Is it settled then, for a life entire, we shall not meet ever? (To Kya Ye Tay Hai Ke Ab Umer Bhar Nahi Milna)

– Another one of the reflective Ghazals, rendered by the master: Ghulam Ali


Is it settled then, for a life entire, we shall not meet ever?
If so it’s, what good’s a life remain, when not to complete ever?

Let’s entertain even the oppression, for a sake of cruel world,
We pretend like the strangers totally, should we meet ever…

Who curses hushed, with the clenched lips, amidst a solitude,
“Without me, you’d have not, a relaxed heart beat – ever!”?

How could this be explained to a relentless pursuer of love;
In a pursuit of devoutness, one may find none to greet ever…

The time of farewell, feels like a push at an edge of the alp,
As once we be apart, there’s no flowing back to meet ever…

– Dedicated to those meetings of not so strangers, that are wished but never executed…

To Kya Ye Tay Hai Ke Ab Umer Bhar Nahi Milna
To Phir Ye Umar Bhi Kyon, Tum Se Gar Nahi Milna

Chalo Zamane Ki Khatir Ye Jaber Bhe Seh Len
Kay Ab Kabhi Jo Milay, Toot Kar Nahi Milna

Ye Kon Chupke Se Tanhaiyon Main Kehta Hai
Mere Baghair Sakoon Umer Bhar Nahi Milna

Rah-E-Wafa Ke Musafir Ko Kon Samjhaaye
Kay Is Safar Mein Koi Humsafar Nahi Milna

Juda To Jab Bhi Hue Dil Ko Yun Laga Jaise
Ke Ab Gaye To Kabhi Loat Kar Nahi Milna

– Original poem by Urdu poet: Suroor Barabankvi

Urdu version:

تو کیا یہ طے ہے، کہ اب عمر بھرنہیں ملنا​
تو پھر یہ عمربھی کیوں، تم سے گرنہیں ملنا​

یہ کون چُپکے سے تنہائیوں میں کہتا ہے​
تِرے بغیر سُکوں عُمْر بھر نہیں ملنا​

چلو زمانے کی خاطر یہ جبْر بھی سہہ لیں ​
کہ اب مِلے تو کبھی ٹوٹ کر نہیں ملنا​

رہِ وفا کے مُسافر کو کون سمجھائے​
کہ اِس سفر میں کوئی ہمسفرنہیں ملنا​

جُدا تو جب بھی ہوئے دِل کو یوں لگا جیسے​
کہ اب گئے تو کبھی لوٹ کر نہیں ملنا​

– سُرُور بارہ بنکوی​ –

Ghazal’s rendition is also available in female vocals. A beautiful version performed by Gulbahar Bano for PTV:

The Fleeting Star


I see you in moon’s,
I see you in star’s light,
as their glimmer blankets
the roads, homes, valleys
and ceaseless sky…
Reciprocating the eyes
seeking to extinguish darkness with light
“I am yours, just –
slip your fingers into mine…”

I see you in waves
I see you in tides,
as they run across the miles
and dance on bed of sea
Reciprocating to the wind
that takes them into an arm
“I am yours, just –
slip your fingers into mine…”

I see you in rains,
I see you in cloud’s sigh,
that falls across the land
and holds under its spell
the magic infinite…
Reciprocating to the skies
that caresses them tight
“I am yours, just –
slip your fingers into mine…”

I see you in lows,
I see you in highs,
the ranges that are spread
atop the river’s spine,
as far as they see, the naked eyes…
Reciprocating to the sight
that chases it beyond all lines
“I am yours, just –
slip your fingers into mine…”

I see you in dreams,
I see you in rhymes,
those moments that carry
the poems sublime, with which
you compose symphony of life.
Reciprocating each heart beat,
tracing silage, for last location and sign,
“I am yours, just –
slip your fingers into mine…”

But you’re not here… my love,
you’re in my mind,
as a silhouette left
after the Sun has drowned.
– A light, that lingers,
even after star has ventured
far away.

In each moment that
I come closer,
I try to make you mine…
But you slip…
from my embrace
like I am trying to hold
a water or sand
too tight…

You’re a happiness that I find,
amidst a time when
one moment lapses onto another…
right at those intersections
where one line meets the other
to complete a circle.
And as much as I want
that moment to last,
I still find myself in void
after I loose your trail…
fortunately often
with moist on my lips to tell,
infinite did kiss the finite.


– Dedicated to those infinities that every finite wants to hold on to, for as long as possible…

Image Credits:
1. Beach Photography – wallpaper (
2. Ocean Rain – Stock wallpaper

The ruse I became for thee

This poem is a response to Miss Aima Jamal‘s excellent composition: “The Person I could Never be“.


As placid as it looked to thee,
each piece of mine emitted perplexity,
for a puzzle you left unsolved,
waited too long for your touch
to sample its destiny…

As composed as it found to thee,
each wall was at verge of rupturing,
for a house you abandoned,
hosted tornadoes and storms,
keeping doors open in your waiting.

As polite as it sounded to thee,
each pulse of mine echoed calamity,
for a heart you composed songs for,
allowed clamor to chord in,
for your voice to appear stealthily.

As accustomed as it occurred to thee,
each part of mine reeked toxicity,
for a garden you left attending,
played with wild to become forest,
hoping, you may come hunting.

As calm as it seemed to thee,
each wave of mine contained a sea,
for an ocean you left restless,
kissed the shore just to know,
your whereabouts daily…

As eloquent as it read to thee,
each letter of mine struggled to breath,
for a poem you left incomplete,
soaked – ink of entire universe, yet
for you remained its hem – arid.

As warm and kind as it felt to thee,
each pore in my body kept barbarity,
for a dessert you made a drizzle in,
kept mirage of hope persisted,
knowing, one day you may observe
the ruse I became for thee…

NICHOLAS HOULT stars in WARM BODIES Ph: Jonathan Wenk © 2011 Summit Entertainment, LLC.  All rights reserved.

– Dedicated to the dear beloved with whom lover is, as much in love as in war…

Photo Credits:

1- Nicholas Hoult – Screencap from film ‘X Men – First Class’
2- Nicholas Hoult – Screencap from film ‘Warm Bodies’

I found…

This poem is a sequel to the poem: Lately…


“What I needed most was really a lightness to swim, the day I earned my wings.”

I found, for every being,
who loves the rivers and sea
or the oceans for their storage
of fragments of history,
dives deep in, to recover the debris,
sometimes ends up becoming it.

I found, for every being,
who loves the ruins, ancient structures,
and the abandoned places,
in search of a treasure we all seek,
digs deep in, to recover a peace,
sometimes ends up succumbing to it.

I found, for every being,
who loves to fly in a dream,
weaving flying carpet of fantasy
that breaches walls and boundaries,
falls deep, if no attempts are made
such that reality turns in.

I found, for every being,
who loves to lend a visit to galleries,
or to listen rhythm of a thundering,
gives a lot in, to acquire the wings,
forgetting, one takes home back
more than one ever brings.

I found, for every being,
who loves interacting with seasons,
be it an autumn, be it a spring,
keeps longing, to re-create, what
no longer exists, till day, one self
turns  into an object of yearning.

Similarly, I found, for every being,
how love is still a necessity,
like an air for human to breath on,
blood for a vampire to quench on…
flesh for a beast to feed on…

That no matter what,
even when one’s not oblivious
of fantasy within, of all the consequences,
one would not stop,
till demise is reached,
of all hope lurking still somewhere in shadows,
or of the lover seeking a resolution.

In one way or another, it would go on,
till sun of yearning, and moon of longing,
keep drowning, yet to rise again
from bed of ocean.


“Quite like that I found myself there, way I found myself in you… Deeply embedded.”

– Dedicated to discoveries one stumbles upon, in the journey of love…

Image credits:
1. An underwater sculpture by artist Jason deCaires Taylor, entitled ‘Resurrection’.
2. Sculpture discovered from an Ancient Egyptian city named Heracleion or Thonis.

Too many seasons encircled around (Kitne Mausam Sargardaan Thay)



Too many seasons
encircled around
to make me a spring…
Yet, perhaps, it was I
who prolonged, moon’s
return from eclipse…

An echo of silence there was,
along, hollowness of sound…
I know not, for how long
I sat in wilderness of union,

The bond of bed parted
with the rest, by splinter
made of a piercing memory.
Dream woke up in its infancy,
to adjust sheet and pillow drifting.

Today, wrestles with me
the fragrance of flower,
drenching me whole day.
The flower that once took time
as much to bloom
as less to wither away.

Colors settled the mood,
conversations too met halfway.
At what juncture,
pushed by a river of life,
I lost what made me, away…?

Gathering very ashes
of regrets, I formed,
my shore, a separate island.
What not passed through there,
surrendering to rumor:
“No wilderness”.

Applied pain, torment,
regrets, brokenness,
all that sought fixture.
Used everything at disposal
to weave image of the future!

This only dawned on sober,
at the moment of inquiry.
What struggle it is
to defend the heart
once it’s out from a hiding.

Once used to feel
carefree, right after
placating my heart…
Now I bargain with
pieces of wreckage,
that insist to stay apart.

– Dedicated to missed moments

Urdu version (original poem by Azm Behzad):

کتنے موسم سرگرداں تھے مجھ سے ہاتھ ملانے میں
میں نے شاید دیر لگا دی خود سے باہر آنے میں

ایک نگاہ کا سناٹا ہے، اک آواز کا بنجر پن.
میں کتنا تنہا بیٹھا تھا قربت کے ویرانے میں

بستر سے کروٹ کا رشتہ ٹوٹ گیا اک یاد کے ساتھ.
خواب سرہانے سے اٹھ بیٹھا تکیے کو سرکانے میں

آج اس پھول کی خوشبو مجھ میں پیہم شور مچاتی ہے
جس نے بے حد عجلت برتی کھلنے اور مرجھانے میں

بات بنانے والی راتیں رنگ نکھارنے والے دن.
کِن رَستوں پر چھوڑ آیا میں عمر کا ساتھ نبھانے

ایک ملال کی گرد سمیٹے میں نے خود کو پار کیا.
کیسے کیسے وصل گزارے ہِجر کا زخم چھپانے میں

جتنے دکھ تھے، جتنی امیدیں، سب سے برابر کام لیا.
میں نے اپنے آئندہ کی اِک تصویر بنانے میں

ایک وضاحت کے لمحے میں مجھ پر یہ احوال کھلا
کتنی مشکل پیش آتی ہے اپنا حال بتانے میں

پہلے دل کو آس دلا کر بے پرواہ ہو جاتا تھا.
اب تو عزمؔ بکھر جاتا ہوں میں خود کو بہلانے میں

– عزم بہزاد

Special thanks to Miss Hira Jamil, for pointing me towards this poem.

Image Credits: Apartment Window (Stock picture)

La Douleur Exquise


This time, she visited his doorstep in veil. She found him happy like she always wished, like she still prayed, like she thought of him as right before passing out each night. This should have made her happy — but actually it didn’t.

It was like a gardener watching own garden from a distance… Watching plants, trees, all flowers flourish, right the way they’re supposed to, but still without presence of one who perhaps did everything to make it happen. Whole pain was centered around a singular moment, when whole world comes to a halting point. That aura of strangeness engulfing, feeling alienated to something you always considered yourself a significant part of…

She stood there still, watching him with a constant gaze, like he’s her’s still, but just behaving strange. She’s expecting a glimpse of torment. How come he be so happy, that his eyes are not yearning for her face… For all the happiness he can have, he was perhaps not allowed to be happy this much, that there’s no sign of agony for void she left… It’s often strange with women, they start to doubt their worth, for not what man’s going through, sadness or happiness, but when it happens to be without them.

The dream she weaved, had perhaps became a reality for him with someone else. No lament could compare the one where you don’t know you should either be happy or sad.  ‘It’s different, it can’t be’, she assured herself, as she watched him getting into his car. He fades from her sight, just to get more engraved in her memories.

Somewhere at the distance, the late grown lilies were watching grey clouds, floating far from them, they had missed the spring.

His car was standing outside the park they used to meet daily, where they used to read poems to each other, such young hearts – like all the art and literature in world was a sky and they were birds floating together and freely in it…

He’s engrossed in a book, that suddenly his hand reached the right pocket of his jacket, to pick the cell phone out, he read something and just started smiling, he began to admire the world around like some tree who had got a glimpse of a new spring. He soon re-engaged himself back in to the book he was reading… Book’s cover read: “Kafka on the Shore”.

He lifted his eyes again to watch in distance, something he noticed but didn’t pay heed to mere few moments ago… A silhouette of a woman standing alone, completely firm and still, like those statues in a cemetery that often relate more to alive than to the departed… He shifted back to his book again, but then in very next second, started to type something on his cell… pressed a button, looked one last time at his surrounding, and then left the park, driving his car far from it, leaving book he was reading right on the bench he was sitting.

The gusts of wind, played with the book, like it was their’s. They had its papers fluttering into rhythm of a thunderous sky, it was hard to know who’s complaining who.

In his car, he read the same text again….

“We can’t be together – forever, but God knows I wish you to be happy forever…”, it was her last message.

He opened the side window of the car, for his eyes to converse with breeze… He can pretend to be a happiest person in the world in all public places, but he was certainly a fail to copy the same in solitude…

His fingers traverse his cell phone, to open a folder of draft messages,
“Everything would become possible, if we’re together, forget all your fears, just be with me… ‘we’ can make it forever!”, the last draft read.

He presses the button, but not to send, assuring himself again, “she knows it already… she knows she has to make a choice… she knows there’s not a thing in this world that I won’t do for her…”

The wheels of the machine, were making sure he was reaching somewhere, but it was hard to figure if it was a direction, once wished.

“We will create plaques here holding our favorite poems…”, she once said to him in a park, not knowing, how it would come true…


– Dedicated to all the possibilities and impossibilities that we create ourselves, just to put up a fault in stars for them… “It’s never over, when you know, you’ve no valid reason.”

This piece goes along with a poem, posted few day ago: “The Yearning“.

Image Credits:

1. Anaïs Nin – Potrait
2. Stillness by Eckhart Tolle, on a Park bench plaque, facing Sacramento River, Redding CA.


Lost in translation


In a downpour of words, looking for drops with meaning…

Gigantic structures,
shrinking sight.
Stretched streets,
inescapable sides.

No where to go,
No where to hide,
where-ever you see,
labyrinth infinite!

Unmoved spirits,
animated signs.
Pitch-black contours,
stark neon lights…

Nothing moves,
nothing inspires,
All in flashes,
a moment’s ride.

Blunt emotions,
swift censor knives.
Hyper-bole expressions,
timid cold strife.

No one to confess,
no one to confide..
no one to say “how”,
no one to hear “why”.

Cleanest slogans,
messiest vibes.
Emptying earth,
busying skies.

No well left,
to be sucked dry.
None has clue,
where to side.

Stolen brilliance,
conjured noise.
Shallow longings,
crazy appetites.

Nor sound action,
nor true voice,
till last breath exists,
playing a lice.

Declining morale,
rising heights…
Larger billboards,
confined lives.

No one left,
to fight for rights.
None to catch-up,
with illusion of choice.

Amidst this all,
an alienated existence of a kind,
where heart’s misplaced,
mind’s untied.
Whispering words…
perhaps no one can find…
sharing it with clouds in heaven,
with all green in pines…
with all birds that sing,
and all in nature that shines.

How do you know
to root for which manifestation,
have you found yourself…
or you hunt for your own reflection…
when have you felt, lastly…
lost in translation…

– Dedicated to all those wandering and wondering…

Title of the poem is inspired and lifted from title of one of my favorite films: Sofia Coppola‘s “Lost in translation“.

Caged or free, unable to find self in world I see...

Are you caged, are you free? Can you find yourself in world you see…?

Picture Credits:

1. Promotional shot from film: Lost in Translation
2. Screen-cap from film: Her

Love Inaccessible

This poem is a response to Tayyeba Irum‘s pitch perfect poem: The Lost Ones.

The Kiss - Eleanor Hofer -

Your love is like a spell enchanting – a miracle, and I, 
I am the one lost behind the curtains.

Your love,
is like the galaxies in a cosmos,
enriched of stars…
And I,
I am like a satellite
with lost orbit.

Your love,
is like overwhelming rays of the star,
And I,
I am like an ice glacier
in cave blacken.

Your love,
is like a silver shower from the moon
at the night’s darkest…
And I,
I here am like a pebble
hidden in foggiest.

Your love,
is like a breeze chilling,
running wild and ruling…
And I,
I am like a flame in lantern,
flickering – dwindling.

Your love,
is like a dream
worth always remembering…
And I,
I am one who has found
yet no place for resting.

Your love,
is like a dew perching from above,
introducing spring…
And I,
I am like a leaf separated from tree,
since last falling.

Your love,
is like an only book worth reading,
time again when I’m sinking.
And yet, I’m…
A goldfish,
in lost memory
of where I keep it.

Cover paper - "Invincible", single by Muse (Band)

Your love is like an angel – pious in all aspects, and I, 
I am like a sinner seeking long for a forgiveness.

– Dedicated to the love supreme and lovers invisible.

Photo Credits:

1. Cover paper – “Invincible“, single by Muse (Band)
2. The Kiss (1994) – Eleanor Hofer

Can’t push the heart (Ji Nahi Chahta)

Out of melancholic circumference, can't push the heart.

Out of melancholic circumference, can’t push the heart.

Oh Rose, to depart from your fragrance,
can’t push the heart.
To linger  forever in petals as nuisance,
can’t push the heart.

Preserved the hem from drops
of crescent for ages.
To emerge from river of adolescence,
can’t push the heart.

Dissolved post each union,
like there was no beginning.
To kill before battle gets commence,
can’t push the heart.

In night of separation,
I wedded a queen of longing.
To embrace in night of presence,
can’t push the heart.

What’s wrong in asking few sips,
from chalice of poison?
To pretend a state of abstinence,
can’t push the heart.

In quest of seeking a meaning
to life, wilderness possessed.
To vanish in city’s effervescence,
can’t push the heart.

Raced to the peak of passion,
only to find no soul.
To move ahead of continuance,
can’t push the heart.

Worshiped the sky entire life,
to sight a miracle of clouds.
To drench in perch of heavens,
can’t push the heart.

Swimming birds in air acquired,
an attitude of humans.
To keep floating in sea of vigilance,
can’t push the heart.

Fumes in proximity narrate,
an arrival of spring.
To let go of autumn’s adherence,
can’t push the heart.

Self-weaving a shroud of future,
being indifferent of time.
To accept, wounds heal in patience,
can’t push the heart.

Lost it all, yet never stopped
losing self in dreams.
To rest in world’s acceptance,
can’t push the heart.

A gaze gets frozen on
wet cheeks of the messenger.
To taste salt of correspondence,
can’t push the heart.

From day of inception the saint
observed denial of love.
To compose yet another sentence,
can’t push the heart.

Amidst a crowd made Farhad,
claim for the love majestic.
To fly here off the self-acquittance,
can’t push the heart.

– Dedicated to the heart that always has its own song to sing… Sometimes a pleasure in longing, often a lament in holding back.

To ease the clouds of remembrance, can't push the heart.

To ease the clouds of remembrance, can’t push the heart.

Ghulab teri khushbu se bicharney ko ji nahi chahta.
Un kaliyon mei bhi muqeem honay ko ji nahi chahta.

Bachaliya daman ko roshni ki boondon se umr bhar,
Rait ke darya se bahar aanay ko ji nahi chahta.

Fanna huay har mulaqat mei k goya ibtida na rahi,
Azsar-e-Khayal bhi ji marnay ko ji nahi chahta.

Hijr mei ki mulaqaat malka-e-teergi se humnay,
shab-e-wasl ab hijab giranay ko ji nahi chahta.

Kyun na karein Jaam-e-Zehr ki farmaish ab unsay?
Zabt ki jhoothi kasm khanay ko ji nahi chahta.

Khoj Maqsad-e-Zindagi mei vehshat ne thama haath,
Shehr-e-shor k rang mei rachnay ko ji nahi chahta.

Choti-e-junoon par hua mukaam, raha na saaya saath,
Ab waqt se aagay nikal janay ko ji nahi chahta.

Mudato ki aasmaan se guzarish ghanay baadlon ki,
khultay falsafo mei bheeg janay ko ji nahi chahta.

Fiza mei tertay parindo ne dhaaliya ruup-e-insaan.
Is samandar mei aur theharnay ko ji nahi chahta.

Khushbu-e-pehlu se gumaan hota hai aagayi bahar,
rang-khizaan se alvida honay ko ji nahi chahta.

Uun-e-zeest buntay hein aap, waqt k nahi mohtaj,
zakhm bharjaatay hein, bhoolnay ko ji nahi chahta.

Loota kar bhi sab rehtay thay sapnon mei khoye,
Pa kay sab zindagi mei sonay ko ji nahi chahta.

Deed hogayi munjamid rukhsaar-e-paigamber par,
Khat se namak chakhnay ko ji nahi chahta.

Hosh-e-awal se dekha farishtay ne mohabbat jhutlana.
Jawaab-e-inkaar darj karnay ko ji nahi chahta.

Sar-e-hujoom kia Farhad ne dawa-e-ulfat Sohani,
Hum hein k yaha shanakt khonay ko ji nahi chahta.

To deny the use of love as substance, can't push the heart.

To deny use of love as substance, can’t push the heart.

– Another dedication to my favorite film: Wong War Kai’s “In the Mood for Love“. A film that subtly and very beautifully defines feeling of age-old acquaintance and longing for the love amidst two strangers.

Special thanks to Maria Imran, for reviewing and editing the Urdu part, since my Urdu is pretty weak.

Art/ Image Credits:
(1 and 3) Screen caps from film: “In the Mood for Love”.
(2) A stock image.

No One Dies

Love is like a bird imprisoned in an open cage... - Bano Qudsia

Love is like a bird imprisoned in a cage open. – Bano Qudsia

No one dies for missing the love, I assure you.
They’re right. It’s an exaggeration.

“I’d die if you gonna leave me…”
“I can’t imagine my life without you…”
“My heart will stop if you won’t be here…”

Total bullshit!
Who believes in this anymore?

These notions of bookish love…
Plethora of emotions copied from every fantasy
we are fascinated with…
Every love story we have ever read or seen on screen…
Every poem of love we inspired to recreate in reality.

All lies…! All exaggeration!

Yeah, just not mention any name
that remotely resembles the one
I don’t wanna remember…
Because that sounds like an echo
without the presence of walls.

And for all the pictures alone,
don’t make me care about
the gap
that can be filled.
Because even I am absent from there.

Don’t make me listen
to the songs we heard together,
Also make me forget
the poems that by heart,
we remembered.
Because it feels like being in a ball
without a partner.

Don’t refer me the places,
we used to find ourselves in,
real or imagination.
Don’t remind me of things
that we wrote to each other.
Because it feels like dreaming
without presence of the colors.

Don’t ask me ever of things I loved,
but left keeping tabs on,
like some fantasy series or story of love,
or some novel profound,
we submerged our eves in.
Because loving them alone,
feels like a betrayal.

That’s all. I’m good.

Yeah. No body dies. Just the moments!

And for all the time when I’m with someone,
just distract me from comparing,
how otherwise it could have been…
Because I rather not choose,
to cheat with them or myself.

No one dies for missing the love, I assure you.

But see, I have no shame,
no remorse…
I much prefer this dying
than dying ever in a regret
of not giving a chance altogether
to something that was potent.

Given a chance again,
to dream again,
to fall in love again…
I’ll do the same!

Since making self numb…
might protect one
from the pain,
but bigger loss would be
missing a taste
of a worthy effulgence.

Yeah. No body dies. Just the moments!

– Dedicated to the love, one that comes, one that stays, and one that leaves… The poem is also dedicated to a short story I recently posted: “A Stray Dog“.

Art/ Image Credits: Screen caps from a film, Nicholas Sparks written novel adaptation “The Notebook“.