Today.

Sunrise,
A day begins with opening of the eyes,
Get ready, take a shower,
Fast, you don’t have time
Wear your hair gels and pleasant scents,
For people who are critical,
Of everything that you do.
Paint your face and rehearse your lines,
Review your truths and prepare your lies,
It’s just another day
But wait for what they say.
You pretend that you don’t care
And try to carry your head with that air,
But they’ll know the truth
When they see you, trying to peep through,
The various holes in various windows,
That they worked so hard to cover,
With black glazed paper.

Walk; walk, door to door, face to face,
You’ll find a lot,
The touch of many hands that leave you stained,
Fond gazes from many a friend,
Lovers working for a happy end,
You’ll find a lot,
A lot that had been left unsaid,
A lot of paths yet un-tread,
A lot of suns no one noticed,
Shining through un-curtained panes,
Illuminating shadows in the dark
You’ll find a lot that you lost,
On your journey through the past,
Things that you always wanted to find,
And things you wanted to hide,
You’ll find them all, But you will not find,
A simple red heart,
Yet uncovered, undecorated with finery,
With costly jewels and silver and gold,
Simple dreams that cannot be bought or sold.

Then walk on, the day is passing,
The usual walk, the aimless journey,
Meeting, smiling, and nodding.

The sun shines at the pinnacle of day,
On empty houses made of clay,
Devoid of maternal love,
With nannies on phones and babies in cots,
Schools for social decay.
But that is the least of our worries today.
Today is just another stroll,
Today has an end, but today is not all,
I can go on, describe the day,
From dawn till dusk, and night,
From dusk till dawn,
And illustrate each and every way,
If it were not useless,
And were we here to stay,
Our choices would be endless,
Or so our voices would say,
But sadly, the day is not a chrysalis,
A day is a moment, a day is just today.
Realize this, and go on.

Nothing stops here,
Today will merge into tomorrow,
Tomorrow into another today,
Ad infinitum,
An arrow following an arrow,
A simple sum.
A day that has reached its prime,
Will surely and gradually decline,
But remember the eternal formula,
“Another day will come.”

Something from last year. It was probably written in a hurry and never revised. It has that feel to it. So much crammed into one “thing”. Anyway, I will call it a [Work in Progress] even though I know I will never come back to it.

Blankness.

I hate this. I can’t think of anything, and I can’t stop thinking about something I don’t want to think about. I am so blank. I don’t know what to do. So confused. I don’t have words today. I don’t know what I want.

Pathanay Khan II

From previous post.

This is what I wrote about Pathanay Khan and this particular song, written by Khwaja Ghulam Farid, on my maths notebook during a class:

“All the voices in the world will fade away. The conspiracies, the thundering guns, cannons, the voices of wailing mothers of bleeding martyrs, nothing will remain in the world as will the voice of this man singing about his love for God. Indifferent to pain and pleasure alike. Someone who has lost himself in his lover.”

And this is the feeling I always get when I listen to this song. Just imagine, warriors conquer the world and then die and are lost. Politicians and generals make wars and kill thousands of human beings. Cities are destroyed by a push of a button. Famines. Floods. Earthquakes. Tornadoes and Fires. All come and go. And this voice. This man telling God that “You are my love and my friend, You are my religion, my faith, my body and my soul, my heart and my life, my direction….” Everything is You. This voice transcends all that. The Space and time. In the middle of an endless night the only spot of light singing to his One and True Love.

What can I say. The sincerity in the voice of Pathanay Khan is really amazing. He is another person whose genius we never realized nor appreciated. There certainly are/were a lot of those in this country.

I am not happy.

I am lost in this. I have been listening to this for three consecutive days now, and I mean continuously. On my cell phone, on my PC, everywhere, all the time. Then I keep singing it. And i do not want to stop.

Pathanay Khan

I will write why I posted this and what it is tomorrow.

 

Meda Ishq Wi Toon

Poet: Khwaja Ghulam Farid
Artist: Pathanay Khan

Gundhiyaan Mediyan Khol Na Mahi hin Tediyan Sah Sah Gundhiyan
Aj Kuchy Tuk Wal Akhiyaan Atiyaan Attay Pa Gayyan chiriyan
Gundhiyan
Akhin Ro Ro Nit Mattam Karen Nit Yaad Aveen Tediyan Gandhiyan
Yaar Fareed O Suhagan Hoe Yan Jede Naal Mahi De Gandhian

Meda Ishq Vi Too Meda Yaar Vi Too
Meda Deen Vi Too Eeman Vi Too
Meda Jism Vi Too Meda Rooh Vi Too
Meda Qalb Vi Too Jind Jaan Vi Too
Meda Kaba Qibla Masjid Mimbar
Mushaf Te Quran Vi Too
Mede Farz Fareezay, Hajj, Zakataan
Soum Salaat Azaan Vi Too
Medi Zohd Ibadat Ta’at Taqwa
Ilm Vi Too Irfan Vi Too
Meda Zikr Vi Too Meda Fikr Vi Too
Mera Zouq Vi Too Wajdan Vi Too
Meda Sanwal Mithra Shaam Saloona
Mun Mohan Janaan Vi Too
Meda Murshid Haadi Peer Tareeqat
Shaikh Haqaa’iq Daan Vi Too
Meda Aas Ummed Te Khattaya Wattaya
Takia Maan Taran Vi Too
Mera Dharam Vi Too Meda Bharam Vi Too
Meda Sharam Vi Too Meda Shaan Vi Too
Meda Dukh Sukh Ro’wan Khilan Vi Too
Meda Dard Vi Too Darmaan Vi Too
Meday Khushiyan Da Asbaab Vi Too
Meday Soolaan Da Samaan Vi Too
Mera Husn Te Bhaag Suhaag Vi Too
Meda Bakht Te Naam Nishaan Vi Too

Meda Ishq Vi Too Meda Yaar Vi Too
Meda Dee Vi Too Eeman Vi Too
Meda Jism Vi Too Meda Rooh Vi Too
Meda Qalb Vi Toon Jind Jaan Vi Too
Meda Kaba Qibla Masjid Mimbar
Mushaf Te Quran Vi Too
Meda Ishq Vi Too Meda Yaar Vi Too
Meda Deen Vi Too Eeman Vi Too
Meda Ishq Vi Too Meda Yaar Vi Too

Aaa Ooo (Chants…)
Meda Dekhan Bhalan Jachan Jochan
Samjhan Jaan Sunjaan Vi Too
Mede Thadray Saah Te Monjh Munjhari
Hanjroon De Tofaan Vi Too
Mede Tilk Tilo’ay Seendhaan Mangaan
Naaz Nihoray Taan Vi Too
Medi Mehdni Kajal Misaag Vi Too
Medi Surkhi Beera Paan Vi Too

Meda Ishq Vi Too Meda Yaar Vi Too
Medi Wehshat Josh Junoon Vi Too (Aaa)
Meda Garya Aa’h O Faghan Vi Too (Aaa)
Meda Awwal Aakhir Andar Bahir
Zahir Te Pinhaan Vi Too Tooooooooooon
Meda Ishq Vi Too Meda Yaar Vi Too
Aaaa Meda Awaal Aakhir Andar Baahir
Zahir Te Pinhaan Vi Too
Meda Badal Barkha Khimniyan Gajaan (Aaa)
Barish Te Baraan Vi Too
Meda Mulk Malir Te Maro Thalin
Rohi Cholistaan Vi Too
Je Yaar Farid Qabool Karay
Srikaar Vi Toon Sultaan Vi Toon
Maaain Taan Kehtar Kamtar Ahqar Adna
La-Shay La-Imkaan Vi Too
Meda Ishq Vi Too Meda Yaar Vi Too
Meda Ishq Vi Too Meda Yaar Vi too

Scars from dreams?

Strange as they may seem
The star, the sky, the moon,
If they all were in your dream,
Would they still be the same?
We are turning the same page,
Over and over again.
Will you understand when I say,
That when nothing remains,
I will stay.
Will you understand, my love,
That all that we prepared for,
The sky, the moon,
The dream of the star,
Can be broken and shattered,
Spat upon, ruthlessly battered,
By you and me,
And not leave a scar.
Will you understand,
That love will have,
Nothing to do with it?
Will you still sit,
Prettily by my side,
And listen to the story,
Of how we longed to hide,
In a safe nest, a bed,
But instead, bled to death?

WIP. I never come back. I think I should stop saying that its a WIP.

Something that means nothing…

He looks outside the car window and thinks that if thoughts could somehow transfer from one mind to another, without the need of speaking or saying anything, she would intuitively know that he had been falling in love with her for so long now, and he wouldn’t even embarrass himself. He tries hard to make his thoughts transfer, he imagines a ray of light coming out of his brain and going towards hers. Does she know yet? He had closed his eyes. Yet? Does she know. He keeps trying hard.
He knows he is being a fool. Things just don’t happen this way. But he had always been a fool. Maybe, just maybe. She doesn’t know yet, he thinks, I don’t think she knows.

Blank.

I can think of nothing. I’m bored and blank. I will write something tomorrow definitely.

A girl who wrote Poetry. [WIP]

[WIP]

When I was young I knew a girl who wrote poetry
She said that she would write a song for me.
And she wrote lines, beautiful lines
Free from pain and tears and shame
Smooth, and elegant, like priceless wines.
She wrote about a knight, and his sword
Abut the pearls in his hair
About heathens and their gods
And dragons in their lairs.
About spotless beggars, and spotless kings,
About moonlight emanating from behind the clouds,
In perfect rings,
Scarlet autumns and colorful springs.
She wrote lines, many lines
About caged deers, and birds that were free,
In a little nest on top of a pine tree,
But, do you know,
She never wrote a word for me.

Some of the words are taken from somewhere else, from someone else.

“Deformed Babies”

This is in relation to the previous post, the poem “Deformed Babies”. I don’t know if i should be posting this, but you all should know this.

Nothing. NOTHING can justify this. Nothing can justify this. Whatever you say whatever you do. You will be a liar if you even try. NOTHING can justify this.

http://www.uksociety.org/us_crimes_against-humanity_1.htm

Click on the link to veiw the page. Keep scrolling and keep reading. Do you know we all are a part of this. Anyone, anywhere in the world who doesn’t speak against evil, against falsehood, is a part of it. I am. And you are.

Deformed Babies.

Deformed babies and dying children
Rotten brains and staring eyes
by atomic bombs and nuclear reactions,
Cancer, covered by international lies.

They can’t feel pain (they have no brain)
You can peel the skin any time,
Liver diseased by nuclear rain,
Half dead infants (they don’t know their crime)

Dying of hunger,
Or radioactive food,
By rain and thunder,
By an aimless feud,

By uranium and plutonium,
By technology and knowledge,
and an immeasurable lust,
just press the button,
You don’t need courage,
You don’t need courage,
To kill mankind,
End their torment,
Their deformed lives,
From your comfortable chairs,
Third World. They’re left behind.
Then beg forgiveness,
For your deformed crimes.

Deformed religions, deformed goals,
Deformed gods, their deformed sons,
In their hearts deformed holes,
Crucified, killed by deformed guns.

Deformed dreams, in deformed eyes,
Deformed truth, deformed lies,
Deformed bodies, deformed souls,
Deformed babies and their deformed cries.

This, obviously, was written about infants who were born with various physical and mental deformities after Hiroshima and Nagasaki atomic bombings, but not limited to that. Nuclear testing, nuclear waste, and nuke arms race – It speaks against all that.

Been, what, 5 years since i wrote this. My little brown diary has so much clutter. Poems written and re-written, crossed out, torn pages, strange musings that were written halfway and then discontinued due to lack of confidence, and things that I’m ashamed to read.

When I get time, I will post more that are post-able.