guzar chuki bahar,
Palat kar dekhti hai,
Beete kal ke paar,
Jab aam ka pedh phalne to tayar tha …
Donon ka hota hai,
Bas ek hi unkaha sawaal —
Kya koi tarkeeb hai, ki
Main phir se bhar jaoon?
Aur, main wapas aa paoon? ~

~ My eyes would sing of a pain,
A silky song of bleary disdain,
Of nights stolen of their sleep,
And of dreams, maimed vain! 

Ek nagma hai rista ankhon se,
Nazar pe ho jaise resham lipte,
Nagma wo’ neendon ke chori ka,
Aur khawaab, jo gaye kuchle! ~

~ Words so alive in my crafty ruby satchel,
Enduring the torture of slow melting
All wet, kind and delicious,
In your temperate mouth,
So often but longingly sweet,
And sometimes, oh so bland!
The innocent flesh of your thirsty tongue,
And yes that ever-so wandering mind!
A wild, pretty witch I am,
Riding your serene senses high and fine …
Good or wicked,
May be ‘later’ you would wish to decide —
Held prisoner to the words of a poet —
Bewitched, when you are not! ~

~ Zakhm itna gehra diya,
Phir na usse bharne diya,
Aaj agar who nasoor hai
Kahan, kiska kasoor hai? ~

~ Neeli deewaron pe,
Jab sannata,
Ulte paun
Rengta hai …
Ye jaane
Kis kism ki neend
Mujh pe
Ungliyan pherti hai …
Makhmali tanhaayi,
Ki godd mein sir rakh ke,
Apni becheni
Dhak leti hoon
Aur main ankhen
Bas band kar leti hoon … ~

~ Vengeance is best served cold,
Much alike a dish of home-made salad,
And so is the icy hatred, at pure behest …
You hate most whom you love most, they say,
And I know of none but you, this and every day,
But the more I try to hate you now,
Casting away all, in tandem with ‘how’
I keep losing my ends,
My wit, my bends …
Hate is the emotion, never meant for you,
Say now, what do I do? ~

~Who plays ‘The Mistress’?

A huge belly, jelly like, making my knees go week and feet wobbly, I carried arrogantly in my last month of pregnancy. I liked, enjoyed a hell lot going out with it, flaunting it to the world, saying it out loud through the keen glaze of my eyes, “Look! I am going to be a mother soon, very soon!”
Going out with that overly swollen belly, with my husband holding my side, did become one daily affair, you know, for the love of street-food and late-night movies, despite the havoc-salsa the weathered minds danced around our happy programs. Though we were not totally and specifically careless, you see, for we loved our approaching baby more. We used to hunt down the most hygiene adhering place to let me devour in my newly found love for food, spicy to mention least. My devoted husband would dutifully drive me to the places. I loved him so much for that and more. It was pure fun, in the face of how oddly heavy, funny, and almost balancing at the edge of some wacky crag I felt. I loved it all. I really did.
And while I would sit, or even stand at times, waiting to be served and fed well, or for the movie tickets afterward, my husband fussing about and around my pregnancy-driven-desire at a distance from me, everybody passing-by would ogle me. I knew, I was not some beauty then with inflamed skin patchy and blemished, pocketed further with super-bouncy adipose tissues. Apparently then for my belly size? I must have looked out of place, or rather misplaced. So, they just stared. And then simply walked away.
They have got my baby now, three years old. They took it from me, my in-laws did. My husband changed from dutiful to cold, very, very cold. Today, they showed me out, leaving me no home to return to. And it’s getting dark, so dark outside, and inside. Night is all I can see and feel overhead.
My belly is not flawlessly flat but has deflated with time, with little stretch marks to remind me of the private time I took with my three years old, for absolute delightful nine-months. I look no beauty even now. 
But people … they still are staring, and then simply walking away. ~

~ Salaam arz hai, tauheen e parda na kahen,
Rukh unka, haye, chilman be'imaan ho gaye … ~

~ Uljhi hoon yun tujh mein,
Ki suljhan se koson door hui … ~

~ Usool’n mujhe, tujh ko, yun toh kab ka bhool jaana tha,
Kambakh’t ishq, be-usooli se hi ishq e waabasta kar baitha! ~

~ With age,
 And countless falls,
 With hurts, sores,
 Wounds and bruises,
 With many more lessons to earn,
 I shall learn a better Poetry …
 Death enduringly endearing,
 A very sick life,
 Patiently waiting ……………
 Cut me deep, let me bleed now,
 Ergo, I may become a Poet,
 A very real one … ~

~ Sukhan asal wahi jiss mein haqeeqii hawalah rahe, aur,
Haq tum nahin, iss ki bayaani ye’ kora safha phir kare!

Writing on facts tends to be the most profound, hence,
Blank page remains an alibi, to an illusion of You! ~

~ Crackers,
Colors, squashed and stuffed,
Like a kid gobbling up all the jellies, caramels and nougats …
Candles standing taut in candelabrum,
Sky lanterns spilling light all around,
Little pure candela,
Licking oil sodden wick,
Self-gratified, dipped and bathing in an earthen Diya …
Sweets, blithe smiles,
Illuminated, mirth radiating, this night,
Again more and more, a little more sweets,
And … ah, such weight gain ……
Melody is in bits, and also abounds …
Happy Diwali to all my happy faces! ~

~ Ek muddat hui, dar O darwaze khole baithe hain,
Suna kiye ki band dar, aahton ko pii sa jaate hain …

Zaaya na jaye, koi lamha, humare intezaar ka yun,
‘Aah’ hum har shab-sahar, do dafa bhar lete hain … ~

~ Tujhe na dekh kar,
Kahin zyada dekh rahi hoon main …

In a way immersed more in you,
Whilst seemingly I look away from you … ~

~ Love,
 … You may have,
 Million reasons,
 To ignore me,
 To let go off,
 What we have,
 Left in bits,
 Tired, torn moments,
 Albeit dried, molded crumbs,
 Lying between us …
 But, I would always know,
 Only one, that,
 You wanted me …
 … no more... anymore!
 Would you still leave me?
Stay … if you can …… ~

~ Am I loved? ~
‘You are no more loved’
Becomes my favorite door for a fateful, unripe exit …
Before it’s too late for you or me,
Say it, all that you wish to be,
For I hate breaking promises,
Especially those, I made to you,
When Sun was keeping its,
By lingering nearby,
Of being close, though not in sight,
While the long fingers of wild-blue,
Swathed in lovely, studded, dark night …
Since sun was not to leave the moon, alone,
As promised … you see …
You remember ours, yours or mine?
Or, were they been sheaved then,
Only to be stacked, left … to be forgotten?
As earnestly as forgetting me!
But … before I step outside this unkind door,
Just tell me once, will you please,
Am I loved still?

~ Love,
Yes, I have been the extremities of two, of smiles and anger, of indifference and possession, of sweet and ugly, of truths and lies, of hatred and then inanely in love again, of sleeps and impatience, of raw and serene, and also of being myself and none of myself for You!
And at times, only a vague remembrance, left of both ends.
No doubt … you call me mad ……
Am I not? Mad? ~

~ Khawaab ab sote nahin, raat jo theh'rti nahin,
Kahan se dhoond laaun, neend bhi milti nahin,
Qaid bani khawaaish, sayyad si khud hui main,
Ek jaan, ab udi ki tab udi, phir kyon udti nahin? ~

~ At times,
 I feel my voice,
 Going shallow,
 Sinking deep,
 Filling the cavity, in my shriveling chest,
 Like hiding surreptitiously,
 Even from myself ...
 It happens mostly, when,
 I'm afraid of losing you,
 When afraid of losing,
 Myself to you ...
 Let me hide,
 This only time,
 And may be, sometime again! ~

~ Adna sa dil, adna si hi iss ki ye' haqeeqat,
 Shuru tum se, khatam tum pe, ye' rafaqat!

 **rafaqat - closeness (companionship) ~

~ Kehte hain,
 Ye' sab hi,
 Muhabbat ki,
 Koi tang raasta umar nai hoti ...
 Bata do mujhe,
 Kis umar mein miloge?
 Ussi umar ke muntazir,
 Muhabbat karoongi,
 Tum hi se! ~

 ~ They say,
 Falling in love,
 Doth fall not, for any taut age ...
 So, would ye,
 Tell me now,
 The age, I'd have,
 Ye, as mine?
 For, whilst I'm waiting,
 I can still love thee,
 Unto then, and may be,
 A little more! ~

 ~ Lies ... I ONLY hate ...
 Something You also know,
 And still --
 Ah, how well you lied to me,
 With innocence,
 That too a lie ...
 Now, what you're to me,
 (You know well),
 And 'cause I no more cry,
 Yell, or say bye,
 I will ONLY smile ...
 A smile,
 To You,
 My first lie! ~

~ Riway'ti zarooriya't ki godd main, mujhe kab tal'k beh'lna hai,
 Kis kadar toh sambhal chuki hoon, ab zara zara bikharna hai ...

 Mere marz ki dawa, uff, hakeem e jaan ka bhi ye hi kehna hai,
 Har ek 'ah' se pehle aur baad, ahiste ahiste, saans bharna hai ... ~

~ Saans aur tum, donon mein zyada munafiq(hypocrite), kaun sa raabta raha,
 Uljha inn masaayilon(ques) mein, tamaam raat, kal main jaagta raha,
 Waabasta(related) shayad meri marzi se donon hi, chorha phir bhi tum ne,
 Malaal(grief) mein araasta(adorned) der raat, qurb(near) saanson ko main kosta raha! ~

~ Kaisi girho'n main uljhe jaati hain, ye surkh palkhen tumhari,
Kastoori dhoondte ho, ya bhula de usse phir, aisi khumaari?

Wherefore, thy weary eyes hath entangled, to lose their sheen,
Searching for thy musk, or to forget it, an intoxication so keen? ~

~ Kaash, ki ye pur’tapish saans, hui hoti naseem,
Kaash, ‘gar jo ho paati main, tujh se, marasim …

If only, this charred breath, could become breezy,
If only, to woo you till I breathe my last, was easy … ~ 

~ Shadeed sunne waale qayaam kiye, par Gul murjhaya be-awaaz hi,
Bhanw’re be-araam jo aaj hain, kyon Guncha masail e bazaar ho?

Flower wilted without a moan, howsoever keen ears homed around,
If, Bumblebees drone today aloud, why should a Bloom astound? ~

1 comment:

  1. Ohhh, Sadia...WOW! You are a brilliant person, to have captured another language so perfectly.

    1. Falling in love, is that not as in "surrendering" to love, giving all what I another, even my life? AND--at what age?...ASK ME!! hee-hee-hee. And waiting...oh yes, wait for a lifetime on earth--or when a few years seem like a lifetime. MAGNIFICO!

    2. Lies, SO well written. How MANY of me "know" the lies, lived with mine for such length? A N D have experienced that "smile" as you write the last line, that first lie of yours/hers/his??? Your writing is captivating, your style impeccable and your honesty refreshing.

    3. "Breath" is the noun...pronounced "breth"
    "Breathe" is the verb...pronounced "breeth" A hard "th". OK?
    (Sorry, but I thought you'd be happy SOMEONE tells you that!)

    4. "...why should a bloom astound?" Perfect four lines. for God "hears" everything, even a silent prayer. My father--deaf-blind--could "hear" my violin. He put his hand on it and "heard" the differing vibrations, and just S M I L E D .......

    PLEASE, as you love writing, keep writing. IT IS GOOD.