You’re here with me (Tum ho paas mere)

Another of those rare combos, when nearly everything about the song is magical, perhaps because when lots of people who are indeed at the level of sorcerer in their own field, get together, they come to create a master-piece that itself becomes spell-binding… An extremely light weighted and easy to ears, yet so dense and deeply touching song, penned by a talented love song writer, Hindi/Urdu poet Irshad Kamil, while a score given by a musical genius A.R. Rahman. And it’s sung by an outstanding voice talent: Mohit Chauhan, for a great sufi-sticated love stories director Imtiaz Ali‘s film Rockstar.

This song is about an experience of “the understated unity in love”…


When you’re here,
you’re here with me like…
as much as I feel you,
I find myself close to you…

From wherever we’re…
to wherever we can…
let’s take-off to some place,
without destination in mind,
without anyone’s consent…
that’s how we should meet…

No one should be there,
to hold our steps more…

When you’re here,
you’re here with me like…
as much as I feel you,
I find myself close to you…

Tell me how will this world
snap you away from me?
When you’re me, I am you,
why would we then worry?

You’re there for me,
for me you’re here like,
I have got myself lost in you,
but you I’ve come to found anew.

– Dedicated to the beloved, lovers want to have more of…

Tum ho
Tum ho paas mere
saath mere ho tum yun
Jitna mehsus karoon tumko
utna hi paa bhi loon

Tum ho mere liye
mere liye ho tum yun
khud ko main haar gaya tumko
Tumko main jeeta hoon

Kahin se… kahin ko… bhi
aao bewajah chalein…
Puche beena – kisi se
hum milein…

Bandihsein na rahi koi baaki
Tum ho paas mere
saath mere ho tum yun
Jitna mehsus karoon tumko
itna hi paa bhi loon

Kis tarah chinega
mujhse yeh jahaan tumhe
Tum bhi ho mein,
to kya fikar ab humein

Tum ho mere liye
mere liye ho tum yun
Khud ko main haar gaya
tum ko mein jeeta hoon…

– Original lyrics by Hindi/Urdu poet Irshad Kamil.

The Immersion

In times, after a day tiring,
and in nights without rest…
I seek to sit beside you in silence,
to receive your warmth,
like you’re a fire lit beside camp,
and I am a vagabond, tired
of roaming in wild darkness.

I am inclined to fall into your lap,
to have some moments of rest,
like you’re a ground sacred,
and I am a leaf, that has
just parted from wreath.

I burn to slip into your hands,
to know what is it to be contained,
like you’re a goblet of rejuvenation,
and I, mere an ash – scattered,
from the glowing mountains.

I ache to immerse in your embrace,
to find how pain vanishes with grace,
like you’re a moon casting – a quilt of spells,
and I am a moth howling,
in lust of mystic flame.

I yearn to flow my pulse to your heart-beats,
to feel what’s rising and what’s drowning,
like you’re a river of passion scintillating,
and I, mere a stone split
from rocks eroded.

I wish to submerge inside your breaths,
to forget any other world that exists,
like you’re a portal to universe another,
and I, a war-ship, that long sought
exile from wars and battles.

I desire to sink my world in you,
in craving to earn, color of your hue.
Like you’re the star, arose
to inspire luminescence…
and I am among those
trifling forever in shadows…

No matter when you look,
you’ll find me longing for this essence.
I am too tired of whole world around
lingering their eyes on me
seeking some complacence.
While, all I strive is to settle
in your arms, as a meaningless.


– Dedicated to the only beloved who can immerse a lover totally…

Image Credits:

  1. “Ocean Atlas – Created by Jason deCaires Taylor” – Source:
  2. “Christ of the Abyss – Created by Guido Galletti” – Source:

Buy me the bewilderment!


Uniformity dwells around in such abundance, have lost touch to recognize symphony anymore…

Too much orderly is the sky, now a days,
I wish you reveal, storm in the veins,
show bird a way, to emerald forest again…

Too many are contented around it seems,
there’s no hint of complain, show your glimpse,
I wish you to mark me a struggler again…

The time is running at an untouchable pace,
I wish you to touch me, and hold me,
guide my way to be the home again…

Life has disbursed into the worldly escapades,
just scatter me around yourself, I wish you
sculpt me a whole again…

My color has begun to be well-known among the rest,
I wish, you just pull me off the scale,
paint me by your dreams again…

I know now how to appeal the world’s sense,
undo me a little in your arms, I wish you
just set me free again…

I know too much of how things will play out in the end,
set me on a spin, I wish you to
turn me into a dust again…

– Dedicated to those who’ve grown tired of certainty, and wish to submerge into mystic uncertainty again!

Moonlight Blue - Foggy Pines

Let me loose some leaves in the air, allow me to feel what is it to live again!

Photo Credits:

  1. Mystic Java (stock wallpaper)
  2. Midnight Blue – Foggy Pines (stock wallpaper)

The First Drizzle

This poem is a response to Sidrah Kamal‘s radiating poem… Vapors of Love.

Rain by Danial Shah

Vapors of Love: Warmed in the air, served as the drizzle…

Lakes filled with salt
brimmed in still water
looking to shake dust.
As Sun lends a warmth,
drops become vapor,
With thirst of stream
comes request:
“Revive me first…”

Sun burns itself,
hunting for a miracle…
As flock of clouds travel,
filled with a passion…
Overriding star they say….
“You had your day…
It’s our turn.
But, you hide first…”

Clouds caress each other
celebrating in a
a chorus,
Disclose cheerfully
to the bystanders,
the breeze and the birds…
“Don’t you go…
Allow me, to confess first…”

Birds expecting,
a downpour to come…
Look into the eyes
of each other,
nod in a teasing voice…
“Let’s race today
to the home…
See who reaches first…”

Nest of flowers,
catches a sprinkle…
Drop after drop
leaking fume as it filters.
They inhale each other’s scent
and say in slip voice…
“I forget my love,
who fell first… ”

Grains of sand give
themselves to a drizzle.
As space in-between
vanishes in the air.
Melting each moment,
coming together,
they break silence…
“Kiss me first… “

Photograph Drizzling by Natthamon Thiemsri

Drizzle of Passion: Felt in a bloom, caught with-in the petals.

– Dedicated to the vapors, the clouds and the first drizzle…

Photo Credits:
1. Rain in Astore Valley (at Gilgit-Baltistan, Pakistan) by Danial Shah.
2. Drizzling by Natthamon Thiemsri

The Lovesick Gentleman

In face of all uncertainties, he wants his love for her to remain sure.

In face of all uncertainties, he wants his love for her to be a surety.

He wants to keep her love
embodied like lines in the palm
that whether time follows or not,
remains etched to him, always
reminding him of her.

He wants to bathe in her love
like a dry earth sunk in an incense,
before the rain perches from heaven,
for whether clouds ease or not,
he’s absorbed in her.

He wants to inscribe her love
like scratch of war gelled on body
that whether heals or not, leaves
perennial signature of ink that
reminds him of her.

He wants to preserve her love
like a character in poetic novel,
prose acquiring a life of its own,
for whether tale is happy or not,
he’s bound to her.

He wants to sink in her love
like a craziest secret, touching
depths of her unfathomable heart,
for whether world’s with him or not,
he remains with her.

He wants to carry her love
like monk carries the sanctity
image of the sustainer within self,
for whether enlightened or not,
he’s submitted to her.

He wants to be lost in her love
like an echo from days of the past
whirling around in crypts today,
that whether discovered or not,
still aches for her.

No uncertainty in the world
can keep apart two beings
that yearn to be together.

In face of physical boundaries
they would unite in consciousness.
In face of a mind distraction
they would unite in dreams – subconsciousness.
In face of sleep deprivation
they would unite in hallucinations.
In face of no consciousness
they’d still unite in a remembrance.

No wonder, he desired and yearned
for such stature of love.

Imagine a power you can…
Even one that can keep
beings physically apart,
Even one that can travel in time
to create a distance between the hearts…
Cannot keep souls apart,
since they’d still be together
as a silhouette in one mind,
as a fragment of history in another…
registered in time,
carved forever.

Valadmir Kush - Metaphorical Journey

No uncertainty in a world can keep two souls – once united in essence – as apart.

– Dedicated to love sickness and one of my favorite author Gabriel Garcia Marquez‘s subliminal work: “Love in the Time of Cholera

Art/ Image Credits:
1. Lovers of Forest – Stock-house Oil Painting
2. Valadmir Kush – Metaphorical Journey

What am I?

What am I, if not a dancer around the dancers?

What am I, if not a dancer seeking a dance in infinity?

My heart is a cipher, you are a security.
What am I if not obscure before clarity?
A labyrinthian maze at adventure’s verge.
Whirlpool of walls aching for some sanity.

My heart is a moon, you are a Sun to it.
What am I if not a blip before infinity?
A dead rock oblivious of a life’s perch.
Wasteland seeking stature of desirability.

My heart is a face, you are a smile to it.
What am I if not passive before prosperity?
A shadow in a crowd trifling with the dust.
Wanderer lusting to come across destiny.

My heart is a word, you are a voice in it.
What am I if not lost before an intensity?
A collection of letters behold in a clutch.
Scribblings yearning to posses an identity.

My heart is a time and you are a life in it.
What am I if not a beat before a longevity?
A flow of moments never amounting to much.
Stream on slope longing to become entity.

My heart is a field, you are a rain to it.
What am I if not a void before serenity?
A barren dish holding an age old grudge.
Empty land craving delight in serendipity.

My heart is a lute and you are a melody.
What am I if not a dream before reality?
A blunt instrument starving a warm touch.
Cacophony desiring to become a symphony.

What am I,
if not a part that seeks a whole to dive in?
What am I not,
should you accept me and sink me with-in.

What am I, if not a dancer around the dancers?

What am I, if not a dancer among the dancers in proximity?


– Dedicate to the beloved, who the lover yearns for in each moment.

Art/ Image credits:

1. The Dancing Darvesh by Areesha Khuwaja
2. Whirling Dervish (sunk in colors) – Facebook\Mevlana


The Sanctuary

You are my freedom, you are the concealment.

You are the freedom, you are the concealment.

You are like a weeping cherry tree
in scorching time resembling Sahara.
A reader thirsty and dry seeks
a shade under the wings wide open.
While cooling-off bathing in the
shower of your love – the blossoms.

Wishing time to be forever in your arms…

You are like a tree house in the forest
in period of beastly gloom and noise.
A sightseer slips in and locates a
window to the earth and the heaven.
While inhaling the fumes of foliage and
hearing chorus of beings – the stasis.

Wishing noise to be symphony in your arms…

You are like a rare vintage ride
in holidays of the Christmas.
A writer insomniac tucks in and
discovers the lucid inspirations.
While dreaming, travels in the time,
as reels roll back – the classic.

Wishing vacation to be endless in your arms…

You are like a misty lone highway
in a moonless night of Summer.
A wanderer cruises to trace no man’s
land hearing songs of past galaxies.
While flirting with breeze like leaf,
kissing fluorescent bokeh – the stars.

Wishing light to be resistless in your arms…

You are like an island undiscovered
in eves of the treacherous storm.
A seafarer, stumbles up on the shore
and engages in a dance of serenity.
While learning a heaven unknown,
awes in marvel – the serendipity.

Wishing eves to be speechless in your arms…

You are like a shack of woods
in snow heavy nights of Alaska.
A vagabond slides in, finds a
comfort beside the fire place.
While reading from a window the
spells of the nature – the auroras.

Wishing night to be frozen in your arms…

You are like a holy sanctuary
in times of questions to the past.
A sinner steps in, to confess the
deeds, to sink in heavenly chant.
While, loosing self into mosaics,
baptizing in rhythm – the ambiance.

Wishing questions to be answers in your arms…

I seek you…
In days unreadable,
In hours overflowing,
In restless vacations…
In nights moonless and barren,
In eves of uncertainty – blindness,
In goosebumps-enticing chillness,

At all times of repentance…

… are my safe house.
You are the freedom, you are the concealment.

From havens to the heavens,
my soul has traveled back and forth,
acquiring a youth, losing the age.
You are – everywhere I look,
everything is – where you’re found.

My beloved,
you’re my lotus, my shell, my oasis,
my drive to the peaks,
my journey to the valleys,
you’re my haven – the safest,
my abode for perpetual resting.

Your embrace is my eternal resting place.

Your embrace is my eternal resting place.

– Dedicated to the beloved. And to the lover no ordinary Khwaja “Garib Nawaz” Moinuddin Chishti, a revered Sufi saint whose annual Urs is currently in progress at his shrine in Ajmer, Rajasthan, India. ‘Urs’ means wedding, in Sufi metaphors it’s referencing that in death the lover is finally wedded to the beloved, as his light mixed in the eternal ocean. Millions of pilgrims visit his shrine to attend the Urs, an anniversary of a wed-lock that resulted from a mystic bond.

Note: This poem is a sequel to a poem:  “Oh My Beloved!“. Reading poems in succession would make a more absorbing read.

Art/ Image Credits:

1. The Pearl – By Surrealistic Painter, Vladimir Kush.
2. Two intertwined mermaids, Yin-Yang Tattoo.