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

Translation:

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:
http://tune.pk/video/2958768/gulbahar-bano-to-kiya-yeh-tay-hai-ke-ab-umar-bar-nahin-milna-ghazal-ptv

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Never did I crave before, for your presence as such (Tere baare mein jab socha nahin tha)

– Famous ghazal by maestro Jagjit Singh (part of his album Saher, released in year 2000).

Translation:

Never did I crave before,
for your presence as such.
Though, felt lonely before,
but not in an essence as such.

Did converse a lot late-night
with picture I kept of yours,
Though, my room had mirror too,
but not an intense as such.

Whole ocean failed to extinguish
my fire, my thirst,
When I did surf the dessert,
never faced a negligence as such.

Amidst calling turns
to argue and later to make up,
Who’d imagined, we’d end up
extending our distance as such…

Rumor is, one has stumbled now
upon a rest eternal.
Same, who did never encounter before
the patience as such.

– Dedicated to a phrase: ”

Tere baare mein jab socha nahin tha
Main tanha tha magar itana nahi tha

Teri tasvir se karata tha baate
Mere kamare me aaina nahi tha

Samadar ne mujhe pyasa hi rakha
Mai jab seharaa me thaa pyasaa nahi tha

Manane-ruthane ke khel me ham
Bichhad jayege ye socha nahi tha

Suna hai band kar li us ne akhe
Kai raato se vo soyaa nahi tha

– Original poem by poet: Meraj Faizabadi.

Urdu version:

تیرے بارے میں جب سوچا نہیں تھا
میں تنہا تھا مگر اتنا نہیں تھا

تیری تصویر سے کرتا تھا باتیں
میرے کمرے میں آئینہ نہی تھا

سمندر نے مجھے پیاسا ہی رکھا
میں جب صحرا میں تھا پیاسا نہیں تھا

منانے روٹھنے کے کھیل میں ہم
بیچ ’ ہر جائینگے یہ سوچا نہیں تھا

سنا بند کر لی اس نے آنکھیں
کئی راتوں سے وہ سویا نہی تھا

– معراج فیض آبادی

Too many seasons encircled around (Kitne Mausam Sargardaan Thay)

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Translation:

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,
unaffected!

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)

Lately…

This poem is a response to Miss Aminah Tasleem’s melancholic words in poem: 7:49 AM

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Lately, I’ve been tracing,
the footsteps on shore,
before waves come sweeping.
I found, those who submerged,
gave great thought before drowning.

For, I’ve too been swimming,
in river of memories, lately,
I felt touched,
by carcass of bodies,
they’re animated, steered by beasts.

Lately, I have been roaming,
corners of capital,
where people went missing.
Found there myself,
facing mirrors haunting!

For, I had been discovering,
statues of stone,
etched in abandoned places.
I related, how they’re frozen
in pangs of longing…

Lately, I’ve been dreaming,
about lands in fantasy,
a place where humans met
the guardian angels,
I gather, angels were relocating!

For, I’ve been wishing
days from a tranquil memory,
when ruled the living,
but I heard fragments urging…
‘let us be, stop chasing!’

Lately, I have been smiling,
in public appearances, the
shows of avid performances,
leaving each a note,
“Few acts worth remembering”!

For, I’ve been visiting,
the markets, to shed some old stuff,
just to feel light-weighted.
But, I ended up acquiring, what was
left by someone migrating!

Lately, I’ve been reading,
poems of secluded artists,
now no longer writing…
I found, nips become frozen,
when memories start unrolling.

Lately, I’ve been writing,
poems to those who’ve parted,
even when none’s answering.
For I found early,
when ducts open flood gate,
one shouldn’t be resisting.

– Dedicated to late time recalling…

solitude-image[1]

Image Credits:
1. Boat alone – stock wallpaper.
2. Solitude – stock wallpaper.

La Douleur Exquise

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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…

Stillness_by_Eckhart_Tolle,_on_a_Park_bench_plaque,_facing_Sacramento_River,_Redding_CA[1]

– 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.

 

The Yearning

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Heart yearns, for days and nights,
of that love and solace again…

Once used to whisper the name
with every gasp of a moment…
like some classic sheet
having a pen pressed.
Heart yearns now for
that open rib cage again…
To play like gramophone,
a symphony without fail…
For how much longer, oh my breath,
from syncing a rhythm, you’d refrain…?

Once used to calm volcanoes all,
erupting beneath the skin…
like snow quilt covering mountains,
turning into an inclined plane.
These eyes-dry seek to reflect
that wet smile again…
To launch an avalanche that allows
rocks to catch, drift of streams.
For how much longer, oh my sight,
from melting a placid stone, you’d refrain…?

Once used to roll in the hair,
used to wake from the slumber,
and put into one with the same…
Now hands crave to hold,
those pale fingers again…
to dance along sea lines,
to compete with the waves…
For how much longer, oh beloved ocean,
from touching your shore, you’d refrain…?

Once used to emerge as words
fittingly dripped in grace,
and eloquence… carrying weight,
of air, softness of droplets.
These ears wait to catch
that voice, humming poetry again…
To linger on motion of walls,
where echoes leave the trails.
For how much longer, oh my serenade,
from breaking this silence, you’d refrain…?

Once used to show both the joy
and the pain, felt everything,
like a journeyman, traveling,
to end up at a new place…
The soul longs for
that vulnerable body again…
such as it can taste the pathos
of love, passion and attachment.
For how much longer, oh my life,
from facing a mirror, you’d refrain…?

Heart yearns, for days and nights,
of that love and solace again…

Maine-Monument-Central-Park-Reclining-Male-Nude-940x575[1]

– Dedicated to a yearning heart…

Note: First lines are shamelessly inspired from both Maestro Ghalib and Gulzar sb’s: “Heart yearns for days and nights of solace again” (“Dil Dhoondhta Hai Phir Wahi Fursat Ke Raat Din”).

Image Credits:
1. Sculpture in Staglieno Cemetery, Genoa Italy.
2. Sculpture in Blanca Valbuena, New York.

Slowly Slowly…

Lodi Vineyard & Mustard Blossom - Caroline Henry

Mirroring clouds, foliage is floating, slowly slowly…

Stepping into her vineyard, the lover
became dizzy, breeze whispered alluringly:
“Inhale me no faster than breaths, monsieur.
bathe in my fragrance, slowly slowly.”

Exhale of thy frozen vapors, will be pouring, slowly slowly…
Foliage shall too mirror clouds today, floating slowly slowly…

Make yourself a canvas and soak yourself in her hues,
Awe later, the effects spell-binding, slowly slowly.

For both the union and the separation has its own merits,
Each beast has a prey ready for devouring, slowly slowly…

After years of temperance, monk located a golden chalice,
But wine too needs an air, continue savoring slowly slowly.

Then see, what ale turns into, when mixed into the blood,
Feel a tired day kissing, a night’s reckoning, slowly slowly…

She recognized him in the dark by a rising tide in his voice,
kissing his shore, her ocean began melting, slowly slowly.

In the night of an influence, drunkard spilled like a torn sky,
In mist of a morning, caterpillars were crawling, slowly slowly.

Eh! Drunkard, you slipped your stature on reflection of goddess,
Your shock is vanishing fast; her stains, vaporizing, slowly slowly.

Since your dawn, the savagery has ended, but long way still,
The mighty steps to civilization are moving, slowly slowly.

What not he did to stop, the breeze of new era from flowing,
Eventually time broke each Red Tsar dominating, slowly slowly.

Under your spell, one surmounted to break records heavenly,
That ecstasy left early, hangover is leaving, slowly slowly.

“Poison of separation takes its due time to settle, my love
Read my words in patience, sinking, slowly slowly…”

As soon as the letters read turned into a labyrinthian,
Reality grew closer, dreams began fading, slowly slowly.

For a change, wonder, a state of our vicious exhibition,
In a cold fire, glistering coal is burning, slowly slowly.

Be little kind oh love, show up even if just to curse some more,
Here, the rumors of banishment are spreading slowly slowly.

Keep inquiring in love, my state for few days more,
Into one, all ailments will be merging, slowly slowly.

When stream comes rushing into thy neighbor’s doors…
Don’t expect your door to receive knocking, slowly slowly.

Found a seeker staring a high clock for uncounted hours…
Old memories were too beside, swinging, slowly slowly.

The majestic sky is now missing the rare star of  sanctity,
Even if wings are reigning, flight is derailing, slowly slowly.

– Dedicated to all the spells that get cast only to last, slowly slowly…

Disclosure: Ending rhyme is shamelessly inspired by Ameer Minai Ghazal: Aahista Aahista

Rain Clouds - Stanley Rushton

Seeking spring’s return, lake is drying, slowly slowly…

Artwork Credits:

1. Lodi Vineyard & Mustard Blossom – Caroline Henry (artid.com)
2. Rain Clouds – Stanley Rushton (fineartamerica.com)