Refuge
There are places in our heads
Where we draw the blinds, snuggle
Like in the arms of a former lover
एक गुमशुदा नज़्म
ज़हन के किसी धुंधले गलियारे में
तुम्हारी एक तसवीर पर
धुंए की परत की तरह पाई मैंने
अपनी ही एक नज़्म
Translation: ( A Lost Poem Found
In some corridor of my mind
Like a coat of soot
On your portrait
I found this poem )
किसी और दोपहर में
किसी और दोपहर में
धूप उन ऱुख़सारों पे अलग होती
और मेरे अल्फ़ाज़ भी
Translation: ( This Afternoon
In another afternoon
Light falling on those cheeks would’ve been different
And so would have been my words )
वो जो नहीं कहा गया
नहीं, नहीं! मुझे मत बताइये!
उस राज़ को राज़ ही रहने दीजिये
वो जो मुक़द्दस शह छुपी है हम में
गर यूं ही इज़हार कर दी जाए
भक से उड़ जाएगा उस का सेहर,
मैली हो जाएगी उसकी पाकीज़गी
और जैसे शीरीं मिठाई से लुत्फ़अन्दोज़
होते वक़्त होंटों बीच आ जाए काग़ज़,
ये ख़ूबसूरत गुमान तैर जाएगा आँखों बीच
किसी मामूली सच की तरह!
Translation: ( That What Is Not Said
No, no! Please don’t tell me!
Let it be! Let it be!
That which is innocent,
Hidden – hidden within
If expressed casually
Would break its spell
Would sully its purity
And like one finds the wafer thin covering of a candy,
When savoring, stuck between the teeth,
This spell of mine broken too
Floating like an ordinary truth. )
Yearning
Like dew you slid off my soul
Seemingly leaving it fresh
But to a morning walker, it should have rained more
Breach
Though they were
Held for long
Your words
Now seep
Through the cracks
In your silence
Breaching
Every gated thought
Of mine
At The Bend…
(A tribute to Faiz Ahmed Faiz)
Right here at the bend
Of the line you just read
The line read above
Or imagined you read
At the bend of that line
The line you read above
(You scroll up the memory
Which line, which line it could be)
You don’t wish to miss the bend
But before the bend
There is an azure sky
Greyed by our misgivings
Where million stars
Of our wishful thinking
Strangely embellish it
And in the foreground
Of that greying sky
Is a tree of pain
Looming taller than
Mine and your pain
Put together
Caravans after caravans
Of these stars,
These stars of wishful thinking
Handcuffed,
Have lost their way
In the shade of this tree
That looms taller
Than mine and your pain
Put together
I read in a book
Strangely titled
Life After Death
That a tree like this
Forms the boundary
Between heaven and
Our personal hell
And if one rides a horse
For seventy years
Incessantly, non-stop
One may cover the distance
That its shade covers
The shade of this tree
This tree
That looms taller
Than mine and your pain
Put together
Where a thousand moons
Have wept their moonlights
Where a thousand dreams
Dreams that like a muse’s spell
Vanish at the dawn’s break
Rest
Oh wait! Is this not a poem
By… Yes it is Faiz Ahmed Faiz
Ye raat us dard ka shajar hai
Jo mujhse tujhse azeemtar hai
But then what the heck
This is not a translation
Just a misappropriation
Why would a poet write
If not be balm to others
Somewhere in his heavenly
Poetic gatherings, he too
Inwardly smiles
That I visit places
Live in rooms
Which he once inhabited
Sit with people he once loved
Recite to them his very poems
But from this very tree
This tree
That looms taller
Than mine and your pain
Put together
Few leaves of your memory
Have broken free
And are entrapped
In the curls of your hair
A taut memory has dropped
From this very tree
This tree
That looms taller
Than mine and your pain
Put together
A taut memory dropped
Like dew on your forehead
And has strung itself
Into a pearl necklace
That I always envisaged
Tying around your stately neck
But then that poem
That poem
Ye raat us dard ka shajar hai
Jo mujhse tujhse azeemtar hai
Was a poem of hope and revolution
Was a poem, a poem that promised
That where we stood, that where we thought we stood
That very point, that very moment
Was where the horizon existed
That very horizon
On which the dawn broke
But I don’t serve any revolution
And hope is only a morsel
In a starving child’s mouth
Who wishes another soon
I have chewed many a hope
And spat them out
On black unyielding tarmac
“Sir, this would be a fine in Singapore!”
“Uh! Is this the end? The end?”
“No, Sir! This is the bend!”
“The bend you asked for!”
I pay the guy and get off
Without bothering for the change
The city bus strutters, spurts
billowing smoke in my face
